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"ramon" poems
Iboboto ko nang matuwid Para sa asensong walang patid Buong Team PNoy – sa senado ko ihahatid Sonny Angara – hatid niya ang solusyon Para sa atin, trabaho’t edukasyon Bam Aquino – nasa dugo ang katapangan Marangal, malinis na pangalan A.P. Cayetano – Presyo, Trabaho at Kita Ibabalanse niya Chiz Escudero – subok na sa senado Kabataan ay hindi mabibigo Risa Hontiveros – tayo’y ipaglalaban Ayaw niya sa korapsyon at katiwalian Loren Legarda – marami nang nagawa Bida sa kanya ang masa Jamby Madrigal – kakampi ang mahirap Galit sa korap Ramon Magsaysay, Jr. – isa ring kampeon ng masa Katulad ng kanyang ama Grace Poe – magalang at maaasahan Sagot siya sa kahirapan Koko Pimentel – ayaw sa madaya Katiwalian ay susugpuin niya A. Trillanes – produktibo sa senado Marami nang nagawang batas ito Cynthia Villar – ang Mrs. Hanepbuhay Siya ang ating kaagapay Dadalhin ko sa senado Mga pambato ng pangulo Dahil kailangan sila ng mga Pilipino. -05/12/2013 (Dumarao) *My Yellow Poems Collection…written on the day before the Elections
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Sep 14, 2019
Sep 14, 2019 at 9:35 PM UTC
Team PNoy – Iboboto Ko Nang Matuwid!
By: Jack Wilder (Ramon Carlos T. Castillo) Tell him I said "hi", I think it was a lie, When I told myself, I wouldn't fall for him. Tell him I asked "why?", We couldn't see what we could've become, How it would've been all perfect, But I forgot these were all just what ifs and would haves. Tell him I wanted to go back, Visit the past when were still just good friends, I could've settled for just that, But selfishness occured. Tell him I asked "is it wrong?", For me to fall in love with him? That it was considered sin, For me to look after someone with no conditions given? Tell him this is goodbye, I think it's best we part ways, I'm done with being jealous and not being able to do anything, That it breaks my heart to see him with someone. But one last thing, Ask him if I could just love him from afar, Because seeing his smiles, Heals the wounds he gave my heart.
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Dec 29, 2016
Dec 29, 2016 at 10:15 PM UTC
Dear You, From Me
By: Jack Wilder (Ramon Carlos T. Castilo) The game of life is simple, Follow the rules, Know the walkthroughs, And you'll get by just fine. You should know that, Life on Earth is a gamble, And we're all here to win, Making a bet on that roulette, Wanting another spin. Be aware that, We care so much for ourselves, And forget to consider others, We all want fame and glory, Leaving room for being mean and no more for sincerity. Lastly realize and put to heart, That every person on this planet, Are like lottery tickets, Scratch the surface, To see the *** of gold underneath.
