Verbal Indigestion

She - cowritten

2011-04-17T05:09:00.000-07:00

PIc copyright: Eunice Aquino

Molding her hand into mine easily
She kisses me passionately
Making me feel more
Than anyone has before

And by the softness of that woman's lips
My soul is resuscitated
All heaviness is lifted
The chagrin wiped clean

Indeed there is no taste sweeter
No arms stronger
No scent more delicate
Than the one I call "mine"

She becomes the weakness
That gives me the strength to own her
She becomes the person who makes me strong
Strong enough to admit sometimes I am weak

In her eyes I found the cure for an ailing soul
And the missing pieces of my broken heart
She totally completes me
By loving me COMPLETELY

I will never be ashamed or hide this truth
For when I do I hide the best part of me
There's no hiding it anyway
My smile is brighter, my eyes are lighter
I turn into a writer when she walks into the room

This was a poem formed on twitter with @MzEmilyK
For more please visit http://bit.ly/32uQPz aka "Savi"

Two Together

2011-04-17T02:14:00.000-07:00

I lay here with you,
Whole but completely dismantled.
Where do you start and I begin?
In bed as tangled souls.
We are strength and grace together.
Not one of each but two of both.
As one, together as might and mercy.

Answer in Kisses

2011-04-17T02:12:00.000-07:00

Impatiently waiting for her to get ready,
Puffing away on my final cigarette,contemplating on whether I should talk to her.
No matter how hard I try, I can't seem to make room in my head for thoughts other than unanswerable questions.
The bedroom door opens.
She’s finally ready to go. "Smoking again?" She said with a little pout.
I smiled and said, “Yes!” in a flat tone and almost whispering.
I stood and reached out for the keys hanging on top of the light switch holding the I door open for her.
She looked at me tenderly as she brushed passed my shoulders, right before I closed the door behind us.
I didn’t know what to make of that look.
In the car, I contemplated.
A bottleneck of words in my mouth for the oh-so-many things I want to say but couldn't.
She kissed my mouth full of questions.
I suddenly feel ashamed.
Before she came home from work, I packed and left without a word.
Neither of us needed an explanation.
There was nothing left to say or save.

Sleep with me

2011-04-17T02:09:00.000-07:00

Here we are again
You almost asleep, soft as a tear
Here we are again
Me half-sleepy, cradling you, right now, right here

In the solace of the silent corner
Of the home that we have built
I'd place us on the window sill
And look at the earth's oceanic quilt

The sea sings you a lullaby
And she also sings for me
sleep little baby,
water all still
sleep little baby
the "now" bowl a-fill

Sleep...

Sleep...

Asleep...

Together on the window sill

Spiderwebs and lies

2011-04-17T02:08:00.000-07:00

A strand of doubt
A string of hesitation
Braided together with straws of hope
Knitted in patterns
Every lie and empty promise

A spider web glistening
Stuck in the forgotten tree
In a forgotten corner in my head
Near the suitcase
Filled with my skeletons

A net of drama
Heavy with it's prey
Beads of tears
Different sizes
Different tastes

Fingers of honesty
Tug on each string
Drawing straws of hope
The web of uncertainty now comes undone

The glistening pearls fall as rain
Watering bones of fingers
That grow nevermore

Raped pillow

2011-04-17T02:03:00.000-07:00

My pillow lay silent, the lights all dim
I gently placed it where you face would have been

I use my fingers to draw your lips
Tracing your eyes and your cute nose's tip

I breathe deep the spot where you neck would have been
Where I would have found your perfumed skin

I close my eyes and gather the sheets
A poor excuse for your body's heat.

Me and my make shift "you" in bed
Me wishing it were you instead.

*** I dedicate this poem to all the molested pillows and to the lonely lovers who soiled them. hehehe

The moth and the flame

2011-04-17T01:49:00.000-07:00

It was like looking at a page of “Where’s Wally?” Only in that sea of people, everything except her was Grey.

I chose to be the flame instead of the moth, so I sat at the bar and thought of things I were to say.

I stared at her a long time, certain I’d reel her in with just one look.

And so it happened by the book, one look was all it took.

She sat on the empty stool beside me and yelled to John, the bar keep, "Another glass of wine."

I said, “I got it John. I’ll get the lady her drink as I too need to refill mine.”

