freeVERSES*

His Heart Skips Quicker than It can Beat

2010-06-23T08:52:00.003+08:00

Faster than the running wind
is an autumn leaf, falling
Can his weary eyes beguile
a colorless world?
He conjured himself since
a stupor brightly shining
where people everyday is a calm eternal,
where two of threes is four—

Oh knaves like you and me, we have
battle scars from fate and destiny!
We dare throw pebbles
but they hit us with bronzes
and golds and shards of sorrow
for us to treasure in a lifetime,
despite ourselves, dear, despite ourselves.

2010-05-30T18:16:00.001+08:00

Are you still avoiding them because you can't have them,
Do you now complain more than you've used to
Are you still good in math and science but know unaware
knowledge doesn't translate to wisdom
Do you still remember being disillusioned
Do you still enjoy writing about sports,
Are you still easy, breezy, easy to tease,
do you still prefer chocolate brown to gray pants
Have you found it interesting yet to talk in metaphors,
that regretting is a state of mind
Are you still funny, humble, have you begun speaking your mind
Are you still as green as you were, seven times a week
Would you be curious enough
Do you still play Linkin Park and Silverchair, do you
still play basketball and work for your family
Would you look forward to my asking you these
in daydreams or over coffee, as you know, I could wait forever

You, Capricorn Boy

2010-04-15T23:37:00.001+08:00

What misfortunes could be
as thick as thieves
and err them as fortuity;
to afflict
and deceive me, if they can
Thus would I writ what words
are left with my red right hand;
that the world is yours,
and you are mine to leave

I tunneled Time to build my recluse
only that you do not age but smolder:
The older I am the more your Youth burns
Calm is my weapon; venom may be this Bare Archer
I leave you now and return tonight,
my little Capricorn Boy
And thus did he writ what words
are left with his red right hand;
that the world is yours,
and you are his to leave

You deadly Stranger, always apart
Tomorrow perhaps
I catch the Sun with my arms;
You deadly Sun, cold is your glare
Tomorrow perhaps
I catch the Sun with my arms;
And I refuse, little Capricorn Boy,
a thousand Leaps to bewilder, to your bewilderment:
What misfortunes could be
as thick as thieves
and err them as fortuity;

I behold in yours what bright Words fell;
so Rewrit I did
But my quill is tied to what I know
and what I know is bound to my reed:
Truths are only what the heart tells them to be
Beguiled thus am I;
Bedeviled am I
to have caught the world in my arms
Solaced am I, and re-writ I did:
I caught the World with my Misfortuned arms.

Chimera

2010-04-07T04:30:00.000+08:00

The midnight men who stare
across solar meadows
await the dusk unaware
and running to where tomorrows
flee from their very presence

Eventide

2010-03-23T01:12:00.000+08:00

The night, in his heart, setting a darkened one aglow;
The night, on your skin, spreading its breadth too thin;
The night, all too dim, enveloping your body with a weary touch
The silence in this upward path downtown
would have cast further shadows
but thus did the lonely streetlight across your window
illumine both you and I

Mavericks

2010-01-23T18:35:00.001+08:00

I disappear to clear away the night
if you bury what was seven years ago
People move dryly against an old darkened light
We both take the path on a folderol

We both run in dregs and husks
Huntsmen in a city of pins and needles
We'll build castles in the sky
and shoot down ogres in standstills
We'll shoot down ogres from up high

Brazen midnights in overhung roads
Burn our brows over yellowed manuscripts
Bloodshot eyes grace them with souls
We've written histories with a thousand quills

With blood we cried truth
and hurried the world with everything;
Yet the games we played betrayed our youth
No one knew we've begun nothing
No one knew we've nothing to begin

I leapt up blind alleys and
wrote you promises I spurn
to letters of discontent
We all thought it was love you mourned

Our lives are what truths are only the heart tells it to be

Old, aimless memory;
We all aged in a heartbeat
I bloomed beautifully against your somber breath
and when the dust settles we'll finally wilt

Blue Jay

2009-12-27T03:27:00.002+08:00

He fluttered chasing hawks and owls
to roost in an open field
only did he leave with wounded wings

Pines trembled against
his song that even in
beakless wailing did his tears
clear the night away—

but a lone blue jay that goes to nestle
and flatten its crest
is only but a dream,

Receding, withdrawing,
there is only the sky who awaits his return
and a pith of blue to fall into;
He howled thus
and sang with such deadly affection

The Midnight Man Pt. 4

2009-12-26T04:03:00.002+08:00

We pulled over a climb
Breadths of burdock were in spring
Silver and dirty white
sank beneath the blue
I wrap you around my fingers
and you coldly settled on my brow
I stutter in an unlit night
and fall the bright words did,
but I battle you for another day;
I’ve set twenty two years aflame
dreaming of demons at my door

The Midnight Man Pt. 3

2009-12-12T10:07:00.001+08:00

The daytime is setting
in this broken subway
High and dry downtown
But I’m not done with the night
I saw you walk uphill
my mind race you to the bottom
Oh I reckon scripted marauding gaits
and learned curtain calls;
dragged feet on a freeway
neon lights are blinking
the city winds navigate
roadblocks and traffic signs
of speeding days, and nights
slithered like venom on my throat
Only a vice such as yours
can clear away this smog made of ice

No Bloodied Hands

2009-11-29T04:55:00.001+08:00

Let there not be mire
but the taste of fresh air
or that we may fade
in some other place
Let there be fire
in peoples instead
so they may embrace
no nothingness
or else build a fortress
and swathe the night anew
or to awake tomorrow
with no bloodied hands

Tomorrow Perhaps

2009-11-26T07:54:00.001+08:00

How far have you set out
When will I be your sunset
How I've waited for an unending dawn
or that we may fade with the rain

Oh, tomorrow perhaps,

The glare above the sky is
only but a thousand more dusks

Vice, Venom

2009-10-26T07:56:00.002+08:00

He sat down by the Apple tree
perfecting his sorcery
And his thoughts brewed poisons
as the world mowed and crumbled
while he was plucking the seeds anew
He sought and sowed a thousand more thoughts and fought
the Parrots and Donkeys in the Marketplace
His art cajoled them in the form of a Manuscript
They chewed his words and left no trace

He wandered with no sense of time
Though in fact he was on his way
wondering what crime
it was to endure and get by
when the world neither rejects nor accepts
the truth it was just a miserable Chance

He creased his brows, burned them to a tumult
He disappeared into the Midnight and Imagination;
try as he might to grace himself a soul
there were no piths but only its ghost

His magicks have become the dark,
the cruel and the stark
They’ve sown to hate the virtue that was
Crying Truth from the Blood
and how he rules the lazy world in Untimely sighs

Saint Sebastian

2009-10-25T04:49:00.005+08:00

You fought with a leap of faith
and was almost blinded in your haste
as you ran to fight your foretold fate—
the saddest story—
and you would’ve won if it were not
from the way he kept you in pursuit
with a well-draped loincloth

And so he lifts his arms only to make you hiss
and you bow down on your knees

He’s pinned down to the barks;
And you’re pirouetting into his willowy palms,
rawer than you’d be willing to admit—

The tribe brought him as a sacrifice
and the soldiers shot him to taste his blood
(they are his champions and rivals)
And when the arrows fell off the ground
He crushed everyone’s heart;
and tonight, he will break yours, too

High and Ever Deep

2009-09-27T04:30:00.001+08:00

Keep me from the Bare Archer,
I suppose you don’t leave yourself alone
when I whisper in the wrong ear
prying an unfazed crowd—
oh Icarus flew dangerously,
You don’t fly
to where pins and needles are;
I can’t help but look past the glare
to pull you back to the ground,
to a cascade unfound;
But you don’t have to tell me,
I know you’ve ebbed into the sunset
as timeless words become my leap my faith—

Lethal and Always Apart

2009-09-26T08:11:00.002+08:00

When they cruised the streets together,
all the buses and pavements roared back
Their faceless moving in sunburned tracks
left them with nothing to say to each other—
There’s usual silence
over unusual nuances;
Cradling and watching what sugar and beans
become few and far between
no matter how wide the streets;
And so did they stand apart and always lethal,
gripping each other’s neck and won't let go

The Commoner Pt. 2

2009-08-30T07:03:00.002+08:00

As I walk to the earthen, smoggy kingdom,
my brethrens carried torches to behead the throne
What wailing sounds they were in the distance!
I hear they offer graves to merchants
“...for breakfast?” the baron asks,
No ration to them who defiled the land!
And so I sold my book to a catalogue
of old-age fairytales and that wondrous ode,
Oh but their pulled legs betrayed their uncouth mouths!
Them words sung by angels, such majestic sorcery,
I would’ve carried my torch, if only lunacy was my mastery!

