The Hiatus

Autotomy

In danger, the holothurian splits itself in two:
it offers one self to be devoured by the world
and, in its second self, escapes.

Violently it divides itself into a doom and a salvation,
into a penalty and a recompense,
into what was and what will be.

In the middle of the holothurian's body a chasm opens
and its edges immediately become alien to each other.

On the one edge, death, on the other, life.
Here despair, there hope.

If there is a balance, the scales do not move.
If there is justice, here it is.

To die as much as necessary, without overstepping the bounds.
To grow again from a salvaged remnant.

We, too, know how to split ourselves
but only into the flesh and a broken whisper.
Into the flesh and poetry.

On one side the throat, on the other, laughter,
slight, quickly dying down.

Here a heavy heart, there non omnis moriar,
Three little words, like three little plumes of light.

We are not cut in two by a chasm.
A chasm surrounds us.

- Wislawa Szymborska

Epitaph

Raining with endless gems,
The creature lives to ignore
The senseless that it abhors
To throw sunshine back and forth.

But time and time again,
It shrinks to see itself.
And all the same depress its livid mind
Into the endless pit of its chest.

For creatures are messy things.
And things are endless void.
And creatures fruiting other creatures,
Is senseless death and birth.

To live by and by with this,
Is why they were born.
So, day and day with this,
The creature goes on and on.

But you are the moon,
That shines with endless beauty.
Unquestionable, unfathomable,
On top of everything else.

And you are the stars,
That live with pointed shapes.
Hurting the imagination.
Living and dying beyond reach.

And then there was me,
An abomination of the creature.
Birthed by your silken skin,
Killed by your apathy!

Seeing the Sun, with mere eyes

Can you look at the Sun
Using your mere eyes?
And keep at it till it hides
Under the horizon.
Only to close your eyes
When the moon comes out.
And imagine that one little star
That sums everything you desire.

And you shall live
The rest of your days,
With this same scene
Playing over and over.
And still find that
You are able to smile
And live and be merry.

For indeed, you have killed
All signs of anticipation;
Colored every tinge of red
With black and white.
And sprayed deodorant
Through the lingering
Fragrances of her breath
That inhales and exhales
Not for you...

Of Flowers and Stones

We while away
The days apart
Into lives
Of flowers
And stones.
Yet we somehow die
Sooner than
When we realize
That life
Is nothing
More than
Flowers and stones.

Because stars are far...

How can you chase that star
That shines above your head even at day,
When you know that the skies
Will never admit those who cannot fly?

And even when you grow feathers
And wings and eventually soar,
You see that her light
Exists only in your eyes.

Wake up!
You sleeper and dreamer.
Didn't you hear?
That the world had this figured out.

Wake up!
A star is no one's light.
For it shines as ever as bright,
Even without your sight...

The Expedient & the Laggard

You say that we do not come for you
As swiftly as your flowers bloom.
That when we come at all,
You've long since thrown the flowers away.

We say that we do not love
This thing that you call love.
And that those that give you splendor
And all things that are pleasant,
Torments us from birth to eternity and back.
And that which you throw away,
We keep even when withered and old.

For you, love is life
While for us, it is death.
For when love knocks on your door
You gain the world
While we lose it.
And that everything
We have earned for a lifetime,
Even that which you despise,
We lose, when we see
The world in your eyes.

Yes, we suffer when we love.
We lose sight of the colors
Of the grass.
We lose love for the sweet smells
Of that which is none of you.
We die a silent death
That we hide behind our wrinkles.
We die to wait until you return.
Until you come and claim us
From our misery.

For indeed we were born for you!

Stand Still

Stand still.
Let me smudge blood to your cheek,
To liven up that pallid complexion
And give you a little of my smell.

Stand still.
Let my fingers stroke your silken hair
And decorate them with my fingers.
Let them be left with your smell.

Stand still.
Love my hands as they crawl through your neck,
To grasp your head closer to mine.
Let me smell your soul.

Stand still.
And welcome the breath of my nose.
As you welcome my soul, numb your brain,
Let your blood rush to your eyes.

