Charlz dela Cruz

she bleeds poetry
in the dark

a sweet, beautiful heart
shattering, like an echoing kiss
from miles, and miles away

sometimes she sees him
because she is in his eyes
and in every book of life
there is always a page where he loves her
half body, whole soul

and every night, as she returns
to the moon with a poem
he returns to her in a dream.

do not move a mountain with your faith it is a crime only move me with your love and mountains will swim  across the oceans trees will touch the stars for even a rose could love a thorn if you were mine

he has an obsession with death that nobody  could understand
he laughs as his soul breaks
life could not tame the fire

do not be afraid    to dance   with the Devil     show him     how well        you have grown
you have           a hell    of your own

everyone wants to be a flower
yet most end up
as a thorn

remember:

to be a thorn,
be like everybody else

to be a flower,
be yourself

love the rose
  but also
 kiss
the thorns
      or
   you do not
 love
   at all

(Note: This poem is written in Filipino.)

Aking mahal, kung maaari,
paki baon mo sa bawat paksa,
parirala, at kataga
ang aking sasabihin:

Ang aking puso ay taimtim na tumitibok
sa iyong kaluluwa—
isang pagsibol ng pangarap
tulad ng pag-agos ng gatas
mula sa mga bituin
upang masulyapan ang iyong
mapanuksong mga mata

Hindi mo ba napapansin
ang pagbuntong-hininga ng mga ibon
tuwing ika'y dumaraan o tumatawid
sa kalsada?
Tulad nito ang aking naramdaman
nung ika'y palihim kong pinagmasdan
sa ating munting eskwelahan

Aking sinta, mula noon,
araw-araw at gabi-gabi,
ako'y humihinga ng rosas
mula sa halimuyak ng iyong bibig
Kaya't huwag mo sanang ipagtaka
ang katas ng aking pag-ibig:
"Mahal kita, mahal kita..."
tila walang tigil na inuukit
sa aking katawan
"Mahal kita, mahal kita..."
aking bulong sa buwan

At sa bawat dampi ng aking labi
sa iyong sagradong balat,
sana'y iyong dinggin
at dahan-dahang bigkasin
na ako'y
mahal
mo rin.

you are
        a rare creature
  a myth
       buried
   in a secret page
     of literature
one day
  the world will have
       to dig in
and exhume you
    from my heart
to see
 how your soul
spills
  from your body
             giving light
     to the stars

kindly keep
this little secret:
i am
in love
with your
broken heart
so i understand
how you feel

you don't know
how much
my fingers
bled
when i
removed
the thorns
from
your heart

return to me
like a raging wave
destroying sandcastles
for a kiss

be kind.
always.
because some people laugh
while their souls cry
they love
while their hearts bleed.

if you can
kneel
before God
you can
stand
before anyone

in the universe
there is always
a space
for another star

why not
for love?

she hid in the pages
of a book
until she met someone
with the same level
of soul, love, and rage

be careful
when you love
too hard
you might
break

be brave
  because one day
      all the pieces
  of your broken heart
        will fall
  in the right place,
right time, right love
          at once

she gave him
her wings
so he could fly
which he did
away
from her

Pump my heart
and flush me
down
until nothing
is left
but the beat
of your Soul.

she may look like a rose
but her soul is a sword
before you can break her
you have to pass
through the blade

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The night is cold and bleak is composed of verses that explore the mysteries of love, shattered humanity, life, and  a fling  with Death.

I am become Death
for the soul
finally
died

I left it
floating
in the
Euphrates
for having
loved
too deep

nobody
understood

And now
Death
walks
upon
this pale
and muddy
earth
holding a
scythe

for it is
not
Death
that man
should fear
but
Life

and all
that move
and
breathe.

"Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds."  
—Lord Krishna, Bhagavad Gita

To embrace
fading beauty
and love eternally
what does not last
This is
the pathos
of things

a soothing
gentle sadness
to know
that
Now is all
you have
against
the grim
reality

This is
why
flowers
open their
petals
and laugh
at the
sky
and why
birds
little birds
fly

So before
the music
stops,
tiptoe
to the
stars
and kiss
the
moon

Let your
love
be fierce and
wild
enough to
set
the Soul
on fire

for the gods
envy
a blissful
death.

