Hindi baga nakapagtataka
Ang mga salitang sinambit ni Eba
Nang kainin ni Adan
ang tanda ng kasalanan?

Hindi baga nakapagtataka
Ang mga salitang sinambit ni Adan
Nang una niyang nasilayan
ang ganda ni Eba
Na hinugot mula sa kanyang tadyang?

Hindi baga nakapagtataka
Sa kung paanong sa pag-ikot ng mundo
Ni minsan hindi nagtagpo ang araw at buwan?

Hindi baga nakapagtataka
Na sa dinami-dami ng tao sa mundo
Na sa paglipas ng dapit-hapon
At pagsikat ng araw

Natagpuan kita-

Sa isang araw na hindi inaasahan
Nakita
Nakilala
Nakasama

Hindi baga nakapagtataka
Sa kung papaanong ang bawat kaluluwa
Ay nagkakadaupang-palad
Ay nakakahanap
Ng mga kaluluwang mapagkakanlungan
Sa pag-ikot ng mundo
Sa paglipas ng panahon

Tulad ng atin-

Hindi ikaw yung ordinaryong babae
Sapagkat ang pagsabi sa babae ng ordinaryo
Ay parang pagmura sa isang santo

Sa iyong mga mata nakasillid
Ang isa pang babaeng
Nais kumawala
sa mundong kanyang kinagagalawan

Kimberly-

Pangalan mo’y hindi sayo lamang kumakanlong
Marami kang katulad
Pero ang pinagkaiba
Ikaw ay ikaw-
Sa kung paanong ang pangalan mo
Ay bumalot sa iyong katauhan
Sa kabutihan maging sa kasamaan

Isang babaeng naghahanap ng kasagutan
Sa mundo ng mga tanong
Na tila ba ang mga sagot ay hindi maapuhap
Na tila ba lahat ng ito’y
Nagtatago sa mata ng bawat isa
Na ang pagtitig sa mga ito’y hindi sapat upang matanto
Ang katotohanan na bumabalot sa atin

Sa iyong katauhan ay may nakabalot na sikreto
Isang misteryo na hindi ko kailan man malalaman
Ngunit kahit gaano man kadilim o kaliwanag
Hindi nito madadaig ang misteryo
Sa kung papaanong tayo’y nagkakilala
Sa isang panahon na pangkaraniwan lamang

Dalawang dekada-
Ang buhay mo sa mundo
Sa dalawampung taong paglipas
Maraming taong dumating
At marami ring umaalis
Binalot ng lungkot
Yinakap din ng saya
Ang iyong pagdating
Sa mundo ng kabagabagan

Pasalamat na lamang
Na sa paglipas ng lahat ng ito
Kaluluwa mo’y dagling naapuhap
Na parang liwananag sa kandilang papaupos

Maligayang Kaarawan, Mahal kong Kaibigan

R. L. Alcantara
*Enero 28, 2015

The effect of resisting the power of hypnotism
because the beholder wants to see the end

He
patiently waited until it stopped
He
stared like it was the only thing mattered on Earth
He
offered even just a minute of himself to see through it

But the thing is
No one penetrates a pendulum
Because it is Hard..
Solid.. Steel

But he did it…
With his ability to look at it like a kryptonite

The pendulum suddenly made
An involuntary halt

Eye to eye
The beholder and his pendulum
Penetrated each other for a time
They can only know…

maybe we were two lonely souls in an
infinite number of universes
that coexists at the same time
so in the least cases when other universes
cease to rotate;
we were looking at each other’s eye—
half consciously exchanging breaths as we stood
in a random street on a random time with random people
in Metro Manila.

maybe we were two lonely souls
devoid of life with its absurdities and ambiguities
that when other universes began to move—
adverse was ours.
we were motionless and breathless
and static and frantic
amongst the dismal place where we stood
under the rain and under the heat of the sun;
dear, did you feel the spontaneity of our souls
for the first time in a lifetime?

maybe we were two lonely souls
searching for our own universe in this
infinite number of universes that when
we finally had the chance to meet on
a road with nowhere to go while listening
to our timeless symphonies of pleasure, pain, and lost;
we found universe at each other’s soul.

maybe we were two lonely souls
before we met in Metro Manila.
maybe we were two lonely souls
when we were living in abyss.
maybe we were two lonely souls
before we found our infinite universe at each other.
maybe we were two lonely souls
before we knew love.

