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 Jun 2018 Mishy Kim
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from Andrea

"i love you ♥"

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for all the boys and girls who still yearn for love in our digital age
 Nov 2017 Mishy Kim
 Nov 2017 Mishy Kim
these nights are the nights
that I wish I had:

a cup of coffee
a view of the stars
a comfy blanket
a knitted sweater
a sleeping kitten

things that you savor
things that give live flavor
things that you live for
things that you love for

things that will whisper
in your ear to say

"today was bad,
but tomorrow will be better"

sure, I don't have
a cup of coffee

and I can't see
the stars from my window

my blanket is rough

and I don't own a sweater.


I'm allergic to kittens.

but I know you're out there
and one day
you'll whisper in my ear

"today was bad,
but tomorrow will be better"
 Apr 2016 Mishy Kim
Raf Reyes
It's okay
If your hand gets tired of holding mine
It's okay
If your fingers let go and decide to draw the line
It's okay
If your nails dig deep into my skin
If they leave scars on my hand when you finally say goodbye

Because atleast I'll have the scars
To remember you by
"If you love something, let it go"? *******. Letting go *****
 Dec 2015 Mishy Kim
Jason Chae
imagine if VCIS had escalators instead of hard stair cases
and water slides in each sides
just to keep our entertainment level high

imagine our classrooms with movie screens
instead of those pale whiteboards
where you can watch the math problems
as the ****** in this movie
while you enjoy the lessons
chomping some barbecue popcorns

imagine our canteen
as a 5 star Gorden Ramsy's
and our library with a super secret spy base
behind one of those 8 bookshelves
and our tiny comfort rooms with disco *****
so we can shake a bit while we release some bits
and our quad floor as the Pacific Ocean
because why not
imagine Koby Bryant standing in our Lakers ground
just to make our school look cool

imagine our school as a mental hospital
or a even a county called
"International Christian Republic of Victory"
for we have our own flag and an anthem to sing

imagine every extremes you had ever imagine

but once these imaginations step in the border of wishing
to change our school

VCIS will never be the same

because I like our school the way it is
it is imperfectly perfect

each of the classrooms have different crayons of personalities
where everyone fills the color of this huge painting

our windows are sealed with iron bars and covered with egg trays
but no great movies can be fun as this movie with best friends

and the those grade school students running every morning
as if I was chasing them on a 13th Friday
but they are happiest human beings I know

and even though our campus may be smaller than others
and even though there are some cracks in the edges
and even though I eat fried chicken with ketchup every single lunch

I will remember VCIS forever for that.
(wrote this spoken word poem for a school event)
My mask covers me
For my sins
Because I am wicked
Do not look at me
This mask I bear
Brings me shame
Relying on myself
Is all I can do
Remembering love
is worthless
All my sin
Placed in a bottle
All my tears

How much more do we deserve?
An unfailing love
that is pure and genuine
Such a thing exists
According to God
Eternal life and everlasting joy
are given to those who believe in Him
A new life, a new mask
A different perspective
(Read from the bottom up once you've reached the end)
 Jun 2015 Mishy Kim
Sofia Paderes
We’ve been walking on this journey for years now, and I’ve held your hand long enough to know that when I slip into quicksand or miss a step, it is not you who lets go. Your fingers aren’t the ones coated in doubt or in selfishness, gripping firmly only when it feels right, when it feels necessary. Your hands are not made of brittle bone, shivering and breaking when the cold starts to show. Teach me to never let go.

We’ve known plenty of good weather. Safe landings. Skies full of stars and days of endless wind. Scraped knees were never a problem, we always seemed to be in fields of yellow and green, surrounded by miles and miles of running streams. There were times when I would purposefully stumble, thinking that it would be okay, I’d land elbows first in the faces of dandelions anyway. Other times I’d stray, not because of greener grass, but because I was too caught up smelling that single flower to see that you were calling me to the next meadow, where petals of a sweeter smell and prettier colors stretch out like a seascape. Teach me to give up my little treasures and desires, for yours are far better.

