To dedications, and how sweet words can do their intentions no justice.
Words hold great power, strength that could stop tanks or let two find their hearts. Or so it is thought. Words fall short of potency and of perfection. Rarely does it ever happen that words add up to meet the right moment. A line said too early, or too late. A misplaced word that ruins the context of the sentence. A conversation not to have taken place,or should have.Words cannot properly convey their ideas to their fullest extent. Yet here, that ‘exercise in constant failure,’ a term given by another, abounds. Because in that constant failure, beauty can be found. Found in the crevices of non-ideas, the unabashed nothingness, the worth of unsaid things, and the brilliance of absence. Look,
Gravity Anonymous
uneven footsteps sound on the front porch scuffling of feet and fumbling of keys condensed drops of whiskey-scented breath fogging up the window pane creak of the door and muffled curses in the foyer as he makes his way inside and stumbles into my arms bloodshot eyes highlighted in cold moonlight bruises already forming at the sides bloody knuckles, callused fingers rough and warm, against my skin the stench of bar smoke on his clothes of cigarettes and stardust of cheap booze and pulsating lights of sweat and broken promises for his hands have been on someone else tonight weight of his chest as he leans against me thickly corded arms trapping me against the door nuzzling my neck and whispering apologies in my ear excuses i’ve already heard all the other nights before fingers intertwine with mine, even as i turn away but he pulls me closer; pulls me to the stairs and my feet follow without permission pulled by the weight of his gravity the attraction is intense and instantaneous the collision leaving me reeling and desperate for more and so i stay, stay ’til morning stay through the aftermath of our explosion and pray that there’ll be enough of me left to piece myself back together until i fall into his orbit once more.
Dream Jack Smash
Some nights I lay in solitude Thinking, dreaming, getting lost in chains of thought My thoughts echoing a silent soliloquy Shards of moonlight penetrating through slits in the windows The scent of coffee wafting from my white, nondescript mug My legs placed upon the table, relaxed. My eyelids trying to deprive me of consciousness, But the rest of my body fights and says no Suddenly, I was in a familiar place It was a familiar feeling She was there. I was there. No tension, no anxiety We talk as if we were old friends We talk as if we there wasn’t anything between us. We look at each other as if we had something She inches closer. I do too. The air is electric. She puts her lips close to mine. “Yes”, she whispers My eyes open The reverie is over. Fanciful thoughts put to an end. The solitary silence so loud The scent of coffee gone, the ceramic mug cold Reality puts me in my place yet again The reverie is over.
My Love, Forever… Anonymous
I As people they say, there is always someone: Someone who will care for you, Someone who will love you very much, Just wait for it, and don’t be tough to search it. II And that, I have found it to you! That ‘someone’ who completed my puzzle, That ‘someone’ who made my life special, That ‘someone’ is my love, that ‘someone’ is you! III This is just a simple thought, Especially for you, my only love! Despite of all mishap and dreary, Hope you like this very much! IV I am so really grateful! I had met a girl like you, Who comforts me when I’m alone, And always there in times of bliss. V For all the times we’ve been through, For all the effort you had exerted, For all the treats you had granted, A simple “Thank You!” won’t be enough.
VI I know you won’t forget me, Even if had hundred friends, There’s a special place in your heart, From where I am can be seen. VII I love the way you make me smile, The way we laugh and hold each other’s hands, Look after ourselves and care to each other, That’s what a relationship is all about. VIII Never will I break up with you, Even though problems try to split us. We will cope with it together, And together we will put it right. IX I love how we walk and feel so close when apart, Our love is ever lasting, for every beat of our hearts, This love is right, it has never been wrong, No matter what happens, I’ll love you forever. X Truly, I will always think about, The love and care we had for each other. For you are my first love, And from that, it would have no end. XI As this poem comes to an end, Always remember what I’ll say, “I will always love you! Today, tomorrow, and forever!”
