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Jeremiah Castelo De Guzman Poem
My heart needs a home,
I’ve tried fitting it on bookshelves among fantasy novels and romantic stories,
but for some reason,
JRR Tolkein wouldn’t let me in between him and Danielle Steele,
I’ve tried placing it by my stereo;
in front of the speaker;
next to my well-ranged arsenal of music which has taken me years to put together.
But after a while,
I noticed that Hard Rock would cause my heart to turn to stone,
Hip Hop would cause it to turn black at every curse,
Electronic music would cause it to break down into fine pieces of sand;
the deep melancholy sounds of the bass guitar
would manifest as wind from the sub woofer;
blowing it away.
I’ve tried dipping it into a mug of beer or soaking it in hard alcohol,
but time and time again; it would dissolve into the liquid
and I’d lose it.
The bartender would mistake it for a Bloody Mary,
mix it up,
and serve it to the next girl who wouldn’t gulp it all down at once,
but take little sips in between conversations
in order to savor it.
Sometimes I’d be tempted to believe that she’s well aware of what she’s drinking;
Every sip hurts my chest.
I would roll it around in white powder hoping to create some sort of protective mask,
but the chemical in the drug would eat away the surface;
leaving it disfigured and more fragile than ever.
I had tried planting it into the ground among the cannabis plants
to see if something would grow out of it,
But when I had returned to dig it up,
I had found that the roots of the surrounding plants
had drained the life out of the core;
turning it into shell.
When I cracked it open, it was hollow.
I’ve tried placing it in the bosom of beautiful women,
which seemed like the right place at the time,
until each one used the pointy, polished finger nail
of her long, slender, finger
to pierce the center of it;
causing it to ooze blood.
I’ve tried placing it into the hands of those I trusted,
but the hands of the strong would squeeze too tightly,
the hands of the weak would keep dropping it,
the hands of the unreliable would leave it in dark places and forget about it,
the hands of the cruel would throw it as far as they could, like a baseball,
the hands of the hurtful would immediately hand it right back to me,
and the hands of the clean would never touch it at all.
Then I placed it into the hands of my Creator,
my Saviour;
the One who spent ages coming up with its design,
the One who calculated every measurement to the finest detail,
the One who made countless rough drafts in order to attain perfection,
the One who is waiting for His masterpiece to
willingly be placed back into His gentle, cupped hands.....
When I did,
it fit perfectly,
and glowed a bright red,
as if it were smiling.
It started singing quietly;
the most beautiful melody I’ve ever heard.
It has remained there ever since,
and will remain there forever.
www.psalmsandpsychoses.com
Copyright © Jeremiah Castelo De Guzman | Year Posted 2013
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Jeremiah Castelo De Guzman Poem
Hearts only grow harder
and flesh is never thin,
Some are much explicit
while others hold it in,
Dare i let it lay
on the surface of my skin,
Lest i be judged
by the color of my sin.
A man of tobacco's smoke
is a man oppressed in vice,
He cares nothing of his temple
in whom his spirit lies,
Yet another man can feast
on blatantly baneful foods,
Not a word would be spoken
of the poison he consumes.
A man who sips his liquor
by the highlight of the moon,
Is a man so poor in judgment
and is quickening his doom,
Yet a man who drinks caffeine
at every rising sun,
Won't acknowledge his dependence
nor vent to anyone.
A man who curses freely
and is expletive in tongue,
Is a man of lower class
and respected by none,
But a godly man may speak of those
ethnically apart,
With disdain and deprecation
yet remain in the dark.
A junkie on the street
so vile and feeble,
Has sold his self control
for a vial and a needle,
Yet we're fine with pharmaceuticals
if bottled and labeled,
If medically insured
and legally enabled.
A man who shouts in anger
gives the darkness full control,
Moreover, he's devoid
of all peace in his soul,
Another man can harbor hate
secretly at heart,
And can hide among the righteous
and not be set apart.
He who commits adultery
sins against his body,
His lust of the flesh
deemed forever ungodly,
But what of modern cinema?
Images and art?
He who looks at her with lust
is an adulterer at heart.
