PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

untitled (former working title: true music)

as if one have
all the value judgements

in this—

tribulation period,

if only wind
instruments were
invented to share
a message, —

would souls
truly speak
in the present moment?

time & its insignificance

like metanoia
—a paradigm shift—
suddenly, anxiety
changing one's drift

from kabbalah
to phonetics
linguistics, semantics
hermeneutics of the Torah

from ancient

to the renaissance

what more can
one presage?

neither—

if a believer

prays to a false God

[of an othered religion]

permitted but

wronged sainthood

senile syllogisms & oblivion

may bagong liwanag

sa bigat nitong dinadala,
kahit buhay ay tila
hindi natatamasa
at walang sigla

gaya mo rin,
ang bawat tao raw
ay may kani-kaniyang
suliranin

mainam na makalaya
na nga, makaliwas ang
puso kong ito

at pati ng katawan
sa lupa
—mula sa kanilang

pagkakagapos

[Her] Genuine Smiles [Are Against Others' Wiles]

No beauty is going to
be there
for things that do not wither

(I suppose)

We see what's beyond
(the mists between us),
Just like their Renaissance

A happy, wilted leaf
(On That Pavement),
beyond belief—

—Stairs to your Zen garden,
[but it's all tall fences],
colors are..that golden

Every mark, marked

in its substance;

people's irritable
lifestyles, their suns!

Yet we woke up
barely having known
those chafed edges

(these artificial vessels or furnitures

or implements of our dreams)
its beam of natural light,

not the fixtures, when it gleams

—content in the simplicity
of the God-given days

(but, of course)

also, for every nighttime,
when there isn't a rhyme

The light of the moon shines through my window,

But it doesn't light me up like other nights.

I try to close my eyes but it won't let me sleep,

It reminds my mind that my thoughts do not leave.

I wait for the time when my mind skips a beat,

I wait for that second I can fall asleep.

I used to fight it and give all my energy to it,

I used to deny the power it had over me.

The pain only worsened, the thoughts only grew,

Until one day I realized I can't fight with the moon.

Some nights we dance and we laugh and we cry,

Some nights it's like a dream that I wish would come soon.

Tonight is a night where sleep will not come,

Where I have accepted that the moon has won.

The pain rushes from my head to my heart,

Like a knife, piercing through my spine.

The moon is not evil, it means no harm.

It does not hate me.

It lights up the dark.

But tonight I do not sleep,

Because of the moonlight through my window.

An Ode to Dhamma

Been meditating recently
To find the true me
And stick it in the bin
Then blend with Rocks
Air, fire, water
All that we are
composed of
Certainly

Its only a physical body
That surrounds my spirit
And when my body dies
It will leave me
And sit around in the ether
Till it gets bored
And finds another me
Certainly

And Dhamma would appear
To be crucially
An element of mind
Or lack of it sometimes
And I am only a student
Trying to hard to be
A man of no mind
Certainly

And I’m over complicating
This process I think
But there’s my problem
It reappears sometimes
Cannot avoid my mind
Will control it soon
I WILL find the root
Of the noble truth
Soon

My utmost desire is to
Uncover my own
Buddha nature soon
Has always been in me
It is my real identity
All people too
inherently