Birds Who Pray Dismantle Horace Cimafranca
Timmy Jacob
A faint tangerine glow light the valley below long shadows cast over little huts of squalor
No one meant to offend But look what happened; look what happened here Look at this mess that you have made Look at this mess I helped create
At daybreak it begins with faces marked with grin with eyes filled with ardor and thoughts teeming with gore Before the rays have crept T’was time to pay his debt he who has lived astray and wronged the birds who pray Through gates of salvation this house of damnation where he summons the flock and feeds their minds with guck The birds who pray flew in hushed but rage fires within rid of naivety and years of bigotry As so its says in lore, gone are the times of yore for now the death is his He who promised them bliss
Revive, restore with surgery Or time apart to fix this deed Sever the ties, avoid the lies We'll find a way; we'll find a way Oh, mighty captain, mighty captain This ship is sinking fast I would like to blame the stow away He fiddled with the mast With no intention to dismantle He took this thing apart With no intention to dismantle He didn't want his heart I'll keep this secret Bring this secret with me to the grave No one can know; no one will know How the ship was to be saved
Another Year Joby Guerrero
I am looking By the window I saw you You saw me Typical memory But then you didn’t do Anything Anything at all You just stood there Smiling so Brightly I wanted to go out Hug you And say Hi But I also didn’t do Anything I wanted to Say things Things I haven’t said But still I just couldn’t say But I know, This is a dream Another Memory It’s been 3 years since You left me Who would have thought, You’ll die early
a remnant Jude Geron
Pictures fade With the passing of time The sharpness of color And the exactness of detail Lost to the wear of the ages That pass without end With no mean to end Lost to memory Are the colors that vibrantly shone Yet were merely representational Of the beauty they reflected The captured joy And a prized smile Second to none
Singapore JR Nepumuceno
Clouds come, greying skies. Ebbing and rising like tides. Fit for the sea lion.
Take me Moscovitz
Take me Swallow me whole Let me slip through the darkest recesses of your soul I’ll flow quite languidly Willingly putting myself into your hands Take me Let me travel through you Opening your deepest scars Until I see fresh blood I’ll tell you that they never healed because it’s true It’s there, painful As painful as the first time fresh blood broke free Unbound me Release me from my shackles Then take me Put me under your feet and crush me Let me feel the cold dirt under your shoes Crush me until I am dust, bones disfigured and muscles limp Until I am part of the ground you walk in Triumph in that thought because you do it everyday Hold me tightly
Until all air escapes my lungs Until my cheeks turn blue And until my veins burst from the strain Squeeze the life out of me then cut me in half then into even smaller pieces Until your memory of me is shredded Like the jigsaw puzzle on your floor that you never finished Then burn me like paper, like withered leaves Put gasoline on me so that the flames will reach the stars Those tempestuous lights that I’ll never see again Then take me until my body is no more. *** Take me from where I am Drag me across the freeway on a hot summer day You drive with the windows down and the AC off You suffocate me but I don’t complain It was an easy car ride You don’t even look at me once We stop at an exit whose number I don’t recall You gag me and push me out of the passenger’s seat I stumble on the hot sand
again Anonymous
rocks gashing my knee but I don’t mind You look at me for the first time that day A sneer materializing on your lips You lean your head back And spit all your disgust on me Straight into my soul You turn your back and leave me on the ground Your car disappears as quickly as everything Take me Find me and make me whole again.
Why your voice constantly rings in my head Like a car alarm that just won’t stop Reverberating, echoing Why I overthink all the fucking time About what you’re doing Where you are Who you’re with… Why it stings when you look at someone that way That piercing interested stare I see you give Not to me Why it’s them The ones you look at What is it about them Why it’s not me You glance at secretly And think, what if Like I do
His Wish Had Come True Van Guno
He was about to give up, Nothing else to try, He was losing painfully, He couldn't tell another lie He walked along the sidewalk, His misery hidden in shame, A heart so cold and broken, She was the one to blame One gloomy afternoon, He was seen in the park, Among the rosebushes, On his face shown a mark His smile was grim, His eyes bloodshot, He looked as if in pain, Standing there to rot He picked up a rose, The thorns dug deep, It was like her, Someone you can't keep Forever was he trapped, In an endless dream, He doubted everything, For they were not what they seem He longed to be free, To feel the skies, But he was chained, To his earthly lies
The thought of a bird, Able to fly, Free and simple, Flying up so high Yet, a storm was dawning, Wild lightning struck, Horrific thunder roared, And that bird was out of luck The rain poured down, He was still standing, As the rain drops fell, His tears kept pouring. Then came one day, A day to remember, It was a grave sign, On a night of September. He was on the floor, No one knew what to do, Only one thing was certain, His wish had come true.
