Short Nothings II ...

Window

The winds are
Uttering their prayers tonight
Getting ready to embrace
The clothes hanged
By your apartment window

Random Musings

The bed bugs bite,
But so do you.

Happiness is a sleeping pill.
Loneliness is what wakes you up
When you could have slept forever.

The lonely king rules again.
His loneliness poisons the
Entire kingdom.

The moon weeps
Her countenance lost
She showers the earth
With her tears.

The Happiness of the bed bugs,
The loneliness of the king,
They poison the weeping moon,...

Zabuza's Ode
(For Haku)

I saw you sleeping by the snow
Too near, where your mother's blood flow.
Still a child, with blessed eyes,
I picked you, my Shinobi,
My own shinobi.

The winds utter their prayers.

Conversing With The Dying Zabuza I

I asked you
If those tears were real,
And you said
Every tears shed
In the land of the hidden mist
Are resurrected,
Fed to the meadows,
And returns back as flowers
as real as
Life itself.

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.

Eva

Sweet music,
Slow, like winds dancing
Playing the flutes of
Buildings too tall
They sway like
A woman's curve
Dancing tango
On the Halls of the gods.
How she danced motionless
Like a poet's word
Too bland for fools
Yet she can cause
Tears to fall and
Freeze them mid-air
Never to touch
The dry earth of August's
Unusual sunshine.
She is a leaf
Dancing waltz with the winds
Her own voice, the symphony,
Higher than the trees
She climbs, up and up
'Til she reach the skies
And I will wrap with tears
The remaining flowers of my
Wilting garden
And bring it to the seas where
They scattered her ashes,
To escort those leaves
Philandering with the breeze,
On its journey to eternity.

Insomnia

11:05 PM

Bed, save me a dream tonight.

A windy garden of joy
Beside a meditating sea,
Where the flowers are yellow
And the earth, kind.

Where passionately, the winds blow,
Igniting the heat of the soul.
Tempting to draw out
A lustful fight for
Drowned desires.

12:35 AM

Bed, please sing me a song.

A mermaid's hum
Mingling with the ocean's choir.
A silent song
To calm a despairing shore.
A lingering melody
To conjure the lord of sleep.

Or,-- a beggar's tune
On a bustling street.
A plea to the unkind.
A prayer for providence.
A passing lover's symphony.

2:00 AM

Bed, I just need your warmth tonight.

4:00 AM

Bed, damn you.

An Ode To A Lonely King

Moonlights chasing
A ship going somewhere,
To a place where the sun dies
Everyday.

I frozed in awe.
I sat where
The ocean -- a mirror,
Reflects
The hovering moon above,
Pinned on a royal blue sky
Like a proud king,
Alone on his throne,
Begging a stranger's eye,
To notice his silver shadow
Silently chasing a Cebu ferry,
Across a vast expanse
Of black, dancing waters.

He bears the grief
Of a proud king,
Alone on his throne,
Envying two sweet lovers
Sitting beside a
Speechless soul,
Who writes in verses,
What his tongue
Could not
Utter.

Only When I'm Drunk

I sang like John Elton.
My stage, a dirty plastic table
Littered with bottles
Full of yellow-colored piss
From a red horse devil
Who laughs while we consume
His factory- brewed potion
Changing the appearance
Of that scantily-clad lady
Dancing beneath the red light
To a mystical princess
Of heavenly beauty and charm.
I wanted to ask her number
Forgetting
That in the morning
She would turn
To an ugly hag as ugly

As the devil himself
Who laughs while we consume
His factory-brewed potion
Turning the world
Into a turn-table
Where every step spins
The wheel, and I,
Back to the chair
Where I face the devil

Who laughs while we consume
His factory-brewed potion
That can turn every word into
Laughter and every
Fart into a work of art
While I sip another
Glass of piss and sing
Like Martin Nievera ...
Until the sun comes up

And I,
Into my lonely bed
Again.
.

Roof

One more cigarette,
Before I lay me down.
No voices,
No footsteps.
Just the eerie feeling
Of sleeping beneath
An unfriendly roof,
Painted with sorrow,
Overladen with grief.
A witness,
To a million nights
Of self-induced loneliness.
A witness,
To a river of tears,
Streaming gently down
From an isle of despair
Called the eyes.
A listener,
To untold stories,
A soul in search
Of a warm body,
That cannot be found
In a thousand daydreams,
Lying beside you,
Feeling your skin,
Healing the scars
Of your burned spirit.

A Love Story by A Flamenco Guitar

Dirty fingers,
On a black guitar,
I watched in awe,
As he played a flamenco.

His tune, erupting in pain,
And pausing with bliss,
A lover's heart
Rekindling a kiss.

His four fingers,
Chasing a joyful tune.
Two lovers in love,
Under a lightless moon ...

Then a calm,
A lonely melody.
A lover's heart,
Bleeding in agony.

Then he strummed
A violent tune.
A lover's rage,
A heart in ruin.

Then he stopped.
Two hearts gone cold.
His guitar betrayed,
A secret untold.

Was it ...
A tragic love story,
Written in tears?
Or just me
Reminiscing the years ...

Bed

Dreams, carry me,
To my childhood bed,
Where miseries,
I wept away,
Screaming to my soul,
Until inner voices,
Would give no more.
And my cheek,
A waterfall of tears,
Like blood from a wound,
Imitates the cryI uttered.
And the wind from my fan,
A lover's cold breath,
Tingling every inch of my spine,
Easing the pain of distance,
Draining my painfulMemories.

In my new bed,
Tears won't give any comfort.
The wind of my old fan,
A fleeing glance of time,
When the world
Was innocent,
Was blissful.
And my pillow,
It has forgotten,
How the night
Can be so cold,
So cruel ...
And the night,
A ruthless reminder
Of a wasted life,
In the embrace,
Of a stranger ...

So, soul, sleep now ...
Sleep.
Deep.
Dream.

Free Spirits

Free Spirits

They are dancing tonight.
Like a million fireflies
On a moonless night.
Savoring the freedom
Of an empty space.
Oblivious to prying eyes
And minds too close
For redemption.

They are dancing tonight.
To the beat of the rastas,
And the songs of the wild.
Celebrating life.
Celebrating love.
Unleashing the heat
Of their bodies,
The energy of their soul,
Until the new sun shines ...

I am dancing tonight.
To the sound of reggae and
The hum of the drums.
The spirits of the earth,
Calling for my presence,
I will succumb.
Lending my body to the night
Until the new sun comes ...
Until the new sun shines ...

+--------------------------------------+
Burning Culture Concert. August, 2004
+--------------------------------------+