I asked God for a little more rain

I asked God for a little more rain
to adorn the trees and my window pane
to alleviate the nightmare of reality
and wake up to the paradise of what should be

But to my dismay
the sun have shown its might
not a drop fell but a blinding light
so I asked Him –

for I always wanted the cold stormy sky
that in peace my mind too shall fly
and plunge in the rain clouds passing by…”

And He answered

“Sunshine or rain, it’s not for you to say
and neither the rain that you desire
to come now or another day.

I heard your prayers for serenity
brought about by the drizzle
but some pleaded for sunshine
for their dreams already fizzled.

While in the storm you learned to dance in the rain,
take advantage of the sun, for there is so much to gain…”

I burned my diary

School diary with daily hand written note burning in fire flame ⬇ Stock  Photo, Image by © ArthaDesignStudio #252365918

I burned my diary
in which the flame
gobbled greedily
Twas a delight
watching it on fire
with a devil’s grin
and maniacal desire
it’s worth every hurt
and every pain
watching them die
but not in vain
Previous desires
irreverent thoughts
so are bittersweet ones
I’ve forgotten most
All turned to ashes
leaving a scent
sweet as incense
an offering to the Muse
that I frequently abused

I Will Compose Melancholic Tunes

I will compose melancholic tunes
that’s guaranteed to conjure the gloom
and the depression
welcomed back home

I’d listen intently
with eyes closed
and heart and mind open
and long for that part of me
who left before I was born
and wandered
in it’s own leisure
into the woods
in the midst of the storm
into the wilderness
in the land of nowhere
and there laid his head
took a nap
lived in a different realm
and failed to return

I want to write a sad tune
that’ll always
the part of my soul
that left a void
and got replaced with
eternal rain
flooding my being
seeping into
the depths
the crevices
deep within

I will play the sad tunes
so I’ll be able
to come back again
and again
and again
to celebrate the day
I’ve lost that something
but had
all the world’s
to obtain
with the wine of suffering
and a gloomy melody
to console the loss
and commemorate the gain

Touch not my diary!

Touch not my diary
and leave my thoughts alone!
For you are not permitted to peer
inside my thoughts
made tangible
through scribbles and notes.

You are not permitted
inside my sanctuary
and neither are you allowed
of the vileness of my world
and the sanctity of my core.

You mustn’t see all the blood
I spilled all over the floor
nor the stains left off my enemies
I splattered on the walls.

You are not entitled to see
when I bleed
my pain
and my agony
nor the torrential tears I’d shed
turned to ink
and spilled on paper
It’s for me and me alone
and as such, when you dare to look
a heinous crime is done.

It is where I mourned
the thousand deaths of me
and where all of the ashes
forever betrothed to the sea.

It was also the sole witness
together with God himself
how from the ashes
a new me came forth and was born.
Torn to bits and pieces though I was
everyday I’m getting fixed,
getting built to last.

So touch not my diary
you insolent swine!
To your pen, go on and roam
and leave all my thoughts alone!

You are not a clown

You are not a clown
even if you
frequently lift
the fallen
whether he’s down
flat on his face
or on his knees
bellowing his pain
with torrential tears

You are not a clown
even as you go around
lighting up candles
on dark and eerie alleys
or painting smiles on lips
kissed by the
world’s doom and gloom

Share if you must
impart to the world your gifts
but when you find your self
flat on your face
or on your knees
bellowing your pain
with torrential tears
always remember –

You need not get up
thinking you’re a clown
that you have to forget
much more neglect
your self
your pain
just to become a jester
running round town

0000 Hours

Here I am
witnessing the day
that had been
give way to another
Trying to see
if the hour
which was said to be
possessed by some
kind of magic
where it begets poetry
and it’s population
booms profusely
And if at all
can it scratch the itch
or if it makes it worse
such that
when I scratch the surface,
from the open wound it oozes
the universe

Calling your soul to come home

When you got a body but can’t find your soul

poke a hole
and break the wall

and if that doesn’t do it just yet
write that vagabond a letter
brood it a little
yell if you must
at the top of your lungs
put it all on paper
nail it at the door outside
and leave it altogether

tomorrow it’ll come
and knock on the door
will bring some presents too:
your demons on one hand
your passions on the other
both, a gift you ought to
ought to share together