Thoughts About A Collective ‘You’ Sam Gonzales
I was thinking about you the other day How we seemed to totally hit it off I thought I’d be alone with my pretense and enthusiasm And how I still am I was thinking about you the other day How you say witty, charming things And how I say a bunch of shit that I think could be endearing Because I try so hard to be I was thinking about you the other day How I’d like to tell you that I was thinking about you the other day But not in a creepy way, but with misguided hope, and a bit of longing I think you’d be creeped out anyway I was thinking about you the other day And how the frequency of my thinking about you is getting troubling Because the pit in my stomach says you’re probably never thinking about me Guess I’ll have to think of something else
Lone Wolf JR Nepumuceno
Within the forest, Hares travel through peacefully, Into the starved maw.
There in the box Derek Parrenas
There in the box, country
lay the soil which our
lives upon. There in the box There in the box, we walk through pillars of water, creeping through the coral a barefoot nation waiting on the farmlands re-claimed reclaimed lands/areas/territories There in the box; trees, mountains, people, cities built with foreign hands, foreign money in local lands, rivers, fish&fishermen, cars driven by empty man, empty schools of destitute brands. There in the box,
There (in the box),
A purple sun rises with
the roosters, call center agents emerge from structures, and a lone taho vendor his legs.
stretches
There, in the box, a sinful metropolis lives with saintly countrysides flags, blue and red [with
a sun and three
stars]
wave, wave,
and flutter down with the wind. There in the box,
lives a few within
walled towns,
like the pale-cream fortress
those old Spaniards built,
surrounded
bysprawlinghighwaysandstreetsandinformalsettlerswhoneverseemtoeat There; in the box,
is a gold-plated promise
with a hand gripped tightly on a rose-scented rosary
and a greasy hamburger, in the other
waiting by the road that
leads to
something from nowhere.
some haikus Horace Cimafranca
Three little people in search of companionship. Two little people.
Next station, Burnhill Give the old lady a seat Next station, Burnhill
No Idea. Anonymous
Why does it have to be you? I can’t help myself. I just can’t make myself forget about everything. After all this time, it’s still you, and I hate and love it all at the same time. I can’t even hug you when I want to. I can’t even see you when I want to. I can’t even look straight into your eyes without these old feelings coming back. I’m with you but I can’t be with you. It’s only a matter of time before this kills me inside. Very soon. I miss you is not enough. It will never be. How I wish to be the “other one”. -From a man I just met today
The fucks I give Vito Castañeda
The Southern Monsoon Sol Cortes
In the country club Tears shed, feet planted firmly Unable to move Unable to speak Finally accepts defeat Sacrifice chances Past fascinations Linger in the humid air Religion hinders
Hank Mardukas Timmy Jacob
Intimidation gets the better of me Is it simply a lack of self-esteem? I’ve taken the dive and only now start to rethink Am I in over my head? When will this all sink in? Tell me: Is there room for progress? I swear I think I’m getting nowhere I leaped off a cliff with arms outstretched Taking risks like these might as well be my death I’ll take two steps forward and get pushed three steps back Lose all momentum to get myself back on track I’ll choose to give up, retreat, and fold “You win some, you lose some,” but I lose quite more
Clouds of Cotton Candy Alvar Aquilino Santos
Catch me as a passer-by. No regrets. You would always look the same, And yet I would always feel the same. How I cringe and die inside. When you walk across from where I would always stand and wait, Time would seem to stop. No regrets. No hard feelings or melancholy. You’re always beautiful.