The Commoner

2009-06-13T23:43:00.000+08:00

Born in a swallow of earth and sky and for four hundred and eighty eight years The Commoner Still thought that the earth was neither gold nor grains, But was worth more than three hundred Years of silliness and more than half a century of grazing paradise out of dominatrices, imitation and half-meant jokes of complacency, Lethargy; and Today he stands naked with a royal dress, outdated, outmoded, insufferable for ever more.

The Story

2009-06-12T08:09:00.000+08:00

“You ought to have a breathing truth,” I once said,
You were torn asunder to an answer so soundless
to lock lips with the lipless–
because you were ever so sworn,
“But like a running wind,” I reckoned,
You thawed but left no trace
but only the dregs and pins
of the fearsome seams
of the old darkened lights
we once called hearts and minds,

and I surely remembered,
you long ago walked defiantly
like a huntsman, for I was the bullet
when I inched past your breath;
to commune and marvel;
only to trade them with the sunset
you loved most–and ebb into one,

So I ask for your regret;
Will the glare above the sky be the only but
a thousand more daybreaks and sunsets,

as you don’t trust you could take me anywhere, you said,
You could only sing such silent dainty madness
and I would only lay awake until I forget what has been
a cascade unwound so that we may grow up thick,
though I am insofar to see
the way beyond the folderol–
maybe you told me a fairy tale, after all

Most of the time it's waiting

2009-06-10T07:01:00.003+08:00

–with sweaty shirt and trousers
amidst people roundabout,
in perfect silence,
against a buried time that is equal to none
but the swerve of day and night,
on clouds made of dry breath,
under a starless firmament with which only
your voice could give direction, as if
my whispers could beckon;
–above a castle in the sky,
for your return, for your return

M'aimer moins mais aimer un long temps

2009-05-29T06:46:00.000+08:00

You've buried
me with a thought since,
with a thousand miles, with
every sunrise–
you chose not
to fight though your eyes
intended no truce;
your smile took forever
and I could only gaze as much,
affluent, unsaid–
like how the rain fell
without care
(like you would've been) while
I deferred to a callous hand;
you smelt of asphalt,
the sun
and stew and mangoes, and my
moon-kissed face
chafe against your lips

Until This

2009-05-08T13:05:00.002+08:00

Always would I tell, wherever/whenever
though you'd always whisper; this is it, this is -
it dawns and sets and I'd wander some more,
then you, you would not dare forgo; this is it, this is -
my time and heart and soul, wondering,
wondering where and when (I try to reckon);
until this, until this.

Everymen (The Midnight Man Pt. 2)

2009-04-09T06:46:00.000+08:00

You were just chasing pavements
When the roadblock tore them up apart
Then their cars ran you over,
I think construction’s just about to start
As though you smiled like you mean it
You’ve always wanted to take that leap of faith
But when you set out to wait
You just come around –
As you would’ve thought
That maybe it’s just a yellow traffic sign
Because you’re writhing against the stake
And the speeding red sunshine
Turning to a calendar when you awake;

it was such energy!
Time to chase some wild goose!

Try to be out of the woods
Your doctors told you to always catch your breath
You’re supposed to smile like you mean it,
because right now you’re just biting your nails wet
Do you meet people that often
Because you cannot trade your wits for yesterday
because you when stay put again
They’ll just run you over
As you would’ve thought
That maybe they’ll say the green light
is a word of advice
and the speeding world news televise
your haste has been an accident;

it was such energy!
Time to chase some wild goose!

You walk and crawl around the edges with a pistol in your head
You’re told the bullet will spill your blood to fill a dearth

As you would’ve thought maybe it’s the red traffic sign;
The Raven-haired, he’s just a passerby
The Midnight Man, he’ll only ask you why
Them Everymen now everybody walks off: wrap yourself up

Untitled (The Raven-haired Firefly Pt. 3)

2009-04-07T14:51:00.000+08:00

The capricorn boy at sundown left
chasing pavements at the forest
But the clouds have poured in; to crest
was to know by midnight he has wept -

with a flicker, with the wind and moonbeam
The raven-haired firefly rushes with a smile
Like a thought, it disappears for a while,
only to escape within his charred dream

The Ocean Drowns Through You

2009-04-04T04:09:00.001+08:00

How do you taste the earth
You felt
without a trace,
for twenty two years: what dearth
would’ve seared
your skin

What do you see, what do you dream:
the drop in the ocean–

I hear you see, walking above the stream,
the fire under your feet:
You raise your arm, rocks turn to wheat,
the gushing of wine

and how it glints –

Time is lent to what you meant
to make, to rake;
The ocean is wide, the ocean is sand,
the ocean trickles down your hand –

Does it fade, does it make say,
“It will trade for yesterday”?

Time is meant to what you lent
to make, to rake;
You are earth, you are dearth,
you are a drop in the ocean –

The ocean is afar, the ocean is sky
The ocean is such great height;
The ocean crashes on your feet –

but I can see it drown through you;
I want to see the world surrender,
I can see right through your eyes

The Bare Archer

2008-10-26T07:13:00.000+08:00

Turn timeless words into your scientific leap of faith
because the world is yours
and your heart is theirs to slake
with bourbon like a pouring rain;
“I am tomorrows
and a thousand more,” He said
and I believed what was in your trade
of relationships
as you and I were groundless
mouthing of the lips,
Tumbleweeds in springtime
in an unreturned promise
to return whence we stood,
“Such sweet hiss,” I reckon,
can only get as far as the mind’s eye,

so I will turn this oath into my good judgment,
this wisdom of denouement

I have seen the Bare Archer
and I fled like any sage would
“Does he have enough arrows,” I ask,

“I am a have-a-weakness-for
and a thousand more,” He said
and I believed what was not yours to keep
and mine to leave
as you and I are groundless
staring at the eyes,
Cascades in the desert
in an unanswered promise

I have come with my peapod of a shield
this shell of a wisdom of thoughtlessness

I have seen the Bare Archer
and I fled like any sage would
“I have ten thousand pins and needles,” He said,
He has come with a bullet

“I am a be-taken-with
and a million more,” He said
and I believed what was in this truce
of hearts and minds
as you and I were groundless
familiar recluses
Daffodils in the jungle
in an unaware promise,

Maybe I’m hoping you by
Such sweet hiss–don’t be perturbed
One day He’ll be hunting you, too

Tumbleweed

2008-09-28T20:14:00.000+08:00

Sir security guard,
prying unfazed crowd while I
drink my tea
thinking my case is locked
But I don’t complain about the seats
or the feats of rain season’s heat
in my trousers like they’re my shirt sleeves

or even the way I’m writing this
I’ll just nod away my silence in this train

trying to look sleepy-eyed
when I know you’re on the other side

Bat an eyelid for the clock
and bathe away the morning
I’m walking and looking and crossing this side
for the railway ride –
I don’t know where to look

and if I get caught, well,
I’ll tell you right away if I get caught, well,

And if I get caught, well,
I would’ve told you to stay

Half-life

2008-07-05T20:13:00.001+08:00

We go back and forth downtown for one day’s worth of
drinking love like a poison in a paper cup
oh how our worlds stop,
here,
But I guess I’ll just start over again
Are you a human behavior

with half-asleep stupor

So back and forth we rehash one day’s worth of
questions like the jukebox in solitude
oh how the songs confuse,
here,
But I guess I can hum along your name
Are you somebody for someone,

unnamed in a faceless crowd

When I’ve sung like a lark
I don’t know how to sing along

when everything’s the same
and when colors are pale
when I can cry oceans to sail you home
when everything’s the same
and when colors are pale
when I can cry oceans to sail where–nay, we go half-life

Mr. Mirror

2008-04-29T07:48:00.000+08:00

Mr. Mirror
and
Mr. Taking Off–he appears like a poem;
Words reflect and he’s read more
than Mr. Mirror can fathom:
every morrow,
he’d rewrite them to make a man out of them–
prose that breeds more spitting images
of Mr. Mirrors,
well, they come in all contours,
and stumbling too–
Like Mr. Lonestar (and Mr. Cigar)
on parchment...or so he wrote,
“a kiss is all in the lips,”
and walking hand in hand in the rose fields
like in a prayer:
Mr. Mirror and Mr. Art–
He appears like a note;
Refrains are sung and he’s listened first
than he can pluck a string:
every morning,
he’d chant again to make lovers out of them–
songs that keep more peas in a pod
of Mr. Peapods,
they come in all notes
you’ve always sought

