All Right

A double-overhand
or a bowline? It's
too complicated; it
might not work too.
Resurrection is not
an option when it's
done this way.
Why not?
Where would you
situate it?
All right then.

Let's try this one:
make a line from here
to there; No.
My - our - engine lost
courage and bravery to
pain.
Think about the mess
and duration our goal
would have to take.
We might be salvaged.
All right then.

What about lead?
It's fast, painless,
and automatic.
We don't need brain
cells for this - Instant
Formula!
Make a fist like Manny
and we'll be champions.
It is true; it is indeed
all that.
Yet we remain what
we are 'till infinity:
a selfish being.
We don't have chips.
Why are we doing this
in the first place?
All right then.

The ever dependable
tictacs - this would do.
Ask a myriad from
our affiliates;
not only it is sensible,
it is sensation-less as well.
Down and drown it
with their ocean, it will
make the journey faster.
All right then.

But - but why call
it a journey?
Dumb, dumb, dumb,
and dumb.
Because we grew up
with the supervision
of non-biodegradable
mannequins .
And
because if
we go through this
we will need all the
fur that we could get.
All right then.

Her Name

What is in a name?
Nothing is a name
when it doesn't sound,
nothing is a name
when it doesn't grasp,
and nothing is a name
when it doesn't sting.

What is in a name?
Nothing is a name
when moonshine
affects my soul,
nothing is a name
the morning after,
and nothing is a name
when I'm reminded.

What is in a name?
Nothing is a name
when faces get blurry,
nothing is a name
when it doesn't stop the
tracks on my cheeks,
and nothing is a name
when it's brand new.

But,

What is in a name?
everything is a name
when it's enough to
trigger profound memories,
everything is a name
when it's abused,
and everything is a name
when it disregards
my own.

'Kita's Song

The statues in
your eyes said
everything and nothing
all at the
same time. Moments
of eternity grabbed
my manhood and
prompted me to
act like a
stone because I
knew the moment
we had was
forever.

Incarceration

I write myself

on dirty walls,

and straight lines,

leaving my mark

as a man;

howling and wailing

amidst men like

me. We scrape

down our weapons

until it bleeds

as we ask

for redemption and

for another chance

to cold faces.

The Sign

Droplets made of ink fall

down my face.

Forever shunned because

of this guilt.

It's all locked up inside

dying slowly with

my sanity.

The cause and reason

behind these inks of

design I can't write

down, but grief

is out of the question.

Right Eye Ruby

Jordan looked at his foot and squirmed. It’s twice the size of his other foot and resembled the color of the sea. He lifted it onto the coffee table and sighed. Pola looked at Jordan’s foot and gave him a nudge on the shoulder using her cheek.

“Why bother going with us,” she asked with eyes glued to his swollen foot.
“I don’t know, I just want to I guess,” he answered.

Jordan looked at Pola. He wanted to move away from her but decided against it. His foot was painful and he liked being close to her. She’s just friendly, he argued to himself.

Jordan and Pola’s other companions were out in the greenery exploiting the vastness of the place. Some of them were goofing around while the more mature ones smoked cigarettes. The only persons left at the lobby were Jordan and Pola. The two of them were seated on a bench overlooking a vast field. Trees that formed a straight line made their view of the place more appeasing.

I like what I’m seeing. Those trees reduce the pain a lot. I like what I’m feeling. Damn, what should I say next? Act cool, smoke a cigarette. No, don’t move, she might change the position of her head. No, don’t move. Just stay still and cherish this moment. Oh god, she smells nice. Damn she smells nice! Where’s the pause button? Those bastards will come back soon, the break is almost over, where’s the damn pause butt-

Jordan’s thoughts were interrupted when Pola took his arm and embraced it.
“What exactly happened,” she asked.
“Happened with what?”
“With your foot,” she answered.
“Sprain, wrong landing,” he said.
“I know it’s a sprain,” she said derisively, “but what were you doing that caused the sprain?”

Jordan looked at her again and decided to wriggle his arm free of Pola’s embrace. He reached for the cigarettes on the coffee table.

What should I say? Something cool, something manly would do… Why the hell did I light this cigarette? I shouldn't smoke, it fucks up my training. Damn, I should stop drinking too. I blame these things for not landing right. The hell with the kid – wait, what should I say?

“Training,” he finally answered.
“Training?”
“Yup, Muay Thai.”

Pola looked at his foot and then at his face. She embraced his arm again and leaned her head on his shoulder.

“Did you have a brawl or something?”
“None,” he answered.

Pola looked at his face again.
“Then what happened to your right eye?”