"Why do you always watch the news
grandpa?" asked the little boy

'To know what is happening
around us, of course' answered the
old man

"But, they don't care what's happening
to you, grandpa"

'Well, you're right,
but it also feels good since I have
lots of problems'

The boy looked at him questioningly

'See, these people' explained the old man
'they also have problems,
even bigger problems
so I feel that I'm not alone
that I'm even lucky
and I feel comforted'

"O, that is so sad" remarked the little boy

'Sad? But why?' asked the old man

"Because everyone simply watches
everyone else's suffering
and even enjoys it
instead of helping out
No wonder this world
is full of problems, grandpa
just like you"

'Just like me?' grandpa asked

"Yes," the boy answered
"because now I'm watching you
and I see that you are sad
just like them."

The moon waves her long arms
in surrender
as we talk about meaningless things
with pure joy and wonder

Your hands hold mine
as if to stop time in its tracks
while your eyes speak
a symphony of dreams
with your head on my lap

As the night listens
to still our voices,
you smile, and I smile
and all the stars
burn wild
in the sky...

Because, somewhere,
there is a little boy
proposing to a little girl
tying a grassleaf
round her finger
and they kiss
as we kiss
they laugh
as we laugh
and they hold each other
as we hold
forever.

"The Rosary is my favorite prayer." —Saint Pope John Paul II

"How beautiful is the family that recites the Rosary every evening" —Saint Pope John Paul II 
“The family that prays together, stays together.” —Father Patrick Peyton 

“The greatest method of praying is to pray the Rosary.” –Saint Francis de Sales 
"Among all the devotions approved by the Church none has been so favored by so many miracles as the devotion of the Most Holy Rosary" —Pope Pius IX 
“The Rosary is the Bible on a String” —Father Ronan Murphy 
“You shall obtain all you ask of me by the recitation of the Rosary.” —Our Lady to Blessed Alan de la Roche 
“Continue to pray the Rosary every day.” —Our Lady of Fatima to Sister Lucia 
"The Rosary is the compendium of the entire Gospel" —Pope Paul VI quoting Pope Pius XII 
“The Rosary is the weapon for these times.” —Saint Padre Pio
What the Rosary is
“The Rosary is made up of two things: mental prayer and vocal prayer. In the Holy Rosary mental…

Poets and fools like me
will continue to write about your beauty
and always fall short...

Because beauty requires a perfect balance
of light, mixed in
with intricate shades
of darkness
It is a sensitive art
that pours from your eyes
like a river

Perhaps, beauty is not meant for everyone
for it is as elusive as love

Yet everything your hands touch
and all that you gaze upon:
the mountain and its rocks,
the night and its stars,
even caves full of shadows –
You awaken their hearts

For hearts do not fall
for you
They rise... they laugh
they sing, they dance,
and go to war
to dream, and love...

I know a woman who carefully hands her heart out
for riches
And another who throws it away
for free
This is not beautiful. This is a mistake.

But, throw me a quick glance,
or something, anything –
a smile, a kiss, a punch, a stone,
or a flower –
and I will sing you
ten thousand love poems to the Moon
to cradle you while you sleep
in the heart
of a star.

When music stutters between my lips,
I try to play love in the key of C
where you hold me in a frenzy
of fire and poetry...

Let us dance into the night
Soft steps by candlelight
Scattered petals of roses
and your body
glows, shining bright

Let us dance into the night
I dare not ask for more
but to dance and watch our silhouette
drop on the floor, more naked
than flesh

Let us dance into the night
With your head on my shoulder,
I smile secretly
because you do not know
how much weight
you have
in my heart

Let us dance into the night
Would you hold me close and tight?
And when the last stars fade out,
I will love you more in the morning
with a love so pure and growing.

Death
is a beautiful woman
with long, blonde hair
and green, timeless eyes
One day, she will sit
beside you, smile coyly,
and kiss you on the cheek
She loves you
and will save you
from Life

Therefore, live...
Live with meaning and dignity
Do not follow the mainstream crap
Instead, yearn for things that have a soul
And be mad enough to follow your heart

For you were not made
to be tame
You belong
to the wild
among the brightest
stars
and the biggest
flowers

You bloom, you shine
in a crowd
of angels...

