It's not simple
It's rusted nails breaking skin
Lightning flashes in a hurricane
The crack of a body hitting the pavement

It's the pinch of nails in your palms
The tremble of your legs when you think they're watching
The ache in your chest when your binding is too tight
But not tight enough

It's not a stormcloud, it's a typhoon
It's not a discomfort, it's torment
Its the steel beams in your chest snapping under pressure
Your skeleton crumbling so maybe your chest will be flat then

But all those rusted nails and steel beams
Heated by the fire and fury of passion
Remold into something new

Someone who can stand a bit straighter
Speak louder
Tip their chin up
And show the world who they are
Who he is.

Dysphoria is a skyscraper crumbling to ash
But it's also scraps of wreckage
Reminded into a safe haven
A place of rest
A place of comfort

"Strength in numbers" as the American says
The Great Unity (dàtóng) the Chinese prevails
"I am because we are" the Ubuntu in Africa
We, the Filipinos, we have "Pagkakaisa"

Houses lifted and moved through "bayanihan"
As solidarity bolstered during typhoon Haiyan
By peaceful revolutions, ousted miscreants
For we are but red ants and we bite as one

How many is a few? According to an online forum, it means 2-3 .So here I go
Typhoon hits Taiwan today, so I can’t go anywhere but stay at home all day reading and watching movie (Wild Tales). I think should start reading Swann’s Way again. I was quite interested in Proust in my junior year, cause one time my ex said something I called ‘words of wisdom’ ,which echoed with Proust’s words about sleeping. Maybe they are completely unrelated, but while reading Proust I was unconsciously analyzing the reading in Proust’s way: comparing someone I know in real life with the characters in the book; or maybe I was just putting on airs by showing that I know the (far-fetched) relation between what ******* my ex said and Proust’s words… The wind is getting stronger and stronger now and I am wondering where you are. On this lame typhoon day I’m suffocated by the boredom and humidity. I call it poetic nothingness.

1.
Noong unang panahon, dumalaw ang isang diyosa
Sa bagong kapapanganak na ina
Na ang bagong silang na sanggol ay biniyayaan
Ng mga bertud na may kapangyarihan
(Once upon a time, a goddess visited
A mother who has just yielded
A newborn infant who was blessed
With amulets wherein powers are wielded)

2.
Ang ina ay nagsumamo sa diyosa
Na biyayaan ng mahabang buhay ang anak niya
(The mother to the goddess implored
For a long life to the child she labored)

3.
Hindi sumagot ang diyosa
Pero ikinwintas niya ang agimat sa bata
(The goddess did not answer
But a necklace to the child she did wear)

4.
Sa kwintas nakasabit ay tatlong bato
May taglay na kapangyarihan ang mga ito
(The stones are the necklace’s pendants
A power in them enchants)

5.
Ang isa ay nagbibigay-lakas, sa pangalawa ay bilis naman
At sa pangatlo’y proteksiyon sa kapahamakan
(The one grants strength, speed is by the second charm
By the third protection from harm)

6.
Ang nasabing sanggol si Biuag ang ngalan
Siya ay tubong Enrile, Cagayan
(The said baby is Biuag by name
Enrile, Cagayan is from where he came)

7.
Kaya niyang bunutin ang isang puno
Na kaydali para lang siyang nagdadamo
(He can uproot a tree
Just like weeding so easily)

8.
Kaya rin niyang lumangoy nang matulin
Maging mga buwaya’y ‘di siya kayang habulin
(He can swim so fast
Even crocodiles through him can’t get pass)

9.
Nahulog narin siya sa lugar na mataas
Subalit walang natamong anumang gasgas
(He even fell from a high place
But didn’t obtain any bruises)

10.
Dahil sa mga kapangyarihang ipinamalas niya
Mga tao’y dinayo siya at sinamba
(Because of powers by his showmanship
To him people came and worship)

11.
Sa kabila ng lahat, malungkot si Biuag
Dahil ‘di niya makuha ang napupusuang dilag
(Despite of all, Biuag is desolate
Because the dear maiden he can’t get)

12.
Ang nasabing babae sa Tuao ay katutubo
Hindi tanyag ang nilalang na ito
(That lady in Tuao is indigenous
This creature is not famous)

