Together—I felt pain,

Alone—you felt joy.

Inward—heart's in flame,

Outward—the mind went lame.

And so—

Yesterday—she promised

Today—he lied.

Near—we idled by,

Afar—they said goodbye.

On my way to a path

I was met by a hermit

Accompanied by its music which

Unlike a sculpture nor a painting,

With their mimicking stagnation,

The music flowed through time.

The hermit then asked,

'What is the joy of silence?'

With the cold of that ember evening

I dared not to answer

For in silence, the truth there dwells.

'An admirable integrity!'

The hermit jovially exclaimed

'For the path of nothingness,

after all is reserved for the Will,

the Will to beauty, the Will to be.'

Without a moment to ponder

I thereby entered the void

As the Hermit's music

Went into a glistening crescendo

The void joined along an innuendo

It is fact that with a baby's cry

Along comes with it a signal of life

The void became a myth and a lie

Of the world before I came to be

When I saw my mother's eyes.

Calling a 'man' a beast

Is an insult to say the least

For the beast only knows how to tear.

A man on the other hand

in hatred, is an artist—

Imagine the countless ways

You annihilated your enemies

In your dark, mental festivities

You took guilty relish

in their sufferings.

'Our historical past-time

has always been

the direct satisfaction

of inflicting pain'

By the swords of a scholar

The world had heed by the golden scabbard.

Perpetual songs of the hammer forebode

Heroes sung of hymns to thee

A parchment is sealed, of greater unfold.

"For as lack of adornment is said to become some women, so this subtle oration, though without embellishment, gives delight."

In every step of days,

is her fall from grace

yet waning beauty

brings wisdom and bliss.

Her autumn for me

is a second spring,

where every leaf is a flower

that blooms from within.

Beauty is a margin

of what is sweet

or what is rotten.

A majesty of remembrance,

through time shall be forgotten.

If one took a bite

Of its lustful sight

a taste of what might,

could it be sour or right?

He knits like a poet

Stuck in a few palletes

Yet his threads seem thicker

Than his breakfast's bread.

So he lifted his paper

And ripped it to shreds

As he sips his coffee

The paper did bled.

I write whenever

it is necessary.

But what is

a necessity

to a fool

who lavish himself

with poetry?

Make sin, let your souls drain,

for plants wither without a little rain.

'Let justice be done

though the heavens fall'

For it is better to feel pain

Than to feel nothing at all.

If I could die everyday

   and live another day

I'd choose to be

   as close to you

'til your feelings

   melt away.

With every lick,

   with every breath

I'll be your treat,

   and pain to bear.

"Bashed to the head

By a blunt cold wrench."

The inspector concluded:

"It's Howard Bent."

No bullets were spent

At home he went

His trousers were wet

"Fear for his life, he felt"

Hid under the bed

A scratch over the forehead

"My god what a mess,"

The servant gagged and left.

Suddenly up overhead

A piano played in clefs

Swiftly we paced, upstairs we fled

A sibling of his: it's William Bent.

"We were told you were tone deaf,

But played the piano well?"

The Inspector interjected,

As William went ahead.

"Dear brother, hello

have you taken your meds?"

Upset and dejected I said:

"THERE'S A DEAD MAN DOWN THERE"

"Good evening Mr. Bent,"

Said a calm voice downstairs

"Have you finished with your toys?"

It's my lovely: Rose Taylor-Bent.

"MY DEAR GET OUT OF HERE"

I screamed, with sweat I'm drenched.

"William, grab his hand!"

A needle pierced, it bled.

Somewhere out of nowhere

As I slumber and dreamt

Enters a man painted in red

A figure approached and wept

"I thought we're playing?" he said,

"but why did you hit me instead?"

"BECAUSE YOU'RE ALWAYS AHEAD"

I scorned violently to the dead.

"But I am you, and you are me,

It's me and you, together, we're free!"

I looked through a mirror

And then and there I faced horror.

