the mutual kind

give me beauty
but none of that pain
i don’t want no heartaches
i don’t want no stinging backaches
no points in life where
i’m breathing and clinging on the edge
or the notion of being stuck on a ledge
i don’t want all this
just sweet kisses from lips
the mutual kind that is
and yet if it is that
predictability…
what is beauty
if not endowed with
a little bit of
and a little bit of sweet honey kisses
from lips
the mutual kind that is…
passion in the marriage of
beauty and pain
the mutual kind that is
they make the best of lovers
the make life spill over
like the finest wine
the ones we make toasts with
around the table while we dine
laughter and tears
the mutual kind that is…
i want this.

give me beauty
and also
an allowance for pain
the mutual kind that is
i want this
i’m married to this.

+(ve) = -(ve)

Sometimes, well on a daily basis, I’d log onto Facebook and read of the status of friends and quotable links on the public wall. Now we might assume that we can categorize people in two different categories. Well this is a general one i’m presenting here. The two categories would be those who are overtly depressive and those who are positive.

There is a truth in that. But the way I observe it, we’re all people who hurt. Based on the positive inspirational quotes we post to somehow boost our day or perspective, i’d say we’re all just hurting. I mean, you won’t be all pent up trying to be positive if you were somehow fighting not to be negative.

I’m not saying that it’s somewhat bad to be positive, i’m just saying that don’t be positive people who look down on people who do express their pain. Don’t look at them as weak. Like I said earlier, even in our positive stance we are in fact fighting some negativism inside.

We’re all hurting people. Yes, even the positive ones as well.

so deep

whenever your memory occurs,
and flash before my eyes,
slowly,
and pressed deep,
the blades,
they stab,
inside.

whenever your memory occurs,
and flash before my eyes,
there are,
no tears
left,
for me to cry.

why then for them to come,
to steal away my joy,
why then for them constricting,
i only want to breath.

whenever your memory occurs,
and flash before my eyes,
slowly,
and pressed,
the blades,
they stab,
inside
so deep.

blooming flowers in the ocean winter

Chinese carved Jade ornament with flower desig...
Image via Wikipedia

what smell is the dream of blossom,
of flowers blooming,
life in bright hopeful colors.

breath in sweet fragrance,
i place beauty between your ears,
and kiss your rouge cheeks.

we shared whispers,
as if tomorrow never came,
this moment was always today.

your eyes mirror my face,
and there i peered into feeling,
i felt locked forever in your prison,
happy,
smiling.

but our journey was like the sea,
oceans colored in blue majestic,
mystery beneath tempestuous surface.

we held our hands,
and hoped for serene placidity,
but hope did not hold on.

for each to hold,
our weight together,
it would sink us both,
as breath would waters
slowly bury.

to salvage life,
my hand let go,
and you swam across the surface for safety,
while i sank,
into the mystery of the deep.

i still wait,
there in the deep,
and hope for your face,
to skim the surface…

but alas,
my hope has gathered to nothing,
and now i am one,
with the deep.

i shall return to the surface
no more.

what smell is the dream of blossom,
but flowers falling from their stem,
and winter has paled life from breathing.

Traces of light

I hear your smile
In the chambers of my heart
As if you haven’t yet depart
Again I hold to shadows
No want in seeing tomorrow

It’s hard to say
When I should sail
I promised then to let your shadow go
From the grip of my hand
But still I hold
Though I know what’s been told
The dust has finally nestled
To what was made of stone
(…But still I hold)

A sudden emptiness resides
Embracing tightly to the songs
We sang
When love was grand…
Who blew the burning candle?
Who opened the door,
To invited the wind
To steal
Traces of our light?

Seashells

She steals a kiss,
From images
She stored inside,
The ocean blue,
She rides the waves.

She walks the sands,
She sees seashells,
Washed up on the shore,
She picks one up,
And peers inside.

Beauty draped,
In hollow vessels,
For empty shells,
Reflect herself,
The aftertaste of bittersweet.

In wells she filled
with tears of her’s
Words she thought
Were permanent,
the sea now gathers
What belonged to Her.

Who stole her kisses,
From images
She stored inside,
She gathers seashells,
Reminding of her stolen youth.

she looked at stars

NGC 602
Image via Wikipedia

she lay outside to see the stars,
they shimmered bright into the night,
they stayed transfixed there in her sight.

tried to forget what was that hurt her heart,
they made their home there in her thoughts,
she cried alone in what she sought.

what was it that broke her dreams apart,
the streams of tears they flowed,
as she lay there on the grass.

the color of her hope now fade to black,
her lifeless soul now shattered,
like a fragile glass.

time felt like eternity to pass,
she wished that she was free,
like a seagull soaring across the sea.

she made her gaze again, to look up to the stars
they still stayed bright there in the thickness of her night,
they stayed transfixed
and there they held her tight.

Father and Sons

WarriorNote: I recently watched a movie titled “Warrior” and to me it was superb. A dramatic tale of family tensions laid out on the canvas of a fighting tournament. So, if you haven’t watch the movie and not a fan of those people who write stuff about it, you probably don’t wanna read this post. But it’s not that I gave the story away (ok, just part of it that is). This is a poem inspired by a scene from the film and how I interpreted and reflected on it. The poem does not depict the whole movie but reflects on “in between moment,” or “the already and not yet.” 

they were at it
blow by blow
as knuckles bruised
steady bloodclot burst
brothers in the centre ring
and winner takes it all

Dad, he was a broken man
befriended by the drink
downing gallons of alcohol
we’d fear his haunting call

a broken chair
and touseld hair
dad was in a fit of rage
this time it was the final straw
as mom and both of us
decide to flee

but i was pulled in tensioned love
for family and a lovely dove
i chose to go another way
my heart was swept away

they were at it blow by blow
as knuckles bruised
steady bloodclots burst
brothers in the centre ring
and winner takes it all

me and mom now all alone
no dad and brother tagged along
we tried to seek in darkness hope
but mom soon caughed out blood

i prayed to jesus
a miracle
that somehow he would mend the wrongs
my chorus was a played up song
and now my mom was dead

i soon inhaled the darkened brew
for joy breathed rest in peace
vowing not to ever turn

to those who did not look back

they were at it blow by blow
as knuckles bruised
steady bloodclots burst
brothers in the centre ring
and winner takes it all

I am a broken man who stole away
innocense from those i cared
inside i drove my sanity out
and tore those close
apart

i seek forgiveness from my sons
my love she is all but gone
regret is buried deep in me
for i’m already changed

how hard it is to utter three
words those hurt receive
their wounds have borne the fruit of scars
my trust they read
deceive

and now as i see
before my eyes my boys
there in the ring
though some this is mere entertainment
in this i saw my sin

they were at it blow by blow
as knuckles bruised
steady bloodclots burst
my sons there in the centre ring
i saw in them

the past in me.

as i inhale

there was a cycle of passing yet it turns around
when our hearts were knitted, together and bound
what was made not to part like the deep blue ocean
a rod lashed the waters and parted our devotion

my beautiful rose your sunshine my star
my wounds were stabbed deep it tore up my scar
a wandering comet i flew in in the night
as i invited the grave and went in without a fight

life blood throbs
bleeding heart
three words said
and you depart

a blind man’s gift
a deaf man’s gain
what then is left
as i inhale.