radio blasting Bowie
and the manila heat so strangling,
messages streaming in
only to be ignored,
deadlines pile up
and so do the dreams
and the skyline,
visible from the window
is a reminder of what's beyond
the mundane and this difficulty,
a reminder of what i've yet to see.

somewhere in hollywood along route 66
stood a cheap motel—
an asylum
for rockstars and their groupies,
artists and and poets and strangelings alike.
the morning only saw its residents,
drunken and drowsy,
and its black-tiled pools as dark as the night;
yet the nights were its prime
when the artists would gather
in the name of music, dance, recklessness.
the syringes would pierce their skin
and the alcohol like ocean waves
washed out the most of them,
and events too unspeakable were the norm.
the motel never attained 5-star ratings,
but it become the playground
for fleeting moments, wild nights,
brewing grounds for creation.
these nights were so loud and colorful,
but only remembered in hazy visions
and muffled sounds.

and so all those nights end here, today:
at the south of The Strip
where some modern, ordinary hotel now stands
once used to be the mess
that the likes of Jim Morrison
and Tom Waits called home.
its guests would have burnt it down,
but they would've wasted their money,
and who has the time anyway?

ladies and gentlemen, the tropicana motel—
a stop over where
wild minds and wild hearts would meet
and eventually go their way,
the place where these legends
of music and madness
came to play.

i wish my love was enough
to pay the sea so its waves
could take me to where you are
i wish my love was strong enough
to move mountains and planets
to make our universes align
i wish i could love you enough
to end the growing miles between us

i. he is a dancer,
he moves with such grace
he's spent his youth
dancing in front of mirrors,
he knows the way his body moves
as much as he is sure of himself

ii. he is starlight
he has seen the cosmos
and through his smile
he shares the wonders of the world
i could never see for myself

iii. he is a gentleman
he regards everyone sincerely
chivalrous in his beauty,
he walks with kindness
and acts with heart

iv. he is a storyteller
after his past of good and bad,
he is what he says
words stream from his mind
like rain drops on windows
he speaks with purpose
without ever intending to hurt anyone
but only wanting to love

v. he is my lionheart,
he braves the flashing lights
he does not mind being himself
raw and out in the open
he carries his books around
and can be silly without a care

vi. he is a wonder
shining among the chaos of his world,
and even king midas could not
conjure a heart as golden as his.

adam and eve took the forbidden fruit
and were banished from the light of heaven,
the great warrior achilles was defeated
in his pride and grief on the grounds of troy,
mount vesuvius erupted and at once pompeii fell to ashes,
joan of arc was burnt at the stake in the name of her battles,
rome plunged to its failure upon the arrival of vanquishers

these are some of the greatest falls from grace,
and although time is filled to the brim with such,
the world had never seen an undoing quite as great as hers—

**she saw his face,
she heard his song,
and the rest became history.

to the little girl
who sits by the tv screen,
watching encantadia—
lireo is where you belong,
your palms big enough
to hold the kingdoms of sapiro,
lireo, hathoria, and etheria in
your hands, keeping
the brilyantes of air, water, earth
and fire in the four chambers of
your heart to keep peace
in our world.
you are an amihan,
open to the truth of
an entirely different continent
coexisting with the mortal world
that you know,
never letting death keep you
from closing in on yourself
like an abandoned cathedral;
you are soft and gentle in
all the ways she tries to lead,
dangerous in the way
cassopeia's prophecy was fulfilled,
bringing the ruin of hathoria.
do not be afraid when
pirena comes, rage and
hade! hade! hade! against the beating
of the earth against your feet,
stealing the holy fire in your heart.
it will keep burning, arrows aimed
and the war won and you will
get it back.
you will get it back.
ilantre ivi e corre?
ilantre ivi hasne masne?
the people wonder.
you are a descendant of the
diwatas powerful and
almighty in the elements
of the world you hold close;
under your reign,
corre will return,
masne will start its journey.
kingdoms will be brought
to their knees.
you will never forget
the land where you came from
mingling with the magic
in your veins
you are one of many
a lot of things you can never compromise.

*ivi esna adelan e...