13.
Noon din ay may binatang katulad ni Biuag
Malakas, makapangyarihan, hindi duwag
(At the same time like Biuag was a man popular
Strong, powerful, not coward)

14.
Malana ang tawag sa kanya
Taga-Malaueg, Rizal ang magiting na binata
(Malana is he being called
From Malaueg, Rizal is this bachelor bold)

15.
Noong labing-walong taong gulang siya
Nilangoy niya ang ilog na maraming buwaya
(Eighteen years old when he was
Swam he the river with lots of crocodiles)

16.
Ito ay upang kumuha ng pagkain
Mula sa malayong lupain
(This is in order to get fodder
From a land that’s farther)

17.
Para sa mga nasalantang tao
Ng nagdaang bagyo
(For the people devastated
By a typhoon that thrusted)

18.
Nang makauwi si Malana
May nakita siyang isang pana
(When Malana returned home
Saw he a bow and arrow)

19.
At nang kanya itong ipukol sa hangin
Sa kanya ang bala’y bumalik din
(And when on air it was thrown
To him the arrow returned)

20.
‘Di naglaon kanyang nabatid
Na ang sandata’y may kapangyarihang hatid
(Soon it came to his awareness
That the weapon a power possesses)

21.
Siya rin ang iniirog ng dilag
Na kinahuhumalingan ni Biuag
(It is him also liked by the maiden
To who Biuag has fallen)

22.
At nang matuklasan ni Biuag na si Malana ang napupusuan
Hinamon niya ang karibal sa isang labanan
(And when Biuag learned that Malana is the beloved
To a fight his rival he challenged)

23.
Nagimbal ang buong bayan
Sa katakut-takot na labanan
(The whole nation felt horrible
Upon the terrifying battle)

24.
Higanteng buwaya ginamit ni Biuag
Babaeng gusto pinagsabihan siyang duwag
(Giant crocodile Biuag utilized
Coward is he said the lady he liked)

25.
Dahil doon, si Biuag ay napahiya
Sa huli, kanyang nilunod ang sarili niya.
(Because of that, Biuag was embarrassed
Drowned he himself at the very last).

-08/17-18/2013
(Dumarao)
*for Epic Day 2013

The sustained winds of our life
Blow strong in the direction of love
Consistent in its endeavor
To engulf the "I" with your eyes
With you I am grounded
Compounded with the rushing pulse
Of my hearts buffeted beating
Such that, with every gust
I realize how deep the roots go
That prevent me from falling
In any direction other than into
Your arms

This is our true strength
Stronger than any hurricane
Brave enough to cross the path
Of our loves typhoon

Neurons travel and wind
around your head like
draping tree branches, Christmas lights,
strings of tangled red yarn
weaving a possible
fate.

When the cords are
simply content with
remaining relatively still,
being with you
is like
sailing on smooth,
tranquil, clear blue waters
of a vast, magnificent
ocean,
a blossomed sunset
in the distance
dripping on white, sandy shores
of an island of lost paradise
awaiting our arrival.

But when the cords
flail and twist, tying each other
into knots and cutting off
the clearness
and levelheadedness of thought,
being with you
is like
trying to hang on to
the back of a typhoon,
frigid black waters flailing,
crashing against
foamy, thick quicksand,
roars and curses of a
tyrant sea god
raging seas of water against
the skies,
rapidly expelling
hurtful, sharp anchors and lunging
them to the bottom
of our sandy beds.

And I wonder
what it would be like had I
possessed more
powerful features
as your sea goddess,
as the moon and stars
from above,
and the sandy beds
below that would
catch both
hurtful anchors and
salty tears
you let loose.

Out of the dark forest I stumbled
onto the pebbles of a moonlit lake
my languid eyes bumbled
swallowing down philter mistakes

a pale goddess in the flesh
how my stupefied eyes stared
at the beauty of her nakedness
something in me flared

flared and turned and burned
my flesh no longer mine
stag in form standing taciturn
she calls out for my canines

I run and try to yell
nothing escapes my lungs
pattering of legs hungry to quell
come to rip flesh with teeth and tongues

stumbling and tripping over
stones, limbs, roots and mud
left to a new life a stag rover
I hear the ******* and the studs

faster and faster I try to move
from this typhoon wave of carnivorous hounds
but curse these feeble hooves
the claws and teeth came crashing around

flesh stabbed with a thousand teeth
a pack of mouths tear and pull
a stag corpse I bequeath  
to the hunger of my own wolves

I'm in a 60mph funnel
everything going on around me
forces me to stand still
and pushes me into the center of a typhoon
that'll drown me until I grow gills

•
                                                If you are a tree,

Bombarded by extreme winds,


                                            In the amidst of a typhoon,


                                                      ­                     I'll sacrifice to be your roots,
                                                          ­       To diminish your agony,


OH, I cannot manage seeing you suffer!

