Mr. Life

Mr. Life’s a fool

He makes you feel you’re a lost soul

in this universe

that knows not you nor I

but somehow, we still survive

and forge ahead

relationships and people

who never go out of style

and yet still feel old all the time

and Time

we never learned from time

I ask certain people

and all they said were unedited excuses

with the same cover

perhaps, they’ve made a multi-million record

out of the ideas that left their heads and lived in their mouths

even if ideas came from different colors and eyes

still, they weren’t free to climb

Mr. Life and his mischievous plots

for us and them.


A river flows in you


blue blur bright close up

Photo by Pixabay on

In case you miss the fragments of your childhood

Don’t tell your mom.


Eat beside your notebook.

Sit next to a piano for hours, or days

And create–

the river that flows within you

until you get drunk with words and die a natural death.

Maybe in springtime,

When the trees are plump

And the rabbits have played among the

Lavender fields with the squirrels,

You can run on the grass with much ease

Let your feet fulfill their promise

To the earth that held your

Tiny voice and knee-wounds

At 6 years old.

Allow this gentle river to sink your wounds;

And the scars reminiscent to the days

That came but long forgotten.

Tell your friends how you wished the leaves

To swirl onto a clay pot

That had most of your secrets in the afternoon hidden.

When the sky kissed your back farewell

and the river sang an ode

to a passer-by

that spoke to you all this time.




Tune me up, perhaps, the night star would glance back at me

To single out the hymn now imbued in this body

All colors may articulate what a painting would not want to display

When the music gathered the piece of me every day.

Heavy bricks may rain duly to this kaleidoscopic Poppies

And this mood could trickle down to its terminal censure

Owing to your hands painting the song

scribbling with regards to my temperamental hues.

You could get these hands to clap in unison

Seconds may pass but the tune would still want to be rough

Such a character isolating caress, it would allow

Brimming with desire blasting off calumny.

To that one man, His music is all.

I sent out letters cascading through outer space

While you gloated the stardom

And painted new planets, I wondered what my role was in this

Alluring universe. Through which I saw

Dimly lit parallel lines that never would elucidate—

We’d bypass each other’s brass rings

And will be left out gawking.

Will this remain a storybook of our indelicate suffering,

Or would this remain an ethereal world of my own?




where were you?

gray monkeys

Photo by Sebastian Voortman on

Where were you when the river murmured to me and the elf told a history?

Where were you when I hanged mostly for words, words that hanged you for someone else?

Where were you when the grass flipped to the other side to show me nicely how it was like to come back to life?

Where were you when the trees point at a distance towards a sky so distant but free?

Where were you when the irresistible grasp time and time again held the ropes of a peculiar heart?

Where were you when the light divided the iris of my eyes spending damnation from a swift serving hand of ignorance?

Where were you when the wall echoed to me the sound made by the self which created it?

Where were you among us and thorns?

Where were you when words convened to build a silent shelter for a hopeless invitation towards a mountain far above the clouds so much louder than the parade of constant goodbyes?

Where were you in this postmodern time you, godly man?

Where were you when God only knew what you would choose to chew to make me blue?

Where were you when the wild horses and the screaming voices wrote to me in my memory?

Where were you when the frog grew more of his limbs dragging behind you more of his noisy reproach?

Where were you among the sheets, white paper, and fallen bugs?

Where were you when the frightened ones fell over and over a thousand times?

Where were you headed towards when you said you would come back before dinner time?

Where were you when all the dogs went to heaven?

Where were you when the poem rolled back with the toothbrush, elastic band, and the power of observation?

Where were you when the rain whispered to meet me another sunny day?

Where were you when the light receded miles away feeling endless impressive shocks from a backseat?

Where were you when you had easy money and I had to call you out for your own protein pills?

Where were you partying when we parted over the phone?

Where were you when 90% of the adolescents were trying to be deep and the other 10% were just pouring all sweetened compliments?

Where were you when the night became simplified?