Me,

Right now, you're in high school. Everything about it *****. You're not sure who your real friends are. You're so self-conscious. You've decided that no one could ever love you. You're afraid of being judged. You can't stand your parents. Well, let me tell you, it gets better.

Remember all those "friends" you thought you had? Well, they aren't your friends now. But that's okay, because you decided who was really important in your life. Now, you have your best friends. People who actually care for you and want to be in your life forever.

I bet Whats-His-Bucket reminds you how fat you are everyday, right? Well, that's okay. You'll come to realize, that you're not fat. You're thick. Now, you shouldn't use that as an excuse to not eat right or exercise. But it's in your genetic makeup, you'll never have a thigh gap. You'll always have a big *****. You're stomach will never be flat. You won't fit into designer jeans, but that's okay. It's okay because you are BEAUTIFUL. You have your mothers face, and she was gorgeous. You have a wonderful sense of humour, and it's attractive. You're smart, passionate, witty, spunky, weird. You are beautiful.

Love? You'll never find it in that town. All those boys you wanted to date in high school, married. Your first boyfriend, ******. But that's okay. It took some time, and some heart break, but you found the love of your life. He is someone who makes you feel special. He makes you feel worth it. When you have felt dead inside for so many years, he has brought you to life. He loves you, and you love him. Don't worry, he's not going anywhere. You're getting married to him.

You're so afraid of what people think of you. Maybe they'll think you're weird. Maybe they'll think you're too religious. Maybe they'll think you're a freak. Maybe they'll think you're too tall. Maybe they'll think you're dumb. But that's okay. You'll leave your hometown, you'll go to college, and you'll realize that no one cares. And if they do care, they aren't worth caring for. It's part of weeding out the fake people, and truly accepting your self. ***** them! You're you, and they won't change that.

Parents. Now, this one is tricky. You can't stand your father or your stepmother. You wish they would disappear. You just want them to leave you alone, and stay out of your life. Like, I said this one is tricky, but that's okay. You see, you moved out and your relationship with your dad got better. You respect your father, and you love him. But with your stepmother... you've learned to respect her as a person. You have yet to respect her as a mother figure. But, you've learned to compromise. Things have gotten better.

Sweetheart, it gets better. Life seems so tough right now. It seems so hard. At times, it's just too much to bear alone. But kid, know that you are never alone. You have angels watching over you. You have real friends who will pick you up when you fall. You have a God who will never let you go at something alone. I wish someone would've told me all this sooner, but I'm glad I had the experience. I'm glad that I could learn and grow. Now, since you're not in high school anymore; when you get down on yourself, read this letter. This letter will assure you that everything will get better. Life can get tough but that's okay.

Love,
Me

{Jo(e)}

your mouth is open, words
settling in your throat like
all those memories you’ve shared
and all those times you’ve thought
about him, and
nothing comes out. your
tongue is a home for all the
things unsaid and your ears
a shelter for all the things
unheard.
there is a black sky—
small lights prickle the velvet;
bones and flesh and blood lie
beneath it and he’s in your arms
and you’re home.
you wish he knew, you wish
he could just take your brain
your heart your entire being
so he knows it’s real so he knows
you love him.
and maybe, just for now
you forget about everything
that holds you back
and tell him how much you care
because his guitar strings
might as well be your heart
and it tugs, heavily;
as long as you’re together
you can do anything,
you love and live and everything
in between.
you’re with him and you
are a bird flying
because you know that
if you leave him, you’ll
still come back.

sometimes i find you at the bottom of wine bottles
sometimes i see you when i close my eyes
(even behind my eyelids you burn so brightly)

i'd say sorry but you wouldn't hear me
(do you ever?)
so i yell "what's the point?"
and you look at me
right
at me
and i don't need your pitying pity eyes
stop looking at me that way
i will never deserve that type of attention

someday we will stand at the ruins
and you will hold the charred remains in your hands
and you will tell me
"there is nothing in life that isn't
worth saving."

i wanted to hold you,
to touch you,
to make everything better;
to tell you i love you
over and over
like a broken record
if only you could allow me

'make everything better', i said.
if only i'd had realized -
you burn when you touch the sun.