My Moon

Oh! What’s with the moon I can’t resist?

Perhaps, its light that shines my sullen night?

Or is it its silver skin that coats my cold heart?

Maybe the moon itself and the stars lay upon!

O moon! , your aphrodisiac spell teases me

Warms my very soul

Makes me act like a strip-tease

I look up to you and I am relieved!

Do I have to say goodnight?

Or stay awake for the whole night?

This must be something? I guess.

Oh! But yes this is.

Oh moon!

Oh love my lover!

Spread your light and hug me tight!

This longing I keep for so long…

Cripples me and wants some more

I wonder how I ever reach you

You’re far so far away!

No matter how I stretch my arms

A hint of failure appears so strong

As the streak of light ascends at five

My hopes and dreams quickly descend

I’ll wait for another Night, we meet

For this time the sun is up above!

Maybe in my sleep I’ll be comforted

I wake up with it to be rational.

Tell me.

What does it take to be rational?

When I’m more of the heart than the mind?

Tell me.

What does it take to think rationally?

When I cry most of the time at night?

Tell me.

What does it take to be rational?

I eat words. My body is oiled with phonemes

and morphemes. Encyclopedia? I read it sometimes.

I ask and answer questions intensely like when I scream over the cliff and it

echoes just. Or when you ask snow white’s magic mirror and it answers fast.

Philosophers? Scientists? I’ve read their stories.

I think I am rational.

But,

You.

How long can you stay rational?

Look at the chopping board. It’s stabbed by a knife 10,000 times.

Say you are that chopping board.

How do you stay rational after your heart’s been butchered 10,000 times?

Hmm..

Ok. Let’s try the night.

The night is cold, black, heavy and lonely it sends you to utter depression.

Say you are that night.

How can you think rationally when your head’s been coated with such an impenetrable darkness?

I think that’s a bad analogy.

What about the logs?

They are cut from big trees, stock-piled for winter and burnt in the chimney after.

Say you are those logs.

How long can you be rational?

When your soul’s been burnt like logs?

Forgive me. I know.

Lemme try it again.

What about the garbage in the landfill. Some have decayed. Mostly haven’t.

Say you are the garbage yourself in that landfill.

How do you keep a rational thinking?

When the world sees you as a garbage to be disposed?

Or

How do you stay rational after you’ve been betrayed and left to suffer alone?

Alright. Here’s the last one. I won’t bother to make a scene.

What about the land?

It has been stepped on, ran over by 10-wheeler trucks, suffocated by hot asphalt, mined, bombed, deforested, transformed, neglected even; in art.

Say you are that land which holds the earth.

Do you think you can still be rational after you’ve taken all these alone?

Perhaps.

 

But,

No wonder I’ve gone astray.

For trying so hard to be rational at all times…

 

To be all knowing?

 

I need more sleep.

 

 

Because

 

Maybe in my sleep I’ll be comforted.

 

 

Or

 

 

 

Probably not?

 

Blindfolded by his indifference

Found a man in the street of vague and ambiguity

I called and said hi cos it was a radiant day

But there was only radio silence

When I didn’t hear him say a sentence.

I moved closer to where he was

Intrigued by the way he responded

Then I saw he was blindfolded

Deprived to see the multitudes of the earth cos he was blinded.

Blinded by different dimensions

In a world that taught him nothing but strict defense and senseless rejections.

He could hear my voice so I told him various stories

One was of a girl who tried to put the rainbow in a bottle to keep her happy all day

Another was of an old man who complained why he couldn’t pull his rickshaw one day

Next was of a man who threw black pepper dust on air so others could sneeze and fear the day

Then he laughed so hard I wondered

Because those were stories of success, strength and beautiful struggles.

So I asked him why and he answered

“I’m glad I was blindfolded not to see their sadness

In a world ruined by madness.”

That moment I realized why he was blindfolded

Not by fate

But by free will —

He was happy for his eyes concealment.

All throughout he chose to be indifferent.

And never looked the other way.

