midnight

the radiance hidden in the locks of your hair

tumble across your shoulders,

spill over and across your silent frame,

rise with the steady cadence of your breathing.

in awkward leaps, my heart traverses the barrenness

separating my being from your own,

stretching across the contours of your figure,

moving in rapture with the new knowledge of your touch

at the beck of sinuous magic entwined in this wordless worship,

this homage to the sacred temple of your soul,

the unseen boundaries veiling my purpose waver

and i lie, once more, in perfect surrender at the center of your existence

When there is simply

the primal urge

to write,

the desire

without the forms it is wont to come in,

words become

inadequate

and the medium that they travel in

becomes nothing more than a

v____a__________s______________t

UNCONQUERABLE

emptiness.

a tribute to lost love

There was a beginning, not so long ago. But as is wont to happen in stories of love begun, lost, found, and lost again, there is nothing left except the confines of the ending. There is nothing to dwell upon but the finality of the void. And all that is there to recount is the sound of an unreachable sea in the walls of an empty (and alas, it is oh so empty) shell.

Our memories were buried in a nameless grave. And it was the dead, amongst which the casket resided, who bore witness to the regrets. And although we promised not to, the earth atop the site shows that the vestiges of our past had been exhumed and examined. More than once, the handiwork of such a terrible task was not my own. But the violent flow of secrets hidden deep in the earth's core is irrelevant. Who she is, who she was, continues to haunt me in the depths of my desperate soul.

She was the warmth. That much I remember. Of the two seasons I have had in my life. She was the warmth. She was MY warmth. Perhaps that is the only way to describe her. Perhaps this is the way I wish to forget. Through the slow and laboured process of losing the picture of her face and her smile. Through the deliberate unlearning of her touch.

With the reminiscing of our story, the frost of winter has now come at the threshold of my sanctuary. And with its violation upon my essence, I seek the heat of a heart that has long been lost to me. What do the reasons matter? The dates? The times? The names? The mind is not so great that it can hold on to such trifles as these when it is overwhelmed by the one irretrievable fact: She is gone. There is nothing now but a world of twilight and ice.

_ _ _ _ _

. Was it so long ago
when you last held my hand,
stroked my hair,
said my name out loud?

.. Were you so lost to me, not noticing,
when I last searched for you
in a crowd,
in my heart,
in all that I have allowed to define me?

... Was it so painful
That i can't find my way back
to you who does not want me?
and i tread on in an outpouring of "if only's"



This isn't a work of poetry. They're just thoughts. Pipe dreams. Words for someone who will never read them. And if he happens to find his way here, someone who will never understand just how close he got.

drained

it is nothing

but a burgeoning doubting

in my mind

but a question asked

in secret into

familiar valleys of a

drowned and comfortless pillow

but a tirade of rage

and bitter finger-pointing

to myself and no one,

almost no one, else

but an itch

i have scratched

too many times over

until a wound has formed

until an infection has spread across

the sinews and threads

of the suffocating why

that is my Calvary

silence.

only the silence

of feigned ignorance

and duty-bound forgiveness

can make it right.

only my silence.

it is nothing.

something that's entirely too long

I wrote this paper for a class. It was supposed to be about me but everytime I read it, I don't recognize any part of it. I can't identify with anything about it. Maybe it's not about me. Maybe it is. I'm not really sure. I never did get to submit it for my class. And for the sole sake of having it fulfill whatever purpose it was supposed to have, I leave it here where, perhaps, it might hold even the tiniest truth.


As I stare at the half-sheet of paper in front of me which tells me that I must write about my problems, my fears, and my doubts, I find that I need to pause. To be honest, I have been putting off writing this paper for a few days now. And I know it’s because I hate to inspect myself. I hate to look back and say “This is my life. This is me.” Because no matter how I try to leave the grisly details out of my writing, I find that the shadows of the past will always creep back into my consciousness. But I guess now is as good a time as any to write it. I have done it a million times before, I can do it again no matter what emotions it stirs up.