Words won’t be enough Joby Guerrero
It’s been a while since I’ve written a poem A poem that’s close to my heart, my home It will be a poem that I’m willing to share Definitely a poem about someone I care This person I cannot wholly describe Few words will never be enough So I’m willing my feelings to be transcribed In this poem, I’m hoping to craft And so to you, the one I dedicate this to I’m hoping this will remove your blues You’ve been there when I’m sad You’ve been there when I feel bad You spoil me with the things I want A cookie, a doll, you did grant You loved me with all your heart Yes I know that from that start You would never leave me in the dark You never left me when we heard that bark I cannot surpass the patience that you have To take care of me, my sisters and my brother I cannot outdo the perseverance that you have Being the partner and wife of my beloved father A million thanks would never be sufficient A billion sorry would never be decent I love you I will say it again and again Thank you for being my mom and my best friend
Of Shores and Shorelines Derek ParreĂąas
In between the eternal night sky and the abysmal sea, There we were, sitting on the shifting sands, just you and me Listening to the sounds of the waves, the weak wailing winds, And the lost souls of old lovers repenting for their sins. The whispers of broken promises become forgotten Here on this beach, where notions of affliction are foreign Washed away by waters that drag them to its deepest depths, Where not even the celestial gods can hold their breath. Consumed by the bleak sensations of the blackened heavens That beckon to death and destruction the faith of all men; The warmth, the comfort of your presence invites me to stay Bringing forth courage to make me last ‘till the break of day. Your graceful hands, they tremble, fearing what the future brings Not knowing where to look, because of joy and suffering Finally, I catch your eyes, I see the fear in your heart Yet, we both know, our souls can never completely depart. Cursed, this affection may be, repressible no longer; Stilling your slender arms, we stare, hopeless, at each other. We speak swiftly in silence, stars beginning to appear Finding our true selves in the words we speak, gone, is the fear. Drifting away while making declarations under oath, Eloping in the space within your eyes both, I am lost, not knowing where we are nor what time it is. Nevertheless, this immense senselessness can be called bliss. So when the moon finally calls on light, we will be here On this shore where despair meets delight with nothing to fear Here we are, sitting on the shifting sands, just you and me Waiting for the sun to greet the limitless, lonely sea.
Watching from Afar Carlo Magsino
Baffling stares, stolen glances Filled with fear and uncertainty Gleeful and spirited as you may seem Inside, a timid soul with a blurred dream Burning time in such a vibrant company We weathered almost all severe feats We were high up! Alas, you did not hold tight I was left in pitiful fright You did not try, You left me high and dry Cowardice, such horror A tragic story for a link left broken Screaming whispers from your sorry kind Screeching murmurs from my wandering mind With your constraints and limits I found bleak solitude Nevertheless, I came to know myself better I am proud to have been ever stronger A great lesson, Of the sincerest pardon Put out the fire and rebuild the bridge With a patient spirit, I will forever wait I will hear your thoughts and remorse Let us start anew with no force
May hihigit pa ba sa ‘Kamusta’? Anonymous
Makakalaya pa kaya mga salita sa gunita? Paulit ulit sa sarili Lilipas na naman ba muli’t magsisisi? Nasisilaw kasi ngiting abot ang ningning sa mga pantingin Di malirip, di maguhit Di makuhang tumingin nang higit sa isang saglit Sakaling makausap ka muli’t makatabi: Maari bang guluhin Buhok mong laging tuwid? Maari kayang hiramin Kamay mong aralin ang laging kapiling? Matatawa rin ba Sa mabababaw kong hirit? May pelikula rin bang pinapaulit ulit? Ano’ng awit bang hilig patugtugin? Sino’ng laman ng bawat panalangin? Ano’ng nagpapabilis Sa pintig ng dibdib,
Nagdadala ng tawa Sa ‘yong mga pisngi? Ako lang ba o iisa ang nais ipahiwatig pungay ng mga mata? Maari ka bang hiramin? Makausap sana’t makatabi Kahit minsan, kahit palagi
entropy Anonymous
this is, first and foremost, an apology. when i tried to trace your roads and alleys i led you into uncharted territory exposing all your faults and cracks most of which you did not know existed. i do not know when your heart aches, or when it bursts with joy. when i said the most inadmissible of things it destroyed you. i’m sorry. i forget that my words are fuel that you are flammable and that embers still have the power to start a fire. i do not have the power to extinguish you (nor do i want to) and the only choice i am left with is to let you burn. but i promise you you will be fiery, intense, briliant. and when you are undone when your flames die out i will gather your ashes and keep you safe. until the time you have pieced yourself when you are whole again forget me, leave quietly. soar.
The Summit Jude Geron
To be at the top And see the world From a new perspective In perfect isolation At the peak Conquering the climate Near immortal It is a fabled place Left to the imagination Or stories of the brave Detailing triumph The glory of life, they say In full manifestation To dare To risk To sacrifice To make the climb To see life unfold As the heavens do.
