I’m soft
almost like jelly
too soft
with a giggly like spirit
so every time
anyone harms me
I forget it, it just goes through,
or sometimes
it just bounces off to them

May be...
Someday... I'll be

something
or nothing
or a thing

I might pretend that I exist
and that I live in the present
never seeing the future
Not looking back at what it use to be

May be...
Someday... I'll

stay still

I know. I feel it.
I am no pristine water but
neither I am a muddy one
my waters are clear enough to see through
and safe enough to drink from
Yet for reasons unbeknownst to me
you try so hard to be the rocks that swim in me
despite the fact that my waters
keep on carrying you to the shores
away and away from me

don’t you seee?
as a rock
you keep on stirring waves in me
and these waves keep on pushing you
further and further away

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

Dark night
where the moon often hides amidst the clouds
and the stars are distant so far away from our sight
Tell me, how do you feel tonight?

how do you feel by knowing many fear to walk
the streets when you are the only company they got?



Dark night
this is something you must know,
When I see you, I grab a flashlight or some lamp
I’m not scared of you per se
I’m afraid I would tumble down the road with the first rock that gets in my way

Dark night
With your presence, you blind me so
I become so blind that I need to rely in the senses that I usually don’t

what hides in this chest?
a pleasure I treasure?
or a pain without measure?

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.

Having faith does not mean to not question or to not have doubt

Having faith is questioning and doubting but still remain certain that despite the odds everything will turn alright

Having faith is like having a pillar by your side in which you can recline to watch how things will turn out after you have done whatever best you could.

Having faith is trusting God will help you but also trusting in your own self to help yourself for God said "help yourself that I will help you."

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.

Would you be THE one
My star, so bright, so far
Up high, above the sky,
Just shining through the dark
For me to see at night?

Would you be the one,
The guide I yearned to have
The one that lights the path
towards Jesus Christ?

Jan 2016.

Why must I write using imagery?

Should I paint words as if those words
were canvases?
Should I paint words as if by coloring them,
I could draw the eye of the reader into my poems?
Should I just paint and paint words
for the sake of painting an image
into the reader's mind?
Should I?

Ah!

Should I just paint words for them to see
what reality does not allow them to see?
Should I paint words for them to feel,
what reality does not allow them to feel?

Or Should I just paint words and become an artist, and don't care about anything else, not about me holding a brush, not about me, having colors,
Just about me, painting what I see,
What I feel, while I paint words with whatever I have in my hands.

Should I?

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

the day feels heavy on my boots,
one step, lifted leg, mud, grass tall,
a puddle,

life is an ice cube
floating and melting each day
in this hellish Earth

I may stationed in my dreams,
seeing the past pass by,
And reality collide into memories
that I have yet to live

That's what it seems

This anger
Angers me more
than the anger I felt
while being angered
Yesterday

It's just that this anger in me
Consumes the anger of yesterday
Plus it feeds
Upon the anger of my yesteryears.
It just grows and grows,
While feeding and devouring,
the angers I felt
in my past

It intensifies
yet it digests the leftovers
from my past angers.

It does.

But even worst,
This anger of mine
Never sleeps
It just feeds and grows,
At all times.

It's a glutton, right?

flowers in a crown
people gathered round a plaza
a lady stands out

To write, write, write...
That's all my soul was born to do,
As if my soul was the pen
That I, myself, hold with my hand.

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

Oh heavens high, where are you now?
I searched for you within the clouds
I found some gates but of airlines
that only took me for a flight
then came to land me on some ground


Oh heavens high, where are you now?

Me
And words
Don't get along

We are like cats and dogs
Or rather like water and oil
Mixing up
A lot of times
Not very well

And so my will,
It's the captain and I'm the ship

It guides me out of turbulent seas
It leads me towards peaceful seas

Or with me it sinks.

Whether this feeling I feel
is mine to keep
is not something I feel
that should deprive me of my sleep

Often, those feelings come
like a flame burning my chest
and I guess,
I feel like remnants of a mess
left after a fire has devoured
what was once

a me

but now

with the opportunity to start
Afresh.

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

The only thing I know is that
we, all, are broken
even before the moment we are born

And as we grow, it's as if,
with every passing day,
the pieces that will put us back together,
gathered up slowly,
awaiting for the moment
when we finally complete the picture
of who exactly is this Me

Bright, bright, stars,
that visit the sky with lights,
without you, my nights,
would be nothing but dark

And full, full, moon,
that comes every once,
without you, I'd be soon,
a lonely lagoon

I'm hunched over pain
trying to straighten my spine

but on the desk, I got
too many problems to solve
and a brain that has lost
all of its spark

I was once on top of my marks
...
Don't know, how I lost my marker.