Stand still.
As we kiss our way amidst the world.
Amidst the flow of the rivers.
Amidst the roaring thunders.
And the angry tempest of the evening rain.

Poetry of the Sun

Poetry is a shelter;
A sanctuary.
Where mesmerizing
Reflections
Of the Sun dwell --
Dancing
With caustics
To put life
To the darkness
Of the soul.

The Villain

How do you find meaning?
Alone, walking the night;
Smiling, laughing, suffering,
Seeing none but moonlight:
Amidst this lonesome grave
Where all them, powerless, lie,
You run and wish to save
Your birth, before you die.

Hence, you stop breathing;
So that you do not smell
Those hearts that are rotting,
Encased by your hated shell.

Hence, you halt hearing;
And scream until you bleed
And all the same cursing,
Cursing this pain's seed.

Hence, you pretend to not see
And look past their shallow eyes.
Talking with the casuals that be,
While deep inside it cries.

Far Shout

I thought I was innocent,
But I'm being punished.
I didn't start this,
But I have to finish it somehow.
I can't say I didn't know about it,
But I don't remember taking part in it.
I get the feeling my freedom cost me dearly,
But I don't remember selling my soul cheaply.

Hey, hey!
Until I die and say goodbye...
Hey, hey!
...no one will ever catch me.

You probably don't know the eternal outlaws
Who wander the distant night.

Signal of Loneliness

Not yet knowing
What it means to love,
I try to connect somewhere
With someone, anyone.
On aimless nights, you
Keep sending out a signal of loneliness.

Not yet knowing
What it means to be hurt and such,
I try to be connected by something
To someone, anyone
In the wandering night, you
Keep waiting; a signal of loneliness.

Ah, I wonder why are you out there searching for something?
Ah, I wonder why are you out there afraid of something?
Ah, I wonder what kind of future you'll have?

I want to find the one I love.
I want to find the one I'm supposed to love.
I want to find her.
Anyone is OK. Quick... Anytime...

Someday, when I've realized
What is precious,
Will I, who am no-one in particular,
Be able to meet someone?
In the tomorrow which is still unseen, you
Beat out a signal of loneliness.

Ah, I wonder why are you out there searching for something?
Ah, I wonder why are you out there afraid of something?
Ah, I wonder what kind of future we'll have?

I want to find the one I love.
I want to find the one I'm supposed to love.
I want to find her.
Anyone is OK. Quick... Anytime...

Duvet

You know what's funny with life-predicaments?  They make you want to mess with lyrics.  Heh.

And you don't seem to understand
A shame you seemed an honest man
And all the fears you hold so dear
Will turn to whisper in your ear
And you know what they say might hurt you
And you know that it means so much
And you don't even feel a thing

I am falling
I am fading
I have lost it all

And you don't seem the lying kind
A shame that I can read your mind
And all the things that I read there
Candle lit smile that we both share
And you know I don't mean to hurt you
But you know that it means so much
And you don't even feel a thing

I am falling
I am fading
I am drowning, help me to breathe
I am hurting
I have lost it all
I am losing, help me to breathe

Well, in case I'd have to be explicit, I didn't.

Sleep & Apology

I disdain you like the rain disdains the earth.
    Thus, when I fall, you almost feel that I am hate
  That holds your feet and pulls you towards darkness.
    For thoughts of you, I suffer, as death is fate.

The coldness that I bare since my unwanted birth
    Are like trickles, in time, they come and go.
  But as I fall towards your absent embrace,
    Try might I to shut them tight, still they flow.

They flow and leak towards their hearts and yours
    That freeze memoirs of me for your inspection.
  'tis there that you might see that I am cold.
    And death, and hate, and forget are my redemption.

So, I now sleep in this bed that I prepared,
    To famish myself of your dances in front of me.
  That I may someday walk your path as I awake.
    And say nothing more than an apology.

Pathetic, Ugly, Ordinary

If I cut my wrist
And remove my hand,
Will I die from bleeding?
As I celebrate the pain
Of slowly losing sanity
Amidst the continuous
Draining of blood
From my head?