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Dec 28, 2016
Dec 28, 2016 at 11:14 PM UTC
The Game of Life
Every day I got a new set of problems Can't figure out just how to solve em Each day I find new ways to dodge em But they keep coming back Full circle revolver What's a dollar to a billionaire Spend all there money on diamonds without a care Yet none of them seem to be happy Rolling in cash yet smiling so sadly Here I am waiting from cent to cent Trying to afford food gas and rent But at the end of the day I can rest easy Satisfied Indefinitely ok Is it the same for you mr. Billionaire? With your fancy car ladies parties In the designer clothes you wear But what I see All around me Is beauty in simplicity Beauty in the struggle The empty pocket pit Living off that next pack of Ramon noodles Pressing on Never settling Knowing that your day will come Because happiness isn't about the things you acquire It's about the love you spread The good you transpire the universe returns to you Threefold to fulfill selfless desires Sometimes in wealth Sometimes in power You lose yourself Forget To stop and smell the flowers But I'll hold my head high Through the hard times Wait for the good Gaze at the stars And feed my head With all that's left The beauty in everything
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May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 6:02 AM UTC
A beautiful struggle of an average human vs. the lavish life of a sad billionaire
We set out to honor Mary traveling the pilgrim's path from west to east We walked, we rode the bus entertained and enchanted by Cristina applauding Ramon along the way. Each day was one of prayer and song, sunshine and fellowship rosaries and novena we submitted petitions to Santiago we laughed with San Serapio From the grand and magnificent cathedrals to the humblest village chapel we grew in faith, hearing God's word in many languages. We marveled at the dedication and stamina of the pilgrims making their way on foot and bicycle at the warmth, generosity, and hospitality they receive along the way We picknicked alongside mountain streams enjoying good food, good wine,and good friendship we walked down the hillsides in the hot sunshine passing the pilgrims going the opposite way we quenched our thirst in a quaint and rustic village tavern. Ramon drove with skill up the mountains to Garabandal a remote village suspended in time and beauty there on the mountain top we sat among the pines where Mary had appeared. We sat in silence, in awe and reverence the only sounds, the whisper of the breeze and the cowbells on the hillside We prayed the rosary It was, for most of us, a most special memory From our bus we looked out at the mountains the green and rolling farmland at the rocky Atlantic coast at the rios and the rias. We walked in procession at Fatima and Lourdes by candlelight and moonlight and again in the brilliant sunshine The voices and the church bells carried across the plazas enveloping us in joy and prayer and mysticism It was at the grotto at Lourdes with my hands pressed on the rocky cave wall with the holy water on my hands that I felt Mary's presence Mary, my mother, my sister, my friend AVE MARIA September, 2008
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Dec 26, 2012
Dec 26, 2012 at 8:52 PM UTC
The Pilgrim's Path
We set out to honor Mary traveling the pilgrim's path from west to east We walked, we rode the bus entertained and enchanted by Cristina applauding Ramon along the way. Each day was one of prayer and song, sunshine and fellowship rosaries and novena we submitted petitions to Santiago we laughed with San Serapio From the grand and magnificent cathedrals to the humblest village chapel we grew in faith, hearing God's word in many languages. We marveled at the dedication and stamina of the pilgrims making their way on foot and bicycle at the warmth, generosity, and hospitality they receive along the way We picknicked alongside mountain streams enjoying good food, good wine,and good friendship we walked down the hillsides in the hot sunshine passing the pilgrims going the opposite way we quenched our thirst in a quaint and rustic village tavern. Ramon drove with skill up the mountains to Garabandal a remote village suspended in time and beauty there on the mountain top we sat among the pines where Mary had appeared. We sat in silence, in awe and reverence the only sounds, the whisper of the breeze and the cowbells on the hillside We prayed the rosary It was, for most of us, a most special memory From our bus we looked out at the mountains the green and rolling farmland at the rocky Atlantic coast at the rios and the rias. We walked in procession at Fatima and Lourdes by candlelight and moonlight and again in the brilliant sunshine The voices and the church bells carried across the plazas enveloping us in joy and prayer and mysticism It was at the grotto at Lourdes with my hands pressed on the rocky cave wall with the holy water on my hands that I felt Mary's presence Mary, my mother, my sister, my friend AVE MARIA September, 2008
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46
She sang beyond the genius of the sea. The water never formed to mind or voice, Like a body wholly body, fluttering Its empty sleeves; and yet its mimic motion Made constant cry, caused constantly a cry, That was not ours although we understood, Inhuman, of the veritable ocean. The sea was not a mask. No more was she. The song and water were not medleyed sound Even if what she sang was what she heard, Since what she sang was uttered word by word. It may be that in all her phrases stirred The grinding water and the gasping wind; But it was she and not the sea we heard. For she was the maker of the song she sang. The ever-hooded, tragic-gestured sea Was merely a place by which she walked to sing. Whose spirit is this? we said, because we knew It was the spirit that we sought and knew That we should ask this often as she sang. If it was only the dark voice of the sea That rose, or even colored by many waves; If it was only the outer voice of sky And cloud, of the sunken coral water-walled, However clear, it would have been deep air, The heaving speech of air, a summer sound Repeated in a summer without end And sound alone. But it was more than that, More even than her voice, and ours, among The meaningless plungings of water and the wind, Theatrical distances, bronze shadows heaped On high horizons, mountainous atmospheres Of sky and sea. It was her voice that made The sky acutest at its vanishing. She measured to the hour its solitude. She was the single artificer of the world In which she sang. And when she sang, the sea, Whatever self it had, became the self That was her song, for she was the maker. Then we, As we beheld her striding there alone, Knew that there never was a world for her Except the one she sang and, singing, made. Ramon Fernandez, tell me, if you know, Why, when the singing ended and we turned Toward the town, tell why the glassy lights, The lights in the fishing boats at anchor there, As the night descended, tilting in the air, Mastered the night and portioned out the sea, Fixing emblazoned zones and fiery poles, Arranging, deepening, enchanting night. Oh! Blessed rage for order, pale Ramon, The maker's rage to order words of the sea, Words of the fragrant portals, dimly-starred, And of ourselves and of our origins, In ghostlier demarcations, keener sounds.