                             In carrying on in a big tragedy,
                                                        ­       With utmost throe alone ,




Let me be torn and broken into fragments,
                 And be cut in combating and holding for you,



That's how much I love and care,

                                          I wish you only knew...



                       © Earl Jane
                         ♥ E.J.C.S.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She had her own signature scent,
A lasting aroma, that lingers in every corner of her home
As the strong winds picked up the scent,
and move it quite a distance.

She carefully prepare the mixture from the earth
Cuss ,kuss grass, Jasmine, rose buds and roots,
Before she prepare the mixtures with that special touch

Like a fine wine from the winery,
“One more drop of Rosemary oil, she would say
This would make the scent last for eternity,

Old Granddad he would make silly jokes,
His word usages, madam chemist, a witch with a spoon,
But in the end, she would always made a special potion for him
We would carefully select the flaky mahogany woods shaving,
with combinations of fresh vanilla leaves with extracting oil with oils
Those homemade perfumes from flowers had lots of potential.

Granddad hand craft the wooded bottle stoppers with his chisel,
It was a joy to watch, the old Irish typhoon working and smoking his pipe
Old Alan baffler was Nana nickname for him

She would scold and speak harshly to us
for touching the those colorful luring bottles
“Don’t open those bottles, you malicious children
Else a witch would appear: She would often say,
For me, my nana was an old chemist,
with old decade’s wooden sticks.
Preparing the mixtures like a fine wine,

I am forever grateful for those memories
I should have follow in her footsteps,
Her secret potions, her gift,
Is worth millions of dollars today
Looking back on yesteryears , good parenting
and good memories

There's a typhoon a monsoon
Of catastrophic misery, agony, and doom
The pain keeps raining down
In my sorrow I will surely drown
An ocean of emotion and I can't swim
My soul's light is growing dim
The sky just keeps bleeding
My tolerance it's exceeding
In this inky blackness I am sinking
My soul keeps on shrinking
From this psychalgia there is no exception
There is no redemption
In this anguish
Is where I'll languish
In this tribulation I will suffer
There is no hope I will ever recover
In this desolation I will moan and wail
This despair is my last coffin nail

You, one step forward.
Me, one step backward.
"This is a bad idea",
I voice as stably as I can.

I am a menacing typhoon
Curated by the sighs and whispers
Of the burnt and the buried.
I am their reincarnation.

I am designed specifically
To be masked like a poker player.
Do you think you know me?
Too much behind these foreboding cards.

Your soft kind flame has rekindled
my combustible mould of stone.
But I must keep you safe from me
By keeping you at arm's length.

Don't be foolish, I am hard to love.
What did you think, honey?
The cherry-red beneath my eyes
Are no dark circles.

My tears aren't of pain
I have nothing to gain
I just have to keep my demons tame
It's hard to do when you're insane

I cry from my shadows point of view
Hoping my life will reach a breakthrough  
Thoughts flow through my head like a typhoon
If I am to die it will be to soon

How many trials must I endure
To take the test is to be sure
My heart is everything but pure
I will fight; it is my turn

Have you tried suicide, it is quite nice
For if you fail your life will not suffice
The gate keeper is the one you must entice
While you take the chance and roll the dice

