*a black heart drowning in euphoria*

Lamentations

Forensics Of

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I’ve been zoning out from reality
Dreaming of dreams that will never be
Life that time has stolen from me
People who I’ll never meet or meet again…

My soul caught fire when I’ve settled for hell
Disguised as this world
Now no man can save me.

I’ve drank a cup of fire
And I’m vomiting cold blades
I keep losing myself in the gloom of these seven shades
The worst truth is that I have never lived a lie
…and I have never lived
and I can’t wish I never did.
Undrown me so I can breathe!

I can’t wish I never lived
even if Truth be this.
When I’m morose I master my expertise
When I’m a master they think I’m diseased, decreased or deceased.
Where then shall I maintain my honesty
If it has no place in every society?
Forensics of a poet’s tragedy

Physics of the bullets of agony
That missed my brains and bludgeoned my heart without touching it…
Gun ballistics and fluid dynamics
When the scenes are so serene
But the past is a redout.

Blackout!

How many times, without dying, did I really end my Life? Did I?
How many crimes of mediocrity have unmade me?
How many dead stars extracted my wishes from my memories?
How many vultures have been staring at me for all eternity
While I lay petrified watching corpses rise as zombies

How deep, severe, have I been severed,
immersed in the wailing of sunshine..
Why was sunshine wailing?
Though I feel like a dancing skeleton with flappy hollow wings
I’m not the ghost that’s pointing at me.

I keep doing the forensics of my own tragedy
When I dream of dreams that will never be
And ache for the Life that probably eludes me…
Until I can see the people who are still really there.
Then,
Like a moon at daytime hiding behind a burst of clouds
I zone back to reality
And see what I can make of me.


Where Oh Where to Take the Stars

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Where oh where oh where to take the stars,
My dearest, sweetest whom I must guide away from liars…

Time stretches her arms to extend despondency
Autumn mirrors my melancholy….

Yet the world’s sourly wrought ages,
Wrinkle primitive inclinations…
Unembraces callously
Beings composed in disintegration…

A contained container with contents somewhere else…
The song of the wind in a planet Mars….
Ridiculous words that deceive the self-proclaimed
Astronauts who have never seen the stars…

We’ve ceased to understand what impediments are
As we merely speak of them from our inner gnomes…
Scattering ourselves without motion,
Feigning malfunctions in our chromosomes..

If tides and currents make good scours
We’ll be mistaking them for scars…

Maxims, Axioms, Dictums of who?
Unbuild my dreams and break my rhymes…
Meridians prime, where I can’t find
The over-stalked lover in Pacific’s crimes

Magnetic Storms cast me frozen
While I hold the burnings stars…
I must stretch Time’s arms even longer
For a diameter’s half that breaks seven bars…

My dearest child, kept in gray
I hope we both don’t ever go astray…


He Is A Song

Life At Its Fullest - Peewee

Reach the summit of a mountain
Kiss the floor of the sea
In all of Life’s adventures
There is a song in me

He is the love
And Epic reward
From God to all of us here
He’s lived a good life
Been giving good love
And on his 80th year
We thank the Lord
This man is a song
Who’ll live on…

So walk the gravel and cement
Of busy city streets
Convert the traffic into jazz
With this legend in your ears

He is the love
And Epic reward
From God to all of us here
He’s lived a good life
Been giving good love
And on his 80th year
We thank the Lord
This man is a song
Who’ll live on…


Of Time…

toddlers58

Sometimes,
good intentions without understanding result to worse things.
Sometimes,
it’s better to not understand beings and simply respect feelings.

Ripples of thoughts
of wonders and sorrows
severe his mind gracefully
at the wrong time….

All in non-extremes
beg for attention
when the only Freedom starts with Detention…
Isolation
Seemingly Zombiefication
– A Liberation they know nothing of.

Pink and Green
Images of woe
Images of Joy
Disprove Slumber

-THE DEATH WAS REAL!

It was a nightmare that came before sleep
It was a dream that happened because he awakened…

But now he must awaken again….

There is a pool of woe in the Southeast,
and fish in the cold air up North to the West…
He knows no other waters but woe.

Time stops in this climax of suffering.