Love Bomb

2008-03-30T14:47:00.000+08:00

Mars’ pit–partisan wit
They orbit the universe astray
‘O brazen marching–
He’s going to Venus to
write history anew

Footbinders; dead ringer, father–
Corsetmakers; dead ringer, my friend’s selling relationships
just like my mother, Eve,
They will have them march down in a spring of thorns and light
It’s wedding of the century:
“Taste that apple, she is your sin,
When all’s a Mars everyplace you go,”
‘O Damsel in distress,
Your captor
is a knight in a shining armor

Mars, girl; Mars, sir,
Drawing his lips near your breasts, yes–
Don’t drive that streetcar yet
“They have to be Desire,
They have to be Blanche,”
they wailed–
follow St. Paul

Flirt fishers; dead ringer, mother–
Jailbaiting; dead ringer,
my friend’s selling relationships
just like my father, Adam,
They will have them lounged in their gothic fainting room
It’s fashion of the century:
Porcelain face
Belladonna eyes
Brownsugars–
We will be, born from a rib

The Stranger

2008-03-22T21:49:00.000+08:00

Venus is a sugarcane
Maybe not from where I can taste it
like when all appetites wane;
I did not know our tongues can be fooled

Dear, you are a dandelion
Maybe not from where I can smell you–
I am your red rose of thorns
We both only cruise with butterflies

I’m a cascade in summer
Swigging me dry until I’m a dune
I can only stare to where
the moon is; you never pray for rain

when our wisdom can only
get true, love, is one-way getaway–
we are tea and sympathy
Run into me when we’re out of sight

as I am your myrtle, though
not from where I can be your cocktail–
I am not the earth you sow
but I’m content when you bring it close

to your lips. You can shatter
me like a glass but I’d still be the
pane in your windows; I’m never
the house you built it to be; I am

Venus is a sugarcane,
doubtlessly your Mars when in distress,
put damage on like armor
Maybe not from where I can defend

my territory; you are
a flood in my farmhouse of bygones
Brew me, make me a fountain
of your Dionysus, red as it is–

I’d always make you sober
It is a future we bet
when our wisdom only get
vague, love, is a one-note symphony

Getting Ahold of You

2008-03-16T01:35:00.000+08:00

Get ahold of you getting ahold of them
Get ahold an atheist in a coffee fizz
Mars on the red corner
calling out on the telephone
Ms. Medusa on the blue corner
turning me into stone

and I am alone,

in blades of grass, wounded
I surely need my fix
I didn’t know you were headed
Home, my prose kiss
the lipless

as doggerels can only cope
All their words turn to tumbleweeds;
I’d like to go to Venus, elope
with her and hit the moon
but I know she won’t be flying anywhere soon,
I still walk in the dusty fields

until I get ahold of them getting ahold of you
When you can get ahold of me in a tumbleweed

and I am alone,

drifting just in time to get home
I was hoping you were not sculpted like everybody else
and holding that chisel
to get ahold of me to be carved for your collection;
Fix your telephone instead, maybe I’ll get ahold of you
Close your eyes, maybe you’ll see more,
maybe you’ll break the wall that gets ahold of us, with Mars on the telephone,
Ms. Medusa turning me to stone, while I’m all alone,
in blades of grass, wounded,

I didn’t know you were headed
Home; yes darling, I surely need my fix
my stone-cold prose can only kiss
what is lipless

The Long Fall of Justice Pt. 4 (Exclusivity)

2008-03-16T00:20:00.000+08:00

The interest, yes, he will give to acquiesce
to a dearth, neither extent nor depth
Nay, just to his appeal to repel
monotony to exclusive monopoly
You just have to pretend,
Probably contend
in the mind’s eye
Meekly lie
As he brags his bags of sugar and beans
when the list just about begins;
all around the hounds,
with uncouth watering mouths;
as silly as their crime may be,
since if sins were truly stints,
I was to pay attention fee
to sleep beside your monarch, oh your stark highness
and our thankfulness, yes, to our acquiesce
to a bohemianesque so-called unique speck of existence
among a thousand more
reason to bemoan and feel real rare
Nay I say,
everyone’s a nugget for all you care

Not About Life: a Ripoff

2008-03-13T21:09:00.000+08:00

The morning blues
before now soothes
all the nicotine breaths and merely stares up yours
And nowadays’ lesson’s about how sure
you are to know if you’re the third policeman

but does it not scale to be truer
that my time is smithereens-clicking of an automaton
It’s not that I reckon
to be wide awake, for any more resolutions,
and just enough to retch
while I fetch
your dismal decisive approximations

Rapport, once married with Regard
bore children of tomorrow and now they’re just talking backward
I date a mardy Frown,
now are you smiling a tart one,
drinking your wine as your eyes turn white

for does it seem much truer
that time is just a sick in the head sort of various burlesque
It’s not that you asked,
to be here for the getaway, sweet enough to sting
or to depart, or to linger
in a sugarsweetbitterthrill...

...well enough that it’s not about the life
because you don’t have one
Actually you keep on your purple prose
since it’s not about my life
because I don’t have one
Honestly I just keep on my woes
when all I do is to keep losing purpose

Oh is this holiday in hideaway, well I don’t want to stay
That’s what I carry on with when I’m clockwatching
Adjust the hands, maybe I’d stay
That’s what I said when I was singing
my morning blues
It just scales truer because I only dream ahead with my sour words
But I could amend just as much
Take on the time that I think I stole,
stack it up with what I choose,
pass on the morning blues
and abscond the third policeman
because this is not his life
because he doesn’t have one
He just keeps on telling time
since it’s about my life
and I don’t have one
Honestly I just keep on what is mine
when what I’d do is to keep on what I have

Questions (Full of Beans)

2008-02-19T04:13:00.002+08:00

If I never don suits
I don’t know if I’d choose
red age shovels or stitching ten thousand suits for a buck
when you can just dream and

trying to race ahead
Because they think we’re led
by time or the universe or the undying cadence
He would make a point by

taking this cold, cold chance
to thirty minutes of chance
before the devil knows I’m still breathing, thinking that he’s
yet to be full of beans

when I think the long fall of prose made you fall to your knees
He does not believe the world is not what he thinks he sees

The Tense Hapless, Uptight Ennui of a Child

2008-02-11T15:46:00.001+08:00

The tense hapless, uptight ennui of a child
Wakes up suddenly with no sense of time
He goes downtown to see the wild
The roaring buses and the jagged pavements
The sun of the world, his accidental crime
Was to live
Among the vampires
With fairytales and stale bread and all their pale faces
And to fall from grace
he descends to the seas
of thought and aimless memories
of the wonderful ways
to get by without what they really want,
these jagged pavements over his head
and to where it led, to all the things said,
The tense child wakes up
looking right through the roaring buses
while the hapless child looks on
to the sound of this tangled forest
and makes him uptight,
well he knows he’s right
to wear off at the daily breeze.

The Last Hounds of the Pilgrimage Dog

2007-11-26T02:22:00.000+08:00

The moon is calling you in a howl
and it’s on the top of the world
You see too many in our word
and yet welcoming us like no tomorrow
while you sail yourself out
to arrest a lonely mind
and a solitary figure calling out
for a company and loyalty
The lunar flowers are here without hesitation
and I can only smell death and affliction,
and your peace,
and another woe passes me by
with no ease

By the Long Fall of Stretch

2007-11-13T15:43:00.000+08:00

Razing yourself down by the couch
because you know you got no time
or a even just a slight sense of it
You’ll know it when you’re twenty

Just another drag to them
Just another life passing
by the long fall of stretch
of all things y’like to build and
these groceries’re all overrunning
and the desks and chairs
and corporate attire
but I think I’m still a child
Still,

I think I just need time just because I want to
I writhe on the bed when I need to
until the universe gives me the path, or

Razing myself down by the couch
I’ve not wanted to have time maybe when I’m thirty
and have groceries and desks and chairs
and corporate attire
Just another life passing by the long fall of stretch
but I’m glad I’m twenty

Killer Bees (Nihilist Pt. 3)

2007-10-31T19:08:00.000+08:00

Never were the shadows
casting all your woes
Our hope is bouncing off of sun
Would you still be there,
Could you not be there,
After all, we’re letting go
until we’re safe and sound
There’s beauty in decay
There’ll be another way
for you and me