From behind the bar counter I muttered “You look like someone who’d like champagne instead."

She laughed , smiled, flipped her hair and gently nodded her head.

“Well then follow me madam the good stuff is in the cellar.” I said

Trying hard not to tumble on my words and keep from turning red.

Finally we arrived in the wine cellar in the slowest "quick minute or two."

I instructed her, "Pick the bottle with the red ribbon round it’s neck that I specially tied for you."

I loved watching her walk and strut her stuff like that.

My hands wished they were touching what my eyes were looking at.

As she walked back, I flashed a smile and opened my mouth to say

“Hello very nice to meet you, my name is Midnight by the way.”

I popped the bottle open and realized I didn’t have a glass.

I also quickly realized there was a hand squeezing my ass.

She took the bottle, looked at me and then she took a sip.

Next thing I knew my eyes closed and her lip was on my lip.

Instinctively, I sipped champagne from her divine tasting lips.

While she groaned ever so lightly as I started grinding her with my hips.

We finally parted for a breath, she kissed my cheek and said

“I feel like I know you, know you from toe to head.”

We kissed a little more before going back outside to finish up the bubbly.

I sat next to her and as she spoke put my arm round her nonchalantly.

Her crossed legs towards me, palm on my thigh, she spoke of random things about her life.

I wasn't listening but knew right there and then, one day she’d be my wife.

“Would you mind if I kissed you?” and I replied “Didn’t you say that you had a lass?!”

“I do but she’s doing the same thing tonight and on you I just can’t pass.”

“Alright but you should know I too have a lass,

The most beautiful creature with the most perfectly round face.” :-P (just kidding you get the point)

“Where is she then and what are you doing here with me?”

“Pretending to meet her for the first time on our anniversary!”

We laughed and kissed and held hands under the moon,

Knowing we had to go and leave for home soon.

“It was nice to flirt with you again” to my baby I then said

“It was my darling, now let’s go get reacquainted in bed.”

I turned her way and had to say had we only met tonight,

I still would have fallen in love with her underneath this moonlight.

You see, no matter how hard it is I try to pretend

I am the moth and you will always be the flame in the end.

just saying

2008-09-18T07:26:00.001-07:00

i do not like the feeling i get when i dont know where you are or who you're with or where you're going. Is it obsession, maybe.

My Poetry

2008-09-13T04:04:00.000-07:00

I use to be self concious of when you read my poems because you felt that it was too much, too intense, repetetive, redundant. Then I questioned why I felt bad when you said that. I felt you did not understand. I was frustrated that I could not share the emotion I had with anyone else. But then again we all have different tastes.

Poetry to me is melancholy, it is sadness, it is overwhelming emotion,it is drama repeated beautifully in several ways driving at the same point if only to emphasis the passion or the magnitutde of an experience at a specific point in time. It is nothing else outside of that. Poetry is passion, it is an explosion of something of some sort. It is that thing that spaces me out in the day when I see it happen. It is the thing that moves me to tears when I try to validate if it happened or if it ever happened or if it could happen at all. There is a poem in everything that commands my attention and evokes feeling. Genuine feelings not one of those Hallmark channel smiles or tears.

I find poetry in the movement of a ballerina's fingers when she reacher out to the spotlight as she stands on her toes.And you can see some tragedy of being starved for about ten years just so she could fit into that delicate mold that lets her be a graceful feather blown by the wind held together with soft rubber bones that make her as fluid as water.

I find poetry in the act of looking at my wife's lips and the total captivity I am in when I look and she lift's my chin to look into my eyes to tell me to not be so obviously in love with her. It is funny and tenderly painful.

There is poetry in everything, and I like to romance the mundane because I find a certain beauty in them. As we all know true beauty is rarely ever explicit. There is a cetain amount of digging and imagination involved.

3 am

2008-09-13T04:03:00.001-07:00

Awake at three

Got up feeling thirsty.

Had a drink, a bite and a smoke

To sleep again I go... I hope

I'm a fish out of water

I feel now that you are far

What I wouldn't give to be just where you are

In thoughts, in dreams, in wishes I now fly

I can hop on the next gush of wind blowing by.

