Some line I wrote while waiting for her to arrive:
"She is a star's wish...
a dream's dream...
My hope's faith!
" Cupid's golden arrow pierced my heart,
the pain was sharp and building.
I dare not take it out
Though pleasure's pain it brings,
Because it plugs the hole where my soul slowly leaks out of."
She's here!
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Face the Music
Some of the women in my life,actually most of them, have come and gone without even leaving any distinguishable footprints. Sadly they were like the passing melodies of song over the radio. I hear it over the radio while driving, and I love it so much I crank it up till my ear drums are almost gonna pop. I am so immersed into the song, I'm humming along, I'm tapping the steering wheel but when the song is over, IT'S OVER, gone like it never even existed. I can't really remember the song I was rocking to that morning, can't rememeber how it started. All I remember is that I felt good listening to some song over the radio. Exactly like that song over the radio, All I have, all I am left with is the echo of the feeling but not the girl.
But there is and possibly was a woman who stuck to me like a "Last Song Syndrome". Believe me the song is never over, well at least not until a new song comes along. But until then you're stuck with it. Lucky if its some nice classy song that you genuinely like.
However it can be a bit irritating for those who have no control over the music they hear in the cab on the way to work. Sometimes its the corniest and the poorest excuse for a song or music but you end up singing it anyway. Like magic, the verses and the chorus just come to you automatically."Like kong chi kong chi ne ne ne" It was everywhere during CNY.
But like a supernova, it lights up the whole sky but only for a moment. It never really does last and is quickly replaced by the next song we choose to listen to. Nothing more than a binge of some sort.
There is this one, possibly one song that epitomises everything that you were are and ever will be. The evergreens, your OST. No matter what happens it will always strum the special chords that you will always tune in to. Sometimes we find different people who can sing them but we still ulimately pick out our favorite versions. And we keep playing it to the point of exhaustion, we take a break but then eventually like a curse you'll find yourself back there AGAIN. Listening to those songs again.
Eventually that one comes along. ONe whose original version can never be topped by a remake. Song and Singer are inseperable as if the melody would only be heard if it escapes through those particular lips. The entire thing making a slave of your senses. It can be overwhelming. You feel like you could listen forever. The fat lady and her aria. The notes put you in a trance and you hope that the fat lady never stops singing...
*put cd player on automatic replay
But there is and possibly was a woman who stuck to me like a "Last Song Syndrome". Believe me the song is never over, well at least not until a new song comes along. But until then you're stuck with it. Lucky if its some nice classy song that you genuinely like.
However it can be a bit irritating for those who have no control over the music they hear in the cab on the way to work. Sometimes its the corniest and the poorest excuse for a song or music but you end up singing it anyway. Like magic, the verses and the chorus just come to you automatically."Like kong chi kong chi ne ne ne" It was everywhere during CNY.
But like a supernova, it lights up the whole sky but only for a moment. It never really does last and is quickly replaced by the next song we choose to listen to. Nothing more than a binge of some sort.
There is this one, possibly one song that epitomises everything that you were are and ever will be. The evergreens, your OST. No matter what happens it will always strum the special chords that you will always tune in to. Sometimes we find different people who can sing them but we still ulimately pick out our favorite versions. And we keep playing it to the point of exhaustion, we take a break but then eventually like a curse you'll find yourself back there AGAIN. Listening to those songs again.
Eventually that one comes along. ONe whose original version can never be topped by a remake. Song and Singer are inseperable as if the melody would only be heard if it escapes through those particular lips. The entire thing making a slave of your senses. It can be overwhelming. You feel like you could listen forever. The fat lady and her aria. The notes put you in a trance and you hope that the fat lady never stops singing...
*put cd player on automatic replay
Projection
The major thing that drives us in life is to build and protect the EGO,
Otherswise known as the self. In everyday life we encounter situations where we feel threatened or judged and so we resort to our defense mechanisms. Our walls to protect us. And as any man made thing there are so many varieties of walls. One of the most common wall, defense mechanisms, is a process we call "Projection". We condemn something that we ourselves do so that society will never suspect that we are guilty of it. Example, A gay person denouncing homosexuality.