First Derek Parreñas
First, you are nothing. And then you are a person. And then you are a face. And then you are just a name. Then, you are nothing. We live.
giving up Timmy Jacob
Is it worth it playing games that you know you’re going to lose? It always comes down to a point where you must choose How to spend your time. Wasting it trying to win Or backing away ‘cause you know how it ends? It ends with you wasting time you could have spent Watching TV, or lying down, resting your head ‘Cause it’s tiring to try when you know that instead You’d rather be wasting time lying on your bed
TYVM
Joby Guerrero
Thank you for making me feel this way It’s been a long while, I have to say Thank you for making me smile all the time It’s been a long time since the weather’s this fine Thank you for reminding me that life is fun It’s been a while, I might have to run Thank you for reminding me that it’s okay It’s been a long time since I’ve wanted to stay You don’t know what you can do to me Your smile, your laughter, even you teasing me You don’t know your effect to my life Your actions, your words, even your strife You don’t know what I can do To see you smile, laugh and a tease will do You don’t know what I’m willing to say To see you and your actions everyday I am really hoping you’re now on your way Actually not, I just wanted to say You really make my skies appear blue Thank you very much for being you
untitled Horace Cimafranca
This boy is Little Timmy He stands on Picadilly waiting for Little Lily who instead came to see me
When Eris Had a Party Kenneth Reyes
Are we historians? Are we aviators? Don’t sell your disillusions to those Latin American communists. My heart gave out to you it seems centuries ago, in the time of saints. Now we are separated by silicon lovers, bridged by the ether, and what do you mean the poets are hiding? What happens to you depends entirely on another motion. (Now there must be an exit to this cage, where I shrink and wrinkle with age.) And memory–empires crumble, and grasshoppers are substituted by cigars from Vigan, and my epidemic past hey baby let’s face it don’t we love it don’t we this tinsel world? Don’t you know of my mother’s leprechauns? of the elephants that presided over the pharaohs of Egypt? Now they are no longer around, their peripheral traces j-j-jitterbugging like rivers underground. Ohhh shallow Athena, how your velarium gaze proliferates through the continents of my skin. But I know you, I have seen your face before, by the quantum light of my door, I have seen your face before, by the ocean floor, by the garden drawer, and I have heard your science & dreams my lady, your moving cathedrals, your electric philosophers with their sycophants & candlesticks shouting for MR. & MRS. VOLCANO shouting ALL MY FRIENDS ARE GONE shouting like a SONG like TWIN VOICES like THE GHOST OF MY PHYSICAL ENERGY AND HOW FAINT, HOW THE SEEDS OF YOUR VOICE HAVE GROWN, COME ON, THE WORLD IS A MARKET BLOW THEM SALT & PEPPER IN A BOTTLE ROCKET BACK & FORTH TIL YOU BREAK IT — (the tinsel store, your face before) — WELL IN A NEGATIVE SENSE I SHOULD TELL YOU I’M NOT JUST INTERESTED IN THEORY, SPECIFIC TO PROGRESS, LOADED WITH EXPLOITATION, ARE WE ARE WE ARE WE ARE WE DON’T MENTION THE GAUNT ROBBERS BUSINESSMEN IN BLOUSONS and all the same baby kick off your insect socks hey so leave your gloom plus the hostages of your barren 6 o’clock room for now we share it across a thousand hyacinths that bloom as the rest of the story goes acid, acid, acid, acid.
Patience Anonymous
How long will I have to endure this pain they compare to winter. This feeling I myself is so unsure was blurred, and started to wither. Why did I become like this? Why do you still want me and not want me at the same time? I’d rather find answers than endure this winter alone. But then again, I’m stuck in this plane of reality where we can never be.
Let Not This Moment Pass Jude Geron
Let us share this fleeting moment Together The lamp nearby Reduced to a trickle We fade With the dying light Time is Escaping us We grasp it We refuse its continuity There is no other place in space More favorable for my existence Than here It is For us.