Never were the evils
casting off of your sins
Only you can forgive yourself
Death’s a beautiful help
Life is a towering wall
A soldier fights to die
until you’re safe and sound
There’s beauty in decay
For there’ll be another day
for you and me
until we’re safe and sound
The killer bees will make their honey
and the night will clear you away

Arresting Development

2007-10-21T06:43:00.000+08:00

Consummate your marriage when you’re a never-nude
Applaud your friend when you’re readily backstabbing
Love your girlfriend when you’re sexing a dude
Profess your profundity when you’re bullshiting
Protesting to be objectified when you enjoy it
Expand your vocabulary when you’re abusing the thesaurus
Despise mimicry when you’re excellent at it
Live by your choices when you’re depending on self-help books
Lament your woes when you’re actually happy
Try beating them when you really want to join them
Write like Edgar Allan Poe when you don’t even know poetry
Praise God when and only if you’re asking something for him
Purport honesty when your life is a lie
Love your job when they’re exploiting you
Maintain a poker face when you want to cry
Disguise your poverty with seemingly branded clothes
Love yourself when you hate everything you do

The Heart Shivers to Your Thoughts

2007-10-20T20:39:00.000+08:00

Mustering hope
for memories you grope
Threading in tightrope,
dashing off of noir
The heart shivers to your thoughts

After all the dreams
while stealing daylight
because your truths’re uptight
with the things you love the most
until the mind shivers to your thoughts

Aimless memory,
and your eternity
or must I wage war with time
An accidental crime
‘O clear the night

to this midnight man
The untimely sighs
in weightlessness,
The heart’ll shiver to your thoughts
We all are loaning time

The Dead of the Night Recoils Down the Pavements

2007-09-22T01:38:00.000+08:00

The dead of the night recoils down the pavements
There’s an eternal sleep for you as fear takes
the anxious wives and latent husbands
at the slightest sight
And all the flecked butterflies creep like terrorists
and chanting

at the dead of the night recoils down the pavements
Panic is a warm gun in the wake
of your ignorance
which is the bullet from the height
from your mighty horse, and saying they’re curing the disease
and running outside and singing

like buzzards, everything seems melodious
and so all that’s to see
is the proof that men’s not only blind but dead

They talk of sins, they’re all from Dis
And I can’t relate that much
but I’m guessing anything goes
So yes, your fear is my problem
You’re the same disease
So get off your horse and take that gun off your hand
Because it’s a proof that you’re not only blind but dead

Dionysus in the Jungle

2007-09-16T17:42:00.000+08:00

Hearing oceans,
the river in your skin
Can I swim with our hands,
grazing like silken
in shadows rise the risks
In thoughtlessness,
bodies that snare

Stillness is moving
across colorful leaves against yer skin
Dionysus in the jungle
and the gushing of wine

The running wolves in waters
in colors rise a whiteness
In all blackness,
Colors that snare

tears of unawares,
the bursting blankness
Sleeping in the woods
With running wolves in waters
In every despair,
Happiness that snare

‘Ole aimless mem’ries,
how do you see?
yer tart wine burns throats among the wolves

Cheerleaders

2007-09-07T14:53:00.000+08:00

They love y’all and but they despise y’all,
everything asymmetrical’re in a stall,
waiting to wage war in the name of beauty,
dancing to the tune of the ugly

Cheerleaders make their way to the fields
Bores come to burn the prairies
They’re always behind themselves
Bores can’t see their own ghosts

There’s always time to lament
and there’s no time to appreciate
What d’ya want?
Wage your war and ye’r one of them too
What’s yer slant,
are ye one of the scenic hues?

Ye want to be beautiful ye become uglier,
a story to tell if ye’lways wanna defer
The gifted and callous have’s,
succumbing to the revolt of the slaves
The consumer is consumed,
fairytale suicide will have to offend

Two-faced (Atheist Pt. 3)

2007-09-01T00:59:00.000+08:00

The peace-loving orations they are,
them all, who’re also going to war
Are we dead yet, are we there yet,
are we powerful enough to kill?
Smothered by Mary
Drowned in Water
Nailed in the name of the Father

They could be living adrift their two faces
to reserve one in heaven
They could be molding their two faces,
their oeuvre that is the beyond

The love-loving little Pascals,
them all, who exorcises the human
but calls it the order of the only Star
and wagers to presence

While the privileged saves their hide
and the prisoners converse,
that the ordinary is truthful,
the intellectual is forged,
and the ruling is useful
Just waiting to be thought of

Evil (Atheist Pt. 2)

2007-08-31T18:57:00.001+08:00

Rose releases us
in fifteen minutes
Papa gives birth to us
by three o’clock
I let go this time ‘round
I’d give birth to swords
this time ‘round, my lark

Never was the evils
washed away by black-clad
mistresses of their emperor
And turning us all
to concubines with their
creative book
The killer bees will make their honey
in sulphur and internet and placard
and diamonds and guns

The Drunkard (Atheist Pt. 1)

2007-08-31T17:54:00.001+08:00

The dark side got me on a lighter sigh
Revelry in inebriation
Brewing my malt at the tip of my rolling tongue
But they think we’re from Dis
so they’re clasping hands and
closing eyes and whimpering in beads
to wish us away
and brewing their worded poison
and cooking their tasteless bread
to wish us away

But aren’t their knees getting weak now
from crouching
while we drink to your derision
and dance to’ yer rains of tears
down your own cheerless foxholes
We have yer sins for food,
now get down the cross
we need some fire
We’re celebrating
We’ll laugh y’all away
We’ve been drinking to y’all sin-operated bodies
but they think we’re from Dis

Drop in the Ocean

2007-08-28T00:20:00.000+08:00

The water trickles down the stream,
the tears of the sons of the world
and pallid everydayness
desperateness
clings on winter’s day
in time for sugarsweetbitterthrills

The lark flies down the stream,
the flight towards the roads
less traveled. The openness
of air strangles its wings
with a faceless crowd
So soon did it have

to leave until the moonbeams
shines the waters heavy
while the nocturnals whistle
in the darkness
in the starkness of the shallow streams
The water trickles down it seems

like grains of sand in your hands
The lark amends
The faceless crowd does not bend
to the petroleum butterflies
They want to drown down the stream

and vanish in a drop
And while your hand makes a ladle
You’re neither quenched nor refreshed
and as it dissolves
in your hands,
the water trickles down the stream

Measly Soul

2007-08-23T20:34:00.001+08:00

No skies, no vertical
Dandelion breeze sweeps the end of day
No picturesque,
the platinum shines like faded jeans
The unsurprising surge of the farthest points
Nay, the world doesn’t want to know
Nay, your curse is running dry

Apologies to what y’recall
Maybe some other time y’all say,
“everything is picturesque”
But for tonight the view would’ve to recede
The world pawns
no distances just for the sake of your woe
Aye, you’re too much for a sigh

but all sighs’re to be swallowed
Tell your tales on the faded jeans
and write your name on the fiery snow
The world is not as friendly as it seems
But aye, don’t be cheerless,
everyone awaits for your return
We all’re loaning time

‘Ole Sweet Player

2007-08-22T16:47:00.000+08:00

I never really thought of it
Oh y’know the lovely words
and sugarsweet garlands
and faces that fit
in their frames
I’m always on a higher state of consciousness
I live with outlaws
and I am possessed by evilness
and it breaks my heart
it feeds my mind

Supposing I never saw you
or ever heard your voice,
What if I never talked with you,
or made verses for you
Assuming I never saw your smile
or heard your boring quips
Supposing I left too early
or came in too late
Would it break my heart
or would I have one at all

All the higher states of consciousness
despise you, for they like
to be told in my verses
But why do you nourish the heart
and starve the mind
But y’know I never really thought of it
Words and garlands and faces taste bitter
while chances are a fate
and I don’t believe in fate
and it breaks my heart
it feeds my mind

Pretension and the Dancing Fairies

2007-08-22T16:12:00.000+08:00

Despising is surrender,
oh how you enjoy to concede
Enjoying is surrender,
oh how you despise to carry on
People’s everyday’s violence
and your curse that is your life
Oh you know how to sink
Enjoy your tea,
despise your food

Surrendering is winning,
and with the things y’like to build
Surrendering is losing,
oh you’re a pitiful sacrifice
People’s everyday’s suicides
colliding with your personal genocide
Oh how we love fairytales
Win your stake,
lose your dreams

