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

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.

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

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

Come bathe with me in rivers of sunshine
And let us fly in oceans of clouds

Till we fall

In

Love

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."

Love, love, love.
You see...
It's a bird flying and flying,
landing then flying
just flying then landing
this bird of love.
It spreads its wings,
It soars.
It flies.
This bird of love.

It's free to come and go,
And goes and comes,
But it never leaves
the skies it soars.

Oh This bird of love,
it soars and soars,
And lands, and flies,
in the skies and grounds,
of this earth
that is my home.

Oh yes, this bird of love
It loves this earth
That is my home.
With no condition
It flies and soars,
Whether warm or cold,
Regardless of the weather
This bird of love
Just loves
This earth
That is my home.

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

I'm a plant, aren't I God?
I always seem to extend my faith
towards the light

As if my faith were branches,
trying to reach you
wherever you are,

It's just growing and growing,
Becoming greener and greener,
But too green
to fully understand
that the drier One gets, the easier
One burns with the fire of hell

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?

The waters of the seas I wandered in,
seemed calm, the shores sounded peaceful,
I yearned to walk in their sands.

But I floated between waves that lulled me into sleep,
And I floated between waves that moved me into tears,

But now, I know I have deviated from my path
I must searched for a northern star
I need to be guided
onto the right path

And for that,
I mustn't walk on the sands of the shores I once yearned to walk.

All I know is that when depression slaps me,
It slaps me hard.
Yet I just turn the other cheek around,
Until it slaps me one more time,
Then I slap it back,
Twice as hard, just to knock it out.
To Leave it unconscious for a while.

I choose my choices based on my choices
Not on the choices you choose for me to choose

But if you thought that I chose based on yours choices,
I'm sorry,
it's not my fault that some of your choices
somehow ended up being the same as my own.

Ah to hell with this,
Some loves are born dead
They are meant to not live

Though they would still make you bleed
To experience pain
Through a c section
That'll scarred you forever

And it'll hurt twice as ever

Because you'll never experience the joy
of seeing Love grow

L.L.

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

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

a woman at church
with rosary in hands lights the room
like votive candles

When the storms cease to be
When the rain comes to greet the ground
by halting without a warning from the sun
When the wind becomes a breeze
and not a tornado in flames
You’ll come to meet us lord

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

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.

Stop! Don’t give any step forward.

I’m like a loaded gun tossed on the ground
ready for someone to pull the trigger

Proceed with caution.

like an earring in your earlobe,
my thoughts hung,
Pendulating back and forth,
Trying to whisper in your ears
"Come-hither my love"

but ah too fierce was your walk,
And my thoughts,
Pendulated back and forth timidly,,
That I just hung
Like that earring in your earlobe.

May be the stars were out of my reach,
exactly how you used to preach
But their light guided my dreams

And I guess
All I really want
Is silence
Peace
Resonating within me

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.

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?

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

Dear God,

Through my guardian angel
Send to me the knowledge
Send to me the cure
That I may hear within its whispers
How to achieve peace

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

Wander wander lost
without a place to go
always searching,
never finding
what you are looking for

Day
You come along without pretending
Sometimes you are moody
Stormy, windy, sunny
Other times, you are cold

But you don't pretend
You are who you are
Regardless, people like you or not
But most of the time
They accept you the way you are
And in some occasions
They even try to acclimatize their lives
according to your moods

tomorrow a flower grows
in fields of sorrow, like an anchor that goes
where the wind blows

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

I was once silence
echoing
loud in your mind


Now I’m just
silence

Sshhh

Good night

Do I feel what I write or do I write what I feel? I know that I write what I feel, but somewhere in between the lines, I feel what write, I just feel it to the point that I write what I feel.