"Sexy Eyes..."

As i sit here in the balcony,

The city streets of Abu Dhabi

glimmer as the night creeps in...

Here i am,

alone....

My fishes dance in my aquarium

like damsels

caught in a trance..

I am here...

And, like the many nights before,

...

Alone...

...

...again.

I stared around my room...

My guitar sits idly in the corner,

awaiting for my fingers

to caress the strings

and sing love songs...

But...

Not tonight.

Tonight is not for love songs.

I would rather dwell in this silence

and feel your love from miles away.

My eyes,

fixed on the screen of this phone,

awaits for your message.

Mi amor,

I am being tormented by the thought

of you.

Haunted by visions

of holding you in my arms...

and there you are...

so safely tucked

under your sheets.

and with your eyes closed,

i cant help but wonder:

will i ever get to witness 

that profound moment

between your awareness

and slumber...?

because,

just as sure as you are there

bathed in dim lights

inside your room...

here i am,

with my silly smile

finishing this poem...

i long for the night

when i am there,

beside you...

savoring the moment.

feeling you.

...

holding you.

...

...tasting you.

that moment when

your sweet, simple smile

gently widens into a sexy openness,

as if to say: "ah, take me now..."

will i ever muster enough courage 

and indulge myself to a kiss?

your sexy asian eyes,

Which haunted my dreams for so many nights,

is such a pleasant distraction 

from this folly of mine

will i...?

can i..?

shall i..?

...

...

...

yes,

The streets of Abu Dhabi

are busy tonight..

but my room

is a silent witness

to the longing i am feeling

for your touch.

craving for the day

those eyes are staring

directly into my soul..

and see my truth,

my most sacred of secrets,

the nakedness of my being.

and find the boy

inside this man,

with his truth.

his strength.

his weakness...

just a boy....

...

saying: 

"Nasaan ka na ba...?"

(Enjoy your day, 

future wife)..."

Musings On A cold Arabian Night

the dunes of the desert are drifting silently…

waiting for the mideast sun for the final embrace

waiting for the clouds to pour its boon

and as the Bedouins gather,

i wait for you…

this room is a desert without you

this man is naught without you…

i wait for a few more hours…

it’s nothing, i said.

but an hour is an eternity

when i die every second

of your absence.

come home.

as i am drowning in this emptiness…

come home

before anguish engulfs me...

there is not a sound

in this four-cornered cell

but the ticking of this keyboard

ah well…

might as well close my eyes

as i wait for you in this bed for two

just one more hour…

an hour of solitude…

sixty minutes of waiting…

i missed you so much…

"umuwi ka na..."

Sleepless In Abu Dhabi

Smokin’ my Marlboro at 2:30AM...
A glass of vodka perspires
Like a lover lost in the limbo of lust

Twenty five square meters of emptiness…
And as my stereo scream Lennon’s words
I drift gently…

The smoke waltzes as I gazed.
Pondering as I followed it…
The glass touched my lips
As the night pulls me to bed.

But I can’t,
no, I will not.

The sea of satin sheets awaits

But sleep is futile without my lover.

And so another stick is lighted…

Poured my fifth into the glass…

2:45 and this pen touches the parchment

With words I dare not read
With thoughts I can not stop…

I stared at the smoke.

My head throbs to a crescendo
As I reached for my glass.

Perhaps,
This is how it is meant to be tonight...

Me, with my vodka...

And you…
...
...
...Somewhere else.

3-20-2014 (untitled)

Pardon me
if I ventured
restlessly
lost in the
wilderness
of my dreams
with you.
Where the
back road narrows
and eventually ends.

If you find me
bound
with all the weight
of the words
unspoken,
untie me
before the winds
of my sanity
meander
where the
back road narrows
and eventually ends.


Kiss me,
for your lips
are like wine
to my thirsty soul.

Let us fly
and burn my doubts
with the heat
of our bodies
entwined in passion.

And I wonder:
when I awake
if everything
will feel this real.

this good.

will you be
the angel
that you are?
or the devil
in my most
erotic of dreams,
where the
back road narrows
and eventually ends,

and eventually ends...

When God Made You (an impromptu Poem while in A Taxi...)

When God made you...

When God made you,
   He started with this masterplan
   of collecting the beauty of all the stars,

   put them all into what became
   your eyes...