If I turn this light off
And lurk in darkness,
For all eternity,
Will your hand touch
My cold forehead?
And pray that my soul
May wander
Inside the recesses
Of your ever
Withering heart?

For this specter
That I call self
Is trapped at the center
Of my universe.
While everything else
Is rotating,
Living, loving,
Realizing.
And throwing scattered words
Of age and wisdom.
While I glutton over
Feelings of hate and love,
Over
And over
Again.

The only escape I see
Is to disappear...

Into the placid breeze
Like a speck of cremated dust.
And fly from your nose
To your lungs.
To smell your sentience,
Feel your heart,

And see the world
Through eyes
Of non-existence.

Forever...

I no longer remember your voice

I said, "I no longer remember your voice."
For I didn't know it to be this strong.
Clouding the certainty within my choice.
Making me forget why this is wrong.

I hate smiling

I don't want to smile:

For each time I do,

I remember you...

But you know what?

If it is to catch your attention, I would still do it the next time you ask (only that a little preparation wouldn't hurt :).

Yesternight

Yesternight
Was a dream
Of not my liking:
Where I went
And revealed myself,
For the first time,
To the largest crowd
I was ever revealed.

So, they did see
(I hope not with hearts)
What I really am.
For you opened my chest
And exposed my soul
To the world
Of yesternight.

On being happy when you're happy

"I do not jealous over your affairs,
For I am happy to see you smile."
Or so says the mind;
Yet the heart screams otherwise.

Not that I despair over your smile.
Only that when I glutton over that face,
I burn my heart in vain.

Ivory Chaos

In your little world of candied sweat,
I suffer the role of casualties.
That fails to speak beyond metaphors
Of how you famish me of harmony.

So, you distress like none of all combined
And turn me outside-in so I taste my heart.
With incipient kindness to my affinity.
That later painted my disdain for me.

Such disdain of extreme ranges
By which I am at the blackest end.
As black as your back is white.
As white as my darkest nights!

Broken Glass, Glass Cut, Blood, You

There's nothing for me but broken glass;
That spreads on this floor like a carpet;
Welcoming visitors with red grandeur,
Only to bring them pain later.

And rightly, they complain.
Usually with hurting gazes or killing apathy.
Not often do they shout.
But when they do,
'tis with voices of such disdain and scorn;
That I sulk to myself and curse my blood.
For it is this blood that made the carpet red.

So, I walk everyday with floor like this.
Sleeping and waking with nothing but this.
Trudging, even crawling through pieces of glass,
I increase the amount of blood on the floor.
Like petals of red roses, they shine with the moon.

Until once upon a time,
You came floating, an empty soul.
Never seeing the floor down below.
Never hurting with pain of glass cuts.
You came to refill your soul.
Only that I need most of them for myself.

Tell me, how do I enjoy my eyes,
More than when I look at you?
Weeping with your thin lips.
Pleasing the perverted air around,
With your gentle breath of numbing smell.
With your skin of candied sweat.

I hide within myself.
And kneel against my wish.
To pray to whoever there is;
That you be the one to clean this mess.
And turn my world around,
Then turn it off.
And wait till it dies,
Sans this red carpet of broken glass.

This hate that hates the hater

There is no end for my hate.
For it started even before I was born.
And there is no other reason for this hate,
Other than hate itself.

So, now that you know that I hate you.
And all the drops of blood in your vast ocean.
Even that which is my own.
Leave me be.
For, even before I have known this hate.
I know that I have no escape:
This hate also hates the hater.

What is painful is the revelation
That even those who have not caused this hate;
Those who merely shared the same blood,
Are scorn by this hate.
So that I may as well deny my face.

"It's sad
That your hate,
I could only reciprocate
With hate."

But I worry not.
For sooner or later.
Both you and I
And this hate will rot!

What is I?

I is a remark.
An exclamation of delight.
A word of the proud;
The hollow of the weak.
It usually appears
When the self elevates
From the recesses of a crowd
To sometimes,
The domain of the gods.

I is a pronoun.
A substitute of the self.
A mask, some may say.
That hides the wrinkles
Of age and suffering.
For it is young.
As young as they
Who dare speak it.
Few are those
Who realize
That when they speak I
They become immortals.
Ageless with overflowing youth.

