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 Mar 2012 Done
raen
Diwata
 Mar 2012 Done
raen
In a place
where trees caress heaven's cheeks
where winds whisper wistfully,
           sharing their secrets to those who care to listen...

In a place
where sun and moon meet, however fleeting,
where death and birth collide,
            giving way to the cycle of life

There is She.

the Diwata

enchanting ebony tresses amidst fairest skin
unspeakable beauty manifested
with a voice that could melt the sun
guardian spirit of nature

There she resides quietly in the trees,
~the Narra, the Acacia, the Balete
a blessing for those who care for nature
yet wrath and curse await those who abuse it

You may hear her song echo in the breeze,
her sweet breath to cool the rivers,
her teardrops mingling with the dew...

Next time you take a nature's walk,
stop, listen and just feel---
close your eyes and when you get that tell-tale chill
through your bones, through your soul,

know that she is there,
watching your every move---

the *Diwata
072010

The Diwata is a guardian spirit of nature in Filipino folklore
 Mar 2012 Done
raen
Here, let me take your hand
and I'll fluff up that pillow for you
How odd that the wind is nowhere today-

Whistle a happy tune for me, love
Don't you always say that whistling
calls the breeze, invites it in?
It's never failed before,
just as seeing you never fails
to put a smile on my face
...I can almost forget the pain
Whistle for me, and I shall sing for you

This is how I've always imagined us,
in a garden, the wind tickling the leaves
as we both immerse ourselves
in music and laughter,
with the birds joining us in our song...

Just hold my hands, keep them warm
as we bask in the sun's golden rays...
seems like forever since I've felt it

Don't be afraid to close your eyes, love
I'm just here
...let me watch over you for once
You haven't slept for days,
let me do this
and sing you a lullaby

Hush, wind, hush
let my voice soothe his heart this time

I can feel your pulse-
it beats so much faster
as mine slows down,
slipping...
much like the sun slips from my eyes

Forgive me, love, for leaving you this way
I know you wanted to be awake when I go
But you've been so tired,
and I don't want to see your eyes' lights die
as my own flicker and fade

It's better this way, believe me

The two of us imagining a garden,
hand in hand

As the wind breezes past,
so shall I...
forever in your breath, my love
dwelling in your heart, fanning those flames

and when you feel that wind has left you,
remember what you always do...
Whistle and I am there




08172011 400p433
 Mar 2012 Done
raen
I wander into this dark, misTearYous room
—and there he was...and wow! What a Fig!

He with the long, lustRuse hair,
sitting at a corner table, nursing a cup of hot cocoa.
Dang. He has better hair than I do!

“I’m  a  gin at  Ion’s,” were his first words spoken.
“I’m  a  gin at  Ion’s.” And then sighlens.

I was trying to look through his lens, and figure out his sighs,
when he utters, “I can see you are number—“

“Huh? I am number what? I don’t see any lines here..."

“Ah, yes you are, as I was... NumBer as in more than numb.”

Epicfunny!

He definitely got me, he with the misTearYous eyes
so I sit down and ask him what he means
(but I refused to ask how he saw through my numbity)

“What do you mean that you are a gin? And where is Ion’s?”

“Exactly just that. I’m a gin at Ion’s. A **** t’Eve.”

He tells me that Ion’s is nowhere, everywhere and knowhere,
of how anyone who takes even a sip of that gin can hold on to it—
too much, so much so, as to lose that grip on ReAhhlity...

I ask him what he does there.
Seemingly one word, two meanings—
"aMuse," says he...

He reveals he is also part-tickles, part abs-tackles
then he also exhails at wind ‘o pains,
to fog or clear up views and relayshunships...
But oh! How at one point he felt tieurd, of how he had so many callUses—
numb, tired of how it reCurse, of always being called upon, of being used

Sighlens.

Been used So many times, he didn’t know who he was anymore...
a Duke at Ion’s,
      a con’s front at Ion’s,
an ex pecked at Ion’s,
    a lucid at Ion’s,
              a rebel at Ion’s...

Oddly enough, even if he has been ‘d sign at Ion’s,
he still felt blahtantly invisible,
even if at one point he wore only a V-bra at Ion’s!

He chalks everything up to exPeerience, and has learned from it.
And that's why he's also known as a sensei at Ion’s (his personal favorite)

He says even if he can go beyond infinity, he—
He stops (ah gain!) and yes, there it sneaked in...Sighlens.

Telling me through the void, through his sighs, through his lens
To close my eyes, and figYour out myself.

And then I do...

ReAhhlieZing how much I could relate,
how I have been in DenyAll of my possiBElities.
It is all a matter of perSpeck'tEve, of looking at each tiny speck of life,
of creating something from each of it, entire universes even—
boundless

How odd that I myself felt like I'm a gin at Ion's...
Scrunchscrunch...Imaginations.
Addictive, yes, so I best be careful with where I take it.

I oh!pen my eyes and the fig meant to show me ReAhhlity had gone...
032012
 Mar 2012 Done
Jon Tobias
She smothers me with her words of desire
So I kiss her to stop it
And choke

I choke on her words
Choke on her soft tongue
Like a vicarious seizure

Put a wallet between our bear traps
So that I might catch my breath

Her lips brand my brain
With short circuits
So I stutter responses

And if she were any less beautiful
Or I could somehow be gay
I might actually have enough confidence

To say
Shut up and bring them gnashers my way

It’s okay if you bite
I like it rough

And
Already I can barely breathe
Suffocating under a blanket of words

I can smell the alcohol on her breath
As she speaks
As if her words could be any less flammable

Makes me wish I could drink gasoline without dying

Do you hear that dark room dancer?
You liquor breathed torpedo tongue
You cat eyed lighthouse
Reminding me where I want home to be?

You make me want to drink flammable liquid just to compete

I pull her close
Like the gentle slam of a car door

Are we dancing?
Or swimming?
Or drowning?

Go ahead **** me with your words

I give up
First line donated by Nicole (Lady) Adams
 Mar 2012 Done
William Wordsworth
Another year!—another deadly blow!
Another mighty Empire overthrown!
And We are left, or shall be left, alone;
The last that dare to struggle with the Foe.
’Tis well! from this day forward we shall know
That in ourselves our safety must be sought;
That by our own right hands it must be wrought;
That we must stand unpropped, or be laid low.
O dastard whom such foretaste doth not cheer!
We shall exult, if they who rule the land
Be men who hold its many blessings dear,
Wise, upright, valiant; not a servile band,
Who are to judge of danger which they fear,
And honour which they do not understand.
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