Hope

Gold wove into finest thread,
falls like summer evening’s kiss.
Framing painter’s careful work;
soft landscape such as this.
Intense and burning blue above
works down on all below
petals, softest pink, of rose
a pale enticing glow
hopes are destined long to live
before they’re let to fly
not easy to be put at rest
harder still to let them die.

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I don’t have the words

Sometimes, I have not the words.
No word enough to justify,
or give meaning that gives justice
to how i feel. For how you feel;
blankets me like some armor
and makes me invincible.
I can face anything that can come.

most times, I won’t have the words,
to woo you with. It won’t have the same
capacity as these hands and this body can;
The way these lips want to kiss
every bit of skin, or as how these hands
would like to hold yours.
It won’t have the same weight.

a few times, I might have the words
that can give an inkling of the depth;
of how immersed I am in your thoughts.
On how each word you write is carved upon
this heart of mine… and it is enough
to permeate the walls i have erected.
Those words are but a reflection.

there are times, when spoken word
will never be enough. I will sing
with whatever my vocal cords can muster
in the hopes that it reaches you…
that you can feel it in every dip and rise
and articulation of the feelings
i try so hard to verbalize.

I want to turn you in to literature.
That I may read and understand and digest.
I want to flip each page with care
that reflects my admiration for your work.
I want to read you through and through,
and when i’m done… i’ll read you again
just so I can relive that happy ending.

and realize:
I don’t have the words because…
you have them.

unabbreviated

her thoughts faintly smelled of
dainty strawberries, unhinged
from the plastic wraps of cheerios
and breakfast oats.

no freebies here but her smile.
out of context, as i prepare your eyes
from the obvious smell of carton and wheat…
undaunting and oblivious.

her non—challant one—worders say
more than those talkathons over…
nothing. her whimsies and sofies
have hooked my respect.

through miles and miles between
and unseen worlds of abbreviation;
we reach out with blinded fingers.
it is a lot like love in a way…

this fleeting. the countless 60’s
waiting for that tiny blinking green
that tells me it is you. i am
anxiously waiting for… bob’s voice.

yes, the minion. and you are the despicable master that i long for.

Anino / Shadow

ang anino mo’y nag-mistulang
higanteng nakayuko.

ni gabi o ang mga ulap
ang sanhi.

sa bawa’t apak
na mariing kumakayod
sa lupa, at sa pawis na namumuo
sa iyong nakakunot na noo;
hindi ka lilingon.

hindi ka lumilingon.

ika’y palayo.

palayo sa liwanag
na dati ay nagpapa-alala

sa iyo

na ikaw ay nabubuhay.

(Rough Translation)

your shadow resembles
a shrugging gian
t.
Neither the night or the clouds
are the reason.

For every time
you dig your heel,
grinding in to the ground
for every bead of sweat on your frown:
You do not look back.

You will not look back.

You move away.

Away from the light
that used to remind…

You…

That you were alive.

Metamorphosis

The carapace has cracked though the surface;

where the light bounces from, seems clear, serene.

Lies an undertow of wrongful fire the tumult know

nothing of.  It reflects in their eyes.

Though tough, it gives way when he gave in,

unsettling crystal and miles of thought.

 

A perplexed form emerges, once pondered complete

from the outside, yes‘ it bitter-quips, smiling.

Crawling out from Umbra’s deepest shade, it recites

the sounds of the waves to invoke the dawn.

It is because of this sun I remained in the shadows…

shutters closed in a sound proof room.

 

Emerge. Colored wings sprout from nothingness

chasing shadows with light set back a decade ago.

Tilting chin up, blue mirrors reflect heavenly passing

as if musing some puzzle it  just  concluded.

Shifting tongues, he let fade the drowning sun

Au Revoir, Le Doux Cauchemar c’est fini…

 

Untethered, he drops the feeble form that burdened

his wings.  Something was coming, some torrent.

It beckons, draws him close but he was willing

even if it was some strong force he hasn’t seen.

I am tangible because of this northward moon,

which shed new light and fire…

 

for when it came:

 

It caught me between a half-breath and a sigh.