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1.6k
The Idea of Order at Key West
She sang beyond the genius of the sea. The water never formed to mind or voice, Like a body wholly body, fluttering Its empty sleeves; and yet its mimic motion Made constant cry, caused constantly a cry, That was not ours although we understood, Inhuman, of the veritable ocean. The sea was not a mask. No more was she. The song and water were not medleyed sound Even if what she sang was what she heard, Since what she sang was uttered word by word. It may be that in all her phrases stirred The grinding water and the gasping wind; But it was she and not the sea we heard. For she was the maker of the song she sang. The ever-hooded, tragic-gestured sea Was merely a place by which she walked to sing. Whose spirit is this? we said, because we knew It was the spirit that we sought and knew That we should ask this often as she sang. If it was only the dark voice of the sea That rose, or even colored by many waves; If it was only the outer voice of sky And cloud, of the sunken coral water-walled, However clear, it would have been deep air, The heaving speech of air, a summer sound Repeated in a summer without end And sound alone. But it was more than that, More even than her voice, and ours, among The meaningless plungings of water and the wind, Theatrical distances, bronze shadows heaped On high horizons, mountainous atmospheres Of sky and sea. It was her voice that made The sky acutest at its vanishing. She measured to the hour its solitude. She was the single artificer of the world In which she sang. And when she sang, the sea, Whatever self it had, became the self That was her song, for she was the maker. Then we, As we beheld her striding there alone, Knew that there never was a world for her Except the one she sang and, singing, made. Ramon Fernandez, tell me, if you know, Why, when the singing ended and we turned Toward the town, tell why the glassy lights, The lights in the fishing boats at anchor there, As the night descended, tilting in the air, Mastered the night and portioned out the sea, Fixing emblazoned zones and fiery poles, Arranging, deepening, enchanting night. Oh! Blessed rage for order, pale Ramon, The maker's rage to order words of the sea, Words of the fragrant portals, dimly-starred, And of ourselves and of our origins, In ghostlier demarcations, keener sounds.
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56
Komersyo ang nalagpasang kurso Naging sundalo at Kalihim ng Tanggulan Supremo ng mga Komunista ay napasuko Unang nagbukas ng palasyo sa taumbayan. -12/22/2014 (Dumarao) *Pinuno Namin sa Panahong Tanso Collection
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Sep 14, 2019
Sep 14, 2019 at 10:27 PM UTC
Sayang na Kampeon, Mababaw na Balon (Ramon Magsaysay)
I look down at you, perched on my self righteous steeple. Nothing but roaches falling over themselves to avoid being alone. Simple minds so insecure, mistaking open mindedness for indecision. Are you really worth the time you take? From here I see your dependency. Your weakness and already strained foundations. My name is Ramon. I'm a demon. Around me, amongst a cataclysmic empire trying to destroy itself. I sleep ready. Waiting for the time when I can **** It's my drug. Violence, disdain and manipulation are my medicine. I'll be the poison that saves you. This world is such a beautiful place. I laugh and every pain I feel cowers in fear. Heartfelt memories tear and rip in the abyss of my mind. Feel yourself die. Misunderstand and misinterpret me. You will not change the fact. I'm the villain. You are my toys.