Jordan smiled, threw away his cigarette, and leaned his head on Pola.

Banner

Questions have filled his mind for
what seems to be an eternity
of uncertainty. Fate seemed
to toy with trivial pursuits
of the unanswerable; of himself.

A period of unrest followed
a glimpse of silence, for
when he thought he had his
answers, here comes Venus with
a new set of queries.

Queries which were supposed to
bury him in the past, to
which he answered:
"I didn't find an ounce of
virtue in our sin."

But his answer was a cold star
for their is strength. There is
meaning in his sin:
To err is to be an accomplished
man.

This now reminds him that
his humanity is in existence,
a flagpole of a mistake.

The Depth of You

The depth of everything
that's you is now
burdened and blurred
by your show of intricate
desire for honey and milk.
Your depth of the world
resonates with high notes
on every ones' expectations
and of what you perceive.
The depth of change is minute,
for you and I thought it was
significant but it's not.
The depth of your change
is nothing; it's a void,
it doesn't exist.
Your depth is only a front
for you know change
doesn't suit you.

and for that:

You will always be immersed
in dreams of diamonds
in the sky; yes, you maybe in
action but the deepness of them
is a blip. Depth is now unclear.
Whether or not you will dig is
the question your universe
is afraid to ask.

Diamonds glisten more with the luxury of love

I sit here and
ponder on things
that may never hold
true.

I pull the strands
of my heart to
keep alive what little
imagination it still owns.

I accept this solitude
because what it means
to be a man is to take and
hold back what is real and
sacrifice it to the stars.

W for You to Notice

This was written for her around two years ago.

What of the fact that
I imitate the gods
and try to speak their language
so I could emulate their
greatness?

What of the fact that
I want you to be
surprised, grief-stricken
and epileptic all at
the same time?

What about the fact
that I try to be someone
instead of a statistic?

What about if I do
these things just for
your eyes to smile and
for your soul to dance?

What about the fact
that I became a sell-out for
you to notice that I love you?

Remembering the Circus

Swaying and swings
accounts for our initial
dance. Caresses
of mild and soft
hands infatuated the
fishes inside our bellies
while irrational-pebbles
kept our feet tingling.

The valley we travelled
swung around us,
tilting and shaking our
cores - making the flames
of our candles die.
Everything kept on
spinning and we became
a carousel of melted
candies.

We continued with
our play: pulling and
spinning, quiting and
shoving until
our lips became
acquainted.
the lights of our
candles re-lit while
that of the circus died.
and for an instant,
Love was brightest
in the dark.

In My Sunsets

You came by the
other night bearing
the curse of nostalgia
and the sunset.
My feet became stones
when you asked me to
waltz with a ghost and,
my mind became a
transcriber of
rational irrationality.
The color of your
dress outmatched
the fruits of the sea as
your radiant undulations
struck me with an
illusion:
the valley that I love
was bloated with sin but
you still retained your
beauty; that ominous
beauty of the sunset which
is short lived and leaves me
clamoring for its
tangerine rays.

You came by last night
wearing the sun.
This time you didn't ask
for a waltz
instead, you sat down
on my bed and
turned me to stone.
You didn't forget
your gift of nostalgia
and you surprised
me with a new gift:
a smile.
You came by last night
without knowing that
cholera burns me with
each visit, with each image,
with every rouse
and, with each sunset.

You visit me each
night with the ignorance
that the knowledge of
acquainted lovelorn
dies because I get to
love You -
even if it's only in my
Dreams.

Left Arm Rubies

The left sleeve of my shirt is stained with blood. To avoid curious glances from annoying persons I covered my sleeve with a piece of cloth with the aid of my right hand. Then I realized that what I did was stupid. I would attract more attention by covering up the blood stained sleeve. What would be a perfect example of an eye catcher than a person trying to hide something with his right hand? Me.
I found myself a bench and sat down.
There I waited; I waited for her.

The amusement park is full. Aside from the noise that’s coming from the wheels of the rides, there is the irritating and senseless bickering of the people: Little children screaming with all their might and parents shouting after them”Come eat!” they would say. All these prevented me from eating in peace. I looked at her. She’s not eating her meal. She’s looking down and is smiling cautiously. She’s messaging someone.
“Too noisy, isn’t it?”
“Nope.”
“Why don’t you eat?”
“I was just looking at my phone.”
“Who is it?”
She didn’t answer me right away. She looked at her slice of pizza and took a bite. She didn’t have to answer me. I knew who it was.
Jealousy was eating me.
I looked at her and told her to stop texting him. That I’m jealous and that I’m weary over him.
“Just a friend. But for you, I’ll delete his number. I wont text him.. ok?”
“OK.”
I gave her a kiss on her forehead..