When God Made you
   He stopped halfway for a cigarette break
   stepped back pulled a hit and whispered:
   "oh, this is going to be good one..."

When God made you
   He cussed for the first time.
   He turned to an angel,
   gave him a high five, and said:
   "Damn, I'm good..."

:)

(That's all I got so far...
but I think it's a good start.)

ssshhhh...

Your eyes have always looked
like they have a story to tell
and there is a hint of naughtiness
in the way your lips smile.

spare me the suspense,

come here
tell me your secrets...

=)

Thoughts...

I asked God
for love,

beauty,

and peace
in my life.

He gave me
you.

I found it too much
for a guy like me.

I asked questions.

He never replied.

I realized the answer was you.

Then,

it hit me,

You were the realization
of everything I have ever wanted,

and needed,

and more.


You

became my poetry,

long before I picked up my pen.


And now,

now that I have you,
I have love,
beauty,
peace,
and poetry.

Thanks for everything that you are.

And everything that we will become...

together...

As one.


Words...

No matter how much of them I try to write, they fail to capture what it is that you do to me every single moment of your presence.

I love you.

She Moves Me

She moves me
the way the waves
caress the rocks
on the shore...
in slow, rapturous rhythm
only to be calmed
by the ebbing
of the tide.

She moves me
like the sunset
ever so slowly fading from sight
with no traces
but the anticipation
of a quiet night
with the stars.

She moves me
like the whisper
of the night wind
blowing into this stark,
and silent room
w/ scents of wild passion.

She moves me
with her smile
as her clothes
dropped on the floor
one...
by one.

Like lines of a poem
unravelling on a page
line...
by line.

She moves me
(oh, how she moves me...)

Invisible kisses

My senses rest
In satisfaction
Of finding you
Lost in midnight sleep
In my arms

And the warmth
of your every breath
smothered me
with invisible kisses
and fills me like a river
flowing…
in slow motion.

Adrift
In this piece
Of heaven,
My eyelids closed
With the gentleness
Of two lovers
Locked
in a tender embrace.

The moon,
Jealous of what we have,
Hid behind the clouds
As we savored
each other’s soul
with invisible kisses.

(untitled)

there's no poetry


no rhyming words

no thoughts profound

just a lonely pen

on a blank paper.

...

until you came...

The Wanderer

his bags packed,
his ticket in hand,
he stared at the window,
waiting...
something keeps him
from leaving,
but his vagabond soul
thirsts for adventure...
if this is the life
planned for him,
why, then, must he resist...?
...
go, leave, forget, start again...
the old, familiar cycle of things
flashed before him
like a slideshow
... de ja vu, perhaps..?

Cappuccino Escapade

Stirring my cup
one sunny Friday morning
sat by the porch
with a view of the street,
the busy city street.
Took a sip
and lit my first stick
eyes led me towards her...
one fine lass
walking with her dog.
glanced my way
under those dark glasses.
what must I do?
confusion clouded judgment
so I smiled
with all the flirtiness
I could muster
only to see her frown.
Was it the sun?
or you just don't talk to strangers?
I saw him
walk towards you
the guy with a nice red car
grabbed the leash
carried your elbow.
Lucky guy, I thought...
Then it hit me...
and the realization
planted a smile
on my face...
...
Took another sip
pulled another hit
flicked my cigarette
went inside
and wrote a poem.

a poem for a blind girl...

Generic Fake Hello

(Office chatter in the background...)
the espresso machine is cranking again
the smell of pepperoni pizza fills the air

midafternoon coffee break...

my mind wandered
while staring at the spreadsheet
only to be distracted
by the fake "Hello, How are you?"
from someone I hardly knew
I turned around to give my reply
but he was already on his way
to the next man's cubicle
and  was greeting him
with the same "Hello, How are you?"

His generic, fake "Hello.."

Oh well,
I smiled and got back to what I was doing
staring at my spreadsheet
and trying to be profound
instead, I opened MS word
and wrote a poem.

My Oasis

Thank you.
For the hands
that picked me up
out of this misery
The misery
I almost started to love.
I was lost
and you found me.

I have been to places
looking for pieces
of myself.
And at times
it felt like
there's nowhere
else to go.
I was lost
and you found me.

I searched for words
to describe the pain
and the heartache
in my poetry.
I found you, instead.
I found beauty
when you found me.