(06.19.16)

Thy sweet scent of rose petals in the book
Melts with the letters through its flipping pages,
Patterns of beauty and fragrance took,
The breath beneath the speaking lines of ages;
If these petals stayed through the years,
Will their lovely scent proclaimed my love to thee?
And the book who witnessed thy petals’ tears,
Will it be purged by the lines we longed to keep?
Like these fragments of roses confined through words,
Leave dark traces of circled loss and love
So is life sings with sweet lines and bitter chords,
Infinity remains underneath our feelings and above;
You are, my love, were these traces of petals,
In our book of love, they will forever last.

in the infernal uproar of possibilities when the universe halted an alternative course of movement (to which eternity might be possible in a cosmic place as a confirmation congruent to a derivative of consciousness), there lies an ephemeral mind; at a certain point in time being, who thinks that everything will be plausible in a galaxy of transcendence.

if a particle moves alongside this ephemeral consciousness to which it caused a disturbance, every particle of the latter might be in flux.

[you are that particle]

and if and when, in a conscious state of space and time you sporadically moved and pulled the orbit to which i constantly managed to retain the equilibrium, then should the universe permit us to drift into the internal immobility of togetherness, we became infinitesimal--
but only through the metaphysics of time being.

[at least we had]

(03/09/17)

"I don’t want to be beautiful with you
I want to be an ugly, wretched, bleeding thing
Pouring out on the windmills
I want to be the locked tiger they can’t lock up
Until it murders and then rages through the fields
Of wild grasses
I want to be so wild they can’t lock me up"
— Dorothea Lasky, from “You are beautiful,” Thunderbird

i’m having this intense desire of writing right now but i don’t know where to start
my mind is a galaxy of words waiting to explode
my heart is loaded with mixed feelings i cannot even imagine
i wanna write a poem of how on these past days, i was preoccupied with my remorseful thoughts about growing up and all that ****

i need a room of my own to release all these thoughts or else;

It growls-
louder and stronger every minute.

This wild monstrous beast caged inside my body.
Devouring every part of me. It’s lurking my being and I’m afraid it will penetrate and eat my soul.

There it is! I can see it! Its ****** eyes focused on me. It laughed. A demonic laugh.

“Fear”, it said.

Now it’s going into that hidden and darkest part of me.
Fear.
I feel it through my veins and it makes me numb.
Fear.
This untamed beast. It’s getting furious!
****! They’re growing now.

Oh God! What would I do? Stab these beasts till they die?
Fear.
What if I die? It can’t be! What about my dreams? My plans? My future? Persons I care the most? They’re expecting me!
No! I cannot die with my own horrible beast!

Then, it comes to me. This fearsome hideous monster! It held them. The people I love. No! Please! Let go of them!
Yes. I need not fear for they grow beneath me. I need to save them.
But God I’m terrified!

No. I need to **** these monsters inside me with my own hands now.
“Fear”, it said.

Then the beast laughed endlessly.
Looking directly with its ****** eyes mocking my whole being, I pointed the sword to my heart. With tears flowing in my cheeks, I stabbed myself.

I woke up perspiring and agape.
Then I was left hanging in oblivion.

If dreaming is just
The way for me to see you
Then don’t wake me up

she was lost in the apparitions of uncertainties
where fragments of her being slowly fall like those
petals of red roses once given to her by the man
she only loved when she was still young and
vigorous and beautiful;
she can still hear the loud, inscrutable silences
of people waiting for the train as if the antidote
for their long-suppressed emotional  regressions
depend on this vehicle where the inevitable
cycle of coming and going makes them question
their existence—yet,
after all the nuisances this world offers
she always finds herself lost in a swarm
of human beings whose souls continuously wander
for the enigmas of truth and shades of faith only
for the reason that in the process of losing herself she
could find herself—once more.
she always wonders what lies within the eyes
of people whose lives she randomly intersect with that
made her feel alive. she felt that in
letting herself get lost in places people normally crossed;
one by one she was getting a portion of herself
from their souls—
the paradoxes of their expelled breaths;
their incessant internal monologues;
their bittersweet afflictions;
the achingly pleasurable warmth of their skin;
the vulnerability of their voice;
the resiliency of their hearts;
and the combination of their grotesque yet
picturesque visions in her eyes— that made her whole.
she was standing in the middle of nowhere; oblivious
of her world’s  existence when she remembered
the reason why she forgot to redeem the love from those petals
of red roses she buried within the pages of her favorite book.
with the moonlight showering upon her being, she felt the
rapture from her heart as it slowly knocks and awakens
her soul with certainty— like a lost child coming home at last.