Form 156 Derek Parreñas
The microscopic myriad of it all deluded me Left me cold and hungry and sick and destitute While facing the enormous mixture of travels with cars and trucks and ships and planes While treading at early dawn with a notebook in hand but a pencil missing Great walls of tar and cotton masking the ineptitude of death, Making life seem all so fragile, hopeless, worthless I faced the angry moon in all its radiant pearlescent light borrowed from other heavenly beings And in doing so I had come to face the void in myself for the moon is naught but a reflection of a personA person who looks at every street corner near Atlantic City hoping to find God laying there in the garbage A person that runs towards the direction of where the birds fly even if they fall to the cracks of the Earth A person living in a sea of shame and wires called the internet that beckons every second of time and space, leaving only a masked janitor that cleans after itself A person hiding behind the boulders of mountains in the Caucasus looking for asylum in the arms of a lifeless forgetful cadaver A person hunting tusks and horns of psychedelic mixtures shaped in the hands of powerful leaders running free from the grasp of the soul – I saw it all as I looked into the moon, O cheeseball of the evening, harbinger of the morning, ageless pacifier of lost couples Finding purpose in the night without stars bursting with light and cosmic radiation, I forget after the first second “Run to the holy Istanbul, land of Mosques and unveiled women,” many angry men have told me while I faced west to see with my burning eyes The deceit of the biological clock and in its deceit, the humility in the limestone reaching out to man’s ego “Face my naked soulless box of experience!” screamed the limestone at me, but its words do no damage Fixed, my path is, a dusty forgotten path where vines and old car parts have covered it completely
No one can remember where it leads, if there is a path at all, if it leads to painful salvation or blissful betrayal “Walk, and walk quickly,� the old sage of beggars and hobos tells me, his eyes full of wine and grit Every wrinkle in his angelic face holding dust and grime, his every action keeping in character I set off to find meaning in my illustrious path, surrounded by discarded ink cartridges, cigarette butts, cans of Coke, and carcasses of rats
Celestial Beings Alvar Aquilino Santos
I miss the Sun. I miss his light and his warm touch on my skin. I miss how he can make anyone smile and look forward to a great day. I miss how his mere presence exudes happiness and warmth. I miss the Moon. I miss her silent smile and illuminating grace. I miss the fact that even though she is shy, she makes you curious and explore the world. I miss her feint beauty only a selected few can see, and leave one in awe. I miss how the both of them made you smile at one point, and light your already perfect face.
untitled Song Adriel Arguelles
I took my time But these paths continued on wasted I waited for Good for nothing veneer So I headed on Thought I’d see the light of day Half a step behind your course Just let me be and fade What have we here? Broken pieces of my heart What have we here? Stolen shadows from the dark
Can’t love no more Can’t fight anymore Weeping for a song That voices all this pain inside of me I will wait (3x) Still I took my time Wandered off these wasted paths Still waiting for Good for nothing veneer
Stumped to even say a sword This shit has gone too long You’ve kept me on and on Stop leading me somewhere I can’t run I know soon all these faces will pass from places past But you’ll still be the one I’ll wake up to Wishing you were gone What have we here? Broken pieces of my heart What have we here? Stolen shadows from the dark Tell me, tell me all the words I want to hear Oh sweet, sweet darling I will wait, I will wait, I will I wait for you This weighted heart can’t haul no more
Motive Anonymous
It remained at the back of my mind ‘til Someone asked me, that I’d leave Ecosoc Would I miss the greatest joy or the break Of the heart that I know I couldn’t fake. With greatest honesty I could utter YOU’re why I lived awhile in Ecosoc Wrong motives I had and afraid I’m not To mean almost everything written above. Younger I was, being an active mem And you were the attractive senior guy In my closed mind and dreams, you had it all Library rat, manhunt, you were quite tall. Your Math elective was the reason why I took that unnecessary Math class Here’s another same org, and I intend Never, my motive I can’t defend. Coincidence that in the library I just happened to stay, then you went close ‘Till you sat down beside me, you’re just there And made me feel you wanted to be close. I was afloat until the day that you Had to leave Ecosoc, wear your sablay With that last photograph, you said farewell And all I could say is, “You take good care”. And just now I could say so truthfully You were my big anchor in Ecosoc Just now did I realize, a secret That my safe self kept, knowing I’ll regret. I could be a shameful Ecosocer Having that reason for my membership But oh boy, if only I figure out You’re me, you just haven’t figured it out.