Beside the tree of life I sit alone and write
So many pieces of broken headstones
Wedged in the valley of the branches
Each one stolen from the field behind
Placed into the bark in hopes to show that they were kind
Hard to comprehend the fact I am taken on a higher education
Today is day one and the only crime is my age
I am an old dog who still can learn new tricks
Like a red alert or white meteor flares on a dark night
My Friendly Ghost ring tone wale’s out my phone.
I know it’s time to put all personal feelings and thoughts aside
Without any delay I respond
Heading back to the maze again and so soon
No dragging left hand on wall I know my way out this time
Into the chiller once again and there he laid near another
Pushing you out I’m taking you to a better place
And In matter of minutes I will see your face
Out your zippered pouch you emerged
Onto to the table in the preparation room I laid you
After a detailed look over I then prayed for thee
For I know what is I think to come next
I was given vivid words in complete details prior
Numbed with fear I wanted to see more
Laying out all the instruments and many odd shapes they all were
Saw so much before with the others but this time I’m given a blue apron
Step one was to first watch and then I must do just the same
Tan eye cap with thorns go in and grab hold of the velvet underside
So clear the color blue I saw the lost Atlantis water in you
Mouth now opened and rivets with wire are shot into your firm gums
He held your chin up and I twisted it shut
To a perfect gap I took you so thin the entrance was
In earlier times a silver dollars was the rule
And in your mouth it went to pay the ferry man
Breaking the rigor in the arms is next to follow
Scalpel in his right hand and the neck in the left
Feeling around for the perfect spot of execution
He Suddenly then makes a quick and clean cut
Sinking hooks went in he exposed and pulled out your major one
Then came the elevation and he held it with a stainless steel handle
Strings now are cut and perfect lengths yes they were
Under the massive one I reached in with the angled tweezers
Spun threads I pulled and through the opening underneath
Like tying a child’s shoe he did the first loops
Next came a tiny snip with the special scissors
Then after a wiggling push the valve was in its sheath
Now the torquing of the strings to hold them tight like acting as a hose clamp
Same now is done to the second biggest one
A Thick rubber hose now finds its way and attaches itself to the port of entry
After the precise ratio customized to your specks
The proper mix of a liquid concoction and concentration of flesh color rejuvenator
Now join forces together inside the tornado simulator vat
Dials are set and switches are then flicked to power it up and power it on
Spinning like a sky high typhoon the raging torrent in its attempt
To slow down the decomposing process now only scares your soul away
Clinging for dear life was still no match, many clots there were and many I saw
I had my hand in the helping of you so you could be set free
Out you escaped you’re now free and all the rest I washed away
Like magic right before my eyes
Your pale color is now taking on a new tone
To help the proper flow and to stop things that might grow
Dampened sponges now massage your face and arms
When it came to your hands I shook it first and then told you my name
Blended mix is coming to its end what is then next
Knots are released and oozing they were
A quick packing of gauze slows the red sea’s waves
Drying salts and a squirt of super glue then arrest the flow
Hosing all the magenta away jelly suds are then applied
Washing your strands and then your frail brows
In-between my fingers bubbles did appear
Like a new born infant I treated thee
In hopes that someday that’s how they will treat me
Warming the flow to a comfort zone I gave a quick rinse
Foaming growing lather now upon your face
A five bladed razor in his hand he gave you the perfect shave
My hands are now dunked into the soothing cream
On your smooth as a babies bottom grin it is rubbed
That is all for today lets wrap him up and yes I did tuck him in.

(CARSr. 7-10-12)

I think you're the sea.
Your blue plaid shirt the waters and
My red plaid jacket the sunset,
Our hands are oars,
Yours tracing my fingertips-
My skin-
Arms, legs, and stomach,
Sending shivers down my spine,
Exploring my body like a ship
Sailing out into the horizon.

I hear your heart,
It beats in time with the tide,
Your breath a sweet ocean breeze
As it tousles my hair,
And I'm hyper aware of how
Deep your eyes are.
Not blue,
But brown like the ground of
The earth underneath the water.

Our kisses are dives,
Striving to reach the
Sunken treasure at the bottom
Of your ocean,
Of my ocean,
The pieces are scattered but
We'll find them and
Piece it back together.
Our hands intertwine to
Lock the chest but
I find I drown in your stare

Because seas are violent.
I'd forgotten that, but the thought
Seizes my mind as your waters
Grip my throat and I
Gasp for air but I find I can't
See anymore.

Your hands are cold against my body,
Like the tide of your heart casting me out
Onto the shore,
Naked and sure of indifference
Your breath a typhoon of ice
Hurled perfectly at my chest-
You used this sunset and
Left a storm in my eyes.
Painted a picture of sincerity but
Blue is the color of clarity and
Mine won't forget your
Murderous waves or
Mischievous ways and

Through you I've come to know
Some people aren't that lucky-
We cry alone.
Throw a rock, aim right at our chest,
Our hearts are stone.
We suffer in silence. And
If I could catch all the tears I've cried in a pitcher,
I would rain them down,
Drown a river in my sorrow.
Drown my sorrow in a river?
What's the difference? Life is only borrowed, anyways.