So that when Death
finally comes,
you can greet her
like a long-lost friend,
smile back at her,
and laugh
as you tell
stories
of how you lived and died
a thousand times
so you could kiss her
on the lips

Because Death
was once in love
with Life
until
you came.

With her arms crossed behind her back
trapped in a pillowcase,
she was a candle in the night

“Write a poem on me” she said
and I obeyed, very carefully
First, with my lips, then
with my tongue, I wrote
slowly on her canvas
while she held me with her eyes –
eyes that spread out like branches
touching the biggest stars

More luminous than the evening,
I tore the night to pieces
and dipped into her soul
“Be gentle” she whispered with a sigh,
like a soft flower to the moon
while I continued to contemplate the fire,
burning her secrets with my desire

With my lips replete with her kisses
and her breaths breaking on my skin to the sound of grace,
she bit my shoulder, and pulled me up from the depths of the earth
to the sun blazing in her body

I pressed her cheek against the pillow
and watched her melting, with every thrust
The sheets, wet and swollen,
wild with dreams

She whimpered, crying
tears of the moon –
yet she was glowing

We died that night
We died that night

when I sank
deep
into her …

I hunger for things that have a soul
If you have one, I will eat you...

I know a woman
who, in order to breathe,
writes a line or two
of poetry

I also know a man
who dances, naked
in the moonlight
with the ghost
of his beloved

I ate them.

I hunger for things that have a soul
and I am starving

Because when I show
the world
a beautiful
red rose
they only
see
the thorns.

I  have
       loved
     you
   long  before
the    mirror
   did.

The stars are the broken pieces
of the heart of God
He who dares to touch a star 
should seek the Divine 
with humility...

There was once a boy who wanted to touch a star
So he raised his hands to the night sky
but then realized that it was too far

Moved with pity, the Moon told the boy
a little secret: To reach the stars, you should
change
into the wind

So the boy climbed the highest mountain he could find
to talk to the Wind:

How can I be like you? he asked

To be like me is to become light replied the Wind
light enough that your breath can carry you
high up to the cosmos

How is that possible? the boy asked

Let go of everything the Wind answered
Let go of all expectations, anger, doubts, and fear
But believe 
and have faith in God
or at least in the miracle of being alive 
in this big and uncertain world
Only then can your heart 
leap out of your chest
to heaven, with love
and the force of your dreams

Remember: You are made of stardust 
You belong to the stars.

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Espiritus (and other poems) is a chapbook of poems  from the Otherworld the Neverland   to the Moon  and Stars.

Every night, her soul leaves her body
and dances with the devil
They hang on a string of moonlight
and sway to a silent rhythm

He loves her
sometimes she loves him too
Nonetheless, they always dance the night away
and hold each other as if they were dissolving

Someday, surely she will dissolve into ashes and stardust
and he will have to dance alone
His hands will miss her hands
and his feet will search for her feet

But tonight is unlike any other night
They do not just float, kiss, and bend
for they shall dance to the edge of the world
Never to return.

She wanted to eat the Moon
That is impossible I said the Moon is too big
Do not be hilarious she laughed
and held a coin up to the Moon
It is even smaller than this coin
I will eat it like an almond
Moments later, I heard that she rode a Lemurian crystal orb
and flew to the Moon

Next evening, I saw the crescent Moon
and realized that she was probably living her dream
of eating —
eating the Moon
Worried that no Moon might be left for humanity
I rented a helicopter and flew high up into space

I found her, sitting on the Moon
as if thinking of the right way to bite it
How are you? I asked
Come and sit beside me she smiled
I do not think I still want to eat the Moon she said
That is strange, why not? I asked
From here, everything looks more beautiful she answered
The Earth looks like a dream as it should be
And if I eat the Moon, we would not have this place to sit together

She reached for a star and plucked it
I can have this instead
Would you like some? she asked
No, thank you I replied
She whispered a wish into …

Fleshed out in flames, my hands
find your body
in every direction
I tiptoe to the stars
and meet your timeless eyes
Your back arches
like a naked mountain
catching the rain
You are water
with a body of fire, fingers of wind
your earthen mouth full of summer
Trapped under the tresses
of your hair
I look at you
as one looks at the moon
Whole star, whole dream
And the heart of the sky beats
with echoes of your name.