There are those who openly
give tribute to the world,
Those who sip, smoke, and swear,
and collect diamonds and pearls,
Nothing here is new
the surface is the same,
We are all of one,
We are all to blame
But what of those whose faults are hidden
deeper than within,
Those who go unnoticed
are safe behind their skin,
Those whose eyes are haughty,
Those who choke with pride,
Those who do the kinds of things
much easier to hide,
As slander their own brother
and gossip among men,
As disrespect their mother
and bare false witness to a friend,
Whose gods are of their belly,
Whose gods are of their bank,
Who measure their own worth
by class and social rank,
Those who display holiness
like trophies on their shelves,
And those who judge self-righteously
as if Gods themselves,
Hearts only grow harder
and flesh is never thin,
Some are much explicit
while others hold it in,
Dare i let it lay
on the surface of my skin,
Lest i be judged
by the color of my sin.
www.psalmsandpsychoses.com
Copyright © Jeremiah Castelo De Guzman | Year Posted 2013
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Jeremiah Castelo De Guzman Poem
Last time I checked,
it was still on my neck,
What now is a mark,
once was a speck,
Protected by the freckle,
I can now never forget,
Tattooed into a bad mood,
the ink I still regret,
Smooth surface, epidermis,
let color fill the pores,
Black lines, abstract designs,
around the open sores,
Follow my fingers
from the valley to the summit,
Let go of all your baggage,
watch all your worries plummet,
Rub it in a circle
’til the purple turns to pink,
Palm against palm
let our fingers interlink,
Wrinkles and folds,
crevices and creases,
Capturing the beads
a sweat gland releases,
Scars and birthmarks
and lipstick kisses,
Fleshly desires
and skinful blisses,
Cuts and wounds
and bumps and bruises,
Believing the lies
when beauty confuses,
A tingling sensation
while waiting patiently,
Exhale into the navel
and let creation breathe,
Scriptures and phrases
that raises goosebumps,
The laying on of healing hands
and disappearing lumps,
I’ve spent a lifetime,
counting freckles and moles,
Skin against skin,
like magnetic poles.
www.psalmsandpsychoses.com
Copyright © Jeremiah Castelo De Guzman | Year Posted 2013
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Jeremiah Castelo De Guzman Poem
My shoulders are well oiled axles,
my fists are cannon balls
I am an uncompromised,
uninhibited,
and unchallenged fresh breath of boldness
I am a statue of fastholding,
chiseled down from black diamonds by the strong hand of craftsmanship
I am chaos's more stable second cousin,
and favored uncle to the prodigals, the proliferates, the princes, and the prodigies
I am the lion's heart beat,
the war drum's sporadic syncopation
I am the wolf pack's collective sixth and seventh senses,
keen on the scent of blood, fear, and impending annihilation
I will not sway to the breath of your voice
nor will I stagger at the wind your weather weaves
Advance upon me and find yourself hard pressed against calloused intolerance,
behind which is a wall,
and behind that wall,
an army
I pray you combust into flames and feathers at once
should my name birth from your lips
I pray my night guardsmen have eyes of eagles,
and my trumpeteers have breaths of behemoths should you
ever encroach upon my camp at dreaming hour
I promise to empress upon you pressure,
of a nature that spawns pearls, magma, and passionate revolution
But the only revolution that will come of your resistance is vertigo,
as you spiral downward into abysmal forgottenness
Now heed my words with intent lest you risk the fate of faded bewilderment
May God be my strength as I destroy you
Eviscerate you
Annihilate you
I will obliterate you until the only remnant of your very existence
is but a vague memory,
of a fleeting idea
in a dream
inside a dream
inside a coma.
www.psalmsandpsychoses.com
Copyright © Jeremiah Castelo De Guzman | Year Posted 2013
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Jeremiah Castelo De Guzman Poem
When the Opium wears off,
my bones begin to ache
at every passing breeze,
my muscles succumb to gravity’s will,
and my skin is a blanket of pain.
When the Opera finally ends,
the silence is
as deafening as a drowning violin,
as lonely as a lost feather
floating on wandering wind,
as painful as heartache and heartburn,
and as uncomfortable
as undersized undergarment,
woven of wool, and worn
not in winter,
but in the stare of the summer sun.
When the cakes have all been eaten
and the wine has all been drunk,
I’m a starving lion in a plastic jungle,
I’m the insatiable leviathan
sinking ship after abandoned ship,
I’m the salmon who drank the river dry,
I’m the sailor who swallowed the sea,
and the emperor who ate the earth,
country by country,
from crust to core.
When love has waxed cold
and passion has left,
winter walks everywhere
and screams with each step,
my lost lover’s face is seen in each breath,
crystals condense
on my heart and my hands,
and the night is as dark
as a stranger’s shadow.
When my golden palace turns to lead
and my silver veins bleed out,
I’m a beggar at the temple gate;
tattooed with sinners’ symbols,
cursing in a foreign tongue;
clothed in the color
of a forbidden faction.
I’m chief of
the council of handsome statues,
in a town full of bashful ghosts,
with an army as weak
as the quench of the sea,
and whose coin
is as worthless as promises.
When the Opium wears off
and the Opera finally ends,
our reality is too real to know,
the truth is too complex to comprehend,
the pain goes beyond
what our threshold can fathom,
and the silence is as loud as death.
© 2013 Jeremiah Castelo
www.psalmsandpsychoses.com
Copyright © Jeremiah Castelo De Guzman | Year Posted 2013
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