What is it I fear? I fear for myself. I fear for my family. I fear for all the people who will end up like us. My mom and my dad separated last September. And although I understand my mother’s reasons perfectly, I can not help but feel the bitterness encroach upon what was once my sanctuary. I hate that they destroy each other now as if they had never known love for the other. As if they had not formed with that love, four children. As if they had not nourished with that love, a home that lasted for 26 years. As if they had not withstood with that love, the quarrels and the abuse and the pain that they both felt. I hate with the entirety of my heart the fact that they don’t even loath each other, that no spark of emotion is left except guilt and fear. Guilt. Fear. Detached emotions. Undoubtedly very strong emotions, but detached nonetheless. I wish to blame it upon one of them. I wish to blame it upon both of them. And as old as I am, I find that what the movies and what the books said were all true. You end up blaming yourself.

If only I had been stronger. If only I had done something. But I could never have done anything, in much the same way that I can do nothing now.

And all of a sudden, I find myself crying for no reason. I run to him asking him to listen, wondering if anyone else will see that I have been destroyed. I find that I can no longer deal with the stress of school. I can not concentrate. And where I was once unmotivated, I am now completely aloof. I ask for more attention than those around me can give and I cling to every ounce of courage I have just to keep from falling apart. During the few times that I find myself alone, such as when I write this now, I find myself crying from a physical pain that wrenches my chest apart. And when I probe my mind for the reason, I find none. I don’t know. I forget. And I find that all I want is to forget. I can’t forgive my parents. I can’t forgive the circumstances. I can’t forgive myself. And so I forget. I run into the laughter that will drown out the bitterness.

What I am afraid of is that one day the things I keep bolted up inside myself will wage war upon me and that I will not be strong enough to overcome the onslaught. And so I cry. And I pray. And He forgives them for me. And He forgives me. And once again I am brought to a place of refuge. And my soul which has become scarlet turns white as first snow.

But I am weak. And at times when I find myself thinking too much about the things that have happened, I lose my footing and I slip back into the brokenness that is my past. I am not driven by the same things that drive those around me. What I dream of, what I wish for, is not what they dream of and not what they wish for.

I wish to one day wake up and find that my parents are back together. I want my dad to change. I want my mom to love him again. I have nothing I want for myself. I have nothing beyond this moment except for the hope of being happy again. What I want is to be happy. What I want is to be able to have all the people I have in one room.

I want to be able to have all the people I have ever loved and who have ever touched my life in one room. Together. Happy.

But I cannot and so I try lose all the emotions I have hidden in my heart through my writing, through my dance, through my music.

They told me I was blessed to have to suffer at an early age because in the wheel of life it meant better days were coming. They told me that when I was in sixth grade, when my brother left home and my dad still hurt my mom. Better days have not yet come. And although I know that many others go through what I do, that many others have survived through much worse, I fear that I might not.

I want to be happy. I want to be at peace. I want to finally be able to look back and say without qualms or hesitation, “This is me. This is my life.”

it's been a while since i last posted. and in that time, a lot of things have happened. i owe a lot to all of you who have left your kind words of support. thank you. thank you. thank you. i don't usually post like this, not so direct and never so vulnerable, but then again, always this sentimental.

thank you. to all of you. blue rogue. soulless. max. cj. and all the others who read this blog.

riddles

For the first time in what seems like ages, I woke up today and the pain wasn't there.

I've been having trouble waking up lately. It's because of all the ghosts that haunt me while I'm asleep. They cradle me in their lifeless arms and stroke my hair back with such vicious force that patches of it are ripped off. They do it as if to say I will never be free. And when my feet are cold from the frost that flows from every fiber of their existence, they begin to chant in a voiceless whisper. Kalusa Indir Lahid. Their bodies, at first gentle and wispy beside me, become heavy. Kalusa Indir Lahid. They throw my body to and fro, faster and faster, as their murmuring turns to shrill cries of glee. Kalusa Indir Lahid. The unknown that once stroked my hair turns and with his touch slowly tightens my locks around my neck. Kalusa Indir Lahid. I am frantic but my eyes remain shut. Kalusa Indir Lahid. I choke but consciousness remains distant. Kalusa Indir Lahid. They bind my arms and I thrash from the pain of the stories they continue to whisper. Kalusa Indir Lahid. I submit.