Aside from being annoying, people are being very inquisitive. They keep on looking at my arm. I can't blame them though, the stain is getting larger. I took a cigarette from my pocket and lit it. It’s been an hour since I sat down on the bench and people can’t stop staring. I said to myself, "what’s wrong with these people, I’m sure they have seen blood before."
I smoked my cigarette slowly. It was going to be a long wait.

Darby missed our exam in Algebra. In fact, he already missed three of our classes. It was usual for him to be tardy, but it was unusual of him to miss an exam and be absent from class.
We are now having our break. He arrived just before the bell rang. His face was pale and his demeanor was languid. I asked him why he was late. He beckoned me to a corner in the hallway. I followed him. When we were out of ear shot, he told me he had a problem, then he showed me a piece of bloody cloth, and then he showed me his chest. It had a puncture wound. Blood was still oozing out of the hole when he showed it to me.
“I stabbed myself.”
“That’s deep!”
“I know; girlfriend troubles…”
“It’s still bleeding!”

I’m on my third cigarette. There must have been another hour and a half before she arrives. It sucks that I was waiting all alone. My stomach hurts, I’ve been waiting since lunch and I dare not eat or go to a fast food restaurant. I have to be sure that she sees me waiting. I won’t miss the chance to win her back.
I used to say to myself that I’m indestructible. What happened to Darby won’t happen to me. But I was wrong. Here I am, burning my lips and torching my lungs while I’m waiting in vain for her, waiting to know if she still wants me, wondering if she still cares.
Why did it happen, too much studying? I hadn’t found the time to spend more time with her. It wouldn’t have happen if I just fetched her or at least showed that I cared. Now, I’m fighting for her and waiting.
I squeezed my arm. It hurts.

He went to his girlfriend’s school to confront her about her infidelity. It turns out that he learned about his demise through a friend of a friend. He wanted to know if it was true. It was.
His stab wound was due to his ex’s lack of concern for their relationship and for his well-being. Darby threatened to stab himself if his ex didn’t explain why she left him and if she didn’t give him his chance. She didn’t care.
“Go ahead. . .”
She just walked away from him with disgust as he stabbed himself with a pen knife.
“She just walked away like it was nothing. Like she didn’t care.”
I looked at Darby’s face and smirked. I found myself musing over his scars. Aside from his recent puncture wound, he has three parallel scars on his left forearm that's now healed. He cut himself with a blade when his parents reprimanded him about something.
“That thing that you did! It’s stupid.”
“I know.”
“You could have killed yourself.”
“Better physical than emotional. We’re men, not sissies.”

I got another cigarette from my pocket and lit it. My back stings from all the smoking. If I lose her, that would be the end of me. If my friends warned me in advance, I could have prevented this from escalating. They knew, and they didn’t say anything. That’s the reason why she didn’t say, “I love you.” I’ve been saying it for three days, yet I got no response. The hope that she still wants me haunts me as I smoke my cigarette.
“What if she likes him better? I would love to punch them both, those sissies. I would really punch them.”
Then someone touched me on my shoulder. I looked up and saw her. Her eyes are all puffy. It’s been three hours. Three hours of waiting. Now it’s here.

We found a secluded area in the campus and set off to work. I sat down on a bench and pulled my left sleeve up. Darby is smiling. I punched him in his arm and told him to buzz off. He pulled a blade out of his bag and a bottle of alcohol.
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Yes.”
“Alrighty.”
He made the blade touch my skin, and then with one swift swipe, he opened my arm up. Blood immediately went oozing out of my arm. Then he poured alcohol all over my cut.
“We’re men, not sissies.”
“Better physical than emotional. I told you it would happen to you.”

She saw my left sleeve and sighed. She sat down beside me and held my arm, and then she kissed me.

Letter to Those Up in Paradise

dear . . . ,

to you who needs to forgive me,

all i needed in my life of pain

was me and my girlfriend,

but money took her away.

i'm never going to forget that day:

that morbid mindstate that it put me in.

i lost it all, boy;

my best friend, lover, brain and all

and

i think i wrote a book about it most of all.

boy, i can't see past the pain

and,

i cried so much it left a stain.

now, i'm learning

that it might not get better.

dear child, my heart won't let it.

i end up undermining the urge to go

get her.

sometimes i hear you say, "forget it";

and i stay at home.

but i'm all alone.

you, me and her, i don't want no one else.

got this vission that i'll always be by myself...

but there's one thing that

i'm hoping for,

and that's till the day

i finally shut my eyes.

child,we'll be complete in paradaise.

with love,

DM

P.S.

can you tell me what it's like there in paradise?

i wanna know what it's like there in paradise.

do they treat you well, do they recognize

that you're waiting for us there in paradise?

is it pain free there in paradise?

did you save a room for me there in paradise?

oh, damn i can't wait to leave this life,

just to be happy with us up in

paradise.