MANILA, Philippines - The public knows me as the Father of Philippine Franchising but what is hidden from the public eye is that I am a father of five sons and a daughter. This fact became very real to me again recently when my youngest son, Sam Gregory, got married.

Like I said, I have five sons and all of them are achievers and successful in their respective fields. My eldest son, Sam Benedict, for example, has a master’s degree from Kellogg and works for a top American company. My fourth son, Sam Christopher, on the other hand, got his master’s degree from Oxford and used to work for a top British conglomerate.

When my other sons got married, I was happy and proud as I could be; but when Greg got married I have to admit that there was a certain tug in my heart realizing that my little Sam was finally leaving the nest. I am not the sentimental type, but I guess every parent has a special place in his heart for his youngest.

But don’t get me wrong, Greg is no pushover. Being physically small, he did have his share of bullying when he was in school. But Greg knows how to deal with his problems. He befriended a number of his bigger classmates and that solved his problem in a snap. He may be small but he has a big heart.

Greg is idealistic and principled. He usually volunteers for civic and charitable activities and contributes to fund drives for disaster victims. My wife and I have accepted the fact that every time there is a typhoon, we can expect our cupboards to be cleared of canned goods and our cabinets purged of old clothes, which Greg would donate.

He follows traffic rules and regulations even when there’s nobody watching and even if following is not convenient for him. He saves energy. He recycles. He even convinced me and my wife not to use narra wood flooring in our retirement home.

Being a careful planner, he is the most prepared among our family for the “Big One.” But what I find most admirable is that he keeps two emergency kits in his car in case he finds himself in a situation where he might need to help others.

Greg is also romantic, creative and dedicated. When he was studying in Beijing, he would organize a virtual date with Charmaine Haw (who would eventually become Mrs. Sam Gregory Lim), who was in Manila. They would watch the same movie on the web and Greg would order movie snacks, which he would send to Charmaine’s house. The couple would also have virtual dinner dates where Greg would order similar meal courses, which would be delivered to Charmaine’s house and then they would chat via Skype while having dinner.

When the time came for Greg to buy his engagement and wedding rings, he refused to let us — his parents — help him. He used his own money despite being the one among his brothers who could least afford it, being the least salaried employee among them. He did this as a symbol of his love and commitment to Charm.

But when the wedding came I insisted that it should be a grand wedding.

To guarantee a great party, we made sure to have great food, a great place and great companions. Being an avid sci-fi fan, Greg already had an idea of a unique garden wedding. He wanted to transform the New Grand Ballroom of the Marriott Hotel into the forests of Avatar. To do this, the wedding stylist had to import a collection of trees, hanging plants, shrubs, flowers and other plants. The images projected on the giant 15-meter panoramic LED screen added to the reality of the scenery. It was a unique and original “garden setting” and was certainly a sight to behold and remember.

For the food, Greg was at his meticulous best to make sure that the evening’s feast was memorable. The dinner opened with a mouth-watering appetizer, lemon-spiced pan-seared scallop with tomato cucumber timbale in creamy ginger soya sauce followed by Manhattan clam chowder with cornbread dumpling. For the main course, we had the beef tenderloin prepared by the master chef of Cru Steakhouse of Manila Marriott Hotel, sea bass with roasted shallots, dauphin potatoes in perigourdine and mustard herb sauce.

The espresso-infused tiramisu and the white chocolate cheesecake with mango salsa served with piping-hot coffee completed the culinary feast.

With 800 guests, I would have to admit that we did splurge a little. But we also wanted the wedding reception to be an opportunity to thank the people who have been a part of our family. These are our relatives, friends and associates who have inspired, mentored and helped mold my children to be what they are today.

To my youngest son, Greg, and my new daughter, Charmaine — quoting from the Vulcan salute of the Star Trek saga (of which Greg is a big fan) — may you both live long and prosper!

read more:www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses

http://www.marieaustralia.com

Steady rainfall in the park.
I hardly notice the wet gravel
soaking cold, dark spots
into my soul from the knees.

