I see me not, I see me not.
I have no mirror to reflect me on.
But in a river, I see me yes
And my reflection,
it's like the current

Still

Streaming

Still

Going on...

Dec 2, 2014

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.

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?

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.

May be, I am this book on my lap?
the one I usually close to nap.
Then I awake to open it again
but its content makes no sense
Then it does, later, it does not...

May be, I am this pen on my hand?
The one I always seem to understand
whenever I write my ideas down.
It feels like we are fully synchronize
except when its ink runs out...

May be, I am the sofa where I sit?
The one that's quiet and usually doesn't quit
it keeps on holding someone else's weight
Until the weight becomes too much
And then it breaks...

May be, I am just a human like everyone else?
The one that's feels a certain way
but the way she feels
It's not justified by the way she lives
Yet still, she feels like this....

And she doesn't know

Why?

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

God if by chance, I were to forget about you
Please, do come, knock into my door
And if by chance, I were to not open
Please, my lord, make yourself at home

here, here is the key.
Here, come in

This my heart is the door
This my life is your home

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

under bed
a pillow
hides some tears

Forgive me love,
I've been floating in your currents
Like a castaway who built a boat,
I've been swimming in your currents,
in search for the Earth that I belong,
Where you and I, could build a home,

So forgive me love,
I tried to drown in your love,
But I cannot. I need to breathe.
I need to live. I need to continue give it strokes,
Until I reach the place where we belong.

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

I want to stop this madness
I wish to know the truth

Why do I feel the urge to know about us?

Why are humans such a mystery?

Is there anyone who truly understands what we are?

Why do I feel tired? Why do I feel exhausted?
I wish I knew the questions to answer my questions
I wish I knew why I feel so tired.

I just wish I knew....

He pedal till the petals fell...
Everyday, he'd pedal to his yard
To water the plants and make the greens stand out
But ever time he came to his yard
He watered the plants
But he never saw behind his back.

Thus he pedal till the petals fell
And until then
While looking at the road,
He saw the petals and realized
that I was the flower on his back.

His life.

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.

There lays asleep, my lady of dreams,
Wake her up and help me dream,
But if by chance, she walks asleep
Don't wake her up, guide her towards me

I see the stars brightly shine,
I see the waves ebbing back,

So if you see her in her even'g gown
And if you see her in the shorelines
Don't wake her up, guide her towards me
Don't wake her up, else she'll scream in fear

Just guide her back into my life
Just guide her back into my path

But don't wake her up, or you'll disturb her dreams
Don't wake her up if she walks asleep
Don't wake her up unless she lays there asleep
Under the moonlight
Under a palm at the beach

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

From arrows
hangs my heart;
feeding crows

Somewhere in white pages, I lost you.
I call it your letters - boxes in the attic:
unread, unwritten.
Empty envelopes with a recipient,
And a sender, but with no content,
with no story, with no reminder
of us ever being together.

Stress stretches me
as if I were a rubber band
the more it does
the more resistance I exert
but lately
the resistance is lesser
it feels like it has reach a point
where at any moment
it might just snap

fireflies in the sky
as night time falls with a kiss
lovers in the park

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.

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

To be your arms, and feel your warm.
To be your body, and feel you whole,
I may want, I may want, or I may not

for if I'm your arms, then I would feel how you feel
when you touch her and not me
For if I'm your body, then I would feel how you feel,
but not, how you feel about me.

For then I would be you and I won't be me.
For then you nor I would exists.

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..

a white cat
purrs and kneads
on his bed

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 write what I write
Just to write what I have to write
Because if I write
to not write what I have to write
It'll be like I write
to write what I want to write
But this art of writing
does not work like that

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????”

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

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

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

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.

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

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.

If by chance my lord you hear me,
Please, help me think clearly,
Help my heart feel ease
Help my mind feel at peace
Help my soul connect with both
yes, with my heart and mind, with both

And if by chance dear god you hear me,
Help me be at peace,
Clear my thoughts from unwanted thoughts
Yes, my lord purify my body and soul.

My lord, my God,
You are my world.
In you, I live.
In you, I am alive.

Without you, I'll be
not even dust.
I'll be nothing for sure,
yes, not even a ghost.

Love,

Call me today, tomorrow, or the next one
Call me in a week, a month, or a year
I'll wait,
But call me.

I'll be a telephone line, a wire to your voice, a speaker in your cellphone,

I'll be.

I'll be just waiting for a dial. Then  if I find it. I'll be just waiting for you to dial: the numbers in my heart, the combinations that makes this connections connects us both, so I may listen to your voice without you saying a single word....

But call me

Love.

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?

I long for the day, education would be free
Where studying is not an obligation
But a passion to know about our world
Where hunger is a forgotten word
amid our stomachs
But not amid our souls

I long of the day, when starvation would
**** no one but the spirits of evil doers
To be reborn
Into a world
Where those who work work:
As a means of filling up their spiritual void,
of giving their time to our world,
of Passing up time for the sake of protecting those
who would decide to live a normal life,

But also
As a means of getting closer to God.

My eyes, a see-through window
full of smudges,
Light can barely pass through them,
It's hard to see in and out.
Though people still stand in front of them: waving as if trying to clear the smudges with their hands
But all I see are their intentions becoming more blur :(

You know when you do the right thing
And the thing turns to be wrong
But then it would have been wrong
If you had not done the right thing, anyways!

Well, I really don't know what went wrong.

The clear sky
clouds the mind
with daydreams

the sky is open. You can see clouds being dragged by winds atop mountains.

You can see them resisting. Exerting force. getting darker. louder. Crashing against one another.

Thundering.

You can see those winds turning into tornadoes. oscillating. spiraling. Pressuring clouds to stay together.

Lighting.

You can see the clouds getting madder. Expanding. Resisting the oppression.

the sky closes.

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.

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

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.

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?

Me and you
In the road of over here is now
And in the intersection
Of over there is later
Just walking
Following that road
Not crossing the intersection.

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.

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.