Yes, I is infinite.
For humans die and perish.
But I does not.
And I is the one.
The only one.
Even that which
Suffers the peril
Of hate and love,
Without end.

Don't you see?
I is the one.
For I is alone...

Hence, I is nothing.
If it isn't a mark—
A separation,
Where the self ends
And You begins.

And You,
You, my dear,
Is everything!

Buridan

When you're falling
Into her being,
Ever accelerating.
With every smile,
And look and touch.

Even how subtle.
Even how small.

You see yourself
Frowning upon the sun.
— Hurrying to hide
Under the shade
Of the evening moon.
For you see yourself
Falling with frail bones.
With frail bones
Of vanity and lies.
Of worthless weight.
And heavy souls.
And you try to shun
Images of her from your mind.
And you somehow succeed.
Only to see yourself;
Falling not for her images.
But simply for her.
Falling.
Without drag.
Into the infinity of her soul.
Into the pain of her memories.

Even how subtle.
Even how small.

And so, you realize.
The inevitability of gravity.
Once you've started to fall.
Into subdued semblances of her.
In everything that you see.
In everywhere.
For everytime.

But then, this is your fault.
You are the hand that pushed
Yourself to the edge of reason;
Into her sweet intoxications.
Of sweet smiles and gentle breaths.
Of comforting bosoms and lovely lips.

Perhaps you could've been better?
Rescued by her.
But she doesn't care.
So now, you could've been better
Either way.

Love

Love is a breach in the walls, a broken gate,
Where that comes in that shall not go again;
Love sells the proud heart's citadel to Fate.
They have known shame, who love unloved.  Even then,
When two mouths, thirsty each for each, find slaking,
And agony's forgot, and hushed the crying
Of credulous hearts, in heaven — such are but taking
Their own poor dreams within their arms, and lying
Each in his lonely night, each with a ghost.
Some share that night.  But they know love grows colder,
Grows false and dull, that was sweet lies at most.
Astonishment is no more in hand or shoulder,
But darkens, and dies out from kiss to kiss.
All this is love; and all love is but this.

- Rupert Brooke

Unrequited Love Bullsh*t #2

Love, unrequited, robs me of my rest:
  Love, hopeless love, my ardent soul encumbers:
Love, nightmare-like, lies heavy on my chest,
  And weaves itself into my midnight slumbers!

- William S. Gilbert

Unrequited Love Bullsh*t #1

A mighty pain to love it is,
And 'tis a pain that pain to miss;
But of all pains, the greatest pain
It is to love, but love in vain.

- Abraham Cowley

Desert Rain

You are a drop of rain in this endless desert.
Why should you bring me pain?
Should you not quench my thirst for cold while it is day?
Giving me life while I'm awake.

Fighting this sun for a thousand years is lonely.
But then you came, then you came.
And so, fighting this sun is now lonelier.
Now that I know that you are here, but forever away.

Why can't you see, cold were the nights this past few years?
Always were bearable, but I had to fight.
So, I saw you, like fading mirage.
From then on, colder were the nights.

Then thinking of you, a secret I share only with my creator
All my past play like a child in the great sky dome.
With the stars all falling and piercing my arid lands.
Giving me sorrow, taking away all I have had.

Looking back all the days of this past year.
Shorter were these than my thousand years.
Yet, how could I've been without you all along?
To think of you, how long will I suffer, how long?

Perhaps I am just one of a thousand deserts.
Thirsting for the beauty of a fresh drop of rain.
Surely, in time, you'll leave even before you've come
Never looking back, never looking back.

And so, before I think of myself as a forest.
Like him gluttoning over, but never hearing you.
I shall sever the bonds that in this heart rest.
For deserts are meant to be without you.

Sleeper Sans The Sleep

I know you
And love you.
But you do not see me.
And so, I sleep.
Until you are able to see.
I sleep.
Even for an eternity.

A Strange Dream...

I had a strange dream
Of you and I dancing in a strange town.
I, ever careless of what I've seen
That your face and heart are none.