Me vs Social Media

I’d be waging war
on my mobile’s social media

For instead of transcribing
my unadulterated thoughts
on the blank page
I instead
browse one post
after another
up until
I wasted an hour
an eternity
meant for a good story
an hour
of my time
my precious time
my life
a part of me

There, I finally nailed it
my undying commitment
to limit and refrain
from allowing my mind
to be subdued
by social media.
And to make myself
I’ll post this in Facebook,


Vaccine Jokes

If only there’s a vaccine
that will render
your memories
as hilarious punchlines
where I’d laugh out loud
instead of being
moved to tears,
a numbed sensation
instead of searing pain,
and will boost my system
with anti-rage bodies
everytime I’m on the verge
of turning green –

I’d inoculate myself
right fucking here,
right fucking now…


Image result for insomnia

She doesn’t want me beside her
said I snore out loud
ruins her night sleep
in addition to her insomnia.
I don’t know what to do
with my snoring
nor with my kids’
But if only I can lend her
one of my greatest gifts
which is to sleep
regardless of the sounds of the night
or elbows
or knees
hitting all my sides.
If only I can…

Well wishes

Image result for man feel good

And just before
I started to work
she hugged me
from behind
and whispered
in my ear
as she
clutched me tight
I could die
of asphyxiation:
“I hope you’d be filled
to the brim
and your entire system
with dopamine,

And because
of that
I told myself:
well if that ain’t
a nice way
to say
“screw you!”
I don’t know

Thanks To Those Who Didn’t Want To Be Associated With Me

Deep gratitude I have
to those who rejected me:
those who didn’t want me
in their group
those who didn’t want me
in their company
those who labelled me weird,
freak, and a dupe.

If not for them,
I would’ve settled indefinitely
Wouldn’t have been lost,
hurt, and known agony
Would’ve remained in shackles,
wouldn’t have been set free
I never would’ve wandered,
I never would’ve found me.

You, A Creation of A Higher Vibration

yes you,
a being
at a
never bow
your head
nor be
of what

I know
the pain
it caused
it alienated
you from
to be
part of.
you perceive
as a
embrace it
wave it
like a flag.
it signifies

It isn’t
a status
that says
to everyone
It is
than that:


母語 (Mother Tongue)

For this
unequivocal truth
my faith
doth rest:
my once unintelligible
soul’s commune
with the universe,
in a different language
in my true native tongue
will be
made known to me
and then,

– (The) Name’s Not At All Relevant



I stare intently at my dreams –

Until I end up loathing every bit of my here and now.

Until it hurts.

Until I bleed.

Until my bed is soaked like a wet sponge.

Until the entire floor turns crimson.

Until my slippers are taken by the current and they find their way out of the door.

Until I come back to my senses and realize that something hurts.

Until I realize that that something that hurts, is me thinking of what should be while lying on my bed doing nothing.

Until I realize that nothing will suffice to kindle my inner fire to get it back to life but to get the fuck off my bed and get something done to inch closer to my prize. What is that fucking something, exactly? Anything. Because anything’s better than nothing. It is said that when I start looking for it, it will start looking for me as well. I need to believe in that something.

Until I see that dream with my very own eyes. Tangible, and already in the present instead of being confined only within the bounds of my skull. Until I lay my hands on it. And take possession of which. But until then, I’ll take that first step forward and will keep on moving.

Until it hurts to move. Until I’ve reached my limit for the day. Until every muscle is sore. Until my brain starts to yell ‘enough!’ I’ll keep pushing through until it hurts. Fuck that hurt anyway. It hurts more just staring at my dreams and doing nothing to achieve them. I bet it will hurt less when I am mobile than when I’m static.

Until my dreams become my here and now.

Office Bullies

My officemates are hardcore bullies,
They litter inside my workstation,
They loiter inside my workstation,
Deliberately make all sorts of noises,
Have no qualms in disturbing me whilst I’m in deep thought,
Interruptions spark at their whims,
They climb my chair,
Take my pens and notebooks like they own it,
Drink my coffee(!)
Wrestle for mouse control,
Ruin my documents by “ambushing” my keyboard while I’m typing,
Press the power buttons of the AVR and CPU while I’m working,
Piss behind my chair –

It’s really tough being bullied while working from home.

