They are Demons In my mind
They drag me every where they want
Im tired & confused
Searching for a way to lose

Im staring to the blue sky
To the shiny yellow sun
Life Is beautiful I know
But not beautiful for all I suppose
People think Im happy
Even when there is a hell In my mind
I feel deep sorrow In my throat
But still I smile

There is something dead in me
I know there is no replace
Im caltivated by the life
this is no sweetest nightmare than the life.
They say you are young & beautiful
Try to change your world
But they donť know for me
Everything is already finished

Living, laughing & timid smiles
Is the all the thing I could  have done
Living like a happy man
Dying every day Inside
Demons , Demons every where
Still whispering in my head

Nasty, nasty , nasty life
You are caltivated by your life.

Isn't it astonishing,
   The amount of hate
That humans have for
        Each other?

If only that same effort
    Was used to threaten
The crooked hand holding
          Us captive.

I walk the path alone. Though I am never without company. For the wind and trees sing lullabies; lulling me into a sleepwalk-stupor.
The rain caresses my face like a kind lover. Making everything seem...
But the way is dark and I regret to realise that I cannot see beyond the skeletal frames of those dark boughs. Oh how they whistle mercies unto me, my sweetly singing entourage of thornéd ghouls.
Come, oh stifling Death. You whose omnipresence disturbs my skin and forces it to crawl deeper into the shadows.
Leave me, oh pain. You who I alone have elected my captor. Do not bind me with your mordant roots. Roots nourishing my doubt and uncertainty, indeed utter disbelief in that supposed truth - salvation.
"God save me, guide my steps." I cry aloud this pathetic plea, and then wind answers me; that immaterial half, so quiet - whispers:
"There is no God where you are".

In one's lifetime, comes a moment or two,
when a sunny day's sky of powder-blue
turns to an utterly gloomy black night
not at all a beautiful twilight
:::just a dark firmament...no homing birds in sight

When in a flurry,
it comes naturally,
to want to sit...on the ground,
on the floor...just somewhere down
with both palms cupping jaws
resting on knees are angled elbows
discontent and stagnation
nag one's  imagination
heartbeats
............are drumbeats
glances are fleeting
unfocused:::::escaping
such are vain attempts, to dismiss
avoided thoughts and scenes:::to release
::::and decide...all must eventually cease
yet.........it's never easy to find peace
can't just forget sounds of voices...and sweet laughter
jokes and conversations that came, before and after...
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::
they are tattooed in the mind
::::::::: they are ::::::::::
::: i n d e l i b l e ::::::::::
:::: e s p e c i a l l y ::::
:::on:::moments:::when:::
:::we struggle the most:::
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
::::::::only:::­to:::realize::::::
::::::::::::::::::[[[]]]::::::::::::::::
:::::­:::[[ memories ]]::::::::::
::::are:::a::::[[metal cage]]
::::::::::::: and we :::::::::::::::
::::::::::::::::: are :::::::::::::::::
:::::::[[captured birds]]:::::::
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
it usually takes long:::::::::::
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
::::::to be freed:::::
:::::::::::::::::::::::::;;;;
::::::from being:::::
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
:::::::::::held:::::::::­::
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
:::[[ c a p t i v e ]]:::
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
(November 2015)


Sally

Copyright January 13, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

Feel pity for the turtle,
Born captive in a bowl.
Swimming in a circle,
A life been bought and sold.

He has his natural instincts,
Engrained in DNA.
I wonder what he thinks,
Being captive every day.

To him, it must feel wrong.
A missing link to life.
Pondering all along,
Why his surroundings don't suffice.

If released to the wild,
Survival would be scarce.
He's been captive since a child.
Born an artificial heir.

The turtle knows only this society,
It's what he's been born into.
His intuition - alive, indeed,
Tells him what turtles do.

I watch him in his tank, a curse.
How it must feel strange.
Born to fulfill a turtle's life purpose,
But forced into walls, by humans who exchange.

I feel pity for the turtle,
Then realize my foolishness.
Humans, too, know the artificial -
Yearning for natural happiness.

