Zoo Logic

Freedom is an open door to a cage.

Yet another cage must be opened

like animals, we are hesitant to move.

For the years we lived in it, self-made.

A niche. A home. A nest. A dungeon.

The city streets became a zoo

and life has turned us into one.

We migrate and roam like animals do.

Constantly in fear that patterns change.

Season after season. Year after year.

Territories we keep from somebody’s

breaching our personal space.

We accept no disturbance to our boundaries.

Yet we think we are free? Alone.

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Sinking Deeper

I sense a dark storm is looming over.

Someone told me that I should not be afraid

of all the tragedy impending.  Even if the winds

blow me empty at will, I should not cower.

There are intruders- those unwelcomed visitors

breaking and entering the skin I lived in.

 

I forgot the keys, my memory slips

down in the labyrinth of forgetting.

I search for clues, deciphering a code

among the pages in the book of days.

 

I misplaced the sign- “don’t disturb”

among the shards of broken plates,

of broken glasses in the kitchen.

Where did I put our picture frame?

 

I can only hear whispers from strangers

whose faces I have seen for the first time.

Ruling my house as if they’re kings and queens

breaching  a territory, our serfdom of privacy.

 

I blame these disrespectful marauders

for letting me swim deeper into the pool.

I got tangled in the maze,  finding myself.

Don’t they know it’s an abyss down here?

 

Don’t they know how it feels to get lost

sinking deeper among piles and boxes

of photographs, of letters, searching-

a faint remembrance of the two of us.

 

They keep on robbing me of something.

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Quatrain For The Dying Tree

You have stood tall-

emperor of the land.

Full of life. Your arms

canopied seedlings.

 

Your limbs sturdy

nobody can uproot.

They worshipped

a father -like a son.

 

Head salutes

to heavens, serenading

earthly hymns

among the clouds.

 

The core of the earth

by your strength you drilled.

Sapping ground

of the living water.

 

And seedlings you tended,

basking in your glory.

Swarming like children,

sheltered and pampered.

 

The days went by

and so, the nights.

The seedlings became

like little parasites.

 

Draining strength

after strength

Lifeblood wanes

to season’s change.

 

Weeds encroaching

your landlocked territory.

Locusts hovers

the prey to the winds.

 

Of fungi ears

and holes gaping,

when time begins

the bark is rotting.

 

To destiny

of one lifeless tree,

isolated and bare.

Emperor bowed down.

 

Now, your crown

of thorns and vultures.

The death dropping

of frigid icicles.

 

Ages will come,

all lead to nothing

but old driftwood

to a woodcutter’s fire.

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Halfway Through A Page

The words infiltrate a mind’s sovereign

colonizing a niche of space within

Rock-hewn among these parched walls,

petrifying civilization, quelling revolution.

 

The maze of letters clustered like jungle

to simmering cauldron of thoughts.

The texts became glowing embers

of world wars waged in the past.

 

When sentences begins imaginary-

little flames gather into firestorm.

Of bourgeoisie killing ideology-

etching history in its annals of freedom.

 

Crusade to equality  is an open door.

A people force through closed windows.

Clenched fist of a Che Guevarra,

struggle between power and martyrdom.

 

The conqueror’s territory eventually falls,

while peasants set loose from their cages.

Voicing sentiments, marching on parliament-

unafraid of gunfire and waterbombs.

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Snapshots from the Edge

There is this solitary confinement.

Beneath a surface, rages a storm.

Underneath, steely rocks

Will pierce your soft heel.

Be careful walking

My land-mined territory.

 

My eyes were fiery

Like a cascading lava,

Gentle as it flows but

Death will come,

along its path. As if words

can singed you until

the last traces of life turned

into ash.

 

These glass windows

Will shutter with

My restrained voices

Until it falls like shrapnels

To wound your fragile heart.

 

My hands are tied

But not enchained

And these thoughts

Can slash through your brain

It will linger like ghosts

Shrieking until you bleed.

 

If silence can kill,

Then I will kill.

If coldness of the water

Petrifies  a time

Let it stop the clock from ticking.

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