She is burning in beauty
yet she is not aware of it
Not aware that the whole world
is burning with her
Burning from her lips, burning
To her fingertips, to the trees
and the grass, burning
to my longing arms

It is I who see her burning
yet I who feel it
with every move

My eyes are red, my heart
swells, burning
each time the wind strokes
her hair,
burning.

Over there, through the valleys, on top of a mountain
there is a bean, a magical bean
It is hidden in a garden
that no one today has seen

It is guarded by a troll
who lives underneath a tree
If you can find the garden
then it is the troll that you will see

But every night, at 1 am, when the troll goes to sleep
is the perfect time to sneak into the garden and steal the magical bean
It is between the troll and the white sheep
Just be careful not to wake the troll from his sleep
They say that if you eat the magical bean
then you can wish for anything
So one day a boy goes into the garden
eats the magical bean, and makes a wish for a golden ring

The troll wakes up and eats the boy
and places another bean
between him and the white sheep
Because trolls never sleep.

There was a green elf playing his pipe sitting in a tree When beautiful Mathilde walked towards me And then Mathilde, o sweet Mathilde, kissed me
A rose bloomed up to her knee so I plucked it out and gave it to her and Mathilde loved me
The next day was as young as dawn when I woke with Mathilde lying next to me I waited for inches and hours for her to open her eyes so I could kiss them and kiss them Home of my soul, envy of the stars But Mathilde did not wake that day nor the next
So I went to the tree where she first kissed me And I asked the green elf I said, "Mr. Elf, what should I do? My Mathilde does not wake to me" "O, that is easy" Mr. Elf answered "Just kiss her on the lips But if it does not work come back to me"
I rushed to my Mathilde and hurried like wind to kiss her on the lips I blushed upon seeing her, thinking "What beauty, what art" And then I kissed her, slowly passionately, wearing my heart on my lips And then I yelled and cried For her lips were cold and …

I watch as your fingers play with sunsets and sunrises
Indeed, time cannot tame a beauty that is already in fire
Naked as the earth, naked as you are
Taunting the skies, your soul spills out of your body

How can anyone love you without form or pride?
How can I not think that you are made of dreams?
Day by day, I tip my hat, with my heart inside
to grace your stars — even the trees bow down with me


In haste, I scatter petals of roses to herald your every arrival
And as you open and close the door
of my life, which is a shadow of your steps
I stitch this love to the silver of the moon

For love is nothing like the dissolving universe
It changes as you move yet remains the same
Like this poem searching for meaning, a verse
with all the words, stained with your name.

Thank You for the gift of writing, which is a gift of sharing — the mark of humanity. Thank You for the words that I do not understand, yet find their meaning in another person's soul. My lines are nothing but prayers tossed into the multiverse. They do not desire salvation, but only confess Your name.
May I learn to write with a sword, tears, and laughter, for life is a story written on the wind, waters, fire, and mountains of the Earth. And may I never forget that amidst all chaos and hate, there is a faithless pilgrim in every heart who prays endlessly, relying on love and miracles.
Yet all these are words — meaningless words — starving and homeless until a soul receives them. Not to be understood, but only to be felt. This is how beauty is created, how life is created. It takes a leap of madness, courage, kindness, a bit of magic, and folly. Because words are dreams floundering in the void of Your imagination.
And as words float on the paper and tinker with my mind, a new paradis…

Her fingers dance on the piano
eyes closed, feet to the stars
My soul throbs with her music
eyes open, awake in a dream.

Looking at the Dark Side of the Moon
I see a woman, braiding her hair
Chanting a wish for every lock
of her long, black hair
Her skin is of rich olive
fit for the ornamental stars
and her eyes are deep, open
field of dreams
She used to be of the world
She lived on a hill
But the people burned her at the stake
for being beautiful and real
Yet her soul lives
and thrives among the lofty stars, transcending
time, space, and earth
And, looking — she looks at me and smiles
as she unbraids a lock of her hair, releasing
a wish
into the immortal universe.

She writes
as if she dies
with every line and word
She does not breathe at all
A corpse
dead to the world
yet wholly alive in love

She writes
as if the words are falling
tears of the moon
And the Earth opens itself
into pieces
She writes
to the one she loves
Not to the men who adored her lips
but to the man who kissed her
with his eyes, full of stars.

Poetry is free
as the stars that set fire across the sky
and while you stare at them
Do you see your reflection
thrown back at you?