May be Alzheimer's
is horse riding my back,
pushing me
Closer to death'a
finishing line?

I dreamt of you in white
Wearing a dress like the sun
bright
Distilling sunshine rays
Throughout the day
But at night

I dreamt of you
Like I always done
But I forgot about your face
I forgot about our conversations
And I meant to remember them

But I just can't

The dreams in which you are
Are memories I lived before
And some days it feel
As if my present days are memories
Like Dejavu
That I have lived before

I smiled and awake
Shaking my head
No

No

This is the only life I have

I have not lived before

a monkey
mocks people
with his tail

And what do you know,
Look at here.
You see that book.
Grab it.
Read it.

It's covers are old. Dusty. Almost broken.
It's pages are yellow, almost ashen,
But it's letters are readable.

Just grab it.
Read it.

These type of books are the substance
For your mind.
If you feel hungry for knowledge,
Search for one,
Just like this one, here, have it.

Read it as if you were eating
Your favorite food.
Slowly, chewing and chewing,
Bit by bit, as if not wanting
Your food to ever finish.

Remember,

These sort of books with substance,
are what your mind needs.

Grab it.
Read it.

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

Quizas mi lengua se acostumbro
a el silencio,
que ha dejado de formular palabras,
tal vez,
mis labios se acostumbraron a los tuyos,
Pero en cuanto el silence se quedo callado
Fue cuando mas hablamos

I want to sip and sip from the wine of knowledge
And be drunk without worries
But I rather just want to sip and sip from the water of wisdom
And remain sober,
Until I become purify
Until I satiate my thirst to understand life
Until I feel hydrated with joy
Until I feel alive

To meet in Halloween night
what a witchy spell that was

to dance and feel the music
resonate in our hearts,
It's too feel the rhymth of friendship
tap our senses,
pulling us closer apart.

Your lips have been stitched up,
your words have been mummified,
Here you await,
in this tomb, putrifying no more,
But getting old and lost.
Almost turning to dust.

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,

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.

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.

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????”

Love me sweetly
be like bees
And make out of me
honey, please!

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.

Flower me in a *** of love
and let me rise like a rose
with sunshine rays
enlightening my days
till night time comes

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.

Let’s try something different today.
Let’s see
Something...

Some things never change.

But wait, that’s a lie
Everything changes

People change
at least physically
Skin wrinkles as time passes by
It’s as if Time itself was water
and people submerge themselves
in it for a long... well...
a long time...

everyone swims in this water
some float naturally
others drown themselves in it
some suffocate with it
others just enjoy it

But no matter what
Water changes
at least its composition
some water have more minerals or vitamins in it
Other waters are more salty
Some are sweeter
there’s also polluted water
Yup, water changes

and we know in which water to swim
And we can choose from which Water to drink
But as Time changes
do we get that choice?

I'm doing what I was doing
When I stopped doing what I was doing
So doing what I was doing
Will help me do what I stopped doing

And subsequently,
I will be doing what I should have not stop doing

That is, write poetry.

poetry
You pull out of me Wisdom
As if I were a wisdom tooth.
And you?
the dentist who pulls me out
to become
Who I'm truly meant to be

Not another cavity in the mouth of earth that causes pain

I am not deem to be a judge
Whatever I read
Screams back at me

And I can't tolerate the screams
They are too loud
For my ears to hear

Will my Will ever be
my spirit taking a hold of me?

Yes, indeed
that's what it is

a captain taking hold of his ship.

When the moon arrives and sets above my head
I feel a lightbulb turns on bright with light ideas
Then they begin to expand like stars that spread
All over the universe To illuminate
a path that leads towards a verse
that I will read then write
before going to bed

Can I tell you something?

I dislike planning.

Whenever I plan, things don't go accordingly.
Plus, with the whole concept of planning,
I immediately force myself to expect
an outcome. And as many of you know,
expectations, if don't met, can hurt.
Does this phrase sound familiar:

"Never expect anything in return".

But why are we so afraid of getting hurt?

As far as me goes, I am not afraid of getting hurt and experiencing
disappointment because disappointment (if handled correctly, with a positive view) can help an individual grow.
It can make a human become down-to-earth because it constantly remind us that all of us are humans and thus are perfectly imperfect.

Then why is it that I dislike planning?