Fishing for Happiness

His life has been,

so far,

a melody of tears...

The music of his life

has faded away ino

the pits of misery.

With every turn

and breath,

he is bruised and cut.

A pin-sized spark

swallows him as

a cloud cussions

his novelty prize.

The melody of his pearls

now haunts every

screening of his life.

He longs for the rubies

of his mines to pour out;

yet

He still casts a line

out to that sea where

no fish ever swims...

The notes of the music

of his life are too low.

His life has been,

so far,

a melody of trepidation.

T. TM

glimpses of porcelain

lets him fall out of grace.

sniffs of perfume

makes his mind go to waste.

the routine followed

makes his soul yearn.

the routine being followed

makes his heart burn.

glimpses of porcelain

and sniffs of perfume.

what will remain

of his wretched costume?

gazes of sentiments

lets him feel the demise.

touches of the inviolate

makes him see the lies.

words of pain

makes him ponder on

words of shame

makes him carry on.

glimpses of porcelain

and sniffs of perfume.

what will remain

of his wretched costume?

when i wake up in the morning

i think about

all of the crazy things that

i've been through.

my other told me there would be

days like these,

and i could sense

that we were telling

the truth.

when i close my eyes

i see sweety.

no more hating just

love everyday.

in the heavens above

when it's my day...

i'll be laughing and smiling at

all these pain.

Goodbye december, save a place in the moon

What hurts the most is the
play that reminds us of
our irrationality
of december:
where the heroes leave
and nullify what
could've been a
spectacular conclusion.
december; december.
Farewell our december -
My december.

What hurts now is the
sky turning bright,
making the moon of
december fade;
Making the play deviate
from what it's suppossed
to portray;
making december, December.
Goodbye december.

What is numbing me all the time
is my character feeling void of
irrationality for the damsel.
A profound nothingness to chase, to dream,
to plot -
making december stay.

All is about december
but everyone's lack of
understanding - your lack
of irrationality -
makes december the truth -
My truth.

i'm all alone

i tried to scream, but you dismissed it as a tantrum
i tried to speak, but you said shut up
i tried to cut, but you said it was cowardly
i tried to ask for help, but all you did was leave.

Melted Candles

1
“Aint she ready yet?”
“No, she’s still learning how to get dressed. Three, hunny, she’s only three…”
“She’ll be four on Wednesday. She’s a whiz, I insist- where is she? We’ll all be late.”
“Relax. Miles, are you done dressing up for school?”
“Miles… MAHAAYLS…”
“Miles, your dad is talking to you – what are you still doing with that?”
“I’m putting this on – NO! Let me do it. I’m already big.”
“Better move faster. You don’t want daddy to be late for work, do you? Or else. No gift. No party.”
“I’ll hurry up mommy. I’m a good girl. DAADEEE, I’m almost done! There’ll be a party ri---”
“---Stop that already Miles! ‘Daddy’ not ‘DAADEE’, Miles, now go get that thing on for god’s sake! We’ll all be late.”
“It’s alright sweetheart. Yes, lovely, there’ll be a party for my lil’ girl. Are you done dressing up already?”
“Yes DADDY. Yey! “
“Alright, now go down to your dad already. Now Miles- let go of that toy! Please go down to your dad.”
“It’s ok hunny. I’ll bring the car out of the garage first, stay with mommy for a while Miles.”
“No daddy! I want to ride in the car with you! Don’t leave me!”
“It’s ok Miles; Daddy will just bring the car out of the garage. We’ll ride with him later.”
“I’m riding with Daddy!”
“Stay inside lovely, I’ll just bring out the car, then you could ride with me, aprub?”
“Aprub”

2

“Mister-
“Wha- ???!!!”
“Shut your mouth.”


"mommy, there are fire crackers outside with daddy!"


“Go daddy! Go daddy! Go daddy! You’ll win your game!”
“Miles! Come here! Oh my god! Johnny!!!!”
“Johnny! No, no, no… oh no.”

3

Happy birthday, happy birthday, happy- birth-day- to- you!

“…Go ahead Miles blow your candles….”
“Where’s daddy? Did he win? I want him to blow the candles with me… where’s daddy?”
“Go blow your candles Miles. It’s already melting…”