A man with no lips, no eyes, no nose

I woke up and hurriedly arose,

Facing the face of my dear Rose:

"My sweetest, my love,

don't leave me no more"

As I gently stood

A mirror I took

To my face he stared:

It's Howard Bent.

Within a subtle distance

I'll feel your pain in silence

As I move in a single file

Love for you is endless fire

A poet's life is that of tragedy

Once born, its fate is sealed.

But what is fate to a baloney?

To a chronic liar; a phony?

But all it tells is constant truth

No wonder Eve bit the fruit.

Long live the men

battered and opressed

Long live the King

old, frail and dying.


Hail to the Queen

talked to by the keen

Bless all the women

whose knees both bent.


By my Royal decree

Of chaos and glee

Let all ye be free

From this broken dream.

It's not too late
to make amends
But it's now too early
For us to be friends.

Excuse my french but,
I have this little habit of
eating a bowl of nails faster,
than swallowing a drop
of the truth.

What is longing?
Why do we miss?
Of sorrows and grief?
Or simply for bliss?

A lover, a friend
A relative, a family
Or simply just someone
Who made us feel happy

It can break it can bleed
Could make us all plead
For we always want better
Than the ones we have hither

Despite of all that
They may have hurt bad
It's all in the past
And it's me I still have

I've listened to pioneers
I've talked to delinquents
Heard of rumors
Learned of facts
Theories of the curious
Laws of the illustrious
Everything is the same
And it's the same in every "right".

As long as we continue to abide
To break and to rule and oblige
Always on queue as we search for clues
We always do, but settle our dues
To live and to be exterminated
To be downtrodden, to be accepted
We live a virtuous yet infectious life
But not all are asleep-laid to rest every night.

Some give birth as the reaper does its work
Love forever blooms as cults of hate still lurk
Religious gospels countered by the sacrilegious
Funny how both sides argue on identical mediums
One nation, one race, yet we cancel each and erase
Its the start of the end,
but what does life has to say?

[Monday, 8:49am...]

Keyboards hurriedly crack and click
As my mind sends me adrift
Among these papers and clips
A photo of you I kissed.

It's perhaps a beautiful day it is
It's a beautiful day, with you I miss...

Make it happen!
Yet not forgotten!
Let your hearts loosen!
All yourselves forgiven!

You are the maker of makers!
The master of masters!
Let those words not stutter!
Say it, SAY IT altogether!

Fear not the wrath of the day,
Nor the dark where you lay,
Have faith as bright as day!
Let the gospel take the slay!

Of the evil, of the temptation,
All the deceitful sensation,
Get out! fight! lead the nation!
Save the world from damnation!

Tungkol saan kaya ang isusulat ko?
Dito sa papel at lapis na hawak ko?
Tungkol kaya ‘to sa kapaligiran ko?
O sa nararamdama’t karanasan ko?
Ngayon, nananatiling blangko si papel
Nakasulat palang itong si letrang “L”
Hayy ‘di pa naman tumutunog ‘tong si “bell”
Kaya gagamitin nalang muna si “cel”
At lumipas ang mahigit isang oras
Napansin ko, ako’y nagsayang ng oras!
Hayy nakoo! Bakit  dito  bilis mo oras?!
‘lam mo nang ayokong tumayo sa labas.
Nakoo ‘yan na si teacher [insert pangalan]!
Ay! Itago! Itago si “cel” bilisan!
Ibalik si papel! ‘tong lapis tasahan!
Para ‘di guilty mukha, boses lakasan!
Ay teka’ ba’t si teacher’  dito ang *****?
Parang umaapoy kanyang mga mata
Biglang kinabahan na parang ‘sang bata,
Hayy nakoo! Ako ata’y lagot nanaman!
Nahugot agad si “cel” sa pagalapit niya
At inilagay niya sa drawer ng mesa niya
Itong aking nararamdaman, ‘di kaya
Pawang nan’liliit’ sa labis na hiya.
Kaya kasama ulit si blangkong papel
Kasama narin ‘tong si tanging letra “L”
Ngunit ngayo’y ang lungkot’ wala na si “cel”
At saktong tumunog itong si lokong “bell”.