I don't recall the exact even that made me think of projection bbut I do rememeber the circumstances. I was in a train and I saw this lady nd I made a very crude judgememnt of her but then again I realised that I did the same thing. I was looking at her in pity, judging from her conversation on the phone, she seemed so pre-occupied with fitting in. I know that collectivism has a place and purpose but I never believed that it should be the prime objective in anything. "Why try do ahrd to fit in when clearly you're born to stand out".
I made the silent condemnation in envy I guess. I was really no different from her.There are a lot of times when I just want to "fit-in". And I felt like a hippocrite.Often we fear the kind of public judegement that we ourselves are guilty of.
Maybe the only way to truly roam free and to live a life of our own is to simply learn how to stop judging others. Unless we cease to commit the very crime we fear then we will always be trapped, stuck, lost and confused as to why we just can't seem to live.
"Let he without sin be the first to cast the first stone!"
Otherswise known as the self. In everyday life we encounter situations where we feel threatened or judged and so we resort to our defense mechanisms. Our walls to protect us. And as any man made thing there are so many varieties of walls. One of the most common wall, defense mechanisms, is a process we call "Projection". We condemn something that we ourselves do so that society will never suspect that we are guilty of it. Example, A gay person denouncing homosexuality.
I don't recall the exact even that made me think of projection bbut I do rememeber the circumstances. I was in a train and I saw this lady nd I made a very crude judgememnt of her but then again I realised that I did the same thing. I was looking at her in pity, judging from her conversation on the phone, she seemed so pre-occupied with fitting in. I know that collectivism has a place and purpose but I never believed that it should be the prime objective in anything. "Why try do ahrd to fit in when clearly you're born to stand out".
I made the silent condemnation in envy I guess. I was really no different from her.There are a lot of times when I just want to "fit-in". And I felt like a hippocrite.Often we fear the kind of public judegement that we ourselves are guilty of.
Maybe the only way to truly roam free and to live a life of our own is to simply learn how to stop judging others. Unless we cease to commit the very crime we fear then we will always be trapped, stuck, lost and confused as to why we just can't seem to live.
"Let he without sin be the first to cast the first stone!"
Response to Love Letter.
I was accused of casting a love spell.
Here is my reply:
I have her eating out of my palm, she said.
I be the Charmer and she be the snake out of the basket.
Addictive she says...
They way I bring coffee to her at work in the moring.
The way I make love to her at night.
The way I slip love notes.
The way I express my feelings in poems.
A black magic woman possesing her she says.
Stop she says I would cause it is her request
But I do not know how.
What strange effect meeting her has had on me.
I cannot be anything else as I am now.
ONce the hunter now the hunted,
haunted by her.
I will do anything to see her smile like that.
That tempest smile that makes me get coffee
Those lips'signature curl that make me write
I find a reason to fall deeper in love
On every road I took to escape her.
Now you tell me who bewitched who!
I who must labor to conjure a smile form you
Or you who need not do anything but smile.
You tell me who is bewitched!
Here is my reply:
I have her eating out of my palm, she said.
I be the Charmer and she be the snake out of the basket.
Addictive she says...
They way I bring coffee to her at work in the moring.
The way I make love to her at night.
The way I slip love notes.
The way I express my feelings in poems.
A black magic woman possesing her she says.
Stop she says I would cause it is her request
But I do not know how.
What strange effect meeting her has had on me.
I cannot be anything else as I am now.
ONce the hunter now the hunted,
haunted by her.
I will do anything to see her smile like that.
That tempest smile that makes me get coffee
Those lips'signature curl that make me write
I find a reason to fall deeper in love
On every road I took to escape her.
Now you tell me who bewitched who!
I who must labor to conjure a smile form you
Or you who need not do anything but smile.
You tell me who is bewitched!
MATH
It's like Math
Eg1. 2 ( a + b ) = x
Q1a) DIFFERENCES ( YOU + I ) = Chemistry
Factor in the differences between you and I and you get Chemistry
Q1b) SIMILARITIES ( YOU + I ) = BONDS
Add the similarities between us and you create bonds.
Eg2. 1/ 2= .05
Q2) lov DISTANCE ers
When lovers are divided by distance it almost seems like niether of them makes sense
they are standing alone cause they're only half of the big picture.