The moon spreads its light
out like branches, aligning itself
to the illimitable galaxies
in your eyes, immortal fountain of dreams

The night is quiet
as the golden wind wraps you in its breath
and listens to the sound of your lips
when they touch
and part, birds sigh in the trees

Because poetry is free and wild
running in the firmament
of a fleeting universe
Yet close enough
that when you close your eyes
to sleep
I dream.

From now on
I will live my poems
And all the poems that touch my soul
And knowing that the uni-verse is composed of more than a single syllable
I will dance with the sonnets of life

I will be like a bird
No
I will stand merely as a human
Who has realized that to the skies
We are the stars
Wandering in an infinite world
Forming the real sun

I will forget everything that I know about life, about love
And experience everything the first time
Greet Sister Air, hail Brother Sun
Knowing that every decision, every act
Is my prayer
Tossed into the multiverse
I will look at the eyes of my enemies
And thank them
For being the best teachers in virtue and perfection
I will read the newspaper knowing that a greater meaning is found
Between the lines
I will continue my search for Truth
My search for God
And live a fairy tale

Again, like a child, without thought, without guilt
I will dance and fade in the music
And discover the mystery of a single breath
I will laugh insanely until heaven and hell open up
And eat my body
Because …

In the City of Words
There are words that float everywhere
You could pluck them, shape your own verse
And write your poem in the air

And in this City of Words
I held your hand
And we walked from street to street
“Give me a poem.” I said
But you only laughed, so I laughed
And you walked in beauty in the night
While I crawled on broken glass
Then, suddenly, my heart skipped a beat
When you wrapped your arms around me
Your lips on my lips
With the stars, dreaming
Beneath our feet.

Writer’s Block
Is over there
At the corner of the street

It is the place where all writers meet
Some cry, some laugh, most are drunk, while others complain
And complain
Because that is the Writer’s Block
A block devoid of meaning
A block just at the corner of the street
Where writers go
And where inspiration does not follow
Yet you should not fear it
Otherwise you would not recognize
When an inspiration comes
To visit you
And possess you
To take you on a wild adventure
Come, let go of yourself
And visit the Writer’s Block
While the muse is still sleeping.

My child,
Sweetly you watch the evening sky
You stare at dreams, floundering
In an open sea
Your eyes darting
A million constellations
My child, I watch you while you watch your dreams shining on distant shores
They are rare gems waiting to be placed inside your pocket
Remember: Water and fire are in your hands
And tomorrow is full of your steps
My child, pursue your dreams
Know that I am always with you
And if you find it cute, I will tear the sun for you
My child, I believe in you
More than the sky believes in the stars
You are myself, perfected
Your innocence grows in beauty (like your mother)
And you should know what the angels have always known:
I love you beyond poetry
My child, here is my secret:
You are my dream
You are all my dreams.

About a hundred years ago
During statistics class
We met
Brother, what is the probability
Of finding enlightenment
Under Professor Sylvestre?

Numbers could not do it
So we went to your house and talked with the beers
We drank the light of the stars with the gleam in our eyes
“What is Truth?”
‘What is Truth?’
(Perhaps another bottle of strong liquor will do)
Lord Jesus claimed it
So did Lord Krishna
This same question led us to drink more, smoke more, and laugh endlessly
Brother, why is it
That whenever we get close to the answer
It slips?
Perhaps Truth is the dream of the gods
Like a liquor bottle, broken into pieces
That the wind blows all over the world
So that men like you and I can have something to do in life —
An adventure written in dreams
Or maybe it is like the mysterious constellation Azalea
That only a very few people have discovered

“What is Truth?”

Brother, remember the desert where we met?
Last night, Azalea spoke to me
“Take a grain of sand and place it on your tongue —
Taste it.”
(And I did)
Right t…

Writing is a journey
That reveals submerged continents
For you to explore
Yet whatever eyes can see
Whatever ears can hear
The world will always mean
More
Close your eyes
And open your heart
Feel the verses of your spirit
Your soul your flesh
Your skin and bones
Let go and keep pace
With the powerful flow
And write the lines
That the angels are dying to read
Now hold your pen
For you are a god
Creating uni-verses
Wield it carefully but madly
Because when pen meets paper
Everything is torn
And I need you
To recreate
Beauty.