I can get off the next stop and parachute down

With the gentle drops of rain drizzling softly to ground

Closing my eyes as I fall towards the sand

On the soft padding of your lips I hope I do land

If only it were that simple to be where you are

We'd never spend a day apart

You from me never far

Hate is Love's Anger (revised)

2008-09-13T03:45:00.000-07:00

Friends:
"GIVE UP!" they say
"GIVE UP AND LET HER GO!"
"She hates you now even more so!"
She hates you. HATES you!
She shouts with no shame

Lover:
Then happy I should be for in her heart, a part, I still remain.
While there is hate then there is hope Love and hate ends of the same rope

Friends:
She despises your presence the longer you linger

Lover:
Yes but still I pursue for her hate is merely love's anger

Friends:
What then can stop this madness of yours ?

Lover:
Just one emotion that I hope she never implores
Indifference! love’s opposite, the vanishing of love's encore
Indifference for in there... there is love no more.

Friends:
You are the King of Fools and the Majesty of Naivete

Lover:
Better a fool true to oneself than a sage preaching hypocrisy
I am the wish you’ve given up on
the dream that drove you mad.
I am what all of you wanted and want still
But never you had or ever will have.

Friend:
A fool, a majestic fool who lives on lies
When your heart finally breaks don’t come to us with your cries

Lover:
My dear friends we’re all born with broken hearts.
We are born broken
And then day comes when we find love
and then we become whole again.

Freind:
Reality one day will open your eyes
And when it does you uderstand how that kind of love
we all once had slowly dies.

Lover:
Maybe but until then I have chosen
To love with all my hearet and give what I can

Junkie

2008-09-13T03:35:00.000-07:00

When we first met
I was caught off-guard
You were instantly injected into my veins
Injected as a lethargic drug
You slowly coursed through me
To every possible root in my soul.
The utterances I’ve longed for, spoken on cue
Took shots ‘til dependency on the dose
The cure became the culpritToo far down to treatI surrendered to the addiction

And it was always like that
Always me and you
Always the two of us

They say better two than one
Two heads are better than one
Table for two
“Two please” at the movie counter
One tea and a coffee
I wanted it to stay that way
And planned a life for two

Then the wheels of life turned
And now everything is upside right up down
Now always one set of utensils
One ticket to the movies
One cup of coffee and… well….just one cup of coffee

But I am never alone
There is still two
There’s me
And then there’s always the presence of your absence that keeps me company
Always in discomfort from a craving that cannot be satiated
But nobody dies of that right?

Was reaching out for you as impossible as wishing on a starI close my eyes and with every breath and strength I find in me
Decide to fly with wings of words to you
Me on paper, stamped and sealed
But never delivered

Do Not

2008-09-13T03:28:00.000-07:00

Do not kiss me but if you were to kiss me, then do so in crisp articulateness, with suave maneuvers of clean cultured patterns, with artful taste and the exact statement of intent. Kiss me to let me know you just want the thrill of my lips and nothing more.

Do not touch me! But if you must, if you are indeed going to then TOUCH me… not shyly, lightly, half-there nor in whispers but completely, in screams, boldly and deeply.
TOUCH ME then after never let me go.

-her thoughts in my words
“this would have been the warning label tagged to her”

5 more minutues

2008-09-13T03:25:00.000-07:00

“5 More Minutes”081308

I sit here helplessly waiting for 5 mins to pass.
The seconds slowly crawl by.
I struggle with the frustration of watching the five minute fuse burn.
I documented each moment and passing sensation in my head.

The sun started a new day by dethroning the weary moon.
The earth’s sun kissed face glowed in a shade of warm gold and amber.
You reached over to pull me closer to you.
My eyes opened with raindrops falling within.
I didn’t know when we would be like this again.
You seem like a returning tourist in my life
The sleeping day’s awakening came quickly.
The golden arms of the sun embraced me and stripped me of the dark blanket of night
I was cold and naked on your bed.
In consolation,
The sun beams kissed my eyes open as the refreshing morning light wind
Caressed the rich black strands of my hair
It softly coaxed me in whispers to rise from deep sleep
And in reply to the soft sigh of the morning I said
“Nay! Not Yet! I beg you leave me be, for still I am int eh perfect dream,
On the shores of paradise during the hours of twilight.”
Couldn’t the morning go away and come again on some other night?
A night when I await a visit and long to pull the sun into an earlier rising.
A night when I laze not in loving arms

The alarm goes off.
I reset it for the 6th time
5 more mins…

2008-05-14T02:17:00.000-07:00

I will sit in that quiet corner and watch you enter from the door.
Our glances,two outstretched arms, will cross and hold hands
My eyes beckoning, will waft you to the seat next to me.