The Curse of the Face Mask Law


This Covid-19 stole
great times ahead
with family
and friends
But it doesn’t really
bother me all that much:
social distancing
avoiding the crowd
things as such.
Been the recluse for
yep, not that long –
only a lifetime
and still going strong.
If at all
this is but
an expansion of
us loners’ Eden

But what I can’t
settle myself with
is the thought of
your comeliness
once overflowing
now mandated to be
partly hidden.

Oh how atrocious
my erring might have been
that my soul warrants
such scourge and torment?!

How am I gonna see
your hair caressing your cheeks
or the smile
that escapes your lips
as the wind embraces you
and carries your sweet scent
on mountain highs
and valley lows
into and beyond the event horizon
and throughout the cosmos

Twas sweet a past
where I have but memories
of your lovely face
in all its immaculate radiance
and that sweet smile,
that despite of
this world right now
painfully going
through a tight rope,
puts in my heart
an ample amount of hope

The legislation
that I loathe and abhor
may still be a friend
though in a way –
if only to hide
the bitterness in my smile.

And this I earnestly pray
that it will come that blessed day
where you can take
your mask away
and so does mine
and our lips would meet
in due time


Photo by Gustavo Fring on Pexels.com

Humanity must have been doomed
its fate sealed:
you fuck nature,
it fucks you back.

Gasp after gasp,
the succeeding more painful
than the ones before,
for life left in the air
if anything’s left there at all
or anywhere.

You may still be alive, yes.
Barely though.
“Never mind” you say.
“There is still a chance.
A small glimmer of hope
and mountains of ashes
to build the new upon.
And being half dead a man
is better than
a dog altogether
dead and damned.”
Or is it?

What If I Meet the Anti-Me?

What if I meet the anti me?
The once I thought
obliterated during Big Bang
long lost then found
the volatile concoction
the catalyst
the critical mass
the same badass

They said he’s me
and I am he
It’s just that we have
opposite charges
What does that even mean?
Is this the Yin and Yang
of Oriental origins?

And from where is he exactly?
How can he
just pop out of nowhere
from nothing?

By who’s authority
is he summoned
into existence?
And in the same way
be gone in an instant
in a fraction of a second?
Can he just leave
and come back no more?
Is he even aware
that when we meet
the borrowed energy
by which we both exist
will return to the Source
and cause us
to cease just being?

Is he my evil twin?
Or am I the evil twin?
Would he embody
the things I envy?
Will he complement
my imperfections?
Will he turn green
of what I already achieved?
Or will I be the one
to flood the Himalayas
and turn the desert green?

Shall I punch him
to break his nose?
or will the anti-me
give me a hug
and a pat in the back?
And end up
releasing energy
and obliterating ourselves
in the process?
Or will it spark
a new cosmos
same as what
we know today?
Or maybe it already did?

Violence for no one in particular

Do exercise caution
When treading on my shadow
Lest it gobbles you up
And leave no trace
Of your

Never lay a hand
To where I’ve trodden
For they are full of neurotoxins
A quark of which
And you’ll be
Laid waste

And when you whisper
On my back
Never let
Those murmurs
Leave a trail
Let alone
Reach me
And neither
Should your words

They take no responsibility
They’re just passing
Like the wind
And they’re gone

They will betray you
For they are fleeting
And they’re gone
In an instant
Poof just like that
Yet you will remain
To suffer
The wrath
In my hands

Don’t Talk to Me

Too afraid
To be vulnerable
Laughed at
Viewed with flaws
Reduced to
Something smaller
Than the grand image
We see in the mirror

Who wouldn’t want
To appear awesome
His shit
All figured out
The ultimate idol
The envy of many

Or either we ask
The world
To mind its own
Fucking business
And for it to never
Give a fuck at all
Except to tread
Ever so softly

The façade
We all maintain
We make so great a fuss
With all our might
Futilely wishing
The respect and awe drugs
To perpetually remain
And keep us high and floating

