What if in our brains lays the answers to our every question?
And poetry... is the method that we can use to Find them?

Let's say our brain is a big maze in which our answers are scattered throughout.
And the only way to get them, it's to find the path that leads to them.

Let's say that every activity that each of us does, creates a new path within the maze...
Then poetry is the activity that could open and create different paths in our brains that could trigger the finding of new answers.


April 30. Ramblings.

Hey you, river up. Flow.
Build your own current.
Travel across mountains.
Enrich your surroundings.
Make those around you
become greener with life.

Don’t try to change me. I’m not play dough.
You cannot mold me nor shape me to your likes.
I am what I am, period.
That’s that.

Ripples of emotions forming on its own;
My heart seems to be a lagoon
And my feelings some kind of rock:
First, tossed over the surface,
Then, falling deep within my soul...

I guess, that's what some people call love.

I'm feeling it, is coming,
Is near... My dear,
The year of fear...
But I won't shed a tear.
Courage would be the gear,
I'll wear.
it'll protect me from the spear
that fear may throw at me.

the sunset
stars the sky;
with darkness

Oh Jesus Christ,
I follow you day and night,
I know you are righteous and just
And that in good people, you are found

Oh Jesus Christ,
I love you with all my heart.
In you, I find the strength
And the courage to go on in life

I know it's not easy to do what is right
And that often we deviate from our paths
But oh Jesus christ,
I met a man,
Who makes me feel energize, and alive,
Who gives me the joy, that I needed to continue following your path.

I was a student roaming through thoughts,
always getting lost in the alleys
Of people's words,
Their sentences were cities I wanted to visit,
And I did, I visited these cities via my thoughts,

Though My thoughts were the feet that walked me through their cities,
And their cities were the ideas that captivated me with their beauty,
I was amazed at their grandeur, that I became a tourist to capture the monuments of their truths with my own hands, as if these hands held a camera, capable of capturing what others could not see.

But even then, I still could not make an album of the pictures that I took,
my pictures became collages, mixing one with the other, creating a whole new complete passage, or picture I should say, one that everyone could admire with their eyes, but one that wasn't real to the naked eye, nor one that anyone could touch, unless we all worked towards constructing it for ourselves.

I felt the breeze greet me, tenderly,
like arms that hug, sturdily,
tightly puling closer towards a chest,
with heart, beating,
pump,
pump,
like a wind that leaves one refresh.

Life is an ice cube
floating in this glass of Earth
trying to cool it

To know the truth
it's as if not knowing it at all,
it only hurts,
it aches
but at least we know
what's going on

because the truth is
Like a knot around our necks,
meant to be unknotted,
to allow us to breathe

It pours! It pours!
into this little lagoon
just look at the waves
to tides being born
just look at the turbulence
under the light of the moon

this little lagoon
is a sea of hurt
with nothing to lose

I've grown to hate you Hate
And I hate that I hate you
Because I've never truly hated you
I simply loved every feeling
Every emotion
in my body

I cherished everything
Every single feeling that made me human
But Hate, you are inhuman

To be your blanket and your bed of dreams,
To be your pillow, the one you could embrace,
it's not what I wish to be
But to be the lover in your life:
The one you could embrace,
The one that could embrace you as well,
That's what I wish to be
Yet to be a lover in your life:
I first need to approach you in the streets,
Or wherever the place that you may be at

I was a flower planted on the ground.
Some days, the wind came to greet me,
Until I looked like a merry go round.
My petals started to fall one by one,
just detaching from me onto the grass.

         Mean while, underneath the ground,
         my roots gripped tighter to the soil
         as if they were looking for oil
         Like men do when in search for petroleum
         They dug deep, deeper down

This flower remained tall

If you are going to do anything
Do it without regrets
Don't think about it twice
But if you do, then don't do anything.

I lost it. It came to be like a pen,
filled with ink, ready to imprint,
on paper, the ideas, the thoughts,
that now, I have lost.

And now, that I think about it,
it wasn't but a pen on my hand,
It was but the ability
to get lost in this pen,
to wander in thoughts,
to never find that I got lost
and while I got lost
that I would also lose part of my mind.

Yes, I lost the sense of what it is true,
I lost the sense of what it is the essence of life,
I lost the purpose of what is to live
I lost it

I thought that by writing, I would find
what I yearned to find,
And I wrote and I found what I thought
I wanted to find,


but ultimately,

I found nothing.

I only found out,
that life goes on...
and that life
kept going without me.

Words, they are just letters,
and letters are just points,
and points are just numbers,
and numbers are...


Well, numbers are numbers.

Though words are really just letters,
and these letters are just points,
points combined in a sequence
sequence that gives a shape
shape that could indicate a location
location that is found by coordinates
coordinates that are just numbers,

for all the years I wasted living in fear
I try to find the courage in those I hold dear
So I no longer waste anymore years

You were like an eye lash stuck in my eye,
I felt you there, but I could not see you,
I always cried but I didn't know why,
You bothered me, and hurt me,
But I pretended nothing was there,
So I rubbed my eye until the tears faded.