Let's watch the courting dance of coffee and cold weather
As a humming wind and rhythmic rain serenade the two
Coaxing them to embrace

I waive my finger to stir the air
And bring it to my lips
Taste the chemistry
Of music and emotions
Bitter sweet I think.

2008-05-14T02:15:00.000-07:00

She cried.
Each trailing tear scratched my face

2008-05-14T02:14:00.001-07:00

Some pursue the truth because for them that is salvation. The exercise then hence results to one remembring the innate knowedge that are residues from the past where the truth began. This resulting to emmancipation. The ''spirit'' inspires us to remember the humanity we have lost in translation. Or the humaness we have transformed into an amlgamated view of the value of man as only congruent to acquisition and what he can give based on what he has acquired.

Is it that through the various compliicated mechanisms we have developed that are founded on capitalism that we hve forgotten the truths we were born with?

2008-05-14T02:10:00.000-07:00

We've tried opening midnight bottles
midnight bodyshots on counters and brothels
We've tired to do it slowly one button at time
Straining from the restraint from the beautiful sublime
Of just ripping and grinding and pushing and shoving
And moning and screaming and scratching all evening

But of all the times I think I must say
I also love the sleepy-cuddling on a rainy day
I love the she-cooks-I-clean the dishes-nights
I love the hifatty!-all good piggy!-bantering-fights
I have learned to accept the"that's-enough-O!-for-a-night-Kiss"
The occasional just-take-a-colder-shower-a-glass-of-water-and-go-to-bed-hiss

Though grumpy and whineny she's still my happy bunny
Gorgeously Stunning powered with an energizer battery

Lullabye

2008-05-14T01:40:00.000-07:00

There is a slow unfolding drama in the way the first beams of dawn softly illuminate her face. I like waiting for that moment, i love the play of the shifting-shape-shadows on her body. I am captivated by the effect of the changing light on her skin,on her face,of the transformation of hues from moonlight silver to to dusk blue. Then the sun begins to show it's face and mixes all the colors up to a warmer pale-gold-morning. Her skin seems so much softer and warmer to touch under that light.

She sleeps. She sleeps so deeply as if waiting for true love's kiss. If only she could see through my eyes sometimes and understand the inexplicable experience I have when I look at her like this. Its so sad how she will never know how she is like this,sleeping like a baby.

Like an eye in the sky.I see us like this. I imagine it to be quite picturesque. Our bodies beside each other, like an image in the mirror, oppositely symmetrical. I alive at night, she alive in the morning. I dream with my eyes open, she dreams with her eyes closed. Together, equally resting with our limbs crossed like fingers hoping.

White Flag

2008-04-02T23:31:00.000-07:00

Her silver tongue eloquently kissed me.
Her caress silent yet bold and outspoken.
In that picturesque moment
the proper reply should have been
A haunting and lingering kiss that divulged interest
but not the true nature of the intent.
but my reply was a candid kiss
that left my total surrender undisguised.
She was unaware of what she was truly demanding
But I gave it to her anyway.
TOTAL SURRENDER.

I would have wanted to make it a bit costlier for her
but I hadn't the patience nor the will nor desire for complications.
Whether I am an acquisition or an achievement I will leave that to her.
Not that I'm actually even suppose to care.

Seeing Her Again

2008-04-02T23:23:00.000-07:00

Some line I wrote while waiting for her to arrive:

"She is a star's wish...
a dream's dream...
My hope's faith!

" Cupid's golden arrow pierced my heart,
the pain was sharp and building.
I dare not take it out
Though pleasure's pain it brings,
Because it plugs the hole where my soul slowly leaks out of."

She's here!

Face the Music

2008-04-02T22:56:00.000-07:00

Some of the women in my life,actually most of them, have come and gone without even leaving any distinguishable footprints. Sadly they were like the passing melodies of song over the radio. I hear it over the radio while driving, and I love it so much I crank it up till my ear drums are almost gonna pop. I am so immersed into the song, I'm humming along, I'm tapping the steering wheel but when the song is over, IT'S OVER, gone like it never even existed. I can't really remember the song I was rocking to that morning, can't rememeber how it started. All I remember is that I felt good listening to some song over the radio. Exactly like that song over the radio, All I have, all I am left with is the echo of the feeling but not the girl.

