There is no such thing as a safe place

There is no such thing as a safe place

There is no such thing as a safe place
Under the screaming whispers of the rain
Cold daylight sets under my lids
The murmurs of the dead
They come crashing
Begging to be resurrected
Like ashes, like lego blocks
Begging to be picked up
Like shards of glass
Waiting
I dreamed I was safe
Under those arms that said love
That begged patience
Making me thirsty in broad daylight
The sky was clear and blue
But the sun basked in flames.
What a pretty picture
Like a beautiful day
A warm kiss of coffee in the morning
Waking up still
With an open hand
For another cup of caffeine
Wake me up and up still
Here to be awakened
To a safe place which was not
Even close to a bed of sheets
Cool and clean against the heat
But the rain echoes in my ears
Whispering loud and clear why
Are you still here?

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Ode to a ghost

Ode to a ghost

You know I cannot help but think about you
But I do not think highly of you
For some reason you never cease to end up
in my head like my brain is some sort of dump
The stench of wanted and unwanted things

Linger altogether. I smell them, breathe them.
I remember waiting and walking to and fro along
that long alley of lights and machines and coffee
Abundant with strangers walking and pacing like I do
I wondered a little how come they don’t seem
to look like me. And low, I beheld you from afar.

I remember your challenged length and reach.
Nearly leveled were our eyes which didn’t make
watching you so difficult not even meeting your lips
and your eyes; which in fact, were dreamy
at the time; at that very little time

That we, my dear, had
Nights. We had a few weeks of only nights
Spent walking through different streets lit
Only by moon and lampposts and trains.
I remember thinking about you as if it ran on a clock.
A clock with countless arms that seemed to run
around both clock and counterclockwise
And I remember the need to swim in the words
we uttered on those nights because I was a fragile
heart, you said. You were a stopwatch taking your
pace and space and your mind in your own head.

I was confused because you held me like you
Wanted me to be a part of you and yet you shun me
and my advances to the dust. “Take our time,”
You said. A hundred days slowly passed which was mine.
Because you told me to take them anyway. I took
My time like I should and as it was mine like
My heart was and still is too, I took all of them with me.
And it’s funny how after another hundred more days
You asked me me to welcome you back in a place
I no longer live in or even visit. Funny, right? Funny, yes.

You know I cannot help but think about you
But I do not think highly of you
For some reason you never cease to end up
in my head
Like my brain is some sort of dump
The stench of wanted and unwanted things

Linger altogether. I smell them, breathe them.
I remember waiting and walking to and fro along
that long alley of lights and machines and coffee
Abundant with strangers walking and pacing like I do
I wondered a little how come they don’t seem
to look like me. And low, I beheld you from afar.

I remember your challenged length and reach.
Nearly leveled were our eyes which didn’t make
watching you so difficult not even meeting your lips
and your eyes; which in fact, are now just a mere
stench of the past. A neglected scent of a ghost.

I don’t know what to write.

I don’t know what to write.

I don’t know what to write.
But I know that I love you.
I know that you are waiting.
For so many things.
To board the plane.
To return to school.
To graduate.
To learn.
To wait.
To return.
To me.
For me.

I don’t know what to write.
But I know that I will miss you.
I know that you are longing.
As much as I am.
As much as I do.
To hold you.
Touch you.
Feel you.
Kiss you.
You.
You.
Us.

I don’t know what to write.
I know nothing much but I’m here.
And I don’t know how else to say things.
I’m throwing up words while I eat them.
Taste them
Know them.
Chew them.
Swallow.
Digest.
And out.

I don’t know what to write.
Though I know sort of wrote about
you.

You may think you are a dragon but you’re a lizard to me.

You may think you are a dragon but you’re a lizard to me.

Annoys and annoys me.
You’re presence is toxic.
The way you extend out your tongue
Exudes with fumes
And I fuel it until I become fire

Fire fuels me as I fuel the fire
I now am the fire.
Don’t crossover.
I will burn you.
And you will burn.
To the ground with grit;
To pieces. To ashes.
To particles of fuck
Like the fuck you are.