This Modern Love Moscovitz
It seemed like it was only yesterday that she was doubled over on her tub and Tracy was washing the blonde dye off her hair. She was pissed drunk that time (wankered was how he would call it) and she found it quite amusing how the dye was swirling off into the drain and in a few moments, her hair wasn’t going to be Kool Aid pink any more. In a few moments, she’ll be just another blonde on the street with a ridiculous obsession with coffee. Of course, he’d disagree to that because he always thought she was beautiful. He wasn’t even sure how to begin to describe her. He loved the way her eyes lit up when she smiled whenever he’d play his guitar for her. She was beautiful because she didn’t know she was a song waiting to be written so that he could sing about her someday. Right now, she was sitting in front of her dresser and taking her piercings off. They clanked as they fell down into the metal bowl where she put all the gold ornaments that decorated her ears and nose. She was focused on making herself look decent and passable because she planned to hop off on the bus to Thames so she could spend the afternoon at the Design Museum. She knew he’d love it there. He had a taste for modern art and she wanted to tell him that she’ll be listening to one of his mixes while she was going through the galleries. He made really good mixes. It was his thing. He gave her every single mix he’s ever made. He always brought a couple of blank CD’s with him so he could burn it into them when inspiration hit him. Usually, it was her and she was why he made good mixes. He thought it was just proper to let her hear how wonderful she was to him, how she made him create art. She looked at herself one last time before she left her flat. Her hair used to be a tousled mess of Kool Aid and she found it weird how typical she looked. Now, her tousled mess turned into smooth waves gently brushing her cheek. She winced and wondered how he would feel about it. He’s never seen her as a blonde before. She was always a pink mop of mess to him. She wonders if he’d laugh at her because she looked so sane and white-washed or leave and then come back the next day with a poem written neatly about how snakes shed skin but end up more beautiful after each time. His poems were like that most of the time, simple (funny, even) but they had this certain way of making him transcend himself from his mind to paper.
It was a cycle he could never get rid of. He left London a month ago, without a single good-bye and without even re-arranging the magnets on her refrigerator to a clumsy “bye.” There was something in his gut that made him drive back to his flat to get his laptop and stuff all the clothes he can into his luggage and hop on a train to Kent. He felt the country was calling him to write and maybe he’ll find the words to the song that said, “I love you,” perfectly so he can sing it to her. But now, he knows she thinks he’s a complete asshat for leaving her and he doesn’t know how to say how sorry he is because during his whole stay in Kent, all that was in his mind was her and how much he wanted to fill a records store with mixes about her and makes novels about how she sets his heart ablaze. He wanted her but he didn’t know how to go back. *** There was something about the busy streets of London that captivated her. It wasn’t like New York where she grew up in. New York was noisy, dangerous, and dirty but at the same time full of life and stories that she wanted to know one by one. She thinks there was something mysterious about the streets of London, like how the fog covered the city with secrets and the rain always washes away her thoughts about New York. They were sitting in their favorite table in Starbucks that night he told her he wanted to come with her to New York. He said he wanted to feel what it was like to live in the center of the world but she gave a small laugh of disagreement because she thinks London was far more beautiful because it brought her love. It brought her to him. *** They met in the bus. It could be the same bus she was in on her way to Thames but she didn’t want to think about that right now. It was the weekend that time and a lot of tourists were piling in various places in the city so when she finally got a bus to stop, the only seat left was the one behind the driver and he was sitting beside the window. He was wearing that ridiculous orange beanie she hated, until now she reckons she wants to burn it whenever she sees it because it reminded her of a ripe orange mutated with a carrot. Plus, she hated carrots and he looked like one when he wore it. She should have just opted to stand and hold on to the disgusting handles on the ceiling instead of sitting next to him that day but she was sleepy and she didn’t know how to sleep while standing up so she had to be a slave to her circumstances. Fortunately or unfortunately, it was him.