Or that which
We have worked
For so long
Not letting anyone
Or anything
Not even ourselves
Destroy the
Old and familiar comfort

The scars we hide
Too afraid
That the other being
Before us
Will conjure
The ghost of the past
Out of our scars

Aversion of such
Is human
But to face them
Armed with all
The goodness
One’s heart can muster,
Is the virtue
Of the divine
Warrior god
That found
Its home within

The Man on Fire – A Tribute To The Black Mamba

The round leather
on fire
not put off
by any bounce
on the floor
or its sojourn in
or hitting the boards
the rim
and eventually
the ring

One thousand shots missed
meant 10 thousand sinking in

The fire in the leather
borne of a flaming hand
from a heart ablaze
which can only come from
no less than the divine

That fire
might have
succumbed to the sky
but it found its home –

In thousands
Hundreds of thousands
Millions upon millions

Rest in peace brother

Halimuyak sa Madaling Araw

sa kinasasabikang umaga
na tigib ng ligaya
ang bumungad
sa aking diwa

Basa sa hamog
ng madaling araw
mga talulot na nakalukot
sa masidhing dampi
ng haring araw

Ramdam ko ang
init na nagbabaga
na di maikubli
ng mala-nyebeng
ihip ng hangin

Aking hinawakan
ang nagbabagang apoy
mga daliri’y di napaso
ni nasunog ay hindi
Bagkus ay naramdaman
ang mainit na pag-agos

At aking narinig
isang sigaw na
walang tinig
sa kagubatang
makipot, madilim
na aking sinuong
habang nilalagari
ang kableng
sa lahat ng
kamalayan sa mundo
ay nagdurugtong

Ang kalaliman
ay binagtas
upang di malunod
mahigpit ang kapit
ng aking mga kamay
sa matatayog na

At matapos
ang mahabang sandali
muli kong narining
ang sigaw na
walang tinig
habang nasasaksihan
ang pagbulwak
ng kalawakan

A Thousand and One Reasons to Be Thankful For

The Sun woke up
this morning
to see me outta my bed
Took over from the Moon
my sentry
the instance the Darkness
gave way to the Light
I exhaled yesterday
as I breathed in tomorrow
All revved up
my engine
in full chime
Ready to
take possession
of another
historic day

Dream Past The Nightmare

We don’t hold tomorrow
Such a pity
We have plans
grand as the heavens
Funny thing is
tomorrow has got
her own plans as well
which usually
screws us like hell
Which is why at times
I don’t make any plans
to save myself
from disdain
of life as I know
But how will I relish the future
if I can’t savor it today
And how will I know if my wishes are granted
if I don’t dream of it
at this very moment?

She doesn’t like sopas

You don’t like sopas
and I don’t know why
Puzzles the hell out of me
Who doesn’t want a hot pot
of chicken soup
made creamy with evap
made colorful with
cabbage and carrots and
made gut-heavy
with elbow macaroni?

Detest is a word too strong
least priority maybe
but then, I could be wrong

Yet you made
one for me
just the same

“I still don’t
love sopas.
May never be.
But I’m
to learn
to love
the things
that you love.”

More than the
hot pot of sopas
before me
I thank you
my sweet balm
for all the love
and for keeping
me warm
For a thousandth time
again and again
to the heavens
I implore
good favors
for you
my lovely woman
who cooks sopas
for her man

Whores are Words, and Words are Whores

Some words
I used sparingly
I abused
But alas
despite of which
complete strangers
their conclusion
have all become

I clothed them
in regal poetry
gave them purpose
through grand prose
which countless I’ve told

I, the maker
accorded them
their place in the cosmos
in the known universe and beyond
ergo, I own them
and they are mine alone

But what a joke
the muse played on me
for the wholeness
I granted them
defined them not
I got mocked.
For the pieces
defined the whole
which the whole
on them do not

As I established my kingdom
with them and their duty
to kiss my feet ever after
The whores were gone
prostituted themselves
in another’s hands


Leaves of Autumn

I will whisper it
to the autumn leaves

I will tell them why
the trees slumbered in a lullaby
I will reveal to them
how all tears have gone dry
it was when
you promulgated my verdict:
“good bye”