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May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 7:44 PM UTC
Mrs Green
Hey, Leon Let's go outside and play\ No, Ramon It's too cold outside We'll freeze\ Don't worry, Leon I've got my ice pick! :) r 7Jan14
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Jan 7, 2014
Jan 7, 2014 at 3:33 PM UTC
Trotsky and the Polar Vortex
By: Ramon Carlos T. Castillo (Jack Wilder) We're in the days of our youth, It's the perfect time to be alive, Young and naive in the world of reality's mess, So come with me and spread your arms wide, Throw your problems and hang on tight, We're about to break free and fly, Going to disappear into the night, Only being seen on the shades of traffic lights, No worries, no tomorrow to bother about, Just now and the both of us, Gone with the wind fading into the darkness, Forever, yes we'll be, Forever, we'll be young.
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Dec 29, 2016
Dec 29, 2016 at 11:56 AM UTC
Forever, we'll be
By: Jack Wilder (Ramon Carlos T. Castillo) You, terrify me, I run, faster than a speeding stallion, Distressed and lost, Nowhere to go, Almost taking flight, As I gallop the way, From the speed of running away, Or am I really? Trying to getting away from you? Because here I am, Too curious and searching for clues, Wishing I get nearer, warmer, Only to find out, you take a new form, And as I feel it, The space between us, Only goes wider, The between gap us grows bigger, As every second passes, I lose track of who you truly are, But I admire you, And the mystery that you are, Because as I feel the distance growing, As fast as lightning without making a sound, You come back just to haunt me, And you just follow me around, Like my shadow in the woods, As the night gets darker, The moon goes fuller and brighter, You grow instantaneously, Creeping silently, just beneath me, Clueless that I am of your identity, I want to know, But how can I find out? When you're just a silhouette of me, The sun just won't come, And you're about to pounce, I would like to repeat this, You, terrify me.
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Dec 29, 2016
Dec 29, 2016 at 11:34 AM UTC
You, terrify Me
It’s six to two Then staying till close It’s overtime Trying to find Someone to watch the kids It’s broken down car When your job Is out of town It’s trying to decide If you keep the lights While eating Ramon tonight Or if you eat something Just a little more tasty It’s a bottle of no doz Cups of coffee Twenty four ounce soda Energy drinks That rot your teeth But falling asleep On your aching feet Isn’t an option It is exhaustion So deep that you can’t think Tension so painful That you can’t sleep It’s a frustrated boss Taking it out on you No matter what you do Because you are there It’s grease so thick That you can’t wash it Out of your greying and receding hair It’s numbing your spirit All week long And hoping you don’t get called in On your day off Cause you can’t turn it down Cause you’re so far in debt That you might as well Be six feet under the ground It’s a ticket For something you didn’t do Based on a bus drivers Bad attitude Five hundred dollars And it also costs you Your license You lose your job You lose the lights You lose the water You lose your house You lose your kids Cause you are always One bad day From total devastation
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Mar 18, 2015
Mar 18, 2015 at 3:21 PM UTC
Minimum Wage Job or Total Devastation
Clinging to what's left, The debris of us, Floats down the calmed delta mouth, A night of turbulent storms, Has laid waste to our ship, "Golden Heart," Mighty was she, but no match, For the storm of lies that welled up, The waves carelessly consumed us whole, You steered us right into the storm, Instead of running you faced it head on, Ramon, a formidable captain with the best of intentions, Chose poorly that night, Yes, he'd sailed that course a-plenty, Assuming we could skip port and rest... But this night was different, The air was abnormally still, I questioned the Captain's choices, I too had sailed these waters, I'd seen these types of clouds before, I'd smelled this still and seemingly calm air, A maelstrom of despair, doubt, and, anger Violently rocked her, We couldn't keep the sails, The mast snapped like a twig, We were at the black water's mercy now, Two beloved crew members float lifelessly face down Their skin, pale and bruised from the rocks, Which tore into the ship's bow, The black water, now satiated, Basks in the afterglow of our destruction, The warm golden sun rise brings no comfort, It illuminates the debris of us, laughing in our faces, The ship is gone, We managed to lash together a few jagged pieces of love-red deck, She was beautiful, a pain to navigate, but beautiful nonetheless, All that's left of her are us, Clinging to each other with calloused hands, Cold, damp, exhausted, and bitter, A waterfall is up ahead, Nothing but a few pieces of rope and broken wood, Stand between us and the jagged rocks below...