Where were you making a hole out of a dangerous soul?




nature person girl forest

Photo by Pixabay on

Search for the traces, search for evidence or for witnesses

Lest the yearning departs the chest

Search for an image in every photograph

Where all symbolic charms are faded in the background

Search it dearly, search it well

For if this bear any fruit

Let it be in tranquil seas afloat

Search it everywhere from books or magazines

That was left on the workspace

Perhaps the dust could tell if your face

Settled in his consciousness

And if time reveals the hour for which

your language bespoke

Let this be the sign for which the heart awaits

For its groom.

All the memories will once again

Cross the heart and crush the spirit in half

But my love, if all is not taken care of

What glory shall prepare you

For a journey anew

If the ships have been released from the ropes

Of its grip, and the anchor has been raised to sleep

What cloth shall you hoist to gather all the birds from afar?

Is it not your desire to meet the hopes of your heart?

Search well, search

For dreams mirror the dark side

Completely different to imagine

For this reality renders you to sit and outside

A good stare of the world where tears drift

And wound your spine.

blue funk#1

person sitting on rock on body of water

Photo by Keegan Houser on


Recently, I’ve been spending so much time watching the view from afar. From where I sat, everything looked right in place. Time moves slowly when I stare outside from a glass window. The weather hasn’t been good lately. I heard typhoons come and go in some parts of my country, and so I get the same sky almost every day. I looked outside, past the new buildings to the sea covered by the inseparable clouds. I think I have become obsessed with the clouds. It almost always blocks my view of the other side. But why am I so concerned of this other side? Have I become so discontent of my place that I want to escape from it? Perhaps, the other side can have that answer? I seem to have full of doubts. And I wonder if I have spent my time on unnecessary things. What has become of my vision? I guess it shows me the wrong distance. My eyes can see from my house to a neighbor’s greengrocer’s. And yet, I still wonder if I have stretched it enough or overstretched it already, what must I do? Everything in my sight becomes seemingly monochromatic… if one is the artist where should she look for this inspiration? In this story, where is that place? I guess I have gradually taken this dark character. I do not see anything at all. Beauty has fled, gone, enclosed somewhere I couldn’t open. I have become obsessed with the birds and the rock. Everything transforms into clouds, birds and the rock. Oh, I could not have been more creative if not frustrating. I have cut my hair the shortest. I feel I can do something bad in this body. I looked for something to break and I found my hair, and yet I asked if there were still some things I could tear or break. I do not like to stare the abyss I know it’s pulling me in, but this path has led me to it. I wonder just when did this void grow this big?


woman wearing black jacket standing near ocean with swan and birds



Thoughts about birds are fascinating

Though I can only count as many

This world is fascinating

Because it gives us birds

Birds like the Albatross, pigeons, canaries, and doves

How they live and find their mate

How they adapt and survive

They are fascinating as with the eyes of a child.

The Albatross of Galapagos Island…

Is that how I envision paradise?

The albatross isn’t it from the lyrics of a song by the Little River Band ‘Cool Change?’

Wow! Time for a cool change…cool change…cool change…

Sailing on a cool and bright clear water…staring at a full moon like a lover…

At the moment, I’d love to freshly smell this little world

Where words can only paint this picture beautifully

And music carries them to our ears

And they live to tell the tale

Of people who dream their greatest dreams.

But the albatross flies and swims in this beautifully huge ocean

And can remain flying in years…

The albatross has everything under his long and strong wings

If not happy for what the world gives it then, is it lonely?

Those birds that flock around the city

sitting on a wire

do they whisper, a dream they desire? Or are they like us—

trying to observe the world without a permanent address and live only for the time?

Little birds in my city sit on a wire like armies of birds they wait for the time

When jeepneys honk their loudest sound, the birds jump off the wire and  fly

I thought they’d leave and say goodbye

instead, they go back and sit one more time…again…and again…

until it rains heavy and the air feels cold without the sun in the sky

this repetition takes the melancholic view of my city

and the people of the city can’t seem to notice how the birds have whispered

over the roofs of their luxurious cars

And I wonder if only we use the sky with only the moon and the stars at night

and forget the rest that reside?

I wonder if birds stare at the same sky to throw a question for people, how so beautiful is the night without them, birds dancing under the moonlight?