It was still the sunshine’s reign
as I recall like ‘twas but yesterday
but before I can brace my self
for that mortal dagger
driven to my chest
the chilling sun
and the freezing moon
started to sing a melancholic tune

Nurtured in the soft breeze’s caress
and nourished in dew
brought forth colors
that are changing in hue
for what seemed the start
of a colorful show
marked the end of the summer glow

what else is there to say
but to let the light leave with the day
and this darkness that had befall
be there to stay while bells they toll

I will whisper its dismal moan
to those in twigs still holding on
oblivious to the truth
that it won’t last for long

I will whisper it
to those caught in midair
as they drift farther and farther away
from their beloved they just left bare

I will whisper it
atop the mounded heap
which to earth
did terminally cede

fool’s show it is indeed
for the varied colors that abound
speaks loudly
of the end
without a sound

Reverend Joke

One day came good ole Reverend Father Joke
Grinned as he saw past some bloke
“Say son, I pray, give me some of that toke
For you see, my boy, I’m a bit broke.”

“Heaven have mercy for I almost choked!
Pardon Reverend, is this some kind of joke?”
“That’s my name alright” said ole Reverend Joke
With eyes closed sniffing the smoke.

Let me be the wind

Let me be the wind
that will whisper in your ear
“relax, it’s me my dear”

Let me be the wind
that will pass by your cheeks
to give them a sweet light kiss

Let me be the wind
that will meet head-on your lips
as in love my fingers dip

Let me be the wind
that will sway your hair
and expose your shoulders bare

Let me be the wind
That will caress your thighs
And carry your scent
In the valleys and heights

Dealing with The Embodiments of Pure Evil in the Workplace

I must thank God
and probably
so should you –

that instead of diabolical plots
and rhapsodic images
of your sweet affliction,
He manifested Himself
through reason
before anything
I envisioned
would irreversibly
come to fruition

I must thank God
and probably
so should you –

that instead of regrets
and abysmal sorrow
or that fiendish grin
and gratified puffs
at the sight of
a gasping prey
and the smell of blood,
I uttered a silent
wailing plea
Supplicated for restraint
within my inner sanctuaries
And stabbed my journal
‘til its blood filled the oceans
as it is tossed to and fro
by tempests and billows

The Curse of Blessings

The Curse of Blessings

What good is my art
if instead of
care and
vainglory and
come forth of which?

Is my quest
to be
intellectually extravagant
if my eyes
forsook looking up
and espoused the
delectability of looking down?

Is the by-product of
the disdain for
both ignorance
and the ignorant?

Shouldn’t it instead
beget forgiveness
and understanding
despite that
some people
are unforgiving
of your luminance
that improved
their blur
into shadows?

– (The) Name’s Not At All Relevant

The Ultimate Collision Course

In blinding speeds
and accelerations faster
than the speed of light
I orbit the innards
of a particle collider



Propelled by
the natural order of
who the hell knows
or who

without warning
lo and behold
my quintessence
millions, billions, trillions of them
laid bare
right before mine
very eyes

Then it dawned on me
I got smashed into God!

In the Face of Adversity, Don’t Run Away from God. Run Into God

Adversity and conflict
isn’t always
to opportunity
It will forever be
a thorn
in my soul
Yet, that
has caused me
to not run away but
to run INTO

Sure there is adversity
in daily existence
that you need
to keep slugging with
in spite of
being bored
to death
And while
I am
busy living
I am also
busy getting myself
to make that
daily existence
at least

Nevertheless, there
is always something
to be thankful for:
beautiful family
being fucking alive
and this art
that has become my
saving grace

But there
is something
special about those
nut-cracking moments:
You let loose of
your grasp
off yourself
and your advantages
both tangible and illusory
and find yourself
clinging instead
to the Rock of Ages
Only when you
do so
can you
tap the power
Power that
is greater than
anything earthly
or mortal
The kind of
power that
keeps the galaxies
afloat to light up
the vast depth
of nothingness

Adversity causes
one to
It yells at you
at the top of
it’s lungs
to get the
fuck out
of the ordinary
before you succumb
and watch the
best of you die
without seeing the
dawn break

But I haven’t
totally lost
my sanity
by asking
for my
share of
uphill goings
just to
always experience
God’s grand