I like the sound of your caffeinated brain

I like the sound of your caffeinated brain

I like the sound of your caffeinated brain
I like the way the train
Of your thought sail through
Oceans

or horizons, if you will.
After all, you are a pilot,
you, flyer, you man with wings, you

The role of the engineer. The role of the technician.
But they all seem French to me.
Sounds amazing but you never understand.
Tempting even when you’re under a spell
sealed with a wondrous kiss.
Wake up, love and realize
You are not prepared for this, this, this

My love, this–
is how you speak when you had coffee, this–
is how you speak when you sing to me, this–
is how you speak when you lie to me, this–
is how you speak when you breathe and eat me, like–

The role of the engineer. The role of the technician.
But they all seem alien to me.
Sounds familiar but I always get lost
Amazing even you step on slippery slopes
sliding to a downward spiral.
Wake up, love and realize
You are not prepared for this, this, this

My love, this–
is how you tell me you love me, this–
is how you tell me I will be fine, this–
is how you tell me (fuck) we will be fine, this–
is how you tell me you promise, this–

I like the sound of your caffeinated brain
I like the way the train
Of your thought sail through
Oceans

or lies, if you will.
After all, you are a pilot,
you, lover(liar), you man with wings, you

Pahinga

Pahinga

Ang kapahingahan ay hindi lamang nararapat
para sa mga taong pagod.
Ito’y para sa mga taong nangangailangan
ng yakap. Mga uhaw sa haplos ng buhay
na hangin na waring nag-uudyok ng hangaring
ipadama ang halina.

Halika, wika pa niya.

Ipapaalala ko na may kanlungan ka.
Ipapaalala ko na yayakapin kita;
Kahit pa sa higpit ng pagkakabigkis
Ng aking mga bisig
Salitang mula sa bibig
Madama ang pag-ibig
Sa paghilig
Sa pagsibol
Ng dati’y nabubulok
Nagmumukmok

Animo’y kay tagal naghihintay sa sikat
ng araw; nakadungaw sa kalawakan
Pero hindi mo masilayan ng buo
Bitin, araw-araw, bitin
Kahit anupang awitin
Hindi maatim magreklamo
Magsumamo na sana tuluyan nang sumikat
Ang liwanag na taon na ang binibilang
Kung mag-inarte ay dinaig akong
Dumadaing sa pagkakataong

Sandali lang naman
Makapagpahinga naman
Teka ako naman
Baka sakali naman
Kung pwede naman
Dahil pwede naman
Ano ba naman
Itong buhay na hindi naman nananadya
Hindi naman nagsasawang
Biguin ako
Dahil sandali lang naman
Makapagpahinga naman
Teka ako naman
Baka sakali naman
Kung pwede naman
Dahil pwede naman

Ang kapahingahan ay hindi lamang nararapat
para sa mga taong pagod.
Ito’y para sa mga taong nangangailangan
ng sandali. Mga uhaw sa ngiti ng buhay
na pag-asang nag-uudyok ng hangaring
ipadama ang halina.

Halika, wika pa niya.

Ipapaalala ko na may kanlungan ka.
Ipapaalala ko na yayakapin kita;
Kahit pa sa higpit ng pagkakabigkis
Ng aking mga bisig
Salitang mula sa bibig
Madama ang pag-ibig
Sa sandaling paghilig

Before August

Before August

The age of majority comes a ringin’
Messages; reminders that I’m not always
Always a kid dreaming, reeling the fantasies
I conjured at night in a safe haven

in my head.
There’s a room full of sparkles
and hope and fear, evolving.
They run and jump turning, around the
seemingly vast space of possibilities
cramped

Every night.
I watched them live and die and be
Born in a time where a journey like no other
Dawns before my very eyes.
And it’s painful to watch all the sparkles change.

They once have had wings
And eyes
And love
And poetry
And minds that uses its faculties
As creative and as chimerical as possible.
“Where have they gone?” I asked.
I questioned myself in a dream.

Now it’s the eve of July 31st.
I woke up this morning hearing a quiet response.
“They did exactly what they had to do,” it said.
“With or without your knowing,” it whispered.

“They grew up.”
I asked, “Like I did?”
“Not just yet.”
I’m left not feeling my face,
Not having a clue what to do next.
Until it said,

“They’re waiting for you.”