And finally, mercy of mercies, I awake and they disappear, leaving only a faint chill on my arms. And at that moment of blessed silence, I remember the pain of the tales they weave, the memories they desecrate with their laughter and nothing is left as their misery engulfs me. Nothing is left as my mind screams from the burden of knowing. I am reduced to emptiness as my soul cringes from the day I must face without the comfort of the hopes they had uttered so violently in my sleep. It was all a dream. You were just a dream. And now the world rushes to claim me in its version of reality.

But for the first time this morning, I woke up and the pain wasn't there.



May your nights be safe from curses and may your dreams be free of me as I pray mine would finally be free of you.

farewell

the clouds conspire with the stars
as they brood over the doings of mankind;
speaking of devils they've hidden under the earth;
talking of the changing of the leaves;
laughing about Luna's vanity;
and whispering,

whispering of the tiny figure in the middle of the field
crying out to the void around her;
sobbing out in a language that created all that is;
begging desperately for courage as she
chokes on the bitter tears that only the dimmest hope can give.

i'm not sure yet. but i think this may be my last post for a very long while. there are some things that are too important and too sacred to sell for a couple of poems or maybe a few good stories. this time, i'll let it wash over me. this time, the words will have to wait. this time, i'll say it: out loud, to his face, with tears streaming down, and nothing holding me back. it's about time i learn what it means to be strong. thank you for telling her that. "si car ang pinakaimportanteng tao sa buong mundo." maybe next time i post, he'll understand what it means. hope never ends where love never fails.

In a world of eight billion people, it is unforgivable that so many feel so alone.

I like to think that I haven’t been posting because I’ve been to busy. I’ve been too busy with school. I’ve been to busy with joining rallies. I’ve been to busy with friends. I’ve been too busy with life in general. But right here, in the core of everything that drives me, I know that I’ve been lying to myself.

I can’t post. I can’t write. I’m not strong enough to be alone will that my heart has dammed up inside it.
At night, I find I can no longer sleep. I dread the time just before slumber overtakes me. Because it is then that I am overcome by the emotions I tried so hard to fend off. I am defenceless. I am weak. And I let loose a rain of tears that do not console. I allow the sobbing to wrack my body knowing it will ease nothing.

What is there for me to look forward to when everything I have ever believed to be important is failing me? They will never make-up. Nothing will heal the scars that they have inflicted upon each other. My family will never again be whole. And you, the last beacon of hope, have grown distant. It won’t be long before you tell me the true reason for your indifference. It won’t be long before I tell you that I have known all along.

One by one, they will move on to what joys they have already seen in the horizon. And I will be left here, nursing the wounds that all of them have, without shame or hesitation, given me. I will be left here drowning in the noise I will create for myself. I will be left here, dreading the solitude that will come and the anguish that is its partner.

“‘Til the wheels fall off”, remember we copied that off that lousy movie? What now when the wheels have all gone off?

humor me

i make sure to check my messages alone
preparing myself for an onslaught
of updates on the rules of a god
you both failed to abide by.

in the anticipation, i feel a familiar ache.
i escape into darkness as i wait for what is already before me,
closing my eyes, leaning back, massaging my temples
to ease a migraine eighteen years in the making.

and when realisation creates an itch to deep to scratch,
scanning the contents, i feel myself tremble.
tremble with the irony of what we’ve become.
tremble with the mirth of your hypocrisy.

and when i can control it no more, i release
the laughter that can no longer be contained.
I laugh so hard that tears run down.
I laugh so hard that tears run down in torrents.

grim

the memory of all that was ever good
remains intact, unbroken, unopened
within the noise and fortresses
of this empty form

and here it will stay
unwanted
until it is ready to pass into oblivion
until i am ready to let go

tangled

" If i were the rain
that binds together the earth and the sky
who in all eternity will never mingle,
could i bind two hearts together?"
- Inoue, Bleach episode 9

when the road ends
and there is no more room
or breath
left
for me to chase after
fallen dreams,
i'll walk back
for the echoes
and painful shadows
of what i alone
will be left to remember.

that broken families are a mistake
that love lasts and lives forever

that he will not leave
that she will not make him

that i won't be stuck
in between

that it is logical
that it is never justifiable

that hitting me will change me
that kissing me will change me

that time will make it better
that wounds will eventually heal

that i am afraid
that i will end up like my parents

that no one will notice
when i already have




amen

stunned

until all that was left
was the buzzing in the ears