Sometimes I get a little adventurous. I tell you I want mountains. I tell you I want to climb, that I want the strain and the adrenaline rush, the thrill of letting pieces of hardened sand and pebble carry my whole weight, the challenge, the sweat, the blood. I tell you I want to see things from the eyes of God. I tell you I want to struggle and overcome. I tell you I want the soul of a deer, to plant my feet firmly on the narrow heights, I tell you I’m alright but when I’m actually in the process of the climb, in the process of the waiting, wondering which rock do I grasp next, which path do I trust with my steps, I tell you I’m not ready for mountains after all. But you did not bring me here to watch me fall, so teach me. Teach me to keep my ankles strong, and my hold on you stronger.

And when we tire of mountains, you take me to oceans. You know how much I love the saltwater mysteries, how my heart sings when I get to feel clumps of wet sand beneath the soles of my feet. And you know how much I don’t know about the waters, you know that it’s hard for me to tell when an undercurrent comes sweeping like thousands of tiny *****, that I can’t spot the difference between high tide and low tide until the waves are lapping at my door, that I still swim after jellyfish no matter how many times I’ve been stung, and how I forget that not every beautiful thing has beautiful intentions, and especially how oceans also terrify the breath out of me. One of my deepest fears is to die drowning, but still you row us out in a weathered boat into the middle of the sea, no life vests or whistles, nothing. We’ve had calm waters and dolphin mornings, we’ve had rough rowing and storms brewing, and each time you managed to put the thundering and rumbling in my chest to rest, and each and every time you’ve gotten us back to shore. But honestly, there are days I want to jump ship, sail my own boat, find my own sea, and some days I do. Those days I lose my way, those days I’m half drowned, but I turn around and find you there. Teach me to trust the one whose voice the waves and wind know.

Now here we are in a different kind of sea, the kind without water. This pit is abundant in ***** yellow devils, illusions and false promises, but all I have are questions and weary feet. Why are we here? Where are we going? Why did we leave? How am I going to shake off this mirage? When is it going to rain? After all we've been through, this is where you're taking me?

My path is an endless circle, a cycle using my sight, my heart, my feelings, my stocked up wisdom to judge my situation and I come to the conclusion that you have deserted me. But you haven't. And I don't understand how you stuck with me through hills and valleys, and never once thought of leaving, but you haven't. Your shadow is cast on me and peace overflows. Maybe I've been asking the wrong questions. Maybe instead of asking you where the stretch of sand ends, I should be asking you to teach me.

Teach me to love you in every season, whether it be the harshest of winters or the wildest of heats. Teach me to understand that deserts make me thirst for water, that I need to be lost so that I may be found, that without a battle there is no victory, that seeds die before they grow into trees. But before anything else, teach me to let the sound of your voice to be what guides me through winding paths and roaring winds, not which road looks smooth or which sky looks dim.

We've been walking on this journey for years now, and I've held your hand long enough to know that all this time you have been teaching me to fall in love with my eyes closed.
A spoken word poem written for Sali Production's benefit concert for Resources for the Blind, Mata, last month in Ortigas Park.

Also, I can't think of a title. Help.
 Mar 2015 Mishy Kim
Sofia Paderes
Summer, Day 1.
Do you know how much I love you?
One day you will.
One day you will.
I haven't even seen you yet,
but I am so in love with you.

When the time comes for us to finally be together, I will drive us somewhere outside this concrete jungle to ask you that. Then I will tell you to look at the stars, and you will try to count them, even if you already know that not enough stars were created to compare it to.

Darling, I dance and I sing and I shake in delight at the thought of being with you. I'm a morning person now, because I know that every waking moment is one day closer to forever.

Summer, Day 2.
I have sworn to save every part of this heart for you. I've loved before, but not like this. Not like this. My stone-heart now made flesh beats as if I'd just been born, as if I'd been made to love and to be loved by you.

Summer, Day 3.
I can't believe you chose me. I can't believe I'm going to get to marry you. We've got quite a long way to go, but I'm already preparing, making sure my dress will be as white as snow, every hair in place, this heart pure and this body untouched until the day I put my hand in yours. I can't wait to see your face when I walk down the aisle. I promise to be the perfect bride, your perfect bride.