You are my oasis
when the desert horizon
is too far out to see.
I thirsted for love
but I found life
when you found me.

So here's a poem
my poetry for you
for finding me
and me finding you,
my love,
my oasis.

Thank you very much.

Finding Myself

Midnight strikes...

my guitar sits in a corner
awaiting for my hands
as I stared blindly at my TV
here, in my room,
where traces of your scent
still stirs me from sleep.

One of these nights,
I shall pick up my guitar again,
cradle it again
and sing my songs again
...be alive again.

But not tonight.
tonight is not for love songs
not for poetry.

Tonight is not about you
not about the pain
not about the heartache.

It's about me
drowning memories of you
with every shot of vodka.

It's about me
finding myself again
loving myself again.

and for the first time,
in oh so many nights,
a smile appeared on the mirror.

because for the first time,
I am myself again.
Without you,
without the love songs,
without the poetry.

Alone, yes,
...but not lonely.

Standing Up, Again...

Go ahead...
   Inspire me with your words
   Lift my spirit with your smile
   Lull me with your songs
   Drown me with your kisses...

There's talk of you leaving me today...

Go ahead...
   Tell me the same words
   Smile the same way you used to
   Sing the same love songs
   and kiss me with the same tenderness

They said you found another guy...

Go ahead...
   I will continue believing your words
   I still fall each time you smile
   You still enchant me with your songs
   and I still thirst for your kisses

I refused to believe they were all lies...

Go ahead...

Go on...

Just don't go away.
   But if you must,
   give me back my heart
For i'll try to live my life
   without your words,
   without your smile,
   without your songs,
   without your kiss.

I'll try to live again
If I can...
  

Pieces

here's a poem about you
about the things you did
the promises you said
and the foolishness of me
believing them...
here are the lines
dedicated to you
and the many nights
I cried when you left.
here is an elegy
of a love
we could have had
if only you remained
true to your words...
so spare me some of your time
and listen to me whine
as I offer you this,
a piece of my poetry,
a piece of my heart,
'cause that's all that's left of me
pieces...

Memories of You...

Like scribbles on the sand
washed away by the tide
or that sunset on the horizon
embraced by the night clouds
memories of you...
Like lines of a love poem
losing rhyme at the last line
or the song the mockingbird sings
before she flew away
memories of you...
Like a painting on a wall
fading into obscurity
or a love story that started so right
but ended so soon...
memories of you...
memories of you...

"Rainy Day" / One February Morning... (circa 1995)

The Thirsty earth
      opened her arms
      for a wide embrace
      as the heavens
      poured its boon
      and together
      they rejoiced
      that one February morning.

and so begins the melodrama of Life.

In Extremis (at the point of death...)

He lies still
gasping for breath
as mud covers
his waning face

The poet is waiting

for the earth

to take his body

as dusk commenced...

Drops Of Red (circa 1996)

...for what is this life
      without the hands
      that cradled my heart
      away from the madness
      of the outside world?
   what is the use of dreaming
      only to wake up
      and find that i'm alone
      groping in the dark?
   what is a morning for?
      reminiscing a lost love
      that we shared
      the previous nights?
ahhh...
   what is this life
      without you?
nothing...
   just a clear white parchment
      with drops of red.

Love Unreturned (June 26, 1999)

In total silence, my heart cries

But tears won't flow through unopened eyes

Nobody knows this empty hole

tucked within my thirsty soul

No one can fill nor understand

The turmoils of this lonely man.

All I do, each breath, each move

unfolds the love I tried to prove.

Ahh, Love... Love is strange, I hear them say

But I'm here for you, and here to stay.

the morning shines on me with tears

for it knows not how to hide my fears.

I tried to bow my weary head

The clouds laughed at me instead.

And though I wish you are aware

of simple things that say I care,

reality dawned on me,

you and I will never be.

Time and time I tried to hide

these crazy things I feel inside.

It's killing me from within

(I hope someday you'll know what I mean..)

But for now, my heart lies burned

by this love,

a Love... unreturned.

An Acoustic Elegy

The 1st string aches
   and lets out
   a mournful yell.
   As the bard's finger prepares
   to strike the 2nd,
   the 3rd string cowers with fear.