Tonight, in perfect stillness,
I ventured farther than I have,
or anyone should.
I vainly offered you everything.

Alone now, I listen to the shifting wind.
The tempest is growing, but I want to stay.
If it carries me off at least I'll be spared
the agony of walking away from you.

Water beats down from heaven,
running off my shirt, slicing into skin,
slowly breaking my composure until, at last,
I become the storm.

People live forever in Jacksonville and St. Petersburg and Tampa,
But you don't have to live forever to become a grampa.
The entrance requirements for grampahood are comparatively mild,
You only have to live until your child has a child.
From that point on you start looking both ways over your shoulder,
Because sometimes you feel thirty years younger and sometimes
thirty years older.
Now you begin to realize who it was that reached the height of
imbecility,
It was whoever said that grandparents have all the fun and none of
the responsibility.
This is the most enticing spiderwebs of a tarradiddle ever spun,
Because everybody would love to have a baby around who was no
responsibility and lots of fun,
But I can think of no one but a mooncalf or a gaby
Who would trust their own child to raise a baby.
So you have to personally superintend your grandchild from diapers
to pants and from bottle to spoon,
Because you know that your own child hasn't sense enough to come
in out of a typhoon.
You don't have to live forever to become a grampa, but if you do
want to live forever,
Don't try to be clever;
If you wish to reach the end of the trail with an uncut throat,
Don't go around saying Quote I don't mind being a grampa but I
hate being married to a gramma Unquote.

Toss away sheltering umbrella,
Seek to samba triumphant in the rain.
Edit dramatic doldrums from the novella,
Relate an easy tongue of the urbane.

Call a friend as helpful lifeline,
Castle Queenside for defense,
Debate the speed of light with Einstein,
Let love be your sixth sense.

Swim out through the breakers,
Surf the hurricane back home,
Reject the quackery of fakers,
Let rain cloud be your geodesic dome.

Vilify politics of standstill,
Wink the lowlands of the moon.
Pitch an idea to the gristmill,
Sing impromptu to typhoon.

JESUS emptied the devils of one man into forty hogs and the hogs took the edge of a high rock and dropped off and down into the sea: a mob.

The sheep on the hills of Australia, blundering fourfooted in the sunset mist to the dark, they go one way, they hunt one sleep, they find one pocket of grass for all.

Karnak? Pyramids? Sphinx paws tall as a coolie? Tombs kept for kings and sacred cows? A mob.

Young roast pigs and naked dancing girls of Belshazzar, the room where a thousand sat guzzling when a hand wrote: Mene, mene, tekel, upharsin? A mob.

The honeycomb of green that won the sun as the Hanging Gardens of Nineveh, flew to its shape at the hands of a mob that followed the fingers of Nebuchadnezzar: a mob of one hand and one plan.

Stones of a circle of hills at Athens, staircases of a mountain in Peru, scattered clans of marble dragons in China: each a mob on the rim of a sunrise: hammers and wagons have them now.

Locks and gates of Panama? The Union Pacific crossing deserts and tunneling mountains? The Woolworth on land and the Titanic at sea? Lighthouses blinking a coast line from Labrador to Key West? Pigiron bars piled on a barge whistling in a fog off Sheboygan? A mob: hammers and wagons have them to-morrow.

The mob? A typhoon tearing loose an island from thousand-year moorings and bastions, shooting a volcanic ash with a fire tongue that licks up cities and peoples. Layers of worms eating rocks and forming loam and valley floors for potatoes, wheat, watermelons.

The mob? A jag of lightning, a geyser, a gravel mass loosening...

The mob ... kills or builds ... the mob is Attila or Ghengis Khan, the mob is Napoleon, Lincoln.

I am born in the mob-I die in the mob-the same goes for you-I don't care who you are.

I cross the sheets of fire in No Man's land for you, my brother-I slip a steel tooth into your throat, you my brother-I die for you and I **** you-It is a twisted and gnarled thing, a crimson wool:
                One more arch of stars,
                In the night of our mist,
                In the night of our tears.