With much
I ask that
I would instead meet


from highs and lows
and most especially
the mundane

Baby Talk

What others
Can only perceive
As gibberish
Is what glued Orion
In his place
And saved the Pleiades

‘Tis what holds
Neutrons and protons
When they would’ve
Repelled one another
And everything we knew
Disintegrated into molecular dust

What the mind in the dark
Held as prattle
Is responsible for
Nuclear fusion
That fuels the
Ball of fire
In the sky
Which radiates warmth
And illumines
The darkened soul

They cause strings
To vibrate
Where songs emanate
To hush a child
Enrage the oceans
Or bring together
The evil twins of Eta Carinae

It is what makes
The heart skip a beat
On that glorious moment
That two lips meet

‘Tis the language
Of the gods that
The rain
The breeze and
The dewdrops speak
Which Newton
Maxwell and
Failed to uncover

So shut up you stupid ghoul
And ask the heavens
To save your wretched soul
For what you mistook
As needless existence
Is what gives substance
To your very essence


The Piercing of Teresa

I came to execute
The verdict of Teresa
On that appointed eve

Like a soft breeze
Pounding the curtains
I entered unseen
As a pup she laid
Duped that her
Satin and laced sheets
Would get her covered
From the judgement
That would befall her

Then braced myself did I
To enforce her sentence
Cold and swift

Arrow in hand
Steadily aimed
Dug deep in her skin

This I did
Over and over again

Instead of her body
And eerily silent dead
I heard
Her forceful

As the steel bored deeper
I heard a
Slapping sound

Was I amused
Where the blade had been
Not a trickle of blood
Nothing did I see
But it got more crimson
Like ripe tomatoes
Begging to be picked free

I turned to her face
Contorted it was
Her eyes blocked the faint light
Mouth’s an open vessel
Begging for the rain to trickle
In the dead of the night

American Hotdog

American hotdog she has got
It’s what the other ladies have not
Hotdogs of different races
Australian, Hungarian, Italian
Canadian, British, or German
But the most famous of them all
Is the certified all-American

Never mind that these hotdogs are
With large tomatoes in the face
And who the hell knows where else

Even the gramps
Who has trouble getting up
Let alone keeping it up
They are completely irrelevant:
The stench of death reeking in him
Nor that he is 4 decades her senior

Scorn her as much as you like
With much gusto until you relinquish life
I’m warning you though
You’ve been long dead before you make her cry
Whatever drug she took that made her numb
Anesthesia of hardships
Sedated in BS or whatnot
She’ll cling to her hotdog
Until he runs out of fortune
And that, she’ll tell you
Is a valid reason:

“I got an American hotdog
You dirt-poor dicks
Whatever says my kababayans
I don’t give a shit
Aint gonna toil anymore
Gonna buy me an I-Phone
Premium bags, and shoes
Bear the coffin-dodger’s child I will
Gotta be laid in bed of cotton
Gotta let him fuck me
Till he passes out and die
Gotta suck him hard
Till he bleeds dry
Fuck true love
What can you get out of which
If your stomach is empty
And you can’t buy all your impulses
So what if he smells putrefied
So long as I lay in bed of greens”

Thus she clings on
To his horrid face
So long as he gives her
A queen’s privileges

The Old Man And His AM Radio


One old man
When he is around
He’d sit by the porch
A cup of tea in his hand
In an idle afternoon
While the scorching sun
Retires after burning rice paddies
Mountains, dirt roads, and faces
At times it leaves torrential rain
That reminds us of its promise
It’s sure to be back in the morning

But what I remember oh so vividly
That while he sips his bitter tea
He’s all ears on the stereo
Not on music stations
But tuned in on A.M radio

I didn’t understand
His penchant for the agony of twiddling thumbs
With the occasional curses
Murmurs, smirks, and grunts
About politics in all its
Nobility, hypocrisy, and bullshitry

It was a mystery how he could bear
Listening to news
On what transpired from within and without
And listening to the host
And repetitive commercials
Peddling lies and whatnot

But he didn’t mind
Just looked far away
With the all-familiar grin
What he labelled as circus
Worked out fine for him