She was herself like some kind of bookshelf
which held hundreds books that no one read
One of those books
had pictures of seas with mountains of trees
that no one dare see
and in those trees were roses of bones
dripping cold blood into her veins

Are you a thorn or are you not?
You sting my stress away with just a touch,
But also make my head to bleed a thought
that you and I belong as such...

as if we were some kind of rose.

Not long ago you said I was the stem,
the one from whom you fed and grew to show
that you and I belong as such....
as if we were some kind of rose





the one who feeds then grows and shows
The two of us ....

In progress..

Poetry

I’m sorry
(I haven’t been completely honest with you)
My heart beats with ache despite my constant attempts at looking at situations with optimism. Don’t get me wrong, I do not struggle nor pretend to be optimistic. It comes natural to someone who always sees the negative in every aspect of life yet refuses to be surrounded by an abyss of negativity. Thinking negative at least for me usually reduces heartache. There’s less expecting and more accepting. Especially, there’s more happiness if nothing went the way it was ... well, expected. I mean, sure thinking negative gives some kind of expectative but also a positive surprised if what was expected didn’t come true.
Anyways, poetry
Lately, I have been enjoying looking at An empty page. There’s much I would like to write, I can feel it in me but there’s much that I do not want to know. I’m in denial. I refuse to find out what my feelings are. And it’s because of that that I feel like I’m cheating you. And it hurts.

I wish to sleep
In the petals of a rose
And never again open this eyes of mine,
I wish to smell the fragrance
and sleep, forever,
forever more

But everytime
I close this eyes of mine
I awake somewhere
And I do not know where i am at,

Though it isn't a rose
Where I sleep
Nor the petals that I feel,
It just my bed,
The bed sheets,
And me,
awake again

Trying to find some rest

In my dreams

An ignorant man knows how ignorant he is
only when he knows he knows nothing
otherwise he is ignorant of how ignorant he is.
Yet an ignorant man who knows how ignorant he is,
In itself, cannot be, just an ignorant man.

Love, you are like a bee,
You make my heart buzz and buzz,
Until I work to make honey,
That I won't even eat

My sleep abandoned me
when being Awake greeted me tightly
into the needs of my babies

Now my sleep wanders alone
like a hungry dog searching for food

So at nights I chase my sleep
with whatever I can find in the fridge
but my sleep runs away
as soon as my babies awake

There are times
When she feels like trash;
Like some big fat container
that holds
waste inside

Or that it's empty
To then once again
be thrown
A little bit at a time
More and more
Waste

Until she cannot longer hold it inside
And everything starts to pile up
coming all to the surface
And the ground

She said, “randomness is non-existent, right?????”

I replied while quizzically looking at her, “I supposed...”

Then she went on to say:

When I was at the bus stop, I looked at the blue sky, and suddenly, birds were flying into my mind, but there were no birds in the sky. There were only clouds, and these clouds, were shaping my thoughts and the way I experienced my reality.

Anyways, while observing these birds flapping their wings, I saw feathers rain upon the sidewalk. These feathers tickled my senses to the point that laughter took a hold of me and made me sputter nonsense to the guy who sat beside me. Eventually, he looked at me soaked in bewilderment, and subsequently, ran to the next bus stop to dry himself out of the fear I had drenched on him. Meanwhile, the feathers gather together in ponds, and a small child who stood silently behind me, jumped to Splish-splash them upon the air. Everyone around him got wet in amazement. Their eyes wide-opened while their mouths wowed as the child in the spur of the moment looked as if he grew wings to fly towards his mom who just minutes ago had called him, “Angel!”.

Sigh she took a deep breathe then whispered in a excited tone, “it was a magnificent sight.”

I looked at her puzzled and when I was about to utter a word, she looked at me attentively as if inspecting every hair on my head then she went to ask again:

“Randomness is nonexistent, right????”

I wandered barrels in between my tongue
tripping over words,
as if I tip toed to reach the clock,
then crack, hearing the wooden floor,
I cringed then ran,
to the kitchen screaming to speak more.

a dark cloud
storms rivers
with raindrops

A star came to be me
shooting screams
granting your wishes,
Darling.

Aren't you happy that I finally feel?

