The more days I spend talking to you
The more,my love for you fades.
My heart beats quieter seeing
Your eyes once stars, dim.
Your voice a sweet tone
that carried honey.
Now bitter.
I still love you,
but I don't want you.
Your hapless actions-
Fill me with guilt.
I don't know what to do,
you ask once more
"Is this love true?"
The question hurts
as I can't even look at you.
786.
Ang Daing sa Gethsemane
at Ang Dying na Secretary
At pumasok sa Gethsemane si Hesukristo
Naghinaing sa Ama at sa mga apostoles nito
Oras na! Oras na! Narito na!
Ipagkakanulo na Siya!
Sila ang mga armado
May mga espada at pamalo
Oras na ng kadiliman
Mga tagasunod nagsikulasan
At dumating sa TED si El Gordo
Naghinanakit sa Amang at sa mga estudyante nito
Oras na! Oras na! Nandito na!
Ilalaglag na siya!
Sila ang mga LPardo
May mga balakin at plano
Oras na ng kalaban
Mga tinuruan iniwanan
Ang paglaglag sa puwesto kay Rn Corona
Ay isa bang banta, badya o babala?
Ang pag-#Waay kay Js Rd bilang Secretary
Ay balakin din ba ng pumalit sa DILG?
-04/06/2020
(Dumarao… Holy Monday)
*Unique Holy Week
Phosphorescent planetary
paths petrify prematurely,
Profoundly powerful
photospheres perish
pathetically,
Prominences polarize,
Propagating parabolic
phantom - shadows,
Preterite plasma - bursts
petrify periodically,
Precipitating permanent,
pitch - black primordial -
gloom,
Prototypical pulsars
paradoxically portend post-
stellar doom,
Profound planetary
patriarchs perish perpetually.
Dusk darker themed—
Eventide, where I drifting, dreamed
Softly sighing, stars arcing gleamed
Moonlight and shade pass over me.
My life and day now pass away
While in the glooming dusk I lay
Time abides till our final day
Then whisks us up and far far away
Into that darkness flecked with light
Seeking our place midst starry night
Silently roams the meteor,
Left to right—
Pray, a gleeful soul taken flight?
Far far above the moonlit blue
Turned the living orb, shining-new
Passed the horizon a glow endue
The Sun, golden, dawning into view.
at least sixteen musicians have died on planes
Glenn Miller, Buddy Holly, Aaliyah too
The Big Bopper went down due to torrential rains
The loss of such marvelous talent makes me feel blue
I watched my Mother Earth
naked under acid rain,
her trees like ribs poking through
a thinning green dress.
Once, she was thick with mango scent,
her belly warm with rice,
her rivers laughed like gurgling babies
now she chokes on plastic bottles
and oil spills that shimmer
like toxic jewelry.
They say the sea is rising,
but no one tells you how it feels
to watch a coastline
forget the names
of the children who played there.
My childhood was monsoon wet
thunderstorms licked our skin,
frogs sang in the dusk like priests
now rain arrives like a stranger,
either too late
or all at once,
like a slap.
I am told
to recycle,
to carry a cloth bag,
to plant a tree once a year
like lighting a lamp for the dead.
But the billionaires fly
above the storms,
sipping cold coffee
and dreaming of Mars.
And I
a woman with cracked feet
and a bleeding voice
write poems
no one reads,
weep for birds that no longer return,
and mourn glaciers
as if they were lovers
who never said goodbye.
The sun burns angrier now.
The moon stays away.
And I, too,
am learning how to die slowly,
without asking for too much air.
So this is how it ends
Not with darkness
With exhaustion
For billions of years
I mistook burning for living
I gave away pieces of myself
So gradually it looked like light
They looked up at me and called it beautiful
No one called it loss
Planets build their lives around my certainty
Measure time by my arrival
Never noticing that every sunrise costs me
And yet
If I were to begin again, I would still choose to shine
What is a star if not a thing that spends itself so something else can grow
The darkness waits at the edge of me now
Patient
Ancient
Hungry
But I am not afraid
I have lived a thousand lives inside the eyes that looked up
And when I finally go
The light will keep travelling long after I’m gone
A final reminder that endings are rarely where things end
The last thought of a dying star,
Would be to hold its light.