Eg1. 2 ( a + b ) = x
Q1a) DIFFERENCES ( YOU + I ) = Chemistry
Factor in the differences between you and I and you get Chemistry
Q1b) SIMILARITIES ( YOU + I ) = BONDS
Add the similarities between us and you create bonds.
Eg2. 1/ 2= .05
Q2) lov DISTANCE ers
When lovers are divided by distance it almost seems like niether of them makes sense
they are standing alone cause they're only half of the big picture.
Breathing Exercise
INHALE . . . . .
my breathe like the retreating wave.
I take you in, each pulse gasps for a breath.
HOLD IT IN . . . . .
A lethargic drug filling-up my senses,
A slow seduction creeping in my veins.
EXHALE . . . . .
My breath drawn away from me,
The wave racing back to the shore
that I stole them from.
You are expelled from my system.
INHALE , HOLD IT IN , EXHALE
cycle upon cycle
I'm on a high.
love overdose
INHALE, HOLD IT IN, EXHALE
Your perfume is so addictive.
my breathe like the retreating wave.
I take you in, each pulse gasps for a breath.
HOLD IT IN . . . . .
A lethargic drug filling-up my senses,
A slow seduction creeping in my veins.
EXHALE . . . . .
My breath drawn away from me,
The wave racing back to the shore
that I stole them from.
You are expelled from my system.
INHALE , HOLD IT IN , EXHALE
cycle upon cycle
I'm on a high.
love overdose
INHALE, HOLD IT IN, EXHALE
Your perfume is so addictive.
Love Sound
It is quite liberaing
To scream a moan
To shout a grunt
To just let go without having to care
about the person on theother side
Of the paper-thin walls
Express to me your delight
As if I were deaf.
To scream a moan
To shout a grunt
To just let go without having to care
about the person on theother side
Of the paper-thin walls
Express to me your delight
As if I were deaf.
Two Together
I lay here with you,
Whole but completely dismantled.
Where do you start and I begin?
In bed as tangled souls.
We are strength and grace together.
Not one of each but two of both.
As one, together as might and mercy.
Whole but completely dismantled.
Where do you start and I begin?
In bed as tangled souls.
We are strength and grace together.
Not one of each but two of both.
As one, together as might and mercy.
Friday, March 7, 2008
My Mother
She lived like a spanish princess.
Fragile and delicate as expensive porcelein dolls.
She struck awe in men as the luxirious dolls did with young girls.
Her widow's peak, an arrow tip, stood out proudly against her porcelein skin.
The perfect heart-shaped frame for a most loving face.
Her hair black as deep sorrow, ended in lucious curls.
She grew amidst coos and sounds of delight of those around her.
And blossomed into the subject of every man's toast.
Señora Bebe Aurea Agbulos Aquino, as I would call her.
The prized possesion of her Father,the eldest daughter of a brood eleven children and the favorite at that.
A true lady of almost Hollwood glamour and grace.
Graceful in situations where it was easy for a lady to lose her bearing,
She made devouring a water melon in a water-melon eating contest look pedigreed.
She made it seem like there was a proper and improper way of spitting out a seed into the air.
(She won that eating contest by the way.)
She smelled expensive without her perfume and glamorous first thing in the morning.
She arrived like a rolls royce when she entered the doors to a hall, as if the whole point of throwing dinner parties was for everybody to watch her parade in and the pleasure of her company was for members only.
It all sounds unfair I know but God is fair. And I will prove that point. Let's just say that on a checklist of the perfect mate almost everything would be ticked-off. The operative word there being almost.
Bebe + kitchen = disaster
It was wiser to leave all the doors of your house unlocked while away on vacation rather than
to leave your abode with Bebe unsupervised in the kitchen.
*disclaimer:The woman could bake the best chocolate cake but not cook please do take note.
She did her best though and never complained when she had to scrub a spoon or dust the house. If you could consider throwing away a dirty but otherwise perfectly good spoon and using ridiculous amounts of facial tissue as acceptable methods. Grandmom's idea of the ultimate tool for cleaning was indeed 3-ply facial tissue with lavender prints. Talk about the ends justifying the means.
I think you get my point. Nonetheless she did it without much complaint nor reservation.
