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Who are you?

“All the world’s a stage”
And if you wear
The same old mask
For too long
You might forget
Who you are.

“All the world’s a stage” – from As You Like It by William Shakespeare


Espiritus (and other poems)

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

She dances with the devil

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 stardusts
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

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

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

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.

Magical bean

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.

Mathilde

There was a green elf
playing his pipe
on top of 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 up 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."
And so 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 co…

I watch as your fingers play

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

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.
Life is a story written on the wind, waters, fire, and mountains of the Earth. 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.
As words float on the paper and tinker with my mind, a new paradise opens itself. It is on the paper where the realms of heaven and hell are created. It is als…

Her fingers dance

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

Elena

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

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

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

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 …

City of Words

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

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.

Yvanna

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.

An Open Letter to the Greatest Bedan Poet Isagani Mark Atanacio

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 too 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 any grain of sand and place it on your tongue —
Taste it.”
(And I did)
R…

Writing is a journey

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.

One Day

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One Day is a narrative poem that tells the story of the demon, Argon, who is saved from death by Stella, an angel of God. Together, they explore the mysteries of life and death amidst the chaos between their kingdoms. Should one persist in his duties or yield to a stronger passion? Is sin real? One Day is a spiritual journey of being alive. It is a prayer and a confession of faith, with a hope that tomorrow is full of miracles.

One Day XXXVII

“What is a star?” Argon wonders
“if not to explode and grant a wish
if not my head, falling
on her lap of dreams
What is a star
if not to imitate the glow on Stella’s face
or to repeat myself and my love as she sleeps
For a star can mean a million things at once
but what good is a star, even for dreamers
if it does not shine where she lies
For every dream can fall as a new wish can rise
but nothing escapes her eyes.”

Heartdrop

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Heartdrop is a chapbook of poems offered to the Beloved.

In search of Beauty

I journey deep into the forest
Always careful
with every step
at every turning point
I mark my existence

But every wilderness
is not only made of trees
It is made of soil and dust, insects, serpents
birds, hallucinations and dreams
Because it is beaming with life
The forest is alive
So I let loose my soul in the wind
I take my eyes out
and crush them with a rock
Now the forest knows that I am no enemy
of its flowers
Because I am one with the Earth
I continue to take a strange path
without looking back
for there is nothing left to see
So I start to gamble with life
believing that tomorrow is full of miracles
Come heat, cold, fire and darkness
There is no surrender
I learn to speak the language of the forest
I save a snake from dying
I learn to talk with the stars
And the forest keeps me alive
Suddenly, I am no stranger to the forest
The forest has become my teacher
It has taught me
to open my soul to faith
to open my heart to love
With faith, I follow my steps blindly
and find your feet
You are myself, perfected
Stripped…

I folded these words

I folded these words
So small they could enter your skin
Like little flowers, smiling
Their voices raw and thin

Perfectly creased, to bend
To your will, to your feet
Petals fluttering, to serve
Your every pulse and beat
Plucked from my heart
They shall grow where they belong:
From my body
Into your body, always heavenward
Because you are a Wildflower
And soon, these words will reach
Up to the farthest stars
And bring you the Moon.

And because I love you

And because I love you I do not mind
The rough swollen hours that I wait for you
Nor all the aching stars that my bones grind
Into your shape, even as blood turns blue
For what is life if not your angel eyes?
Petals of a rose floating in the sea
Or life without your lips of fire and ice?
Come mad birds inquiring: What is beauty?
I did not know love so overthrowing
That could move my pale planets to madness
I was lost in my orbit, collapsing
Until I stepped into your wilderness
Now, I love you with the earth's red fragrance
With a heart shivering in the distance.

Red luster

Red luster, red dress
Against the sun
against my face

My hands dissolved into your rays
The sweat of skin, white texture
And the river of your bones
We lifted each other into summer
of bed and whispers
I gave you my kisses
and you took me in your mouth
Dreams rushing, stars trembling
A hundred worlds freed with every breath
My eyes opened and closed in your eyes
And the rest of the world
did not exist.

