I sit beside helium, neon, argon, krypton, xenon and radon
the laziest and most boring elements,
they say
Thinking periodically how you came—
and stayed
Perhaps because ours is a chemical romance
like helium that always comes in two
like neon giving colors to my gray days
like argon remaining colorless and true
like krypton giving each other strength
like xenon starting from being strangers
like radon becoming each other’s weakness
This, I think, is why I like noble gases
they were once set aside at first
until they finally found their place
In response to dVerse’s Poetics: Let’s get elemental! hosted by Sarah who challenges us to write some poems inspired by the periodic table elements.
you’ll probably say there is an error in that syntax
that i should find love from within, not the other way around
but that is not the case — at least not for me
believe me, i have milked courage for all its worth
but every time insecurity enters my room,
i was never brave enough to meet its gaze
some days it comes with keys,
knowing exactly how to open my vulnerabilities
some days it comes with hammer,
forcing its way to let in my anxieties
everyday i wake up a survivor
but truth is i never left the scene of the crime
so if there is love to be found from within
it is buried deep in a mass grave—
along with the what-ifs
and the could-have-beens
Perhaps love will find me one day — I once asked a friend if is she loves herself. This was her answer and I find it to be one of the saddest statement I have ever heard. </3
You know they lie
When headline reads, ‘Cops say he fought back’
You know it’s an execution—
a purge, a shortcut
To what you call a ‘better world’
In between sips of coffee
You convince yourself
of the new normal
of the new ‘right’
In response to dVerse’s Quadrille #74 hosted by Mish who challenges us to take the word “sip” beyond the obvious.
This one is inspired by a news article I read this morning. The Philippine government is still waging war on drugs. While this started with the right cause, it has veered into an unstoppable purge. And with the poor justice system in the country, the war has taken a toll on the poor. This one is for the dead who were summary executed and for living who shrug sympathy and justice away. These 44 words are not enough to save the country from further downfall, it needs the Filipino people to wake up and stand up against impunity.
The sun has sunk and risen
And past felt out of touch
Like the silence after a curtain call
Or the dying embers of a fire
I watched it for the last time
In retrospect—
Swinging from pain and joy,
Trance and frustration
Memories tumbling out in smiles
At times in tears.
A demon waltzed into my subconscious
Where the loneliest of the loneliness remains
It asked me with indifference:
Would I live it all again and again?
Lifetimes flashed before my ancient eyes
Days that lifted me up
And those that worn me down
Lulled to sleep by the thought of recurrence
I said I would—
Until I move on to another life.
In response to dVerse’s Poetics: Time and What If? hosted by Merril who challenges us to look at time backward, forward, inside, and out. Ponder it into a poem. Then wonder, what if?
I was supposed to write about this before 2018 ended. But life happened. So anyway…
Last December, I dived into the philosophy of Nietzsche which eventually led me to the idea of eternal recurrence. This thought experiment asks us not to take the idea as truth but rather asks us what we would do if the idea were true. As the year was coming to a close, I took a retrospect of my short two decades. It was far from being perfect and in its most pragmatic way, life has shown me the beauty and the ugly. If given the chance to live it again exactly as it was as Nietzsche posed, I would. Until the universe agrees that I’m ready for the next.
i try to bury the pain and blink.
with eyes moving from tab after tab, ears focused on the mechanical tapping of keyboards, i try to forget their names.
The first tab led me to 9gag. A GIF of a “normal night” in an english pub flashed before my eyes. Drunken men fighting each other, brawling for fun. It was supposed to make me laugh— but it didn’t. The images of bodies thrown on burning houses played at the back of my mind. Blood flows to the river banks as the women of Rohingya shout in pain.
blink.
I clicked the second tab that led me to Bored Panda. A list of surprisingly simultaneous historical events that will change the way you think of history caught my eye. I couldn’t get past after the odds of Prisoners Arriving At Auschwitz Just Days After Mcdonald’s Was Founded were mentioned. I felt my stomach flipped at the thought of death camp. My mind traveled back to Syria. What are the odds of living for the displaced refugees? Then to indonesia, will they be handed their rights?
blink.
On a desparate attempt to shun the looming gloom in my head, I tried the last tab. The literature page, my second virtual haven next to my blog. The poetry section listed Edgar Allan Poe’s A Dream Within a Dream on the top. His words pierced me with added force and I plunged into the depths of helplessness head first. Is this life just one big false awakening? Are the endless murders and tortures just part of a nightmare?
i try to bury the pain and blink.
closing the tabs, unplugging the chords, i stared at the black screen
hoping to forget their names.
I wrote this a month ago, on one afternoon I immersed myself in the world news. I did not pusblish it because I was disheartend with what was happening. Still is. But back then the pain was too raw for me to share it in this blog. The cynic and existentialist in me has taken over my head, asking questions that could not be answered. Or perhaps I just do not accept.
the moon beams with your smile
and i weakened to my knees
like a madman, i hunt the streets
but the night hides you in vain
leaving memories on footpaths—
the aroma of coffee
the sweetness of ice cream
the taste of both on your lips
i love you
and there is no other way
not to
out of sight, i’m out of my mind
deny me
anything, everything
but not you
we got ourselves drunk in love
and left each other thirsty
these memories won’t suffice
but with them, I’ll survive
and until then I will cherish
the aroma of coffee
the sweetness of ice cream
the taste of both on your lips
In response to dVerse’s Poetics: Twisted Adages hosted by Jilly who challenges us to craft our poetry around an adage (or two) that you must change in some significant way. And since I am missing someone today, here’s a shoutout to the good old adage, out of sight out of mind. This little piece beg to differ. 😉
“Death might be life in prison”
I wonder what you’d say when I tell you this.
Last night, I carved a path out of this carnal flesh
Wanting to leave the world behind—
Thoughts, feelings
Images, emotions
Flickering like jeers from far-off constellations
Death, this world has too many body bags
And the irony that prison has become a safer place is a shame
Between us, I was the lesser WHY-person
And you were the one with the bigger questions
Transcending physics to the realm of extraordinary things
While I was lost in poetry and daydreams
Detached from the physical body
Passing through astral planes and realities
Talking about death and life
A skeptic and a believer at the same time—
This is how we’ll make love
“Death might be life in prison”
I wonder what you’d say when I tell you this, love.
I remember the first sunrise that I wished to have seen with you. It was glorious and warm and almost perfect. Almost— because I wanted you by my side. And that one time when the sky was painted with a light shade of pink, I thought you would have loved it. You said it reminded you of the blush on my cheeks. I remember that beautiful Rayleigh, too. That early morning when the eastern sky was a soft blend of purple and blue. The air was cold and I missed the comfort of your hug. God, I lost count of the times I fell for sunrises and the thoughts of you. When will you come back?