Oh how you love dancing against actors
Shoot the moon ahead your fan
Glare at the sun ahead your actor
Close your eyes ahead the night
People’s everyday’s violence
and your curse that is an actor
Hate yourself, dance with fairies
Enjoy yourself ahead the fairies

Wolves (Nihilist Pt. 2)

2007-08-22T14:32:00.000+08:00

Oh the villain’s gonna get you my friend,
in your sleep and in your nightmares and in your
dreams and in your house and
the thought will seize you,
until it comes for you, nose to nose,
And it howls, tearing your flesh
that is your life
Oh and the villain’s eating you now,
eating you is soothing to you now,
so you asked me if the earth crumbled anew
And I know, I know it now,
you’re going down to ascend
And you meet the free spirits by the yellow taxi rides
and weeping and with sad voices,
exhale noisily now as it eats you alive
and we’re living again,
we’re breathing new air now
And no talking here, you’re just eaten
so long as you swallow it afterwards

Profundity-seeking Automaton

2007-08-22T14:31:00.000+08:00

Profundity-seeking automaton
thought it’s human,
perfection of a human
But it’s just you
Oh it likes to breathe
such profound air
It’s what it wants,
this oxygen-breathing comedian
made of fins and gills
It’s mystique, and swimming
oceans of thoughts
Who would ever contest
to this walking contradiction?
A multitude of thoughts to think,
wrap itself around and make believe
in this oxygen-breathing automaton
all’re falling about
to this profundity-seeking comedian
Oh I may be a verse
terse, imaginative verse,
I’m so shallow, I know

Nihilist

2007-08-22T13:32:00.000+08:00

So if you’re happy
You know I’ll be in the tip of your tongue
Waiting for my chance
I’m just arm’s length away from you
and if you speak here
I’ll leave you wretched, poor little thing
I’m waiting for my turn
I’m just in the corner of your eyes
I know I’ll always be here with you
I say, “trivial”, you say, “me not me”
I know, “take it out”
You say, “I am none,”
I ask, “don’t you know,”
You know, dabble with laugh
I am your villain, my friend
I know I’m your friend
You know y’want and despise me
I know I’ll always be here with you

The Outsidesucker’s Deliverance

2007-08-21T07:35:00.000+08:00

Talking backwards in yer package,
chock full of hidden outbursts,
saying ye’r no dishonor of a stage
and with fastidious audience
Shedding yer nightspot dress unawares
Breaking out the box for a difference
before the tickets’re sold out
D’ya remember ye’r queen of the night?
Oh coz the outside’s a weightless
The best place to be
and somewhere outside’s the best
place for yer highbrow memory
‘coz they’re not as daft as they’re
when ye inscribe them to the stars
Was it rainbow ink or claptrap highlighter?
Oh how the audience’re sentience
when ye’r flouncing the playhouse
with zealous eyes for greater prudence
‘coz but ye saying the audience douse
yer justice’s-sake-performance
Purging and swimming and un-taming yerself
But d’ya remember ye’r king of the night?
Oh mouthing unawares
and also wishing yerself well
Hidden outbursts to sell,
Fleeing the box forever
But d’ya remember ye’r queen of the night?
even in the outside,
the best place to be
And somewhere outside’s the best
place for yer highbrow memory
‘coz they’re not as daft as they’re
when ye inscribe them to the stars

After the Dream

2007-08-16T03:03:00.000+08:00

Thoughts are all you need,
a lush of slang and idioms
to get you through the night
Set yourself anew
and here write amongst the fairies
until the mind surrenders
Who said you’re never for respite
and won’t abandon your dreams?
For only in slumber, my muse,
do you come forth to inspire
a weary body
and long forgotten memories

Long fall of words’re all you need,
a forest of bygones and imminence
After the dream
sleep with the ironies
and petroleum butterflies
until the mind shivers to your thoughts
For who said you’re never to adjourn
with a numbing enterprise
of actions and silly games

Wait for the end, my muse,
I’m always happy staying rebellious
until the mind surrenders
or until the mind shivers
These thoughts are all you need

Pornographic Mouth

2007-08-08T09:41:00.000+08:00

All minds want to see you for awhile
see you cry, and then they will smile
of course you only want to be sly
Woes turn to winds, so you can fly
so then they will smile, look at you like
a butterfly, ugly worm turns
into a butterfly, your wings strike
all seeing minds so they can mourn
Mourning at your woes, woes turn to winds
they will smile to your hidden sins
Your sins turn to your leaves for rest
the leafy nest, leaves you eat for zest
and all minds shan’t see you for awhile
of course, they have wanted you to fly
to see through your cry, through your cry
you wanted to be high, hide your sins
with your mouth, blow yourself some winds
You’ve charred yourself because you’re too high
Ugly worm turns to butterfly

Midnight Man

2007-08-07T08:17:00.000+08:00

Steer the wheel
Change your mind
Dance with midnight
because you're all you have

Drive it fast
Look at empty roads
The light is all you have
towards the ocean

Close your eyes
Fly like the bird
Swim like the fish
and sleep forever

I’m an Insulting Knife

2007-08-07T08:06:00.000+08:00

You breathe silently
within the walls of your convenience
while the rest of the world
howls with difference
You’re only happy with no grandiose words
They’re a lullaby to keep you awake,
hushed enough for your nosebleeds
It’s always the way you breathe
your excuses to the wolves
to save your hide
And your oeuvre of a name
saves your skin from the insulting knife
those highfaluting words make

The Long Fall of Justice Pt. 3

2007-07-20T21:26:00.000+08:00

Whither is that road
of moat
for depraved souls
of worhips, always good
whence he stood
in deprived luxury

and so in standstills
it's the life he hated
because it's when
he can't domesticate
nut-sedges

he'd henceforth be a million souls
and burn all grasses;

we're too brutal a kind
and he's just nobody this time -
it's the long fall of justice,
so he'll be somebody tonight

The Long Fall of Justice Pt.2

2007-07-11T07:27:00.000+08:00

You clear the night,
the day recedes with a sadness
And you got your own politics,
your own so-called waning powers,
slightly, and it gradually dies,
and you and your so-called conflicts
These ill-timed cries
at the end of the day
with all motivations lost
in these ill-timed cries
and the things you love the most
The gold and diamond that is the earth
you coat bloodied with your contrasts
and measurements and pathologies
You've made the woes
of the forgotten world
a pinch in the cheek,
while your long fall of justice
made them all vagabonds

One-winged Sailor

2007-06-25T14:38:00.000+08:00

I’m singing over the moonbeams’ drought
like the serenade
And the touch of apathy
while I cross the oceans,
the waters I’ve cried
Traveling with no frontiers
searching the end of the world
A sailboat for nostalgia
while the tide recedes
for sunbeams’ rains
when the morning clears them all away,
these thoughts I’ve made as frail bridge
To tread myself away from you,
and but also for you
So I pray to solitude for flight
I’m a one-winged siren of sorts
and you are the zephyr beneath
Because I like to think
it’s more than a castle in the sky;
I’m flying into you

Boredom

2007-06-23T08:09:00.000+08:00

It makes one mindful,
and ignoble to be more
ruthlessly truthful –
like that of a broken warrior,
as to the loss of fiery spirit,
and that it is to a considerable extent,
that the zest for anything is
but the loss of one’s indulgence
to the self by virtue of style,
uniqueness and unprecedented
passion for anything but unimportance
of self-discovery –
and to this one loses
the fight for substantiation.

