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| Published: Dec.14.2007 @ 6:28 pm
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Pieces fall
blocks of varied shapes
drop
in their destined place;
Player
curses for a bad move
rejoices at times
when that piece
reaches the ground,
screwed up
or just right.
Experience Tetris
in your life.
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| Published: Oct.04.2007 @ 6:18 pm
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I’ve been to places you’ve never been
to pains unknown to the heart
to happiness new to the spirit
in the abyss of strangled souls
I’ve been to the wilderness
of humiliation
of passion
and of vengeance
I came not to seek laughter
I came not to follow the rainbow;
but I came for the storm
that would flush the empty souls
the souls of the lost world
Harharharharharharhar!!!
Trip trip lang…
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| Published: Aug.30.2007 @ 5:39 pm
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Slowly, I unlocked my steps
pressing my sores to the murky ground
pain becomes almost unbearable
will there be nails and thorns
a hole ready to engulf me
or a shroud trying to cover an unbreathing spirit?
Slowly, I shut my ears to hear nothing
including the raspy tremble of my fear
unwilling that I am close to a whisper
I said, “Am I Job’s reincarnation?”
my thoughts muttered underneath its breath
“No. God isn’t that so hard.”
Slowly, I blocked my senses with a mantra,
“I would die an honorable woman.”
then I fancied the oat cells scramble through my veins
like rebel troupes killing every innocent soul
leaving bomb shells that will detonate
anytime soon. Fiercely.
Slowly, I began to dread the silence
I was waiting for my soles to be pricked
or a thick cloud of darkness to embrace me
angry mavericks extricating my last ounce of oxygen
my thoughts dwindle in stupor for an explosion
but there was none.
“Am I still alive?”
My lungs inhaled the pollution of this city
then I exhaled a rant, “Off the hook!”
that’s when I realized I am inside a bus home
slept over half-way reading about Death by Jagad Guru
Siddhaswarupananda Paramahamsa.
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| Published: Aug.13.2007 @ 7:42 pm
| Last edited: Aug.13.2007 @ 6:45 am |
Hear me
won’t you just hear me
for a sec.
Look at me
won’t you just take
a glimpse
on my scarred soul.
Have pity on thine spirit
won’t you just throw
thy mercy
on thy once beloved
servant.
I hear a cry
Oh damn!
How loud is thy cry
that twists my heart.
I hear a voice
Oh damn!
How clear is thy voice
that squeezes my soul.
I feel a beat
in thine womb
and it shatters me
that they’re all
my imaginations.
Oh, how it breaks me
the whole of who I am
reminds my inability
to bear.
I’m cursed
cursed not to see life
not to hear her laughter
not to hear his voice
not to touch
not to share
a part of me.
For until my day
drops dead
my longing
shall forever remain
Mama’s unborn.
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| Published: Aug.13.2007 @ 7:39 pm
| Last edited: Aug.13.2007 @ 6:46 am |
Papa just can’t wait
to hug you tight
to cuddle you in his arms
to embrace you with warmth
to speak with you face to face
to see that smile
to hear that voice say, “Papa!”
to touch that skin so soft
to smell your baby scent
to kiss you
to feel your love
to fix you your milk
to enclose your little hands in his
to sing you lullabies
to kiss you goodnight
to teach you ABCs
to read to you fairy tales
to cheer you up when you cry
to laugh with you
to giggle the day off
to walk with you in your first steps
to run with you, chasing the wind
to play with you even under the rain
to bring you to places you’ve never been
to bring you to school
to just hold you
and to look after you ‘til you grow old.
Ah! Papa really just can’t wait…
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| Published: Aug.13.2007 @ 7:35 pm
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A stab of dagger
a crown of thorns
that slowly pierced
my very soul
a burden has been flushed
down to the abyss.
The once thought unborn
has found its home
in my own very womb
now the heart beats
and that of the cries
are imaginations
no more.
For my then unborn
has taken flesh
has breathed the same air
that which I breathe
is now eating the same bread
that which I chew
for Mama’s little darling
has taken her place
into thine womb.
Six months from now
a baby shall be born
a blessing from God
a shower of hope
a gift of love
and Mama’s once unborn
shall peep into this world
take part into the journey
of dichotomies
and share in the love
of Papa and Mama.
For Bea, upon her conception.
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| Published: Aug.13.2007 @ 7:30 pm
| Last edited: Aug.13.2007 @ 6:47 am |
Papa holds you in his heart
as he hums you goodnight;
He kisses you gently in his thoughts
like you are in his arms ‘til daylight.
When morning breaks at dawn
he wakes up early for you dear baby;
And prepares all the love you need for the day
then embraces you gently in his memory.