Almost three decades passed
No longer do I see him
In the rain nor setting sun
Nor his hot cup of bitter tea
That cools him down
But something remained
Which transcended him and his life
As I sit with headsets on
To the AM radio tuned
More generous in my cursing

Lady Bel

Thank God for Lady Bel
When there is none to lend a hand
She is there
A silent assassin
Coldly executing her mission

Her attitude reminds me
Of a lesson I already mastered
Or so I thought I did
But when I saw my current state
Compared to hers now
Damn, I know I already forgot
The grit of a bloodied soldier
To just be there
Present in the moment
Slugging it out
Regardless whether
The going gets uglier or not

She is in the flow
Like an exemplary soldier
Keeping at what she does
Even when it sucks
While I’m here
Engaged in a similar firefight
Albeit engaging two fronts
Banging my head
Trying to cough up a witty line
For this poem and prayer
For Lady Bel

Bless Lady Bel o Lord
Bless her good heart
Via what she is at the moment
A rock, a solid one
I can learn, relearn rather
Lessons long forgotten and gone


Bitch she was
she is
and always will be
In as much as I’d like to say:

“Bitch she may be
but there is a bitch
far better than she
and her name is spelled

But I’d rather invoke her not
for wishing another’s misfortune
is never my lot

But it was only then that I realized
bitches themselves
bitch each other around

Struggles of a minimalist who wishes to write extravagant poetry

The minimalist
Willingly calloused himself
Stripped off his senses
Scarce in words
As much as thoughts
Gets upset not with a
Few clothes
A few jeans
Or zero mobile data
Afraid he’ll be creatively bankrupted
By social media

Despite having revered as god
He has locked horns with minimalism
For poetry’s sake
Unfamiliar feelings he now writes
With inappropriate words
Of a child quivering before a dentist
The motocross rider as he somersaults
A lover whose tears from the raindrops you cannot tell
To be answered “yes” or “I do” by a lady

The things he shun
To not let his feelings run
Stoicism rivalling that of Marcus Aurelius
A layer of rock
That take eons to wear

He then realized
He has flesh and blood
He can grin
And he can fuckin’ cry!
He’s not a machine gun
That eat bullets
And spew them who the hell knows
How much rpm

Now he aches to write poetry
Vivid and teeming with life
And the feelings he trained himself to abhor
The superfluous often thrown to the dogs
Like a whore
That will make him sore
With a red carpet and open arms
He now welcomes home

Albeit, he writes clumsily
A virgin lover in a quandary
Whether he’ll
Kiss her or fondle
Screws up his words, falters and all
Still he writes some more
For non other than he can fathom
It’s only poetry that will save his soul

Song Writer’s Block

Kalangitang walang bahid ng ulap

Lupang nadurog at nangalikabok sa hirap

Hiling ay inspirasyon

Na ako’y gahasain

Pangarap maging rakrakan

Na naging ungguyan

Kinalabit ang frets

Strum lang ng strum

Mistulang sinto-sinto

Walang kapararakan

Papel na tadtad

Ng hangin at katahimikan

Kamot ulo

Suntok sa pader

Tatayo, di-dyinggel

At balik nanaman

Anong nangyari sa creative time?!

Buti pang kumain

O nagbatil nalang

Tumitingin ng walang tinitignan


Habang hinahaplos ang gitara

At ang kalyo sa daliri

Naging pigsa

Kakakanta ng “Nakarmang Pulis” ng Radiohead

I want to write poetry Lord

I want to write poetry Lord
Poetry that is torn
From the flesh and guts
Poetry that constitutes
The same
As the stars
The rotting bone clenched in a canine’s fangs
Or fart

I want to write poetry Lord
The poetry about whores and saints
Corrupt politicians
Capitalist fiend incarnates
Murderer commies
Rabid “de-most-crazies”
Of Republicans and Democrats
The proletariat and intelligentsia

I want to write poetry Lord
Poetry that will make her heart race to the moon
And back to earth
With an itch she can’t stand
Until I’m finally found

I Love You – With No Strings Attached

Quote above by Antoine De Saint-Exupery

I said I love you,
Of course you heard it right;
Am not playing yo-yo,
In case you think I might…

Once a girl had a dream –
Of the world that she would conquer;
Once a boy had a dream –
Something far more loftier: the dreamer girl…

I Saw You In The Future, I Fucked You There


(April 1st 2019 update: thank goodness someone pondered on the possibility of multiverses (multiple universe, extended topic of quantum physics) where infinite unique versions of ourselves other than what we know of, exist in other universes.