Fall, Day 1.
I might not write as much as I did during the summer. Life has been getting busier and busier, but I want you to know that I still love you as much as I did from the first day.

Fall, Day 46.
I've been spending quite a bit of time with someone. He's clever and says the most interesting things. I feel like we will never run out of words to say to one another. We talk everyday, and the funny thing is sometimes I feel my day isn't complete yet if we haven't spoken. Don't worry, my heart is still yours. Just thought I'd let you know.

Fall, Day 52.
I think I love him, but just a little bit. I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to cut an inch off of my heart to give to him. It's just an inch less. Surely you won't mind.

Fall, Day 80.
He's been with someone else this entire time. It's a good thing I gave him only an inch of my heart, but the rest is bruised. Don't worry, darling, I'll have it fixed in time.

Fall, Day 100.
It's still beating, but barely. Maybe I should love a little again. Maybe some warmth will do this heart good.

Winter, Day 15.
I think... I gave a little too much.

Winter, Day 50.
My latest disaster said my heart was something worth waiting for. Apparently his second hands tick faster than the usual. He left, taking more than I expected he would.

Winter, Day 65.
Is a heart supposed to look like this?

Winter, Day 90.
I can no longer hear it beating steadily. Some parts have frozen. I have tried to stitch pieces back together and they hold... if you would call it that. There are scars and cuts that haven't healed, swollen bits from the wounds that were infected because I tried to save the poison only to have it lash out and bite me in the back.

Winter, Day 104.
What have I done?

Winter, Day 135.
Look at it. No wait, don't. There isn't anything left to give you, anything worthy enough to even stand in your shadow. I promised you everything now I give you nothing. You waited for me yet I pursued others, consumed by my lust and my pride, where can I hide that I myself will not see this mess of a heart I've created? Where can I run to that I will not have to see the look on your face when you see what I have left to give you? Do you still want this, this broken vessel, this torn up heart, all the pieces that don't fit, all the stitched up parts? Do you still want me?

Spring, Day 1.
You do.

Spring, Day 3.
You do because you knew what you were getting yourself into long before you met me, you knew I would break your heart yet you still asked for mine, you do because you are love itself. A death defeating, grave shaking, forgiving, full of grace and mercy, life and righteousness kind of love. This is the love that chose me. Now I choose you.

Spring, Day 5.
What have I done to deserve this? As far as the east is from the west, so you have cleared my offense. When others asked for me, they knelt on one knee but you asked nailed to a tree. Now here you are. Despite what I've done you want me to return to you, want me to still have you. And you know what?

Spring, Day 7.
I do. And I give my heart to you in absolute surrender and total abandon. Here, though broken and torn, take it and make it new.
It was yours all along. I was yours all along.
A piece written for Logos' Vessel under Fringe Manila.
from wading in the shallow waters
of the world's perception of
she plunged into the "ugly" truth

she washed off the
layers of powdery pigments
with the hot tears tracing down her cheeks
she tore down the
expensive garments that draped her body
exposing her skin and bones:
worn and torn? yes
frail and fragile, no
she stands strong and sturdy.

she wears
her crimson wounds like golden jewelry
her beads of sweat like strings of pearls

she stands
firm on the truth
that beauty is more than just
pulling attention
by external attraction
it is pushing
past set expectations for
what is more captivating
than freedom
from binding limitations,
what is more glorious
than a revolution

dig down deeper
and embrace yourself
there is more to beauty
than just being pretty
 Dec 2014 Mishy Kim
Sofia Paderes
love you
and all the colors
of your skies, watch me
dance in your thunderstorms
drink in your sun, catch every bit
of rain, be it acid or mountain-tears,
every snowflake and speck of hail, mine
will be the sunflowers and buds of baby's
breath, the fresh soil and dew-dipped leaves
mine will be the aftermath - may it always
be something worth staying five minutes
longer for; but please remember that
even wildflowers need some
sort of care, so I hope
you'll love me
too in all the
colors of
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