Tears stem from somewhere so divine.
While looking at tainted skies
Of reveled streets to more stretching lines
Numbered trails;  fresh and heavy 
days that are no more
I know not what they mean.
Quarks and energy have become empty texts
Strange and sad that they creased piped rain
Tears caused by no immediate, identifiable grief
I know not what they mean?

Today the rain ruined my umbrella
My hair as if a man had poured sweet wine over, my arms flapped like a native duck.
And It all came back how you would wish a raincoat was sent for me.
Today the rain had broken up in the air and my feet were too idle for everyone’s stomping shoes to get a seat among the vultures in the zoo. But the servant leads like soft rain pattering; leaking through the roof.

Then there are smiles and

Little banter 

There are days but no 


cemented floors and walls

Caging souls inside holes 

Trees but no birds are singing 

Mini boats of escapism

Hanging close to real living 

A way of life or just away 

From living?


I have been told that of the gods and goddesses 

I have been warned of their wrath 

I have been spoken to

by many 

But I cared less of what was told- a history 

But here now I ask you 

If you are prepared to die abandoned or if you’ve seen some sing in despair

and yet continue to blow the ashes this life has given knowing

the consequences of unreturned passion that sifts within 

Once, in that embrace, I was convinced that 

No matter, we all have to suffer-

to go through what we ought to and surrender most of our physical value in order to lay the carpet for whichever path the sun chooses to illuminate 

Or would you let it?

I want to know if you’re ready to sweep the floor from unwanted sadness 

Ready to excuse yourself from immense boredom 

To help you grow, to lead you on

to have so much compassion towards the pain of others and to the pain you made for yourself 

I’m interested to know if you’re interested to live, day by day,

In this world that never lacks commodity 

What was turned to oblivion then now becomes a necessity 

I’d like to know if you can still turn your back, to look at what was left behind now is in front of you

and say here’s where I stand, I know what’s beneath me and from here I’m marking a new path 

I’m going without turning my back.

Because even the gods and goddesses know of God.






Love letters #1 how we connect the awkward way

FB_IMG_15013181125488358That was supposed to be the night I opened my heart to tell you the truth that I held inside. I thought about how to start, many times. The introduction was right but the body and the closing lines messed up. Those words were not the ones I wanted to say, at least, not the ones I’d like you to hear on a last day. But funny how this life somewhat changed the situation. Either we ended up all too serious or we ended up the comical way. 

The thing about us

Was supposed to be this not that 

Shouldn’t we sit there–

no, we don’t even care 

The intention was to discuss prior concerns,

hey the interview, I knew. I knew! I knew? 

All but the best except my spoiled coffee 

The night simply peeled off the awkward way. 


The song of heartbreak fills the air
As the peacock sits on the mountain peak
The beasts recognize her sorrows tune
And sit behind the queen most high!
Exiles a wishful thinking
Of a throbbing past below her chin
O come with me, sit with us
Heartbreak it is that we must nurse!

Cebuano poems #2

kay kadtung mga kalipay nga milabay sa aku ang atubangan sama sa usa ka dakung dug-dug sa sayung kabuntagon nga mibu-ak sa aku ang paghikatulog, ma o nang hitabu-a nga nagpabiling lab-as sa daplin sa akung alimpatakan..ug aku sama sa bata nga gidaman-daman, iyang pangalan ra ma-oy nigisi sa aku ang dila arun malituk ang pulong sa gugma.



The wave that lashes out the cliff when the tide is high and the moon is bare

The wave strong enough to wash you away

The wave that drowns most fishermen at night or even as they scatter their nets to hoard fish

The wave enchanted for tourists and mellow natives

The wave that manifests the sorrows of the sea

Home to diversified beauty and ageless mystery

The wave that takes away what you give it, stores it somewhere neglected

The wave that tells the story it reads from the secret bottles collected, from little stones of wishes thrown, from screams of people who visited 

The waves unstable, dangerous and calming 

If I were the waves, would you be my surfer instead?


Cebuano poems #1 sa akung mga higala

ug tu-ud man handumun ku mga kagahapun nga gipalit ug gisaw-an sa atu-ang panaghigala-ay , laumun ku gihapun kini hangtud nga mubuswak nasad ang sunud nga hudyaka sa atu ang isig ka kinabuhi. Apan, samtang ani-a pa kita, makita ug mabati, ibayaw ku sa mga bitu-un sa kagabhion kining kalipay nga miguhit sa atong isig ka mga ngabil. Kay nahigugma aku sa akung mga higala, sayri kana.