Between

Between her eyes and the palpitating moon
is my firmament of desire
I watch poems hanging on pink branches, like wind chimes
resounding her beauty
to the naked earth - half truth, half fantasy

Yet everything meets in her gaze:
flowers open their petals to the sun
and the oceans evaporate back into the sky
A strange type of alchemy where everything
finds anything, everything except my throbbing heart
Looking out at the horizon
in the sweltering heat of the desert where I stand
I hear the chimes like a soprano of stars, and the wind
further affirming her reality, and further
evaporating myself
into fantasy — that I leap to faith, biting
the edge of the moon
Until her waters extinguish
my fire.

Entangling shadows

I watch
How your shadow melds
With my shadow:
Black ink, dripping
On white floor
An explosion in the air
Two shadows, and a hurl of your hair
Merged shadows, twisted moans, melting on my fingers
Eyes of tears, skin of sweat
I cup your face
And your body dissolves in my hands
Like fire, like liquid
I grab you more, and you spill
Then in silence, I hear you squeal
As I eat your voice
And see your wet shadow
More swollen in darkness
Bruised and purpled, in beautiful pain
A black rose, helpless and so used
Because whatever makes us human
Is no more
When lips are quivering
And while entangling
Shadows.

I see you

I see you
unfolding these words in my mind
And like how a white tulip unfolds
the sunlight into dreams
I see you even in my sleep
I see you
disguised in many forms:
pillows, blankets, papers, colors
and the food I eat
You are between the sheets
between reality and fantasy
casting miracles
I see you
and not even the mountains and the stars
can keep you from my eyes
Just as your heart is in my heart
so are your eyes are in my eyes
Soul of my universe
I see you.

If i were a snowflake

If i were a snowflake
floating in the sea
i would ride the wind
and fly through the valleys, over the hills
to the sky above your head

i have a thousand and one dreams, you see
i see them in your eyes
so when you look at me, i will let go of the wind
and fall like a soft whisper of a star
on your lap
where you can gather me in your hands
where i can touch and look at you closely

and melt before your eyes.

I watched her

I watched her
from across the room
I watched her glow
and steady

I watched how her body
crosses
the aisles of my dreams
into a delirium
of the senses
an illusion
of breaking
voices
and starving
breaths
I held her with my eyes
in heat, scorching
while the wildfires of my body
crackled
in lust, begging
for one kiss deadlier
than the last
but she peeled
my body
the way she peels
the stars
and like a daisy
waving goodbye
to the last afternoon
she breathed
the sun
into
the moon.

Except you, only you

When I lift a stone, or split a twig in half
nothing is there, except you
only you
When words become still
and music stutters between my lips
nothing is there, except you
only you
even when I tear the clouds, and pluck
the sunlight down my skin
nothing is there, except you
only you

Because I can be dull, all words
all senses, eyes and mind
but if you could peak through the beauty
that remains in my soul
nothing is there, except you
all you.

You came before the words

You came before the words
when the sun was still stuck
between two candles:

yours and mine

you came, oozing
with ink of translucent colors
like the color of your liquid motion
where my soul passes through
that I am dazed for years and years

for we are cut
from the same star, same moon
same earth, where the sun rises
out of your mouth to heaven

because this is not a love between you and me
but a love shared among all things

a rose with its thorns
flirting with the wind

yet always blooming

with tears
that carry the hidden laughter of the universe
while screeching and fading
into the silver lining of the sky.

Moon & Sun

Whenever he thinks the Sun
has fallen from the sky
She points him to the Moon
“Look at the Moon
She continues to shine in darkness
yet she hasn't seen the Sun"
'Which is useless' he answers

“Maybe. But everyday
it is the Sun who rises
wishing to be with the Moon."

Daylight

Daylight cannot always deny the subtle miracles
that unfold each minute, each hour
It cannot hide how you slowly part your lips
into a smile that pull down the stars
Nor can the night be so dark
as to blind me from your eyes
There is a hole in the sky
where I love you each minute, each hour
There is a hole and my heart seals it
My heart adrift with your breath.

