Its amazing how we pass time
Cocooned
In our own beings so that
Nothing
Matters more than the next
Minute
And the freckles on our hands
Possess
More pull than magnetic
Ends
Of planets spinning with hushed
Breaths
Which may soon gasp the cursed
Smog
Of our corrupted souls

They say its all because I reflect the traits so true,
Little do they know.
It’s a fake picture long back which I drew.
They say I am the same,
I am the same badge holder,
Little do they know.
New expectations are like boulder.
They say I won’t change,
That they can still trust me,
Little do they know.
Its a fake picture, It’s a stuck mask.
Who am I under?
Is still unkown at last!
Little do they know,
Little do they know.

kasama ni Lisa si Jojo
sa loob din ng kahon
kapiling ang libong mukha roon
magkaakbay at yakap ang isa't-isa
walang problema
kundi ang mga panahon na iniwan nila
pero wala ng pag-asa
dahil tila unti-unti nang nasusunog
itong larawan nila
kasama ang bulok na bahay at alabok
kasama itong mga uling at usok
ngunit parang walang problema
nakangiti pa rin sila.

ang nakasimangot na ngiti
ni Lisa ay ikinulong sa kahon
ng lumang gunita
masaya o lungkot
siya lamang ang may alam ng sagot
kapiling ng mga libong bituin
noong gabing 'yon
nagniningning.
bumubulong.

Let’s take a ride
With photos as our guide

Not that they are enough
But they bring out all the stuff

Those collection of instances
Those endearing reminiscences

Each picture tells a tale
Dragging us on its trail

More than anything else
It subjects your inner self

You contemplate with a new perspective
And gradually become introspective

Those memories caress you
When you are lost and feeling blue

The journey ends up to meet yourself
Getting the push to move forward oneself.

Just because we have a picture,
It doesn’t mean we’ve got the whole story,
Remember that picture is a moment in time,
A picture you shared makes me compare your life to mine,
A picture alone of an empty field,
The photographer doesn’t know what it can yield,
I’ll see something different to someone else,
Puts me in that moment all by myself,
Trying to use all my senses,
But we all see the picture through different lenses,
One might see happiness, another despair,
Wonder what’s really going on there,
A picture doesn’t mean we have the story,
But we can share a moment celebrating different glory.

A rose blooming in a summer rose bed
stops to envy you as you smell the roses.
For two beauties sit in the picture,
but neither is the rose.
The sight of you is a wonder to my eyes,
one that keeps me warm through winter days.
The grace inside you is as beauty
and beyond my words to explain.
So when I fumble my syllables,
embrace me as the rose embraces the rain.