*06.21.16

❝ Until the lion learns how to write, every story will glorify the hunter. ❞ — African proverb

dear you,

hi.
you may be a stranger reading this random letter out of nowhere but to me you are a friend.
so, how is life hitting on you? i bet we’re on different edges of the boat but i’m pretty sure we’re both struggling to reach the end.  
i know we’re both on that part where fear slowly creeps our heart acupuncturing all its veins until we both become numb of the pain.
or maybe it’s just me?
this time my friend, can you stay with me until the end? it may cost our lives but please just for a while, can we stop?
can we share this moment of silence, look at each other and let our eyes speak all our feelings buried within the hidden parts of our soul?
can we pretend like we’ve known each other for a long time now and let us talk to each other for a while?
let us please share this time we’ve got and believe that it’s just the two of us in this world,
- in this world we’re both trying to escape.

my friend, please let me borrow your precious time.
let us share this moment to scream to the world our grief because really, i cannot contain it anymore.
i have long been trying to be strong but it’s not enough
i have long been trying to be brave but it’s not enough
i have long been trying to be loved but it’s not enough
i have long been trying to give up but i can’t
i have long been shouting at myself to stop thinking and expecting but I can’t
i have long been wanting to stop
but I can’t.

my eyes were shedding tears for two days now and as much as i wanted to stop it, i can’t.
forgive me for being weak and coward for sharing this to you, dear.
forgive me.
but if it isn’t too much, when words aren’t enough for us to comfort each other, when silence is all there is, when the hands of the clock are now starting to move, can you please share your tears with me?
can we cry together?
can we shout to the mountains, to the seas, to the trees, to all the living things God created, our deepest pains?
can we throw them all the words we have long been wanting to  say to the people who hurt us?
can we cry out loud, shout out loud, scream out loud until we feel our heart beats so fast because of all the ***** life had thrown upon us?
and when we’re tired of crying,
my friend,
when our knees cannot help us stand anymore,
when we can longer hear our voice..
let the gravity pulls us,
and together,
let’s look at the vastness of the sky, close our eyes and feel the last drop of tears in our face and whisper,
“**** this ****”

I was welcomed by the strong breeze
of air that tickles my face
as my hair sways to the rhythm
of the wind saying, “Here we are again.”

It’s the hour after midnight and people
are now dealing with their own
dreams and nightmares- a monochromatic place
of one’s fears and desires- where reality
becomes a blur in the midst of our own darkest place.

And I, reminded by the same thoughts
and feelings from two years ago asked for more time
to be with her- to feel the warmth of her arms
as I bury my face with the embrace of blues and bliss
from the woman I first loved.

With this, I asked myself: Is there anything sadder
than the clock’s young hand who forever runs
to meet the older one?

Just like us, who continuously run for our time
before the battery of our life becomes dead.

Surprisingly, the moon hides its light tonight
as if she, alone in that vastness of starless night
felt my forlorn litany right now in this hour of departure,
in this bittersweet place of coming and going that its inevitability
is a cycle which we would all endure as long as
we breathe the fragrance and stench of life.

Hours left, and the light of our home will leave,
a month filled with memories have passed- memories
with love from the heroine of my life who battled
with time and distance- the hardest of all human battle.

As I stood here, I know how the sky with the infinity of its stars
will engulf my tranquility, as I again wait for her comeback,
forever looking above where we are all under,
just like how the world waits for the sun to shower its light
in the following days to come.

When I gave you that little white flower, I cried.
I cried because I know it’s the first and the last time.
When I held your hand on that day, I cried.
I cried because they’re not the warm hands that I used to hold.
They were cold- just like how I felt the
sudden winter season in  my life
when I knew you already left.

Since that day, I know I became envious.

I envy the wolf to the moon,
the moon to the sky, and
the sky to the world. I envy all the things
you saw and you held before you left
and how I pathetically wish
that I were those and that I was there for you
on that day that you were waiting for me.

You’re the man that I really looked up to-  
just like those stars. Up there. I can see the smile
and laugh of a small man in his hat and a briefcase on his
right hand calling my name in his rough and husky voice.
And I longed for all our moments. And I will forever be.

So many things I should’ve said- but I didn’t.
So many times I should’ve spent with you- but I didn’t.
So many hugs and so many kiss that all turned to dust.
Regrets. Regrets. There’s more room for regrets.

When you gave me that hug before we departed, I cried.
I cried because I thought that would be the last. But then,
I looked at those stars and I felt this cathartic feeling that
you were there. You were one of them. You were just there all long.
Forever guiding me- giving light in my darkest paths.
Then, I smiled.

she asked him,
“how do you ignite a fire without
creating light?”

he asked her,
“how do you light the stars without
creating darkness?”

they looked into each other’s eye
imprinting their souls into the unknown
lost into their unimaginable oblivions
of lightness and darkness and even
those in between.

"Poetry is
an echo
asking a shadow
to dance."
— Carl Sandburg