I could imagine my grandpa scratching his head and simply smiling it off. There was just this innocence to her not knowing how to do it. I guess that's why they got helper.(Thank you god for Nana!!!that's another story)
Fragile and delicate as expensive porcelein dolls.
She struck awe in men as the luxirious dolls did with young girls.
Her widow's peak, an arrow tip, stood out proudly against her porcelein skin.
The perfect heart-shaped frame for a most loving face.
Her hair black as deep sorrow, ended in lucious curls.
She grew amidst coos and sounds of delight of those around her.
And blossomed into the subject of every man's toast.
Señora Bebe Aurea Agbulos Aquino, as I would call her.
The prized possesion of her Father,the eldest daughter of a brood eleven children and the favorite at that.
A true lady of almost Hollwood glamour and grace.
Graceful in situations where it was easy for a lady to lose her bearing,
She made devouring a water melon in a water-melon eating contest look pedigreed.
She made it seem like there was a proper and improper way of spitting out a seed into the air.
(She won that eating contest by the way.)
She smelled expensive without her perfume and glamorous first thing in the morning.
She arrived like a rolls royce when she entered the doors to a hall, as if the whole point of throwing dinner parties was for everybody to watch her parade in and the pleasure of her company was for members only.
It all sounds unfair I know but God is fair. And I will prove that point. Let's just say that on a checklist of the perfect mate almost everything would be ticked-off. The operative word there being almost.
Bebe + kitchen = disaster
It was wiser to leave all the doors of your house unlocked while away on vacation rather than
to leave your abode with Bebe unsupervised in the kitchen.
*disclaimer:The woman could bake the best chocolate cake but not cook please do take note.
She did her best though and never complained when she had to scrub a spoon or dust the house. If you could consider throwing away a dirty but otherwise perfectly good spoon and using ridiculous amounts of facial tissue as acceptable methods. Grandmom's idea of the ultimate tool for cleaning was indeed 3-ply facial tissue with lavender prints. Talk about the ends justifying the means.
I think you get my point. Nonetheless she did it without much complaint nor reservation.
I could imagine my grandpa scratching his head and simply smiling it off. There was just this innocence to her not knowing how to do it. I guess that's why they got helper.(Thank you god for Nana!!!that's another story)
Yes we all have our share of stories of the near disaster of the house exploding but
we always found consolation in knowing that she did out of a great love for her family and friends.
we always found consolation in knowing that she did out of a great love for her family and friends.
In the end the results were the same clean spoon and dustless furniture. This is the woman who raised me. And although I have had to learn my domestic skills elsewhere she taught me things about life that have helped me survive life with a little bit more grace and dignity than others. For this I will be eternally grateful.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Beneath My Touch
Her back is my canvas
My fingers crawl
Over its arched doorway going down in a squall
Of mixed hues and perfumed tunes that capture love’s fumes
Each finger assigned to a mountain to climb
As my brush swings back and forth in metric time
You rise beneath my touch wanting it to never stop teasing so much
Undulating strokes feed the flame’s throat in a song of ecstasy I float
Paint the pain away with each delicate blend you wipe away chagrin
Each picture brings me closer to your heart my beauty, my frame
Beneath my touch you come alive you free my love you take my chains
Art of your passion and song sends me to end of depths forlorn stains
Voodoo magic casts your spell take me to a place beyond heaven and hell
Bind me to your palette of joy taste the portrait behind a shy love’s coy
Never free me from your art of color and seduction
Until we both explode in love’s illustrated eruption
My fingers crawl
Over its arched doorway going down in a squall
Of mixed hues and perfumed tunes that capture love’s fumes
Each finger assigned to a mountain to climb
As my brush swings back and forth in metric time
You rise beneath my touch wanting it to never stop teasing so much
Undulating strokes feed the flame’s throat in a song of ecstasy I float
Paint the pain away with each delicate blend you wipe away chagrin
Each picture brings me closer to your heart my beauty, my frame
Beneath my touch you come alive you free my love you take my chains
Art of your passion and song sends me to end of depths forlorn stains
Voodoo magic casts your spell take me to a place beyond heaven and hell
Bind me to your palette of joy taste the portrait behind a shy love’s coy
Never free me from your art of color and seduction
Until we both explode in love’s illustrated eruption
-sensei and grasshopper
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Help Me Remember
What was it about her that made me leave everything behind
I used to think that if I gave all, I would get all in return
I was the one
the only one
she said it
and she said it well
I fell like the first snowflakes of winter
I fell right into her mouth and
into her feathered hair
My memory has done circles around me
Her eyes became the story I wrote a thousand times
My heart would beat beat beat to the touch of her hands
and now my hands cup this unfamiliar stranger
Disappointment. Relief.