But there is and possibly was a woman who stuck to me like a "Last Song Syndrome". Believe me the song is never over, well at least not until a new song comes along. But until then you're stuck with it. Lucky if its some nice classy song that you genuinely like.

However it can be a bit irritating for those who have no control over the music they hear in the cab on the way to work. Sometimes its the corniest and the poorest excuse for a song or music but you end up singing it anyway. Like magic, the verses and the chorus just come to you automatically."Like kong chi kong chi ne ne ne" It was everywhere during CNY.

But like a supernova, it lights up the whole sky but only for a moment. It never really does last and is quickly replaced by the next song we choose to listen to. Nothing more than a binge of some sort.

There is this one, possibly one song that epitomises everything that you were are and ever will be. The evergreens, your OST. No matter what happens it will always strum the special chords that you will always tune in to. Sometimes we find different people who can sing them but we still ulimately pick out our favorite versions. And we keep playing it to the point of exhaustion, we take a break but then eventually like a curse you'll find yourself back there AGAIN. Listening to those songs again.

Eventually that one comes along. ONe whose original version can never be topped by a remake. Song and Singer are inseperable as if the melody would only be heard if it escapes through those particular lips. The entire thing making a slave of your senses. It can be overwhelming. You feel like you could listen forever. The fat lady and her aria. The notes put you in a trance and you hope that the fat lady never stops singing...

*put cd player on automatic replay

Projection

2008-04-02T22:43:00.000-07:00

The major thing that drives us in life is to build and protect the EGO,
Otherswise known as the self. In everyday life we encounter situations where we feel threatened or judged and so we resort to our defense mechanisms. Our walls to protect us. And as any man made thing there are so many varieties of walls. One of the most common wall, defense mechanisms, is a process we call "Projection". We condemn something that we ourselves do so that society will never suspect that we are guilty of it. Example, A gay person denouncing homosexuality.

I don't recall the exact even that made me think of projection bbut I do rememeber the circumstances. I was in a train and I saw this lady nd I made a very crude judgememnt of her but then again I realised that I did the same thing. I was looking at her in pity, judging from her conversation on the phone, she seemed so pre-occupied with fitting in. I know that collectivism has a place and purpose but I never believed that it should be the prime objective in anything. "Why try do ahrd to fit in when clearly you're born to stand out".

I made the silent condemnation in envy I guess. I was really no different from her.There are a lot of times when I just want to "fit-in". And I felt like a hippocrite.Often we fear the kind of public judegement that we ourselves are guilty of.

Maybe the only way to truly roam free and to live a life of our own is to simply learn how to stop judging others. Unless we cease to commit the very crime we fear then we will always be trapped, stuck, lost and confused as to why we just can't seem to live.

"Let he without sin be the first to cast the first stone!"

Response to Love Letter.

2008-04-02T22:33:00.000-07:00

I was accused of casting a love spell.
Here is my reply:

I have her eating out of my palm, she said.
I be the Charmer and she be the snake out of the basket.
Addictive she says...
They way I bring coffee to her at work in the moring.
The way I make love to her at night.
The way I slip love notes.
The way I express my feelings in poems.
A black magic woman possesing her she says.
Stop she says I would cause it is her request
But I do not know how.
What strange effect meeting her has had on me.
I cannot be anything else as I am now.

ONce the hunter now the hunted,
haunted by her.
I will do anything to see her smile like that.
That tempest smile that makes me get coffee
Those lips'signature curl that make me write
I find a reason to fall deeper in love
On every road I took to escape her.

Now you tell me who bewitched who!
I who must labor to conjure a smile form you
Or you who need not do anything but smile.
You tell me who is bewitched!

MATH

2008-04-02T22:14:00.000-07:00

It's like Math

Eg1. 2 ( a + b ) = x

Q1a) DIFFERENCES ( YOU + I ) = Chemistry
Factor in the differences between you and I and you get Chemistry

Q1b) SIMILARITIES ( YOU + I ) = BONDS
Add the similarities between us and you create bonds.

Eg2. 1/ 2= .05

Q2) lov DISTANCE ers
When lovers are divided by distance it almost seems like niether of them makes sense
they are standing alone cause they're only half of the big picture.