PSYCHEDELICs

2007-05-28T09:05:00.000+08:00

Blue (The Happy Pack)
The ghosts of foreigners
come at daylight’s smile
Into the fields
and the lust for life
Bygones are apples
to fill the stomach
from hungry badgers
of youth-like revolutions
We always stack
the parcels but we always knife
for wintertime’s loneliness
and our apples are much sweeter

Orange (Those Striking Eyes)
Hey Mr. Poetry
is your pumpkin carved again?
Shimmering and flickering
His eyes are too pretty
and your holiday holes a light,
wait for the wicker to burn
You're hard to knife,
but you're raw to eat
your brightness is a sight
The scent of the low spirit
hoists your hands up
as you hold dear pumpkin
While they wander off
with somewhere to be
Oh Mr. Prose you've got to be here

Red (Your Lovely Dress)
And what's for your candor's sake,
when you dress your holy words red
You're the queen of vindication
but your little shouts fade
Someone is going to change direction
away from your ancient bible
of audacious little trifle
when I color my rhymes too,
too red for you
While you always cost
of things you're against with
Oh the regrets you lost
in your own red silk
you've worn in summertime

White (The Painter)
The pleasant voices in your head
while your literature is a must-read
But you’ve went to chew the walls
Must I say you’re great painter too
Whilst we watch, the reel rolls
and the days you catch
for your relationships to sell
You’re painting your walls too white
The fresh scent and the lovely sight
You’re such a story to tell

Yellow (Living Days)
You’re on your silver lining
with a million wreckages and some fairytale suicides
like the somber darkness
of the high noon’s tides
We’re decent people
of everyday’s pavements
and we stitch the rag dolls of our lives
And sometimes we catch
with a million laughter
or other times we are diffidence
Our sleeping daylights
and our living nocturnal sighs
We’re such harmony
and we’re such conflict

Black (Hearing Voices)
I’d like talking to you because your voice sounds nice
I know I sound the hound’s cry
when I say I got what you mean when you sighed
of your sons and daughters fighting over your loss
over a gamble in a reeking street
up where Satan used to sell drugs
And you said you love it
And you said you hated your calluses
while I listen to you talking about your new hair-do
and more fabulousness
of donning clothes, but I reckoned
you hated rooms without lights
because it tears you inside
for you can’t see yourself
anymore when there’s no to see
Like when the world is beautiful
and your life is worth a cent
All these things like cotton
and I still like hearing voices
Though I know I cut my ears

Violet (Beautiful Saints)
You're saying something
something like a romantic
while if you think we're not skeptic
because we're too mean
and we mean riduculous
cut-throat lips
You're kissing what you haven't seen
while the world says we have to hide our ugly truths
while if you think you're given
the streets to mouth your voice
while your good self dictates your choice
of wordplay and manners
while if you think we're mere whispers
while we think like a violent storm
to burn your church down

Green (The Green Eyed Monster)
The green eyed monster
chirps his melody
down the heart's pavements
like ten thousand pins on his back
cringed and but easily
he sings to his queen hello,
goodbye 'ole familiar
You always take him by surprise
He's spilling the milk
he's a downpour on jarred mine's
and compulsions
So down with the excursions
and the wandering mind's
some hollow knitting
Oh his eyes're too green for his own good

Pink (Useful Believer)
"I'm quite sure," you recalled
and your horse jumps too high
an equestrian of strayed convictions
"We want you on our side,"
they say, with a humble face
and a dazed sigh
You're a leader of a handful coalitions,
your divine skepticism
with a swaying mind running with a trace
of making it a living
"Where do you go, criticism?"
my friend says
"Well it shan't be astonishing,"
We’re the convenient believers!

Neon (The Modern Thought)
The timepiece ticks humid
whence everyone told thou you're
next eon's generation
Whilst they shan't be defense
when your ammunition's a thought
and stuck in winter's time,
aye, to them not even ha'porth -
a frozen definition -
Oh the woruld is tense
when they see thou like the spring
thereupon with something to complain
and someone to draw,
the best caricature -
But whither it now dawns
the leaves are falling
Nay, what a dream, the best adventure,
because tis thy betst
the modern thought can do for you

Of Slangs and the Line

2006-12-20T05:03:00.001+08:00

Seasons're drenching
each other out -
summer is to temperature and dead leaves are to fall,
these lost little horizons and we're mouthing
marvel at the days he lives
Everyday in spiral clouds
at setting sun's backdrop
while the day's wrapped
with nighttime,
but oh he knew not too well
even if we're the sun's orange sparks,
for it's all us we sell,
it's us and we sell relationships -
but again with time
we're on our own as the day bathes anew,
we're all aware where the line is
and the one who doesn't know is you

Folkdance

2006-12-11T21:04:00.000+08:00

The leaves, falling,
breeze on the rise
and the moon soaked night
while the lazy world is yours
in untimely sighs
and time, the universe,
the cadence's woes
are yours to take
and but with prayers
for solitude
while your heart is theirs
to break,
stealing these daylights
that cringe with a hiss,
slithering onto you -
It's time for the waltz.

Raven-haired Firefly Pt. 2 (Untitled)

2006-10-21T18:52:00.000+08:00

Time passes by too quickly
but I walk for all dreaminess -
Do you always go to where I'm not,
but innocently;
They are zephyr on my hands
and to the mind's cadence
Would I be a castle
when we're too much to hope,
to you the luminary?
I see you staring at the skies

Towering is that wall
with players at its other side;
I can't recall
Nay, I think I'm better as soldier;
that I may well be wounded,
play for time again and all over,
and all my sharp edge's where you're headed,

or wage war with time if you prefer
I can break, I can carry on –
I'm not the good 'ole sweet player,
But I think I can still strike you
for our nighttime's warmth
and fade away with time –
Or you can always pass me by

Resting, 'ole aimless memory;
you walk off too vaguely

At Sundown (Interlude)

2006-10-02T15:01:00.000+08:00

Down by the roadside of urbanized terrorists
of minds and other investments, I'm always
at the sidewalks,
looking on,
always gone with the sleep and imagination
even in wakefulness -
The sunbeams're faint, subtler than
I remembered,
back when everyone was no one to me,
when the world's too vigorous
and when daffodils're too pale for a flower -
when tomorrow's too common and everybody is happy.
Summer was everywhere back then
and I liked best the way my
friends and I would carry on
despite the nuisance - but it's a fine day, today,
it's a dry winter and everyone's too busy
to be anybody for somebody.
This time around,
I'm too busy to be busy - when the world's
becoming its opposite, when the thrills
of the world're angst-driven jays I'm seeing
by the trees mouthing noir; I'd like to think that I was
everyone, whose happiness's
too much for their own good -
By the time the earth smelled
nicotine, I realized
that it was a one-way street of
self-same idiocy of wordplays; that though
I'd trade forever over a minute
of seeing you -
I had to walk on like the rest does,
an accident of existence
and turning mountains into turfs,
rivers to filth -
picturesque indifference into vague substitutes of doubt;
and the fearsome sunbeams
which I dread since reason bore me
are now always short of resolves -
It was always the way the larks
sang about you that gave me more
strength and weakness at the same time,
and it was always
that erratic melody
which reminded me of ill-forgotten summers;
and you're always there,
pale and raven-haired,
nonchalant as those eyes kill the hopeful -
that you and your innocence against my accidence
make this journey more painful.
There're no clouds but the sun's still gloomy,
the winds're strong enough, seizing
the afternoon, and I'm too stubborn -
So I rest - waiting
for tonight when the world's too tired
and when daffodils're blooming -
when tomorrow's set adrift and everybody's asleep;
when I'm too empty I can only sigh your name -
and I start carrying on, alone at sundown,
and no one'll ever notice.

Sighing Silence

2006-09-24T07:59:00.000+08:00

Sighing for reprieve
and the draft is set apart
The silence that drifts
and the spaces that you sieve
Advents are the thieves
of restraint and spirit,
bothered as it goes –
Your paleness of a touch
as it passes him by
You're both silently fine

because words will snatch
all that you both enjoy
So wait like the silence,
under your eyes' wraps –
whatever you’re keen on

His truths're uptight
that your eyes will kill him
and bleed thankfully –

Sighing silence and
this's the best of who he is
and the sight of
the sunbeams and the rains
are nothing to your unruly hair
as he carries on,

You both watch with time
and he's parked himself
ahead of you, traveling with mirthful strangers,
And when it's all over
They gaze each other like they wish it,
ye, staring like they’re wishing

The Rhyme of Decadence

2006-09-18T04:07:00.000+08:00

Ashes are drifting in shadows
Symptoms of conscience or lack thereof
Hypocritical or heartfelt
Unmoving in the burrows, and the
mind amends, in the hope that you
char beautifully in your own threat

Hypocritical or heartfelt
And in shadows there are too many
hyenas distanced from that razed
economy with truth, and you break
down with your confidential catch
And the mind amends, in joy htta you
are breathing your last like you should

Earnestness or pretense
Both ways lead to your loss
Oh pitiful silence!

Such a standstill in your own shadows...

The Old Shakespearean Way

2006-09-16T18:32:00.000+08:00

Raven-haired whilst
it sings with the winds
It's the old Shakespearean way
With my eyes breathing
Of you in the distance –
shunning, that sweet dreams come
Bitter with your tastelessness,
albeit living – but you are
My queen
and everything good, frozen again
And I'd be lucid enough,
invisible at your disposal –
I have done it with a handful of dirt,
I killed you with a terrible mind,
I've made you travel everywhere,
and but nowhere to be seen;
Like the raven-haired as
it swims in the ocean
Of the old mindful way
and if I'm a thought, as if you’d think;
But Ill do.