Now, we’re prepared for work and off we go
but Papa showers us first with reminders;
That you and I would live by in this universe
so our day will be nurtured by his grace.
And as we arrive home at twilight
Papa silently places his warm hands on my tummy
Feeling you close to him my dear baby
caressing you, enjoying the very moment with me.
When Papa tells you stories of life and love
like what we both share from God above
You respond to Papa’s voice, seem to understand
moving restlessly, seem to agree from deep in me.
Ah! Nobody could tell how each kick brings
our heart leaps with joy each time;
And no one could ever comprehend the happiness
that each movement could stir within us.
As the world and the rest of creation go on living
Papa and I await for your blessed coming;
Yes, not a single soul could fathom our apprehension
if Papa and I would be good enough parents for you.
Oh, our dear baby, you complete us – entirely
making our life full of meaning and set it in beauty;
We then look forward to touching you in flesh
and as we do so, hear our whisper of love
and joys in our laughter;
feel the gentle caress of Papa’s touch
hear out the songs of our hearts we sing;
feel the embrace of warm affection
of what Mama’s hands could deliver…
For these are our connection to your little world
inside my womb… for the meantime.
See you soon our dearest little angel!
We love you so much! (for Bea)
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| Published: Aug.02.2007 @ 6:02 pm
| Last edited: Aug.02.2007 @ 5:12 am |
Rocking chair
I sat on your lap
sweetly, you carry me
comforting my fear
from that hairy monster
grandpop created in my mind.
Rocking chair
I cling to your arm
slowly, you lull me to sleep
soothing my tiredness
from that enjoyable play
I shared with some friends.
Rocking chair
I lay my head on your breast
caringly, you hug me
calming my senses
from the draining hours in school
I spent in my own excellence.
Rocking chair
I rest my body unto you
softly, you wrap your warmth around me
easing my scorned heart
broken by some cruel beings
I met and trusted and loved.
Rocking chair
I lean my exhausted thoughts to you
with sensitivity, you understand me
relieving my weariness
from the demands of my work
I devote myself to.
Rocking chair
I now run my fingers to your skin
old and rickety you may seem
a touch of you still alleviates my burden
from the strains of this world we live in
where together we have aged with.
Memories flowed upon the sight of granny's old rickety rocking chair when I visited her last weekend. Cried a bit. So much memories. Now it's kept in the stock room, where granny can rock no more.
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| Published: Aug.02.2007 @ 5:37 pm
| Last edited: Aug.02.2007 @ 4:56 am |
A lad with so many dreams
“I wanna graduate,” he says,
“just give me a chance.”
A future withdrawn.
A heart-broken mother
“My daughter is pregnant.
My son was given no chance.”
Chose guidelines over pity.
Young lady with a pretty face
“I did no wrong,” she claims
“my friends are no goons.”
Cursed the system.
A proud mom I believe
“They cannot touch my daughter.
Negotiate with my lawyer.”
Did justice prevail?
An emotionally traumatized boy
“My parents are in Italy.
Spent vacation there last summer.”
Walked away from reality.
A pained grandmother
“My grandson ran away.
He might have gone to his mother.”
Sheltering a wounded child.
Two energetic freshies
“He hit me hard,” one says.
“You hit back harder,” said the other.
Repairing a broken pride.
One of the two came back
“Please don’t tell my father.
He will hurt me for sure.”
A displaced aggression.
A teeny-bopper craving for love
"I don't give a damn," she whispers,
"Nobody cares anyway." Tears fell.
Pretensions and denial.
An experimenting youngster
“I am not what they claim I am.
I didn’t even say those words.”
Trying to cover a jarred note.
A trusting mother
“I am not after what others think of.
But if it’s proven, he must go.”
Credibility heads on.
All these and more in two months time
an everyday drama unfolds
emotions break free
inside my cubicle.
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| Published: Aug.02.2007 @ 5:24 pm
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As a child, I dreamt of a home
a husband who does not hurt his wife,
a father who laughs and plays with his kids,
some guy who takes fatherhood
the most enjoyable task and
the most serious responsibility,
a man who provides warmth in a home.
As a child, I dreamt of a home
a wife who loves her husband completely,
a mother who reads bedtime stories to her kids,
some gal who would see motherhood
a vocation to commit herself to and
a gift to cherish and be thankful for,
a woman who provides light in a home.
As a child, I dreamt of a home
where kids are free to play,
to discover their talents,
to expand their horizon and
to express themselves without fear of rejection,
a ground for them to be who they really are.
As a child, I dreamt of a home
where father, mother and kids love each other
a family to behold and
a union with God as the center.
And when I grew up
I finished elementary
I graduated from high school
I earned four degrees
met people, a few men
loved some, hated others who fooled me
but lately I realized…
I am home at last.
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