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Posts Tagged ‘ride’

Sometimes,  I catch myself

wondering about you

on some moonless evenings

or misty mornings, drifting-

where have your pages brought you

on some ride in the wind

or tail of a comet’s end.

 

Somewhere

hidden beneath the shadow of stars

thinking

 

who’s reading you now.

Whose hands walk

the landscape of your soul.

A borrowed moment

inhaling your scent

and leaving fine, little circles

of fingerprints

much softer than mine.

 

Sorry if

I left you-

 

like letters I burn in the fireplace

while watching the ashes float in winter air

and fall sadly to the pavement. Like rain

 

remembering the sweet hours.

The blur images of innocence

and immortality you believed

then, but honestly, I realize how beautiful

it was

 

and I kept you

for awhile but good things never last.

I wonder

 

who’s reading you now,

whose mind can fathom

the deeper meaning of you.

Whose hands were

much cleaner than mine.

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My thoughts are as directionless

as the moths seeking for warmth.

The fire within crackles

sending cinders to my realm.

My mantra of calm are as restless

as the grasshopper hopping

to some isolated and jotted

islands of images, dark-

that painterly abstraction.

Jarring and savage.

 

Some questions will burn tonight.

And answers will die on my bed.

 

I, like a squirming maggot

will never break it out.

My wings  would never ride

the wind like the butterfly.

The ants are climbing

this white walled kingdom.

The night owl squeals a secret.

While the lizard is ready

to pounce for vengeance.

 

That’s what is left of me.

An spectator to the scenes which

I could not connect in a thread.

Bare. Hope. Chance

snapping some strings

and shout eureka. I found it.

 

How shall I fill the blanks

that never beg for words?

Naked. Lying here like a piece

of shit and this suicidal poem.

Eccentricity finds no reason,

dangerous and hangs its limit.

That yielding point.

 

Sanity is a false shelter where

no one wants to be intruder

and break down the door.

Open wide discovering

another neck is lingering

asleep forever in dreams.

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Someone had it written clear-

that one should not just keep pacing

on this earth, like a  somnambulist do.

Instead, he should lay beside the grass.

Ears close to the ground hearing

faint sounds and whispers coming

from the earth’s bosom.

 

Hearing how the rhythmic breath

of stillborn seeds of coniferous trees

waiting to break out of its shell,

awakening to the hymn of the spring.

 

Hearing how aquifers running deep

into crevices, into rivers, carving

canyons, gorges, fjords to the open seas.

Sailing away, riding with the wind.

 

Hearing the tides keep pushing,

and pulling in. Or the breaking waves

into the cliffs. Scouring the shoreline

of an island down to the ocean floor.

 

Hearing how the mountains gliding

its terrestrial skin past each other.

Like a potter reshaping and remolding

the land into a new continent.

 

Hearing how it grumbles beneath,

venting out ash plumes and lava streams.

A force roused from deep slumber

churning mood swings in its womb.

 

Someone had it written clear-

that one should not just keep pacing

on this earth, like a  somnambulist do.

 

We should hear the gathering storms

of the impending avalanche. Iceberg splitting.

The glacier receding.  Oil gushes, spilling

over the gulf. Helpless cacophony of wildlife

endangered. Landslides and the levees

breached by hurricane. Rainforest on fire.

Desert sands advancing. Clods of soil

drying up. Locusts swarming over fields.

Ground crumbling into sinkholes.

 

We should hear how restless it gets

day after day, when  the clock is ticking out.

Faint sounds becoming loud voices

sending distress call to reckon with,

summoning mankind to listen. The earth

finally eclipsing to its perilous journey.

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Look at me.

A corporate soldier.

Working wounded

in the company of men-

wolves in sheep’s clothing.

Deceiving as snakes.

Cunning as sharks.

 

And here, the desk became

my war machine. Riding

in the engines of my brain.

Words and strategies wielding

like speeding bullets, as weapons.

 

I must learn the art of combat.

 

And it’s going to rain today.

But not of the sky.

But with paper planes

piling up in my incoming tray,

touching down like flies.

 

The cubicle is a battleground.

 

I need a saving grace, ejecting

from this capsuled seat. When

life signals on a high wire-

blinking signs of warning.

Maneuvering survival,

evading a free fall.

Beating the deadline.

 

I’m burned out.

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Father, I remember-

waiting for you

on my birthday

And they say,

you’ll bring home

a present like

what other boys have.

I wish of a little toy

I will ride along

in the neighborhood.

And try to belong.

 

Father, I forgot

how long-

I have chased

the speed of days,

counting roosters

that have crowed

at dawn break.

All the hope

that have died

and buried inside. I forgot

the tears that have dried.

 

Father, quite still-

there are images

of trees I forgot to climb.

Of kites I did not flown.

Of baseball gloves

I did not put on.

Of the nursery rhymes,

left unsung. I slept-

as the world turns

of bedtime stories

unheard. I have grown.

 

Father, see me now-

how everyday, I wake up.

And struggle to balance

like a weighing scale.

The drudgery

of riding big toys

through the alleyway

of this wild world.

As I left skid marks,

deeply scarred

the innocence of this boy.

 

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Fish crackers, salted

peanuts, chicharon

and Coke in can.

Five peso and fifty cent

fare to a jeepney ride.

I  inhale the pungent

breeze of the balmy bay.

As I watch the murky water

when the sun walks away,

its face hiding down.

 

The lamp post aglow

to your face, a pale moonlight.

Do you remember-

when I cuddle you

on this lonely bench? Together,

neophytes to tender love

leaning into each other, teeth

cracking watermelon seeds,

choc-nut, lukewarm Zesto

in tetra pack.

 

Do you remember-

Zagu and popsicles,

banana chips and chiz curls.

Love seems a butter

and salt to a popcorn.

A pink sugary cocoon

to a cotton candy. Sweet

melting, artificially

flavoring our infatuation.

Intertwined as alchemy.

 

The image of your smile,

glossed in tutti-frutti glitters

and sparkles like stars.

My tongue rolling

Halls mint, holding mild

mannered gasps of breath.

And there I was, restless

at your side, wondering.

How this kismet, a make-believe,

our promises, shall we keep?

 

Fish crackers, salted peanuts,

choc-nut and chicharon,

lukewarm Zesto in tetra pack.

Seven peso and fifty cent

worth of jeepney ride, I came.

Back  here in the bench

our memories of love

littered as wrappers.

Such is our promises we left

bobbing and drifting by the bay.

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