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Jun 4, 2017
Jun 4, 2017 at 2:49 AM UTC
Shipwrecked Heart
Clinging to what's left, The debris of us, Floats down the calmed delta mouth, A night of turbulent storms, Has laid waste to our ship, "Golden Heart," Mighty was she, but no match, For the storm of lies that welled up, The waves carelessly consumed us whole, You steered us right into the storm, Instead of running you faced it head on, Ramon, a formidable captain with the best of intentions, Chose poorly that night, Yes, he'd sailed that course a-plenty, Assuming we could skip port and rest... But this night was different, The air was abnormally still, I questioned the Captain's choices, I too had sailed these waters, I'd seen these types of clouds before, I'd smelled this still and seemingly calm air, A maelstrom of despair, doubt, and, anger Violently rocked her, We couldn't keep the sails, The mast snapped like a twig, We were at the black water's mercy now, Two beloved crew members float lifelessly face down Their skin, pale and bruised from the rocks, Which tore into the ship's bow, The black water, now satiated, Basks in the afterglow of our destruction, The warm golden sun rise brings no comfort, It illuminates the debris of us, laughing in our faces, The ship is gone, We managed to lash together a few jagged pieces of love-red deck, She was beautiful, a pain to navigate, but beautiful nonetheless, All that's left of her are us, Clinging to each other with calloused hands, Cold, damp, exhausted, and bitter, A waterfall is up ahead, Nothing but a few pieces of rope and broken wood, Stand between us and the jagged rocks below...
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41
By: Jack Wilder (Ramon Carlos T. Castilo) I'd like to put all my love, Into this poem, And as I write, I think to myself, It'll overflow and take long, Just like the blessings you've given, And all the good people, Surrounded me with, Every chance you laid in front, And every lesson you've taught, I am, forever greatful my Lord, For you are Almighty and all knowing, You give grace and is forgiving, I have you to thank, For this breath I was given, And as I grow and prosper, In your opus and word, My dear heavenly Father, This life, I dedicate to you.
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Dec 28, 2016
Dec 28, 2016 at 10:54 PM UTC
This Life, I dedicate to You
By: Jack Wilder (Ramon Carlos T. Castillo) You are a gift you see, A person made in the image of our Lord, So you really should not care, About another person's word. Echoes of hate and petty, Purely brought about by insecurity, Things that will bring you down, Only if you let it get to you. So why should you be, Afraid of what they have to say? To the little stuff they give notice, You yourself can't even see.
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Dec 29, 2016
Dec 29, 2016 at 10:20 PM UTC
Why Should You Be?
By: Jack Wilder (Ramon Carlos T. Castillo) Inhale, exhale— I make a long trail, Like writing the lines of which you love to read, A call of the aching heart, Are seen through the words my soul would bleed. With my hard work, your mind I feed. And I think about it— life, So I pick one, straighten it up, And ignite the inspiration coming from within me, As I show you the light through paper, pen, and nicotine, In return, you fuel my perseverance, And give meaning to my existence. Such a long trail it is— life, I think to myself as I puff off a trail of smoke into the night, The smoke of which is a lot like life, Long all at once— and gone in one blink.