Poetry is in her eyes

Poetry is in her eyes
Music is on her hair
My soul sits beside her lips
Hence love is everywhere
She fiddles with my heart
With each note falling on my cheeks
So I know she loves me, too
And if asked if I love her
I'll always say I do
I have loved her once or twice
Yet I love her more every day
Because she is my soul
And this is all I pray
I do not fear
How devouring time would fill this page
Because even if the changing winds redirect our sails
Love grows with age.

I visited my friend who is a scientist

I visited my friend who is a scientist
He was so busy in the laboratory:

“What are you doing?” I asked
I am picking up the remaining pieces
from my last experiment
I watched, curious and steady
“They are like shards of glass,
but soft and bleeding”
Yes, it is my heart
"And what did you discover?"
That nothing in the world
is heavier
than a broken heart.

He loves her

He loves her
perhaps too much
that a thousand lightyears cannot hide
her moon from his eyes
and while others hold hands
with a blanket of kisses on their skin
he leaps to faith with the sun
and stares at her soul, full of dreams

“Madness" the sun whispers
'Life' he answers
So every night
he plots the stars, measuring distance from dreams
hoping that he could trap
her light in his body
until it swells, until it hurts
and makes him dissolve into the night
so he could also be happy
so he could be one with her moonlight
Because he loves her
perhaps too much
That he might just be
the first person who will die
counting stars.

We played

We played, she and I
with the heartstrings tied to our bones
First, I plucked them low
and she released the tones, higher than I expected
"Perhaps I pulled the strings a bit too much?" I asked
'No, actually, you just strummed the lyre' she smiled
"Do not compare my profaning fingers with your undulating touch" I grinned
'Well, but you should play our strings the way I play the flute' she explained
'With my lips perched, you exhale while I inhale ---
Like this...'
And there, we realized that true music is not petatonic, but a rough scale
as the sounds hit and shut the door, turned against the wall
and dropped down on the floor
Then she begged me to move the notes to her bed
'O, you push too hard' she sighed
"Because the strings are so tight" I said.

She dances through the night

She dances through the night
Bending, swirling, lightness of air
A rain of music everywhere
The folding rays of her arms, in motion
With her legs stepping wide to the stretch of the sky
How can one hide such passion
Her liquid body and my sigh

I watch as her sharp contour shimmers in sweat
Like a petal to be plucked, raw and wet
She glides, bathing in moonlight
Holding a basket of dreams
Full of sweet goodnight
She tiptoes and leaps, small feet of fire, stepping on constellations
Then the light of the universe enters her pores, bringing mystic revelations
And while her soul talks with the Moon, somewhere far away
“Beautiful One, beautiful One” I say
Because she swings
Because she moves
Because she flies
While she dances through the night
While she dances on the floor of my eyes.


Daylight

Daylight cannot always deny the subtle miracles
that unfold each minute, each hour
It cannot hide how you slowly part your lips
into a smile that pull down the stars
Nor can the night be so dark
as to blind me from your eyes
There is a hole in the sky
where I love you each minute, each hour
There is a hole and my heart seals it
My heart adrift with your breath.

How does poetry help you?

"How does poetry help you?" she asked
"I do not know" he answered
"Why?" she asked

He looked at her, and said:
Because poetry lifts me
so high
that the clouds suffocate me
and I die into little pieces of sunlight
enough to pass through the gleam of your eye
or be the wind of your sigh
Poetry shakes my bones
that my soul drops
down into the deepest earth,
waiting for you to wake me from the grave
with one kiss of resurrection
Poetry does not help me
Poetry simply kills
Because poetry is nothing but a beautiful murder
that I watch my body screaming "I love you"
while oozing with the blood of dreams,
dripping poems
on the skin of your soul.

To the Moon

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To the Moon is a collection of poems thrown at the Moon ~ and back. Again and again, unconditionally.

Your silhouette falls in my mouth

Your silhouette falls in my mouth
Repeatedly
I could not speak, in pleasure

You compel me to rise and fall
To be lost and found
In your quivering hands
You confuse the bones out of me
I look for myself in the rush
And fainting ebb
Of your sighs
That I find myself in your soul
As tonight, I love you with kisses
Smoothly etched
Between the sheets
Of your being.