We build up our own glass walls,
And bear children to not see,
That there is life beyond this all,
That offers more than we think we need.

We, too, are like turtles,
Having a purpose to fulfill.
We overcome so many hurdles,
Within glass walls that ****.

My musings always pun me through a wide range of vividly exulted grimaces. I think like an ***, act like an ***, assassan-ing a conjugal of my mind and soul. 'Why', my only friendly foe stares at me, giving out a roar of laughter as if I'm his slave. He seeks pleasures by caging me in his castle where beauty meets an imperfection, heart rejoices with brain, and imagination treats a trick. When I peek through the orifice, the wreckage of my wrong decisions welcome me gleefully. My devilish side gets overwhelmed by such a warm welcome. It asks for more cutting out the pinions of my angelic side.

Ah! Clipped wings-------No wings!

Soon, devilish side overthrows my angelic side usurping a ******* over me. It collapses my self-esteem, laying entwined in the arms of my ego. Ahh! I combat, show the feats of courage but, a mistake became a lifetime regret. I put off my veil of courage for a second to pacify myself. Now, I'm all naked from head to toe. In the mean time, my opponent injure me by an arrow of self-pity. I, I AM destroyeDD. No shelter. No armor. No cloak. I'm NOMore. I try to find a lost-me but lose a remaining part of me. I try more, I lose a part again. The more I try, the more I lose. Now, I'm physically a non-existent but my soul still wanders. My soul still pursues the answers. My soul is in desolation. My soul tries to comfort himself but stops as someone whispers,


'Great things never come from comfort zones'
(An unconcerned-illusionary-truth fooled my soul, Badass soul!)

Now, my soul wants to re-surrect in a way that he get his body again. My soul imagines the days when his gestures were heard by the body terming as ****** gestures. My soul enlivens his morale, wears a smile but, still seems incomplete. Once, my soul finds a body but can't find a place in it. It is preoccupied by another soul. When my soul asks for a companionship, it denies. My soul is not even in a state where it can make sly innuendos. He still feels those oblique marks, disparaging comments, shadowing hîs path. Those feels still make him sweating out bullets. My soul finds a body whose soul is longing to depart. My soul rejoices thinking that this is something what he wants. Soon, my soul houses in a ****** paradigm of a lady. My soul gives a new life to the lady. Her spirits are high, and confidence is a multiple of her spirits. My soul elates, leaving an olive branch. My soul befriends her body. She is a merry-go-lucky lady but her melancholy changed her. Her bewitching beauty is a plus to her nature. My soul remembers my ugly face and but still send positive vibes my way. After sometime, my soul gets busy with the lady and forgets me. I try to send him signals but he doesn't respond. I try more, still nudges from his side. I forget my soul too. When I feel lonely in my grave, I wander here and there. I try to befriend the people resting in other graves, I fail. All graves are scented with the perfumes of love, which their beloved spray on them.They are brimmed with the gags of laughter, murmurs of joys, and clicks of wonders. My heart still throbs for my soul, and I. over and over again.

Horror speaks in silence
    and Fear speaks in signs
              it’s written on my face
                        and on the faces I see.

How did I end up here?

A masked man brought us food.
The smell of it drives us mad in hunger.
We eat like we're crazy.
Devouring it like messy animals.

I see the eyes of superiority
            in the sight of the masked man.
I look at them with deep curiosity.
He looks back with a look of intent.
Deep blue eyes inspect the whole me.
then I realized, everyone, including me
            wears nothing but just two pieces of
                                                      undergarments.                
I quickly cover my well-being,
then he just walks away.

I felt ***** ,
            Weary,
and Cold in this rusty dark place.
Where are we going?
Our future is uncertain.
I felt that our life is for sale,
like animals going to be slaughtered.

Sleep is taking my reality
Hoping that dreams will wash away
            the fear, horror and uncertainty along the way.                      




*© Pax

I dream of freedom but it cannot find me even though I shout
that I am here and though I fear the feelings and my doubt
sometimes it's pure agony