 

 

Really fucking sad; really fucking wrong 😔

My intention was to write for myself, to uplift my world that I often found too full for me; the devastation it brought in my life that made me mad about myself. I thought writing dedicated to myself could heal me, bring me back the spirit I innumerably lost; could help me stand against my own rampaging demons. I thought I could still impress myself with my own articulate words, persuasive and sincere ideas built around my unearthly fantasies and delusions. While these reasons were still true, I realized I no longer write solely for myself, for the sheer pleasure of it, I realized I no longer desire to solely impress myself. My desperation for aesthetics and self-appreciation and expression had caused me so much that I wanted you to be desperate for my words and letters, be impressed by me, desperate for me and hopefully beyond romantic, too.  But the limbo I created, the bubbles I carefully kept not to burst and the ink I spared for you alone collapsed, bursted and spilt for the life of me. And it was sad. It was really fucking sad that you didn’t feel the same way; that all along it was only me living in the dungeon of love and romance. When I deluded myself thinking that the world supported me or was moved by the unwavering affection I had for you; I was wrong. And again I was fucking wrong! Now broken and numb I don’t know how else I could bring myself to stand again; to believe in love and to believe in my ability to discern things and its driving force. I’m ashamed of myself for trying so hard, for desiring so much and for not going against my will. I’m mad because I was stupid; stupid to fall for you. Yet here I am quite unapologetic for my self-made mistakes, convincing myself to at least hear what you have to say, an explanation that you probably don’t even know what and why you have to. I was so wrapped up, too carried away, too smitten and too hurled up by the good things you naturally do to me. I thought I saw your eyes glistened for me because I was intimately special for you. But then and again, you weren’t and I didn’t turn you on enough for you to want me. And it was really sad. It was fucking sad that I was wrong so wrong.

I wished I was better. No. I wished I thought things out critically when I worked so hard to finish the feelings I embroidered on a white cloth for you, the hopes I knitted using a more refined yarn for a future you and me and the cross-stitch I was proud of doing in all the days I devoted for you.

I knew It was my fault. Just that…

It was really fucking sad; really fucking wrong.

-Poem-

Once you were

the source of my desire;

A shelter to my dreams in

A paradise I held thrice.

Locked you up in

a heart called mine

Betrayed by the emotions

I held through time.

Without you dreams

could never fly

like a kite,

Dead of the wind oh my.

In the sky I dreamt 

To mind.

Desperate and cold was I

For fooling myself then cry.

I spoke first but didn’t think twice

So great I made multiple crimes.

Wished we had so much time

To know the language we never

Knew will find

In a place heard not

Of escapes and a flight

But of love and home

Reunite.

The story she never wants to tell

Our present wretchedness

who can support life and reason under such a disgrace?

the greatest gift, if any.

Say not a word to it. Hear nothing, surmise nothing, whisper nothing til

 

she writes herself again..

To my daughter, Audrey

On your Birthday

Days flipped like a book’s page

I didn’t notice the flap it contained

the image when I held you through grace

Now it’s almost three years

but it seems you never age.

I wish you remembered your

first birthday

when we celebrated it with

Papa and Grannies,

You were so happy you

kicked your cake when the

camera flicked.

Icing swirled around your toe

and we sang you a birthday

song.

November 22; what a festive day

cos it’s going to be another one

historic day.

Sweetheart it’s your birthday!

But this time Papa and Grannies

won’t be there;

that it won’t be the same.

With your tiny voice no words came out;

you wouldn’t look for them

the way you should cos

you’d think they never left and

you’d still play.

Your giggles and energy and

cuddles here and more there

You’re beautiful, you’re mighty

you’re blissful; I ask no more.

Excuses, alibis and reasons

won’t buy your time

much more the ones inside your heart

I’m sorry Baby if it has to be

as dark as this on your birthday.

I know your sad; I understand your mad

But I hope one day, only destiny can tell

the day when circumstances are bare

And I can tell you straight everything

worth your pain; worth your wait.

No. I wouldn’t expect you’d 

accept; more so understand

cos none of you & your brother

is

at fault; or to blame.

What happened between me and Pa

remained a fact and I bled cos

it didn’t last.

Years and more of those 

years you’ll gaze before your tears

They won’t run dry; they never will

and then

it would be like heated sea salt

to a grated wound

And I’m so sorry sweetie if it had to be

I wish I could contain all your sorrows

and mental stress

but how much of ’em I needed to know

when It was you my dear who was in distress.

Please don’t cry; don’t cry my love.

Know that I’m here for you.

I won’t leave you two because

Ma loves you that’s a fact

I’ll raise you; protect you both

That will remain til the sun gives up.

Someday you’ll grow up

to see the world both flip & flap

But in my dearest heart I prayed to God

I hope my love,

You won’t hate the world so much.

Hold that love inside your heart

Be brave and strong no matter what

All is not lost in love and war

have faith cos

that’s all you’ve got.

Still with all the grimes and nasty truth

Let me shout for you

on your birthday

Happy Birthday, Darling!