The LIFE was real…

Sometimes,
he gets swallowed up in a time machine…
and knows just about too many things…
Sometimes…
he only thought of time…

He cries to sleep,
wakes up the same,
blood flowing through his veins
and outside of them.

Splashes of blood
on this mundane floor
drown him gently
in sweet Sunday gloom.


Beyond the Noise

Zandvoort

There’s no comfort for my chosen solitude
In a crowd where I don’t seem forlorn…
Sunshine’s not my friend in Winter
When my heart and soul breaks torn…
Beyond the noise, although I feel the peace,
I also feel the grimmer breeze…
I’ve tweaked my brains to make myself believe
That I don’t have everything I need…


If Ever Again…

me

Everything is at stake for my soul, and I’d be drawing closer to Hell’s entrapment
and would burn graver enough to give Hell a good name before I reach it,
should I suffer the same horrors over and over again
aside from each one’s aftereffects.
Hell would be stripped off of its place in extremity
and the pain and madness within me shall overthrow it.


The Saddest Poem

bird

I wanna sing the saddest songs as if I would die
and then I wanna cry my heart out as if I’ve lost God…
I wanna run in circles within an untamed wilderness
after my tears have equalled the waves of the seas…
and find myself at the top of a snow-capped mountain
screaming my frozen lungs out and hearing only my voice
transmitting the rage of my burning heart.
Distorted and soul-starved,
I don’t ache to feel a little less alive…
Nor do I merely ache…
My madness does not represent a longing for joy
Not even a longing for death.
My loneliness is not soothed by company.
My burden blinds with light.
There is nothing more worse for me and ill
than the simple mediocrity when I do not sing when I will.


EXCERPTS FROM AN UNFINISHED ODE:

EXCERPTS FROM AN UNFINISHED ODE:

No devil could stop this
And no Man.

Pulsed Salvation took form
Beginning before
The waters of the womb;

God, the Artist,
Gentled His film

And

In the darkroom of man,
Devised new Light:

Son and Brother of All

Who had the eyes of a Hero,
One, where the Artist’s
Signature’s found.

Blessed be beholders of he
For they shall serve God unerringly,
Have virtue endowed
And themselves, sanctified
By Love for and from
His son, Jesus Christ.

—–
Happy Birthday Kuya Ec! I never imagined my life without you… Your epic of giving your Life to save someone, shall always be a reminder to us, of how fragile, and at the same time, how powerful we are, that we have to be a hero when God calls us to fulfill His glorious and loving will. “There is no better love than this. To give up one’s life for one’s friends”….


How Do You Take A Death?

How do you take a death,
When the weight of its pain
Brings you to your knees
And stabs you repeatedly
As you bleed through most sorrowful tears?

How do you take a death,
When its cold bludgeons you frozen
Makes you crawl to nowhere
In all your disbelief
When you try to justify Life’s loss…

…and find out there’s no Justice…
For an angel born in a new home, Heaven…

Do you question the Lord,
Do you blame Him for the choice of the cause
The mistakes, the circumstances,
The manner of death,
The suffering much less than you now have to endure?

Know there is justice….
For an angel born in a new home, Heaven…

Do not question the Lord…
If not to get answers.
You can not take a death…
Unless it is yours…

And you can live in honor
Of all the good your lost love have done alive
And you can live in respect
To all the wishes of our beloved departed…
Accepting an angel is born
In a better home we call Heaven…


Chambers of the Obsolete III

Originally uploaded and copyrighted in xyldrae.deviantart.com

So dark, the shadows in my eyes
So light, the hell within my burden,
That I may never say good night
In the calming presence of moonlight.

So vast, the barren spaces of my woes
So crowded, the only things that hold
That I may never taste more than defeat
In the cruel chambers of the obsolete.


Just Can’t

I wrote poems that give out the state of my soul…
I wrote when I’m desperate.
I wrote when I had secrets.
My poetry is my secret garden…
And my secret hell…
And my poetry is something you just don’t care about.
It’s okay. Although
When I’d rather talk to you than write a poem you wouldn’t care about…
I find myself too lifeless to write about how frustrated I am…
That to talk to you…
I just can’t…