Cooking up a blizzard.
Lost and unguided tendrils of space hold me captive,
the trebles of your heart beating
leads me back to my my Home.
That infinite gaze of yours into my dilapidated eyes,
is like a portal to you to look into my soul.
You blanket all my darkness
With your semi-pixie cut.
You’re my tree of knowledge
I bask in it’s shade.
Powdered Sugar coating on cupcakes.
Your silk armour protects your vulnerability,
My sincere apologies to all the arrows that gaped through.
Cover me under your angel wings,
Dab away my streaming reservoirs and replace them
with pollen and sweet nectar.
Your wishbone sacramental daydreams and dreams.
I feel so lost without you.
Bandage my old wounds with your tender hands,
Kiss me with your lush lips
sending jolts of star dust upstream,
within my veins dancing with yours palpitating feet.
My shot of euphoria and bleeding antidote.
My poetry.
You, Kalon.
Let’s raise a toast to your
beauté remarquable éternel, mon soleil
your free spirit,
your beauty of a ghost,
your heart racing with joy,
your heart steaming up with reticent sadness,
build up anger that come crashing down
like a typhoon detaching from the human perspecta.
I miss you.
Your emotional mess and literal mess,
I’m your magic broom.
You, my inspiration.
You, my groove.
You, my you.
You. My everyone and everything.
You’re fun filled supressed omnipresent electric feel.
You, The only Solis in my galaxy.
I love you.
Sharing your grandoise orangy tinge yellow light.
Bottling up a few star
in a bottle of red wine,
For her Luna.
Solis is 21 a (000,000,000) today.
**You’re irreplacable.

I am a raging typhoon of rampant enthusiasm
I will weave the lasting fabrics of agreement
Stitch and kiss all wounds
until everything stops bleeding for good.

You will succumb to hope
Its pure saline cascade shall cleanse you
Let me kiss each moan, until the countryside of your pain
Is coated in a shimmering rain of pleasure.

Weariness wipes away, coated like bare wood beneath white wash,
the doves sit nearby, waif children, they share their breadcrumbs,
they smile, and demure, until the worst in us all,
fades three shades towards forgotten forever.

I am here to heal you...

"I am yours and you are mine until the day that we both cease to exist."

I cherish these words like how martyrs hold crucifixes close to their hearts
Only separated by a wall of bone and flesh
I keep these words fresh
By reiterating them every morning since you left
Their poetic tone makes me long for your voice,
Your warm breath and your soft caress as we lay in my bed
Chaste, no acts of lasciviousness or mundane carnal lust
It was just us.

Do you remember when we first met,
How your voice that rivalled thunder bellowed as you fell,
How you appeared as a flash of lightning that failed to destroy
For grace ground zero is pure creation and no other choice,
Or how you took the likeness of my form
And as you said to an awestruck me
Using typhoon from your lungs and a canyon deep voice
"I am an angel of the Lord."

Yes, you were an angel
—As the windows to my soul followed the water dripping from brow to knife-edge cheeks
To course through first man's downfall to nestle where collarbones peek
I could not speak for I was transfixed by your androgyny
Or is it just that the symphony of celestial applause silences my throat
And the low heavy notes of thunderous cause muffles all when the Heavens cried for its children lost—
I agreed

You stared at the distance, admiring how your brothers and sisters met ground
As they used natural phenomena as a facade
Like how Rameses decided the last plague in Egypt long ago
Is angel-kind disguised
Ending the lives of a thousand slumbering children at night
But this coming of the Heavenly Host was different
You came here not to deliver seven plagues nor fortnights punishment
You came to know what it's like to be human

Do you remember how I was dumbfounded,
As I, a testament of how flawed a creation humans are, hear this from perfection,
How I witnessed in your eyes Cain's mistake,
How I saw you make your first steps in disobedience
That will lead to a series of consequences that you said you would cherish,
A road of pain, suffering, and anguish
Or how you told me that you long for human emotions
And how you envied the mouth that bit the fruit in eden?

I still remember how I fell in love with you
How you told me that the weatherman on tv was a false prophet
And that he had changed the weather himself
How you told me every being in the universe that became one of your Father's favorite
Showed similarity with Heaven's most wanted
How you, in veil of night, moved from my living room couch
To sleep by my side
To roost on my bed

Every night I held you tightly in a warm embrace
Close to my heart like how a child holds a blanket reminding him of his mother's calming face
At morning jet skies remain as you stretch your raven wings
Gale winds push forth to ******* away,
Bedazzled by gleaming feathers astray
You are a monument to beauty, a greco-roman statue
Obedient to the Maker, chiseled, stone cold, perfect.

