I'm In Love With You

I see your smile on the boy next to me.
Your eyes glitter across the hall.
Your lips on mine when my head's asleep.
Your gentle touch catching me as I fall.
My heart runs free through the park at day.
My love, the chain, around my neck.
My memories dances with the said, unsaid.
You hold power to change smiles to tears and back.
What am I to do,
when I'm still in love,
with the one I've grown apart?
What can I do,
when I'm deeply in love,
with the one who broke my heart?

Naked Moment

His face so familiar; so estranged.
Our stare intent. His eyes, brown from the memory
of my lips, were blue and black and blank all at once.
His confusion hits me only by recollection.
My gaze transcending; I couldn't tell if he
had beard or had nose or had mouth. But he sure did lose
his voice.

I cannot recall my look I gave but muscles remember
concoction of betrayal, shame and pride through the glasses.
The face of intense silence as the endorphin continue
dusting tickling magic throughout my body. I hope he
didn't look down.
My bare bottom couldn't have handled anything more.

Love Exchange

"Dear grandfather,
shall I go to the market with you today?"

"Lovely child,

why don't you stay home with grandma instead?

I can go there by my lonesome;

my legs work fine."

"Wear a hat for the sun,

sweet husband of mine."

The Way He Sees

He sees the world every day.
He gets out of his bed into his chair and out to his world.
I swear I was prettier than that little missy pushes him around.
He waves at me.
For years his eyes has never changed. The same wave as
he steps through the same threshold. When he left for work,
when he left for our freedom, when he left for the grocery,
it was in different outfits, different legs and different faces but
he has always looked at me the same way and never leaves
without his signature smirk.

Life used to be crystal clear, then a blur, then grey with the cataract sky.

I remember the bus stop we first met.
I remember the rice fields we splashed our way through.
I remember the tree we first held hands.
I remember the kiss, so brazen, at the hidden corner of my father's warehouse.

Permission. Arrangement. Engagement. Marriage.
He bore me children of seven. Seven bundles of smelly diapers,
raging tantrums, disobedient students, anxious candidates,
proud graduates, driven businessmen and grandchildren.

Today the smirk has gone old.
The concrete ceiling, I see myself in, cries in the rhythm of my
youthful pacemaker. He has been through family gatherings and world
wars with my cheers ringing in his ear; each time reigning undefeated.
Who would have known that the boy who once held my world in his
hands would be beaten by a tiny cell?

From my own prison, I can see the cancer wear him down
day by day; his clock delaying one more second every sunrise.
At least he gets to see our world each day. My eyes feel his
every wave and my heart replays that entrancing smirk.

Little Soul

We met yesterday as any other day, before dawn,

after dusk. You looked as how old would appear

in fatigue's silhouette. Scabs ripped and wounds

reopened by the fangs of another, permitted

to penetrate by your heart. I try my hand at the

bad sewing and offered five doses of a dozen sheep,

every one soaking up the congenial shame you bleed.

One, the words rerun.

Two, the cruel time spools.

Three, the flashbacks breathe.

Four, the story recalls.

Five, your jaded spirit dives
into every memory and with every memory, the
hallucinations come back with a new found volume of

sacrilegious vengeance.

Soon, what that did not once cause a tear will create

the downpour that drowns even the most defensive cactus.

Six minutes in and the girl who learned

to build her fortress of smiles is now the

same one cowering under the blanket.

Even teddy broke a sigh.

You, the luckless shattered soul, have no onus

to hear the cries I screech silent in my head.

Hush now, you are as young as I remembered;

as I pictured; as I find; as I think; as I dream.

You are as innocent as prison calls, as charming

as stars' glow at death. Hush now.

You know, the grand empires you conceive shall never truly

be safe and the majestic castles you raise shall never truly

protect when you are only hesitant to countenance
the entry of the unmelodious serpents.

Congratulations

I can hear the glitter.
Do you hear the glitter?
Gold yet transparent, it's in the air.
I can breathe it on every strand of my body.
It's under my skin. I stand on it.
It cheers.

My mouth gaping, teeth rejoice.
The furrow suspicious but the eyes hopeful.
The tears drown,
The feet fly.
I'm above ground.

My heart stops; the crowd beats for me.
Arms shaking, flailing, squeezing, raising.
The noise silent.
The time replays and rewinds.
Cameras obsolete.
Spit confetti.

Do you hear the glitter?
It was from my soul.
I left it on the stage, now it's in the air.
Tears of the infected; it's under their skin.
I bask in it, I sob in it, I cry for it.
I hear it cheer.

Limerick Holiday

Agnes and Pam on holiday
Through the streets we shout with gay,
"Goodbye Dublin;
You've been supreme,
But Limerick city, we're on our way!"

Death Be With You

A tribute to my waigong. RIP.

You with the lovely eyes,
why don't you open them and see?
Open them and watch the world.
Look at my face. You created me
and then molded my person.
Hold my hand, Papa!
Look at me. Look at your son
that longs your smile.

Why are you colder than ever?
Do you need a blanket? I'll grab one for you.
Speak to me. Where are the words
of the lips that taught me two plus two?
Breathe in the air, Papa,
It's easy, like this.
Please breathe, Papa.
Here, have true love's kiss.

Tell me you're not gone, dear father.
Tell me you've just gone to bed.
Tell me you'll sit up at anytime.
Tell me, Papa. Tell me you're not only dead.
Sing me tunes of robins and larks,
Paint me pictures of sky and soil,
Teach me lessons of strength and life.
Fill me with kisses of sadness and joy.

I think I understand how this works;
what happens when one dies.
The Son calls out and you must go
but why won't you come when this son cries?
I look around and I do see,
pieces of you surrounding me.
You're not only dead, my kind daddy;
you burn in the hearts of everybody.

Cluck Cluck Cluck!

Born fourteen December nine-three,

the year of the rooster for me.

Excited, I am,

To fly with friends.

Can’t wait for great sights to see!

The Soldier

He is amazing. His eyes gleam as he breathes my breaths.

The work he does can be seen on his face.

Each pearly breakout stems from the hardships

he faces for us, for my family. Each scar,

a memento of a battle with himself; stuck between

presence and protection of the ones he loves.

The dirt and grime of the forests he crawls and eats

and sleeps does not compare to the fondness of

her heart back home. Neither injuries nor hurt can compare

with the lost cheers of the boy’s first goal or the absence

of the small one’s first words.

The badges and awards tells of the tough decisions

made in the field but the white gold he proudly bears on

his face reads the hardest one yet.

He is Man. Strong. Resilient. Admired. Protector.

Almost impenetrable but the dots on that smile of re-unity,

they are the gateway to his soul.