Terrified of the cosmos thriving on,
When it's life is being drawn.
The last thought of a dying star,
Would be to wonder why it had to die?
As bursts of light would spurt out,
As if it were bleeding.
From afar it looks like a spectacle,
A new nebula forming in sight.
The other stars would coldly watch,
As if it were an everyday fight.
Perhaps the last thought,
Would be fear.
Perhaps not of death,
But of what comes after.
The last thought of a dying star,
Wouldn't exist for long.
Before it could comprehend,
Its light would be long gone.
After all that’s happened
I never sat down to think.
I always wanted to push forward
and never looked back.
Who wants to sit down with pain?
Especially when all it does is hurt you.
It showed me parts of me I don’t like
and I try not to blame you.
Some days I curse you under my breath.
I daydream about if things had worked?
Then I get nightmares about doing that.
I try to think past the what ifs and
Accept what happened between us.
If I had the power to either forget you,
Or make you love me like I love you.
I’d choose to forget you.
Gasoline doesn’t control a dying flame.
You cut me deeply where the wound
Still feels the sear of your burning knife
As it thrusts right into my back,
With smoke burning my throat as it escapes
Despite all the pain, I don’t hold onto it.
Where would there be room for love,
If I choose to keep hating you?
Maybe we could’ve been friends,
If things didn’t turn out this way.
I can’t say I’m glad or upset that
We met under these circumstances.
All I have to say is, thank you
And I wish you good luck with
Everything.
615.
Santa Muerte, Godmother of the Sick & the Dying
Santa Muerte, Godmother of the Sick & the Dying
Godmother of the Sick & the Dying, oh Sacred Madrina
Bless all sick & dying that they become a warning
Protect them from harm, our Great Valedora
Bless all sick & dying who serve as warning to the healthy
Do not abandon them, our Dear Protectora
Protect our sick & dying who revere the Almighty
Our sick & dying who believe you, our Grand Patrona.
Amen.
-10/15/2018
(Dumarao)
*Special Intentions to Godmother Santa Muerte
my relationship smoldering
She carries me
To places I haven’t seen before
I don’t understand
But I hold her hand
And I am dragged along
There is some sort of fate behind her actions
I don’t care
I want to run the other way
I keep telling her
Let go of me
I hurt
She is hurting me
My legs are wearing down
And when she sees my bruises
I notice a falter in her smile
But she tells me this is reason to keep going
She says it is better
This is better
I have no say here
Because she is the one
who always finds me
where all is lost
Away from here, she guides me aimlessly
The path does not matter to her
As long as it’s away
And though I hate when she shows up
I wait with a smile
And let her take my hand
me too, Paul Robeson,
me too
"That ol' man river,
he must know something
But he don't say nothing"
I'm there too
in the shallows:
the blue mud of deep
southern clay
where I find green jasper
and dreams
rank from wet earth
We are all 'passing'
for something
my German is dirtied
by Danish
and lesser shades
of slushy heritage,
unwon races,
and uneaten leftovers
My avocado was ripe
for you yesterday
My showboat, she just
keeps "rolling along"
Now, Ava Gardner:
step out of the scene
Step out, Ava Gardner,
you will be remembered
by greater women
than me
Written: May 25, 2026, for a contest sponsored by Line Gauthier
1st place contest winner
*****************
The moonlight sighs a silver tear,
shine was gone where shadows dare.
A garden of grief, where roses decay,
their petals of pledge swept away.
Love’s once fierce flame is a raging scar,
teaching the soul how prone we are.
a playground's absence,
the invisible angel
sketching burns they walk;
laughing cheeks run fallen salt;
winter is dead in the streets
partially inspired by a contest sponsored by Nette Onclaud
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