Often I was numb
drifting somewhere
other than in me

My thoughts used to be yours

That's all I could think about

You
You
You

I became numb to my feelings
I wasn't me
I was you in me
searching for me
In you
because I lost me
I lost me in you

But on the other end,
I lost you, not in me, but in you.
you were meant to lose yourself in me
And me in you
Thus we, both, would still be
You and me
but me in you, and you in me,
but both still being us:
interchanged, intertwined,
us becoming the other
Until we found ourselves
lost in each other


But I lost me in you
And turned numb
Till I became a star
shooting screams
Granting your wishes
darling

Awaking
To find my way out
Out of this lost relation.

a white cat
purrs and kneads
on his bed

Just like that, within a breeze,
the winds that swayed my thoughts for you,
stopped blowing
and my thoughts finally ceased to sway
for you for the first time

Our love were weeds just growing strong with time
In fields that people often dare not walked.
Therefore, we lasted long, our love survived.
In fields that people then began to watch.

Our love then grew with winds that changed our life
As squalls began to break our stems in halves
Therefore, we lasted short, our love then died
when roots became uprooted off the ground
In fields that people then begin to walk.

If by chance the hands of time
has shaken my hands with blessings,
I would greet anyone
with a handshake

But if by chance the hands of time
have embraced me with compassion
I would embrace anyone
who needs of that compassion

Yet if by chance the hands of time
has touched me with love
I would love everyone
But I would not touch all


Of that I'm sure

She was the kind to cook according to her moods
When she was happy, all her food tasted extremely good
But when sadness overthook her heart,
And when bitterness overtook her soul,
her cooking ability became sad,
And bitter ...

Plus she refused to eat any  more sadness in her life
Or any more bitterness

That all her cooking went

To waste

a monkey
mocks people
with his tail

can it be possible that God in all his mighty,
when he created men,
did not know that turning dirt to flesh,
could corrupt the soul?

Could it be possible that God in all his mighty,
did not know that dirt can contaminate?
or did he know, but hoped, no I mean,
did he have faith that man can become clean?

Or is it possible that the soul is a moving river,
some oasis, or moving water,
that should remain in constant motion,
to remain clean? or become clean?

Could it be that since our birth, our soul,
this river, starts losing it's current,
and thus, we end up drying up,
becoming more like what we were, dirt,
and nothing else?

But then,
how can our souls remain in constant movement?
How can this river continue growing?
Is it through pain? Is it through tears?
Or could it be, that through our tears
we can reflect in them and find ourselves?
As if those tears were raindrops, falling
one on one, then forming this river,
that keeps on growing to reflect ourselves?

Could it be?

Everyday, every night,
when the sun or the moon is out
I think about you, mom and dad

Whether the weather surprises us
with a cool and refreshing breeze,
with hail or tornados
With hurricanes or God knows what
I think about you, mom and dad

Whether I’m healthy or sick
whether I’m awake or asleep
I think about you
I think about you all the time

Sweet nothing, there's nobody,
Just a hollow vague and vast void
An eternal wound opening up
Bleeding out pain,
And not leaving a time to form a scar
Right here, in this chest

Sweet nothing, that's how my eyes look,
Like staring into oblivion,
lost, gazing into a wall, a concrete block,
That blocks the streets where people pass by,
Brick by brick, building up dreams,
Blocking out reality,
Forming a facade of fantasies,
where light is visible only by climbing these dreams,
And I lost the strenght,
I feel tired, gazing into a wall,
like staring into oblivion, forgetting how it feels to see,
beyind this wall

The ache the ache is back again
to help me write
to help me rest
Some say I’m cursed
Some say I’m blessed

I think I’m both
I think of course

Poetry is not about how well you rhyme
or how good your rhythm is.
It's somehow similar to life,
in the sense that you just live like this:

           Not knowing what it is.
           Yet searching for bliss,
            we live just to live
           With or without a motive

The same goes with poetry
We don't know what truly is.
Yet searching for bliss,
We write just to write
With our without a motive

if I were a boat
sailing alone in the ocean blue
I might sink
right under the bright moon
but if I were that boat
sailing a castaway into safe landing
I would float
regardless of how broken
I may be

Man, I don't know...

But I could be a bottle,
lost and found,
First thrown into a sea to wander
Then thrown into a sea to be found
But hey, here I am,
floating in a sea, swaying in between waves,
Then floating here, into your hands,
With a message to say
Be just, be Kind

Live life with dignity,
And love,

Oh love,
live life.

I try to stretch my thoughts
like mozzarella in a grill
but all I end up with
is with a burnt cheese

love left me before I learnt to love
It was right there
at the touch of a fingertip

but I was afraid...

I kept pulling my hand closer to my chest.
And there, it rested on a grave.

Within the truth lies a truth so truthful
that lies cannot lie about

I do not understand these night words
That come to me like stars,
shining in my thoughts,
I extend my hand to reach to them,
But they are too far away, beyond a sense,
I feel like a child at a flat roof of life,
just swaying in a hammock that God built for me,
But I'm just amazed, flabbergasped to say the least, I simply enjoy watching the stars shine when my brothers watch it with me.

Worry less by
Thinking less about the things you must do
Just do them, then think more
about things that help you understand
what matters in life
and what not