His finger slides
   to the second fret of the 4th
   while the 5th gasped
   to warn the 6th
   who was silenced
   by his thumb.

And as the A minor
   echoes this room,
   his voice faltered
   with sadness
   and the wind
   rustles outside.

Lightning strikes
   from a distance
   and thunder
   followed soon
   reminding him:

There's going to be
   a storm tonight
   inside...
   and out.

A Monochrome Existence

Shades of BLACK
colour these lines
painting this life
shaping this man.

a GREY sculpture
of a lonely poet
bathes in WHITE
crouches in a corner
of his monochrome existence...

Middle Eastern Homesick Blues

My jacket on my shoulder,
flapping with the winter night wind,
my Ipod whispers a sad love song
and Jack Johnson goes:

   “It feels right
     It feels wrong
     It feels like when you have it,
     then it’s gone
     I want more
     More and more…”

I flicked my cigarette
as the bus approaches
And pulled a dirham
out of my pocket

   “…And if you steal the fire
     Give me some
     Cause the sun
     Disobeys while it waits
     for a friend to arrive
     from the past…”

I stepped in
glancing at the five people inside
all weary from
a hard day’s work

   “What holds us around, and around
     While we wait…”

Found myself a seat
next to the window
and closed my eyes
thinking of home…

The scent of mom’s freshly cooked
Pancit canton in the morning
Father’s jokes at lunch
and the fabled Pulupandan sunset…

Ten more days, I told myself,
Ten more days to spend
In a cacophony of keyboards
and phone calls.

My reverie was interrupted
by the speakers of a mosque
we happened to pass by,
beckoning the faithful for the Salah.

   “What holds us around, and around
     While we wait…”

(Damn! I missed Pinas…)

Your Gaze

Switch off the lights
I want
to fall asleep
into the darkness
of your gaze.

Soon, He Will Forget Her

The setting sun
will kiss goodbye
to tears
and the waves
will carry them
to a place
beyond memory’s reach…

The mockingbird
will stop singing
songs that remind him
of her
early morning voice.

Her scent in this bed
will leave this room
through the slats
of his window blinds,
carried by the sea breeze…

The stars will shine
again tonight.

But unlike the previous
nights before,
they will not
remind him
of her eyes…

He will pick up his pen
again at night.
But not to write
sad love poems
or a “why?” poem,
or an ” I want to die” poem
or an ” I want you back” poem

But a “Goodbye” poem.

And, unlike the other poems,
this one will end with a period.

Not a question mark…

And he will not use
the same words
in his previous poems
for her.
Words like:
“come back”
“I love you”
and “please”.

This is his poem.
And this time,
he will not mention
feelings of pain
or anger.

Nor will he hold back his tears.

Yes, he will cry
for the last time.

And let the tears
flow and drop
and leave ugly blotches
on this paper.

But he will continue writing…

He must finish this poem,
his last poem for her

And, unlike the other poems,
this one will end with a period.
Not a question mark…

his last poem…

Because…
Soon, he will forget her.

For My Father

The look in his eyes
is not the same
as the one I remembered
five years ago...

This one has that trace of pride
over a son
who found the luck
he spent all his life searching for.
Not the same look
he gave me on the front porch
of a house half finished,
like a symbol of his struggles.

I still can remember
his words that night
after six bottles of beer.
he said, and I quote:
” Find your self.
your life is being wasted
one day at a time.”
and I, drunk and crying,
swallowed my last swig of beer
I almost vomitted.

For between me and this man,
there weren’t much words spoken.
We were so alike.
That’s why we don’t agree
on a lot of things.
His stubborn pride
enduced by the experiences
he endured
and my own selfish pride
struggling to find my own way
so as not to be identified with him.
But I am his son
and he, my father.

Few words…
but they weighed
far more than I could
possibly put into this poem.

Growing up,
I discovered
how so much alike we were.
and I honestly hated that fact
so much, that I vowed to do things my way
only to discover
he did the same things
during his time.
I hated it.
But I am his son
and he, my father.

The arguments between us
over dinner
are now just memories
of how opinionated
we both are.
I laughed at the thought
of how stupid I was
during those times
failing to recognise
the wisdom in his words.
But I do now
and I thank God
For being his son
and he, my father…

Now, as I stepped down from the plane,
I saw the man
and saw how age has etched lines
on that familiar face.
We hugged.
Not so much words.
Just like old times, I thought.
But I knew how happy this man is.
I feel him. He feels me.
I know Him. He knows me.
‘coz I am his son
and he, my father.