She already knew he was good-looking when she took her seat so she had to save herself from the awkwardness of sitting beside a stranger for a good twenty minutes so she put her headphones on and listened to the record she brought all the way from New York. There was something about her that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. She had this sweet face that contrasted the shock of pink that was her hair. But more importantly, he could hear the music she was playing too loudly through her headphones. He was quite concerned about how loud it was for her and he didn’t want her ears to get damaged but then he laughed at himself for caring about the hearing condition of a complete stranger and a girl, at that. But he couldn’t resist the fact that she was playing the Virgins on her iPod and she was bobbing her head in time with the beat. It was rare that he found strangers who knew that band and he was resisting the temptation to rip her headphones off and talk to her about how much he wanted to see the band play live but he couldn’t because they were from New York and he lived in the dreary streets of London. Later on, he found out that she was from New York because an old lady hopped on the bus and since he was a gentleman, he offered his seat to her and in the hustle of asking the pink-haired girl if he could pass through, her earphones fell off and he picked it up for her. That was the first time they made eye contact and many months after that, he’d catch himself thinking about that moment as he sat on his windowsill looking at the city. Things seemed to have worked out for him because he got the courage to ask her if it was indeed the Virgins she was listening to before she put her earphones back on. She said yes quite enthusiastically and by the time the bus halted in front of the Design Museum, he found out what her name was and they were both going down at the same stop. *** Contemporary art was like that first shot of tequila you had when you were an awkward fifteen year old, trying alcohol for the first time at a house party. Well, that was what she thought to herself any way. It took time to let go of conventions and merely enjoy the fact that sometimes art doesn’t require much thinking and analyzing. It just has to be appreciated as it is and all you had to do was look at it for a good few minutes. They spent the whole day in the museum together. They went down the bus along with a group of tourists and they agreed that it was a good idea to follow the tourists
around and listen to their half-assed, quasi-intellectual musings about contemporary art. In reality, all they heard was, “This is bullshit,” the whole time and they laughed every time someone said that. During their time switching from one gallery to another, she discovered his name when he let it slip and that he had a nice head of curls underneath his horrid beanie. He got to tell her that he went to the museum often and he got his membership card a few months back just to save up on some money during his visits. She hadn’t thought of doing that before and he offered to come back with her the next time she went there so he could talk to one of his mates who worked there to give her a special discount. She was quite embarrassed at how nice he was to her and later on, she’ll know that he was one of the nicest people she ever met. They had a lot of good laughs that day and their conversation flowed unbelievably well. They liked the same music and went to the same pub (he found it quite funny how a pink-haired girl slipped his eye whenever he was there) so when they were in the last gallery, he handed her a mix tape as a parting gift because back then, he already knew she was special. She seemed pretty excited about the mix tape and gave him her number as thanks. And now, almost a year after, she was back in the museum sitting on a bench, looking at one of the abstract pieces while listening to the very same mix tape. She hadn’t visited the museum since he left. It wasn’t the same without him humming a made-up tune as he stood beside her, grinning as she looked at him in the hope of making him quiet. He’d only hum louder and sometimes, he’d hum into her neck and she’d be embarrassed because people looked at them. He didn’t care though. He was happy with her and he liked the way her giggle rings in his ears. She wonders what he was feeling when he made this mix. She always wanted to ask him that but she always forgot because they talked about so many things and the question would silently creep to the back of her mind, always left unanswered. *** Right now, he was on the train back to London. He had a pen in his hand and he was about to write something. He wasn’t sure what, though. Maybe it was a letter, maybe it was a poem. Maybe it was the song he’d been waiting to write all this time. Suddenly, it dawns to him. He wanted to tell her about the very first mix tape he gave her. The one he gave her on the first day they met. So he writes.
About how he all he could think of while making that mix was meeting the girl he could write about. He filled the mix with songs about the type of girl who would sweep him off his feet, about the girl whom he would wake up next to every morning, about the girl he would write songs about. About the girl he would love. And then it hits him. She was that girl and all he wanted was to make her know that his prayers had been answered. She was every song, every verse, and every poem he wanted to write. She was his and he wanted to be hers until every word was drained from his mouth and until his pen ran dry but he knew that even until then, he’d always have a way to say that he loves her and he’ll just have to keep finding the words for that because this time, he was staying and this time, he knows she’s far too precious to let go. This time, he’ll make sure to make her never forget that she was the girl he’d always been waiting for.
your poem here
your poem here
Cursed wretched forms Today the garden and the sky forlorn there a child and it all washes away to drown with sorrows and be lost in the fray