Realizations

2006-06-04T20:20:00.000+08:00

When it’s time to be weary
it’d come to you agreeably,
this lovely afternoon
with a thousand apples
at absolutely no cost
with only yourself to
bargain, with a thousand laughs
with the things you love the most
And when there’s nothing to do
and when all’s in store,
sway with the breeze
then you’ll find some more

The Human Perfection (3rd Interlude)

2006-06-04T20:00:00.000+08:00

A human has
his own vulnerabilities,
and time would haunt
Him of them.
But in the sweetness
from the bitter life,
He is however a god
whose flaws
are perfection,
whose impeccability
is evolution.

Those Vertical Lines

2006-06-03T20:00:00.000+08:00

The silence between what
you speak is the most
Meaningful at the depths of
ignorance that I seem to
Downplay, and it becomes an
enchantment with every shift of
Your hands, the way your sight
recedes in utter scrutiny,
Seemingly,
and all I could muster
Is my hope
that the things you do
Are more than what I think they are.

Dear Cigar

2006-03-19T19:00:00.000+08:00

Summer's well, and the
Man sells himself for
switch-hitting anything
and plays his game
like simple cocktail smiles
And it's just
The way he wants
it to become,
this barter for distraction
as he tells his
Cigar the games
that he played,
and how he didn't hit
anything and
lost to games' sour aftertaste.

Sugarsweetbitterthrills

2006-03-12T20:00:00.000+08:00

Travelling with no
frontiers to escape
the monkey-eagle
The lark
sings its utter cry
to the daffodil fields,
finding itself
back to its nest of
spring leaves
by the shrubs --
by the forest of shrubs
where it can find
the jays, alarmed
and they cry --
The lark
sings its melody
to the fields,
finding itself
back to its nest
outlined all along
by the
autumn undergrowth.

Smoke

2006-02-25T23:26:00.000+08:00

I'm staring at the sky,
just riding with the clouds;
Praying to wash the days anew in the drought
As the sun decides to die but it rained
I knew they were those clouds
but it was just ashen smoke -
So now I'm staring at your eyes,
eating me alive;
Wishing for rain or maybe heavier
And when it all comes to end,
those little dull eyes;
I knew they were my sky
but it was just ashen smoke
And say it lingers
but I'm happy for silence or maybe quieter...
It's too much to hope

That Smile

2006-01-16T18:42:00.000+08:00

Was it the zephyr who hissed
over a lonely cup of coffee
when I said you hold true
to the things you could be,
that I hardly look
but I always judge;
And until the sun,
until the sun could guise the smile -
and the sad breeze,
the recurring nightmares of the hopeless,
and over a cup of coffee,
I am colder.

Eventual Paintbrush

2006-01-16T18:00:00.000+08:00

You are an eventual paintbrush
The colors that you take
and the shades you make;
Out of place and only familiar
but you're a cigarette away
The lines that you draw
and I see twilight star
The outlines of your strangeness
marks the style of your exuberance;
and carrying with me the reverie,
every ache
and every painter will stroke you to your nearness,
And shall I paint with you too?

Dreaming ahead
and I paint my difference
in the pastel fields
and sketchy corners of the world;
I can only paint my word

The Market-place (The 2nd Interlude)

2005-10-22T21:42:00.000+08:00

Behold!
The flies of the market-place;
Slayers of the free riders,
Peoples of benefits
and peoples of juxtaposition
Here they are for chastity,
towards the beautification
of their idolatry...
Their buzz is praiseworthy
but their songs vex
even the most innocent ones,
even bywords of arrogance,
oh the clever imitators.
Beware!
And but watch, as they turn men
into donkeys of ignorance.

Melancholy (The 1st Interlude)

2005-10-16T20:40:00.000+08:00

I define.
for myself
in all its worth.
My truth is disclosure,
my meaning is transcendence.
I choose.
for myself
with all its merit.
My genesis
is spring and summer,
but and its cadence
is autumn and winter.
I defy.
for myself
in all its gravity.
I make the world
swim across my ocean.
And where will I be,
at the end of all these?

No Rest for the Weary

2005-08-14T17:35:00.000+08:00

Like the sun;
rousing up for the rhythm,
And now burning,
once and a while
smile at the rhythm
Scatter yourself
and the day,
eventually,
the day recedes
to be blessed by the moonbeams,
once and a while
thinking about the moonbeams
And muster yourself for tomorrow,
eventually;
you'll rouse up,
for there's no rest even for the weary,
unless you say you're done.

Nostalgia and All

2005-08-07T19:15:00.000+08:00

I'm aware that there is no more tomorrow,
and I'll grow in the fields of past like broken daffodils;
The sun shall shine
and rivers will become crystal clear,
And I'll thrive on the richness of those similar soils
as the winds signal such presence,
together with the blades of grass
that touch even the coldest heart...
And the only thing that keeps me from it is you.

The Daily Breeze

2005-07-10T16:40:00.000+08:00

Fireflies are flickering in the daily breeze
Raw, innocent and swift lives
of emotional landslides,
that oxygen that it breathes;
And somewhere,
some other time,
I will wave hello; goodbye
in my own dandelion zephyr
And forever stitching the verses for tonight,
and another revelry.

Anthologies

2005-05-27T19:38:00.000+08:00

And I thought I stumbled upon
a pastel field of daffodils
beneath the dreary sky,
which would only be its compensation;
and played by piano and guitars,
by saxophone and subtle drums,
I hear those anthologies from hearts and minds
that seem to keenly grab you;
But if you listen closely,
if you’re merely disinterested,
you’ll find the piano’s jazz unsettling,
the barren antiquity of guitars,
the squeaking sounds of saxophone
and the piercing sounds of the drums;
Yet surely - nevertheless -
they grab your heart, they strip your mind naked
until you are drowned in your own sickness...

And those anthologies keep on,
they play their music again and again
until you wake from your dream, and realize that
you’ve always wanted to be the musician,
to be the musician who’d sing anthologies
for your raven-haired firefly.

In Isolation (Prologue of the Interludes)

2005-05-20T20:13:00.000+08:00

In all the depths
of thoughts for my Overman,
I can only keep up
as far as silence can go;
in isolation,
in melancholy --
and insofar as these depths
meander on my abstracts,
I just can't find any word,
and I drop dead like
the butterflies in my mouth.

Memory's Full Circle

2005-05-17T19:11:00.000+08:00

In blessed and unfortunate ways --
here I am before you;
distracting,
I am the one that tells you
to smile at the things that kept you for like forever,
to cry at the things that kept you long enough --
and right before you,
I swirl so you'd cringe;
I dance with you,
because you love it when I do,
because you love to hate it when I do;
And when the dance ends,
I die only to be born again,
to dance again,
to distract you,
to tell you to smile and cry
at the things that kepts you for like forever.

Ruthie's Dilemma

2005-05-17T16:00:00.000+08:00

[12.25.04]

Swept cyclic zenith in its rush;
everyone unfolds their stories,
All the more Ruthie hides from such and such;
and they listen but feign, their hiss
like transcendental plagiarism...
There, dews pour heavily
and fields of mist blind mysteriously
She is socially uninvited but too aesthetic to give in
But in times of rennaisance,
in case Ruthie comes out in the open,
it’s an allusion, loathing before you, triquetra –
There’re silly astrologers playing with Ruthie...

The Cerebral Poet

2005-05-15T13:35:00.000+08:00

On the technology
to provide for a name for a god,
in which the machines of lexis
call for the same art –
for which its creativity is more or less
presumed to be mechanic as means
for expression,
for individual allusions as set by the condition
of the consciousness,
And as philosophical or automatic as words seem,
verses go unbending from accusations
that what the cerebral poet waxes are mere mechanism.

Raven-haired Firefly

2005-05-10T19:10:00.000+08:00

Raven-haired's soar unlike oceanic canopies,
possibly indifferently societal
and on the verge of sentimental metamorphosis -
nauseous firefly -
and it owes light with fiction with daffodils,
always dreaming up ahead where the lack seeks completion;
And as much as it flies away from my conscious touch,
it bounces off to the reminiscence of it all

And it's said to be untarnished,
it's said to be precious;
But really it all comes undone like Rushdie's demons,
from afar,
and maybe just a window of what it truly wants to say

And in the stillness that the firefly flickers,
it goes on without saying,
it goes on and on;
because all there's to say are empty and hopeless.