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Dec 29, 2016
Dec 29, 2016 at 1:19 AM UTC
The Long Trail
If I really wanted to.. This kingdom. This loving happy abode of friendships I have. I could expand it and find more that would become my family. My friends could intertwine themselves, making more friendships. I would spend all my time helping and depending on those I love. Every heart to which I feel connected and every hand I could hold. And if I wanted.. I could destroy it all. To every resident that I love and admire, I could take a hammer and destroy the chains that bind us. Those loving hands that held me would freeze as they got close and felt my coldness. The floors would become dust that seeps into the ground causing everyone inside to fall. Wall and ceilings would crumble and crash into the residents as my words become fists striking them down. From the rubble there would be nothing but corpses and expected. Survivors once loved and respected will feel only asphyxiation as I choke their soul. Being a friend.. One part of it is trusting that the other won't leave you. If that is the test of friendship, that is a test that I fail. People move out from my circle of friends without telling me and it makes me.. Foolish and less trusting From the rubble I will emerge soaked in blood and tears. I will plead with god to end my tedious servitude of being human. Thereon and after I will no longer exist. A new Ramon will appear from the debris and newly formed graveyard. I am intoxicated with this feeling. The strength to negate all that I feel. Psychopath. The title suits me well.
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Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 8:30 AM UTC
Forbode
If I really wanted to.. This kingdom. This loving happy abode of friendships I have. I could expand it and find more that would become my family. My friends could intertwine themselves, making more friendships. I would spend all my time helping and depending on those I love. Every heart to which I feel connected and every hand I could hold. And if I wanted.. I could destroy it all. To every resident that I love and admire, I could take a hammer and destroy the chains that bind us. Those loving hands that held me would freeze as they got close and felt my coldness. The floors would become dust that seeps into the ground causing everyone inside to fall. Wall and ceilings would crumble and crash into the residents as my words become fists striking them down. From the rubble there would be nothing but corpses and expected. Survivors once loved and respected will feel only asphyxiation as I choke their soul. Being a friend.. One part of it is trusting that the other won't leave you. If that is the test of friendship, that is a test that I fail. People move out from my circle of friends without telling me and it makes me.. Foolish and less trusting From the rubble I will emerge soaked in blood and tears. I will plead with god to end my tedious servitude of being human. Thereon and after I will no longer exist. A new Ramon will appear from the debris and newly formed graveyard. I am intoxicated with this feeling. The strength to negate all that I feel. Psychopath. The title suits me well.
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20
It is all fake sadness Without cups, no sprite to collect the rains We are an endless rolling fog on the edge of the terrain. We are foxes living in the suburbs we are sneaky creatures not meant for fluorescent light-bulbs and streetlamps We are the oldest vulpines alive I had been asked about symbology-- about flags and shapes and geometric plagues I had to recollect the places in my head, London was a dime, Berlin was a teeter-totter U.S.A was a great big long balloon snake There wasn't anything left to say in the barbershop, the razor blades dully buzzing, no songs but the buzzing of satellite radio I got a removal done, my deforested head could feel the wind caress it I was a new and reemerged cocoon with a lacking self-confidence I studied books and computers at Best Buy You were a yet unknown quantity you were god in the skies of San Ramon Valley High Or perhaps the other prestige of some other village dream You emerged and contained within the largest fib Give me one good reason why You deserve any more of god than the earth.
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Nov 1, 2018
Nov 1, 2018 at 2:45 AM UTC
You are an operative
I was a worm and I closed in on myself. In the grave that I was I forged my wings. Love called me, raised me to his grace. He scorched my hermit face. Your love was a light, which urged me to flight. It was a burning, sharp light. It was a star to crash my shadow. It was a sliver of light, it was a flame. I was dazzled in my crypt: I entered your halo, I put my verse on the edge of your sword, I put myself in your center: it was of fire: I used to settle in the fire house. In the fire I saw myself a worm, a butterfly, a passion, a spark with wings ... I did not know if I was burning nor if it was all the light your flare. I haven't seen myself since. I have not come to myself. I am so two that I get confused: when you call me I call you, when you call me you flare your own flank. Your love was of light: it is a sore, a wounded sun, an autophagous fire in my bed. I have consumed myself in you, in you it has been consumed my volatile course towards nothingness.
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Jun 8, 2021
Jun 8, 2021 at 4:26 PM UTC
Metamorphosis (Ramon Martinez Ocaranza)