Promises swift as the wind
I was not enough, to want
I used to think that if I gave all, I would get all in return
I was the one
the only one
she said it
and she said it well
I fell like the first snowflakes of winter
I fell right into her mouth and
into her feathered hair
My memory has done circles around me
Her eyes became the story I wrote a thousand times
My heart would beat beat beat to the touch of her hands
and now my hands cup this unfamiliar stranger
Disappointment. Relief.
Promises swift as the wind
I was not enough, to want
Monday, January 21, 2008
Jack's Beans
I hardly realized it
One day the rays of the sun did not enter my bedroom window,
As it did every morning
I was shocked by a gigantic tree that had
Grown so big, my house sat underneath its shade
Branches likea million cold hands reaching out to touch the sun
Was it in that long period of night that you grew
When was it that you got so deep
So massive the roots replaced the cement foundations
The tree’s roots and trunk the manolinth my house is now built upon
How could I have not noticed the growth
Of that tiny seed we tossed out my window
The shade is cooling, the leaves an umbrella to protect me
from nature’s harsh change of mood
Yet it scares me to not see the sun sometimes
I had made a habit of staring at it and getting a tan all these years
A pruning, that’s what it needs , I recall saying to myself
What witchery is this?
Like Jack’s magic beans, overnight it seemed to have appeared
Last night it wasn't there, I said. Looking up, standing barefoot
Still in my pajamas. I was not prepared to wake up like this.
How could this have happened beneath my nose
How could this have gone unnoticed?
Or has it been so looooong a night?
Or is the sunriseI recall from ages long gone
Could it be that this is a new sun?
One day the rays of the sun did not enter my bedroom window,
As it did every morning
I was shocked by a gigantic tree that had
Grown so big, my house sat underneath its shade
Branches likea million cold hands reaching out to touch the sun
Was it in that long period of night that you grew
When was it that you got so deep
So massive the roots replaced the cement foundations
The tree’s roots and trunk the manolinth my house is now built upon
How could I have not noticed the growth
Of that tiny seed we tossed out my window
The shade is cooling, the leaves an umbrella to protect me
from nature’s harsh change of mood
Yet it scares me to not see the sun sometimes
I had made a habit of staring at it and getting a tan all these years
A pruning, that’s what it needs , I recall saying to myself
What witchery is this?
Like Jack’s magic beans, overnight it seemed to have appeared
Last night it wasn't there, I said. Looking up, standing barefoot
Still in my pajamas. I was not prepared to wake up like this.
How could this have happened beneath my nose
How could this have gone unnoticed?
Or has it been so looooong a night?
Or is the sunriseI recall from ages long gone
Could it be that this is a new sun?
Thursday, January 3, 2008
Christmas Gift
Just for a moment can you be strong for me?
Hold me and let your mind believe that
You have the strength to get me through?
In that short amount of time,
Maybe in a kiss or in a tight tangle of arms
Can you be a pillar that I can lean on
A place to rest my back against while I balance the weight of my worries
Be the soft whisper, the calming voice, my oracle, my northern star
The one who tells me that everything is going to be okay
That it’s okay for me to be sad
That it’s okay for me to cry
That it doesn’t matter if I shed a thousand tears at night
Cause in the morning the night will be a dream,
Like it never happened at all
That this dream is not a nightmare that will hound me
Lie to me
LIE TO ME if you need to.
This is the time I need you to lie to me
Tell me you’ll be here even after the morning
I just need to hear it from you
Lie to me even if you don’t want to
Lie to me because you need to
Just this once tell me that all I need is you
That it’s okay that I need you the way I do
That you want to be my world
That you’re strong enough to want to be my everything
Just this once tell me what I want to hear
That your sun and moon rises for me
That I am like no other
That I am the one you’ve been waiting for
Give me that
In exchange
I’ll promise to not believe you
In the morning I’ll be the strong one again
Hold me and let your mind believe that
You have the strength to get me through?