We reached our home
and there she was,
waiting on the same porch
full of memories,
the mother and the wife
who has witnessed it all.
She was God’s messenger
to these two souls
the son,
and the father.

The night that followed
saw us drinking
with our friends
(yes, we are so alike
that we have the same
set of friends…)
and hearing him talk
about me
is a feeling
I wouldn’t trade for anything
in this world.

Five years
and a lot has changed.
The house, nearing completion.
But me and my father,
still with very little words between us,
share this bond
forged by countless bottles of beer.

Looking at him,
I realized how he loves people
and the company of friends
(as much as I do…)
and how I would look like
twenty years from now.
I smiled at the thought
of how blessed I am
to be his son
and he, my father…

"Surreal"

An empty can of coke
stands defiant
amidst a table
full of cigarette butts
like a sergeant
commanding a platoon
of battle-weary soldiers
to stand their ground
as a bottle of vodka
hovers overhead
in the eleven o’clock
blackness of the night.

Soon…

This glass will be empty
like the soul of a curbside poet
searching for words
inside a trashbin
only to find the grime
of a treacherous world.

And with every single word
added to these lines,
the ashtray choked
and told the poet to stop.

Stop.

Wishes On A Dead Tree

…and here I am,
standing in front of this tree
reminiscing those moments
when it used to be you and me…

We made a promise
(do you remember, dear..?)
you said you won’t go
as we were lying here…

Time has passed…
and I stand here and cry
You left without a word
and you never told me why.

Now, I have to let go
of things that will never be
‘coz my dreams are all but wishes
here, on this dead tree.

Out of Love..?

Please tell me, my dear
that you shall never leave
or abandon this soul
for I will forever grieve

I found bliss
in your arms alone
and in my heart
love has grown

why end this heaven
that we have?
might it be that you’ve fallen
out of love..?

(Untitled 31)

The ink flows freely
on the parchment of time
Unfolding every hour.
Perrennial pieces
that will last
forever…

My Pen

Lifeless

the pen awaits
its master's fingers

Still

it lies on the parchment
like a soul searching for freedom

Silent

yet each slight movement
spells thoughts on this mystery
we call Life.

…of a Lady

These empty arms
raised in surrender
by the bleak realization
of sadness
of the departure
of a lady.

These feet
tried to stand defiant
of the mocking
of the words
of a lady.

These tears
struggled to erase
the hurt
of breaking
of my heart
of a lady.

This man…
This man aches
to forget
the pain
of a memory
of a love
of a lady.

Where..?

Where are the eyes
   that summoned a lover’s soul
   from vague darkness?

Where are the lips
   that spoke of truth
   amidst this world of lies?

Where are the hands
   that cradled the dreams
   and promises of tomorrow?

Where is the love
   we once had
   and cherished..?

Gone..

Burried deeply
   beneath the remnants
   of an ever-chaotic world.

"Desperation"

Here in the dusk
   a trembling hand
      holds the pen
         against this parchment


the ink is screaming
   to be written
      but the poet
         ran out of words
            to write


… and so he slept.

December

Cold as the wind

That blows in the dark night

and gentle as the caress

of the morning dew,

wait for me

for I will come

sure as the sun

will shine tomorrow,

I will come.

And together

we will count the stars

till this dream is over.

Death Of Amatheus (for Regner...)

… and a bell tolls
this dry mid-afternoon

a soul departs
from its mortal flesh
as a leaf falls
from its bough
kissing the ground
and withers to nothingness…
His body lies in silence…
Waiting for the wind
to carry his soul
to placid rest…
…farewell, my friend.

(written for a friend of mine)

A Nocturne Trip

A tide of warmth
creeping up my neck
into my face
like a plucked rose
crying out silently
against the invasion
of sadness
…looked at her
with eyes like flooding rivers
of tears.
Girl,
I found myself
drifting…
into the nebulous, cushiony limbo
between awareness and slumber
Your eyes glimmered
in the harlequin play
of colored lights
… I went to bed
but the excited clamours
of my heartbeats
made my night sleepless.
My lips tremble
to tell you
these words.
When…?
tomorrow
(if I ever wake again…)