Much Love,

Mama

 

Stop this nonsense now

 Too much self-pity;

insecurities have driven you

all dirty in a game called

touch and stain

So much for trying to reach

the bullet train on a platform

that’s thrice farther than your 

hair

Stop this nonsense 

cos you have just become a pathetic

rubber made in a crowd 

of parasitic nobodies

Don’t buy that sewing machine it

won’t mend you anyway

You see  

stop this nonsense it’ll

take you somewhere

far incomprehensible

than today

Don’t look for his shirt on a sale

full of assorted clothes

you won’t find him there 

neither will he find you in

a store filled with nothing

to spare

stop filling your neatly woven basket

with things like despair

he will only look at you triple

with a big laugh of

your pain

so stop this nonsense

that’s the damnedest thing to do

Now just stop 

this nonsense

I’m telling you what to do

before he does it so. 

come on make up your mind

and don’t just try

to get yourself a fix.

I repeat 

stop this mischief now

or you’ll lose your way

around this

nonsense.

just stop it,

Will you?

 

 

 

I wish I am a good actress

When everything turns out sad, I wish I am a good actress. It’s been very difficult since I started to feel lost around you. How I jump like one electrocuted cat whenever I see you sneak behind me. I wish I am a good actress to pretend as if unaffected by your wavelength and smile. I must admit your voice is irresistibly sexy and I am so stimulated when you’re making that naturally engraved eye contact but no matter how euphoric this may seem to me, I still wish I am a good actress to be able to look deep into those eyes I feel shy to meet. My gaze is always averted you must have known it by now. I feel anxious when you stare at me cos I’m not sure how and when this adoration started. I wish I am a good actress because I don’t know much about you and I don’t know how much I could take when rejected by you. I wish I am a good actress because your mind is strong and creative they project great images and I’d like to feed from them like the orchids and the trees in the process called mutualism.  I wish I am a good actress to be able to carry myself well around you; that I feel so vulnerable because I’m not like this. I’m confident and strong but it works otherwise when you’re next to me and I feel so immature so stupid for being so nervous when I don’t need to be. I wish I am a good actress to be myself around you; that I don’t need to cry at the slightest provocation of my affection for you. I don’t want to be my own actress for you cos I’d like you see my warmth and truth.

Give me a break NOT breaking

People shrouded in mystery are alluring

Cos secrets are always an awakening

Of something you’ve been looking

Which the heavens find amusing

To drop you your yearning

For in those years of mourning

You’ll be given cosmic blessing

From the angels whose hearts are breaking

To see you not smiling

When you are supposed to be wandering

Not dismantling

Your self from a devious musing

Stuck in reminiscing

A memory from a previous wanting 

And needing

Of a man who’s completely affecting

Your self-trusting

and your side of intense love-giving.

Now you are only left with hundreds of wishing

Of not dreaming

Not hoping

Not expecting

Something like this occurring

In your life in a way that’s beyond repairing

Hence

You spend your life loathing

Blaming

Excusing

Urging

Demeaning

Bickering

Begging

For life to end this cold-heart making.

I know I need helping

In order to keep on living

Understanding

And not just guessing

This romance chapter-ending.

May that one other man who keeps on pushing 

His way to my heart’s undivided note-taking

Of despairing

Will be realizing

That I too am deserving

Of a love that’s absolutely satisfying

Filling

Sensing

and compelling

Especially for this heart of mine that’s certainly unforgiving.

So please give me a break NOT breaking.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Boracay Blues

There was a time on the beach

When I cradled the pale granules

My eyes probed at the crumbs

And audited them blank spaced

As I sat on the shore’s lap 

So much so I burrowed a hole in the sand

To bury the agony I lodged

Along with the icy wind at night.

The sea surveyed the tourists around

And the wind exhaled to me ‘Come, bathe with the sea.’

Under the star less

Moonless dark sky

I made love with the cold yet alluring sea

With the old as time light house from afar, the bleaching lights beyond and the envious little boats as our only eyes; our witnesses 

To this maddening, impassioned and intense subservience. 

Thoughts of you crept into my old-fashioned heart; I felt betrayed. 

I reckoned I found your remnants unwelcoming in my so cold ‘mayday hour.’

Yet again the same thoughts of you had let me live. 

and I wished 

With all these senseless objectivity and rationalization 

 

Somehow 

 

You could picture me being one significant dot in your life filled with stars and constellation

 

eventhough 

I knew you never wished upon a star.