In that short amount of time,
Maybe in a kiss or in a tight tangle of arms
Can you be a pillar that I can lean on
A place to rest my back against while I balance the weight of my worries
Be the soft whisper, the calming voice, my oracle, my northern star
The one who tells me that everything is going to be okay
That it’s okay for me to be sad
That it’s okay for me to cry
That it doesn’t matter if I shed a thousand tears at night
Cause in the morning the night will be a dream,
Like it never happened at all
That this dream is not a nightmare that will hound me
Lie to me
LIE TO ME if you need to.
This is the time I need you to lie to me
Tell me you’ll be here even after the morning
I just need to hear it from you
Lie to me even if you don’t want to
Lie to me because you need to
Just this once tell me that all I need is you
That it’s okay that I need you the way I do
That you want to be my world
That you’re strong enough to want to be my everything
Just this once tell me what I want to hear
That your sun and moon rises for me
That I am like no other
That I am the one you’ve been waiting for
Give me that
In exchange
I’ll promise to not believe you
In the morning I’ll be the strong one again
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
Remembering the 27th
The 27th that passes. A re-birth day. I am not the same anymore. This is the beginning, beginning of a start or end I really don’t know.
I Introduced myself
I greeted her with who I became
She introduced herself
And greeted me with eyes that saw who I really was
She kissed me, an resuscitated my soul
She embraced my body and cradled my spirit
In her arms, I was reborn
By her side , her hand in mine, My heart in hers and hers in mine
We will become who we were always supposed to be.
In a bubble far above the world, protected by time. Our souls ignited and united. Everything seemed so natural, so beautiful. Each mouth and hand and limb and breath knew where it was suppose to go and what it was suppose to do when it got there. Like this dance had been something I’ve known all along. The movements synchronized and graceful as if they were rehearsed by heart to perfection.
The days that are to follow are all strangers to me now. The time has come. This is the journey I’ve been waiting for , this is the time, the path to greatness. I am no longer sleeping. I am no longer dreaming, I am now ALIVE!
The challenge of struggling, the search for meaning,, the attainment of the moments of happiness. I do not know how to explain what I feel but I just know it is right. And I won’t let anyone get in the way of that.
I Introduced myself
I greeted her with who I became
She introduced herself
And greeted me with eyes that saw who I really was
She kissed me, an resuscitated my soul
She embraced my body and cradled my spirit
In her arms, I was reborn
By her side , her hand in mine, My heart in hers and hers in mine
We will become who we were always supposed to be.
In a bubble far above the world, protected by time. Our souls ignited and united. Everything seemed so natural, so beautiful. Each mouth and hand and limb and breath knew where it was suppose to go and what it was suppose to do when it got there. Like this dance had been something I’ve known all along. The movements synchronized and graceful as if they were rehearsed by heart to perfection.
The days that are to follow are all strangers to me now. The time has come. This is the journey I’ve been waiting for , this is the time, the path to greatness. I am no longer sleeping. I am no longer dreaming, I am now ALIVE!
The challenge of struggling, the search for meaning,, the attainment of the moments of happiness. I do not know how to explain what I feel but I just know it is right. And I won’t let anyone get in the way of that.
And A new Journey Begins
12 months ...
So long ago it seems.
So much has changed
My recent yesterday seems all but a dream
I dont even feel remotely nostalgic
I felt no hunger to look back
I did out of habit but did not dwell too long in there
I'm driving my car down a highway
I am scared to look ahead
But I have to
Its as black and as cold as death outside the window
I can't see what's ahead except for my faltering headlights
This unchartered road I'm on, not less travelled though
Just that I'm the only driving down it now
So long ago it seems.
So much has changed
My recent yesterday seems all but a dream
I dont even feel remotely nostalgic
I felt no hunger to look back
I did out of habit but did not dwell too long in there
I'm driving my car down a highway
I am scared to look ahead
But I have to
Its as black and as cold as death outside the window
I can't see what's ahead except for my faltering headlights
This unchartered road I'm on, not less travelled though
Just that I'm the only driving down it now
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