Nicotine

2005-05-03T12:40:00.000+08:00

let's call it a day,
and weave words this time instead;
orange sparks of ashfall in its stillness
will only be missed until time comes when the antidote is done,
when the only thing that keeps the world alive
is dyed in the wool with oxygen.

let's call it a night,
and read some weaved words this time instead;
it's always teasing but it reeks upon myself
and this spark will only be missed on another generation,
when the only thing that keeps butterflies on my stomach
is done to death with empty air.

Summer Solace

2005-05-02T02:25:00.000+08:00

On my way down the fort,
lights blink like drizzles on summer solace
and rowdy like dandelion on a documentary image
It’s always the same
because it reels like roses without thorns,
of cigarettes without nicotine,
of coffee without caffeine

And it feels odd for all the wrong reasons;
It’s just filthy like chosen truth when it all comes undone

But I hope I’d find my hope so I could walk some more
Darkness overrides ivy and makes it more toxic
because the last time it was blue was seconds ago...
and so poignant on summer afternoons

Parrots of the God

2005-05-02T01:00:00.000+08:00

Jazzing it off with discourses on a tight rope of viewpoint
somewhere on the journey of cigars and tirades;
I am like a million pirates
cutting through molds of deviation
because you professed you are a thought on a free riding ecstasy
and I said it was stupid

Metamorphosing Gaiman on the covers for a revelry,
shifty like national heroes of foggy boulevards
But I know if I fart you’ll savor it heartily
so I laugh like hyena

*Thus like anybody’s apple that took innocence away,
it’s a privilege to be the outburst;
I’m like Gary Stu for all its worth –
too real as to reel you like a deity
So you cringe at your agnostics, hole up to metropolitan
and be the thought that you are
Joining “rainbow” delusion and it’s really a mystery,
so they all say,
and the mockery goes on because I raze donkeys to the ground.

Horns

2005-02-06T15:49:00.000+08:00

Up and down, thirty year olds
has set your terminals hanging;
jumping too fast with somewhere to be.
Roundabout, 90's youngsters
see and you cringe like leopards.

What is it like to be stabbed by ivory tusks?

Did your dreams make you smile?
They were only real at such a time;
now it's all the same
until ivory horns stab you again.

Unapologetic

2004-12-22T17:16:00.000+08:00

“Don’t ask how, why, when and what”;
Just as we pursue rising above the stereotype
of unknowable irrationality whelming, that
enthusiasm rests within
the boundaries of human endeavors
and individualism is a spite;
Why am I arrogant?
Why do I succumb to shadenfreude?
For as a shame for Nietzsche I am,
why do I electrify the realms of wisdom philanthropy?
But I keep these thoughts unwritten,
unsung at the tunes of necessitated groupthink;
For the only thing that will dissolve
the superficial of my endangered volition,
so they say,
is my arrogance and electricity;
no one knows –
genesis lies going back to nature,
innocent and separate from the bias of the world,
of rejection and acceptance and so much more
than workable elements of stupidity,
of human decision I bear nonsense in the end;
Do I concede how they manipulate
the order of the universe,
the logic demonstrated by mere forms;
deluded at the midst of conformity and indifference
lay an unnoticed recoil of what we often think we know
But tomorrow if it all comes true
I wish nothing but truth rather than convictions
Wistfully thinking
Wishfully thinking
And contrary to what these says I heed the flames
of misunderstood intellect bursting like frustration,
the explicitness of the manuscript by the noir;
off I go to go back again
Brackets of disowned thoughts by others
who deem that an armchair is only an armchair,
for just as I actualize my potentiality,
my greatest potentialities,
just I pursue the derision of others to exemplify my greatness –
I could not be responsible at the futility
starting to knock over their heads
(and I knock harder)
As I decide to be what I am
the freedom lies somewhere between dualisms and pluralisms
of drunk intellect and delusional waste for all it’s worth
As I decide to be what I am
the weight crushes me with happiness, and I
savor its temporal happiness;
for it bears nothing in the end
As I decide to be what I am
I no longer am the slave of the world
but the order of the universe is just a beg in my feet;
the invention of metaphysics is a beggar needing meaning
And I give it because I know it’s a prepositional reality
of what is to come next;
men’s pursuit towards life has taken them away from life itself
and it has eaten them alive with their unnoticed
responsibility of their existence under the conditions set by the world
And it’s time for me to forsake the impediments
the workable elements –
Why am I arrogant?
Why do I succumb to shadenfreude?
For as a shame for Nietzsche I am,
why do I electrify the realms of wisdom philanthropy?
Just this, and nothing more.

Ivybluesummers

2004-11-30T20:06:00.001+08:00

Crowd gazes oceans, rowdy
little dandelion mourning over milks,
spilled, unfathomably
And fiction it’s the only filth,
Dusting off truth when all gets sweet

And ivy looks good by its name
for poison mingles its hue
With roses and thorns it’s all the same,
much more disguising blue;
And summer it’s too soon, or was it
just winter that passed by April?

But arrogance plays Mary that
cries like the wind does, calling
and running just to do it again
It only plays with a word, this feeling;
It’s that little stranger on the mirror, who
wallows and makes it beautiful.

Light Shines Heavy

2004-11-29T11:07:00.000+08:00

light shines heavy
blinded little question
that I cannot answer;
and I have to be the same,
I would, daffodil,
so darkness spills
and grasses greener, taller;
where are answers
when time already passed
but I tell you daffodil
I wont wish the lot
when you are not;
pity little dandelion,
everything’s the same;
afraid of light, darkness;
and I cant find
what I find
I cant answer
what I answer
I cant ask
what I ask;
no one knows

light shines heavy
and don’t forget
to remember me,
daffodil,
you are,
and I’m not over.

For A

2004-11-28T13:06:00.000+08:00

Blue eyes amidst white backdrop
Lingers on the room for wires
Swallows green lush in the end
It’s hardly believable
And it’s barely convincing
That it stopped breathing
It stopped bouncing off the ground
To just stare at me again
And appreciate slavery in the hands of comfort
Of coy and white broken skin
And anonymously I tell it,
I’d miss you.

Icarus

2004-11-26T10:14:00.000+08:00

Thursday morning it’s starting unforgettable
Sadness over thoughts
in the place that I am in;
Verses and prose no longer come hand in hand
Can’t wait to wake after sunshine

And wind up slithering voices in the head
Love is not profound but it has to offer
And as it weathers on each storm,
flying and swinging to dream ahead;
So much love and storm after everything else

Circles over fireplace on a daffodil
and it screams revelry sentimental
Gliding zenith and passing up daytime
Or do they cross the pathway salvation?

Stay happy masquerades on lonely fireplaces;
Smiling too much it breaks upon myself
In the chesterfields of discipline,
I say I do not cringe but I reek upon myself;
Love is not perfect but it has to offer
And as it strays conviction
thursday morning it’s unforgettable

Moths and butterflies cry salvation over fire
Burned down flying over breeze
Passing up resolves and losing in the end
Flying like Icarus and falling unforgettable in the end.

Snowflake 5:12

2004-11-25T09:17:00.000+08:00

Honey plays over single dances
And I could only guess what’s for me
Chills to the given light
On a lonely camera circular

And I am waiting for myself
On an alluded snowflake yellow
Only to see Mary and Gary locking lips
On a rebellious junkie word

Toxic honey dances over the difference
It’s a little too funny
Down to last poem of the night
Withered on the fields afar

And the woman who wept
Thinks dancing is no wondrous fellow
Touching limbs and touching hips
Like unsung divinity forge

I got milk to dance over honey
Defamiliarized and I’m raising eyebrows
Keeping it all earthly safe, alive;
Would it come to you?

Honey plays irony
Over single dances again somehow
And I love you – so it’s the angry hype;
Would it dance over what you do?

Recoiled Unnoticed

2004-11-25T08:00:00.000+08:00

How does it move so fast?
So I’m begging for oceans
and I’m crying sailboats
In the mirror and it gets too clear
It’s clear that it’s all blur
And I should’ve wasted all;
but this time
it moves too fast to make some wonder

And I take what it gives
And I learn from the world
Sway like the time
Now that it ripples too rapidly
I’m laughing rivers
and I’m silent wood and threads
To keep on begging
To keep on crying

And in the open some time,
some other way,
It wrecks upon any weather
Never was a daffodil feeling all good,
Venerable like vodka
In its own way,
Never was a daffodil born from cocoons
heeding for a sailboat on oceans
And doesn’t it move too fast,
doesn’t it mean cigars and brewers,
Venerable like vodka

Mouth it again;
No tingle, no flair like it breaks –
Almost recoiled unnoticed.