If that’s so, then yes I might’ve indeed fucked you elsewhere…)

Do what you must today
Ignore me just as much it’s ok
You’ll end up in my bed anyway
The tip of your hair you forbade that I touch
You’ll eventually let me have the whole of you just as much
And your voice that I barely heard before
In my room it’ll ring from midnight ’til four
As your scent, taste and crevices I explore…

Just You


What else can I say…
When everyone already sing your praises?
When you are already at the pinnacle of what you can be?

What else can I still extend my hands for…
When you already have the world at your bidding?
When you already have your perfect crowd behind you?

What words do I have to offer…
When you say them better than I ever will?
When you spell them out loud for me before I can even find them?

I’ll just sit here in silence
And be the man that listens without judgment

– I’ll be your home where you don’t need to be anyone at all except yourself

– I’ll be your pillow that will hear your silent screams and get soaked with your tears that no one should ever see

– I’ll be your teddy when you need a friend who will hug you back and feel your heart beat with fear and uncertainty

– I’ll be your mirror who cherishes every moment seeing you everyday just as you are, devoid of makeups nor any mask that you need to wear, but being just yourself which is just as lovely beyond comparison

I’m not here to love only the super you or your perfect projection,
Because I will love you just the same for being just you in all its grandeur and rock bottom…


photo from celebmafia.com

I Hope “I Love You” Will Be Enough

I hope “I love you” would be enough,

And the ways I can show you how.

…not with a king’s worth of ransom, for my hands are bare

…not with acres and acres of prime land because I own not the world

…not with the physique of a god, because I am only a lord of my decisions and not how I was formed

…not with a mind of a sage of the ancient and modern era, because I am wired quite differently

I wish “I love you” is enough,

to sweep you off your feet,

To have you to keep me.



When the words “I love you” wont suffice

And promises no matter how true are lies

And the faith that someday will give you both to each others arms

Is nothing but faith founded on dust

There are crevices that no words can ever reach

No faith that couples can be bridged

For nothing can fill the roles –

… of a peck on the cheek

… the smack on the lips

… the taste of her tongue

… the warmth of arms about

… the scent of her breath

… the feeling when she’s around

… the ecstatic union with her body and soul



photo from gettyimages.ie

You’re Far More Complex Than Quantum Mechanics

anime girl

Particle or wave can you be?
Sometimes neither nor
At times it’s either or
Sometimes both!

How hard can it be to figure out your mystery
To try and guess if the cat’s bloody furious
Or if cyanide knocked every life off the feline.

Elusive that you are
Never settling for a singular definition
One time you’re there
The other you’re not

Sometimes you are everywhere
And when I look you’re but nowhere!
How elusive you are my lady
Like the elixir of life, the founding particle of life’s origins

Shrouded in mystery in the quantum realm
Refusing to be defined with singularity
In one instant you are but the many.

But though it’s you I can’t fully comprehend
I revel in your boundless mystery without end
That even if the thought of you is mind bending torture
I will eternally delight in your endless pleasure…

Theoria Comparatione, et Dilectione


Oh that I can freeze in time (or to slow it down at least):


…the spectrum of that loving look in your eyes

…the gravitational attraction that grips my heart when I hold your hand

…the energy released with the fusion of our lips, and

…the black hole of your loveliness as it sucks the light of my gaze


I wish I’d be travelling at the speed of light

That I can watch you in full delight

Just please don’t go ahead with the same speed even for just a second

For I’ll be chasing you in the cosmos, infinite and without end

Hurricane Jolina


the devastating wind howls

the raging storm it growls

a formidable force of nature which I cannot see

yet has the strength accorded by the Almighty

where in places she left nothing but carnage and utter ruin

in my heart she inflicted awe, love and her essence that I am a-smellin’

photo from ncptt.nps.gov