Short Nothings ...

Ember

Somewhere near the fallen ember
Red as blood, a rose grew ...
There, a lady shed her tears
And sprinkled a life anew ...

Ruins in Tukuran

By the ruins of the old church
A lady left her red sandals
After whispering to the tempting cliff
She jumped.



From A Mite to Me

I have bathed
In your sweat,
Such sweet delight
That I wondered
When will you die of diabetes?


A Plea

angel, send me a saviour ...

or

a bottle of pure tuba
for those souls
intoxicated with pain.

a strong wind
that can carry my whisper
to somebody in the underworld.

a lonely music,
so sweet to the ears
it induces sleep.



A Portrait in the Moon

Whisper gently,
Lady behind the bright moon,
I'll be yours forever.

Touch me,
Veiled lady behind the clouds,
I am yours forever.

Someday,
I will bring these flowers
To the sky,
You'll be mine,
Forever.

+------------------------------------------------+
These are unfinished **somethings** ...
Who knows, a Venusian might see this and
decide to land in my bed tonight ...

should we believe in aliens?
if i don't, then I feel that the
universe is such a waste of space.
so, i'd rather believe. hehehehe.

i'm tired and sleepy. gotta go.
+------------------------------------------------+

Tuning A Guitar

Pluck the first string,
You'll hear a guttural cry from
The grave. A winter wind
Passing through the ears
Only to be
Devoured by the evils of summer.

Twist the knob to hear it whisper
A pitch crescending like
A thousand monks praying in purgatory.

Reach for Lower E,
The key to the alignment.
Six notes will sing
Completing the harmony
Of the open string.
Six notes,
Six voices,
Beethoven's ensemble in
A guitar's hollow,
A thousand echoes inside
A wooden ark blending like
Coffee and cream,
Conspiring to create
A blended aroma,
Something sweet you'll cherish
Until the harmony
Dissolves again.

Weird Moon

Weird moon.
Was it the way
She smiles mockingly
As if she knows
The language of two
Cellphones talking,
Wasting another
Minute of moonlight
And a peso
For every ounce of
Lust transmitted in the air?

Or maybe ...
She's spying on
Two GSM phones
Making love to each other
At electronic speed
Catching breath
At every bandwidth consumed
Redefining the act of love
That binds us all.
Weird, weird,... moon.

My Last Matriarch

She sat there silently,
Oblivious to the world around
Her nipa hut in the midst
Of a jungle clearing,
Underneath a cold, serene sky.

She was seeing the past,
The journey of a race,
That sailed the woods and the waters.
Looking for the home that was
To be found only
Among the stars of the heavens.

She's the lastOf the subanen matriarchs,
The last testament to a dying
Race of the stone worshipers,
The last of those who perform
Rituals for a rain that wouldn't come,
The last of the long line of
A noble blood who can understand
The sky and the seasons.

She understood the future,
And her fate that wouldn't let go.
She was bound to fade silently,
Into the night,
Under the cover of the darkness,
And the whisper of the trees.

Her tears rolled gently,
Ever sweetly,
Across her wrinkled cheek.

Resting in the wooden floor,
Another faceless soul,
Starting a journey.

Five Seconds After Breakup

Silence,...
Its deafening, ...
I can hear every dew
Dropping from the blades
Of the grasses,
Or the songs of the
Crickets singing their
Last farewell to the world.
I can hear the whisper
Of the earth's womb,
Giving birth to
Yet another heartache.
Or the mumbling of my
Hungry stomach,
Buried, along with the
Noise of silence
Reverberating across the room.
But,I never heard your lips
Forming the word "goodbye",
Instead,
I heard two pieces of wood
Crashing into each other,
Like gunpowder and heat.
Then,
The sound of your heels,
And the sound of a heart, crying.
Mine.

Brother

A fully distorted guitar
Screaming a curse,
A wordless plea,
A soul who knows nothing
But the language
Of scales and arpeggios,
Love in a finger dance,
Or tears in harmonics
Echoing ...
Resonating ...
Your marshall amplifier
Baring your soul,
An extension of your muted heart.
Even with your thick skin
You cannot hide,
The loneliness of that riff
Or the love story
Of that three-chord song.
The notes on your musical sheets,
The every tango of your hands,
Every scala, every pluck,
A language I know
Since I saw my first light.

The roof, your stage,
Your guitar sanctuary.
Nobody can see you,
Not even the countless stars
Who seemed to know your secrets.
They listen to anything
But you.
It is then that you think
That nobody
Can understand your heart,
Not even our moon,
Or our sun,
But ...

Two floors beneath you
I taste every note,
I trembled in every dissonance,
I feel every pain.