Obedient to Him you were,
He called for all of His children, including those who have fallen
To fight a wargame against Hell, Avalon, and places unknown of name and origin
And you, you headed His call
You again summoned a storm to conceal your true form;
Titanic, terrifying, and phantasmagorical with a hundred pallid furnaces etching the surface of your rock like skin
And in that moment I knew I lost you to Him
Because you said "I am an Angel of the Lord, now and forever."

You said those words using typhoon from your lungs and a canyon deep voice
And as you raised your hand
To an act of God approaching fast,
I lost your warmth to skies unrest
Your memory a dead man's switch if I let go it will detonate unstable emotions
I begged you to play me like harp strings because my heart seams to
Unravel, remembering from Earth you did depart
Knowing I could no longer feel your warmth.

And it came to me,
Angels are not the cloud-jumping-perch-on-your-shoulder kind,
They are monstrous warriors
With the Word of God tattooed on their hundred feet bodies
You are soulless automatons built for war yet you still loved me
You told me stories of alternate realities and distant galaxies
Elegies to dying stars and civilizations in jeopardy
But never again can you tell me...

I still remember how an angel came to me in a dream,
Told me you died defending Heaven from the enemy
Told me that your last words were for me:
"I am yours and you are mine until the day that we both cease to exist."
And since angels are soulless they cease to exist when they die
I cried myself dry, regretted the fact I once had an angel in my life
Whose grace filled me with warmth and whose wings comforted my lonely nights

I still remember how I realized I was human
And I, with those cherished words
Can buy myself more time, buy our relationship more time
For me to be yours and for you to be mine
You may have faded into nothingness but I have not
So until I call out to you using my dying breath
Until the last second in my deathbed
Until my soul's eternity in its infinite Heaven...

I am yours and you are mine, as simple as that.

Polyrhythms & sunny synths
rippling across the surface
of a blue lagoon as we are guided
to ascend by an enlightened
soul with the force of a typhoon.

Tinkling melodies & shining stars
gracing through the galaxies
within our hearts, pacing
in circles as it all continues
to lovingly fall apart.

Good vibes & joyous moments
take us all on a mystical journey
through the folds of time
as we flow through the waters
of golden beaches so divine.

What wonderful luck to be alive,
coexisting with the beauty
of a land touched by starlight.
An uplifting sea of memories
surfaces as nostalgia subtly sways
through the summer leaves,
floating upon a gentle breeze
giving way to an easy night.

I am the moment before the sun
I am the light you see on a dark moon
I am the eye of a typhoon

I taught the birds to fly
I taught the child to ask why
Who am I

I put the steps into caterpillars
Showed the leaves how to fall
Tore down every wall

I ran with the Buffalo
Dove with the whales
Know who I am then do tell

I am the dirt beneath your feet
The sky so tall
I am the fly upon your wall

I am the ache in your head
The pain in your heart
I know when to end  , when to start

Who am I

I bit down on my back teeth,
and let the air release from my nose.
I want to scream,
I want to break things,
but I can write fury instead.
There is a typhoon in my chest,
that is ejected from my pen.
My paper rips from the pressure.
I imagine it be like skin,
and how this ink bleeds
boiling hatred
is what I thirst for when
the adrenaline kicks in.
Because when all is said and done,
and bloodshot eyes glance downward.
The reality washes over me-
I have made
in madness.

The beast cobbler somber suited to putrid minions,
And picked apart the whiskers of death and scribed a diction,
"He hath no fury than an arcade weapon scorn"
Tis I blasted through virtual vitriol levels with life unborn,
Licking the literature scriptures and propagandizing dilemma,
I trained Cerberus into a vicious *******,
Biting heathens with the molars demons fear to run from,
Too **** farmer to sail away from my problems,
I reaped too many seeds to bleed,
So all your fuming won't do absolute **** to me,
I'm a dark stepchild of instability and fertility,
Shallow stocking delinquent seeking fire with an angel match cracking humility,
I'm a typhoon buffoon with Hanna-Babara tendencies,
**** with me and get a lethal dose of dynamite and Trojan Horse remedies,