Finding Home

You asked me, "Do you pray?" I said, "What do you think?" And you replied, "I don't think you do." I laughed, "Incredulous." Thinking about our conversation, last night, I pondered. I thought how it may be true what you said. How I do not pray. Anymore at least. I do whisper every night in my heart to whoever might listen. Whoever. Yes, I erased the names of my saints. Because that's what you do when you are hurt and the people you want to hear you are deaf. You un-name them. Because maybe they will get the point. Hopefully. Because of all the ironies in life, of all the names I have been called, the only retaliation I can throw back is to take away the names of my saints. It's like blaming the universe for the sin of one person. Unfair, I know. It always is. But guess what? I decided last night. I want to believe again. In something. Anything. To just hold one truth or two, any truth in my hand, to hold it against my hea

When Icarus flew over the great vast sky He forgot about himself That his wings were made only of wax and feathers of some other living thing The sun blinded him With its beauty and Commanded him to come forth Which he did And so he soared How he soared He forgot the tenets his father pleaded him never to forget, which he did But he soared, he flew towards that blinding ball of light and tasted sunlight with all its glory and might Until his feathered and waxed wings gave up and melted Into his mortality And he fell deep into the vast ocean And drowned. But at least Before he died He let the sun blind his eyes At least He tasted life... -MAY 26, 2013- Photo Credit: http://www.photo-zen.com/scotland-hebrides-seagulls-photographs.html

Sudden memories Appear out of nowhere Like cocktail servings In minute increments Like unexpectedly meeting An old friend as you turn Left at a blind corner Catching you viciously off guard Like being shown an old Home video That remind your sorry self How at one point you were alive Tasted life down to its Very core Dared to go to the very edge And yet find that, You could not say "More." Instead what you could manage were Soft retorts of, "Maybe in an alternate universe, Maybe another lifetime. " And now I am writing this On an imaginary journal That you handed to me On the drabbest street Praying as I write you feel The strokes, hear me talk To myself, "Life is a word problem, According to them Whoever said calculus Was of no use was right A lot of X's and Y's Variables they call them Damn right they were And me? I'm a "W" And there's no solution To this

Closed Mouth Closed Mind Open Palms Open Heart Surgery Without the Surgeon's Fine precision Tools Only Chaos Leaving my Heart in shambles Not enough curse words I whisper Turning down my voice Like the Volume Of a Surround Sound Mute.

Monsoon June Rain Coats Rain Boots Roof Gutters Drop By single Drop Gush Splash Onto a pool Of earth Stones And mud Ripples Surround That Pin drop Concentric Rounds Bringing Me back to 11 years past When rain was Not rain at all What was it? I forget. Oh yes there it is-- A deep dull ache Tearing at my gut Rain back then Was, oh you know one nonchalant, mere Bleeding of My too brash Brazen, hubristic heart. Why don't you Just stop? I said to this Wretched organ As in stop beating So the pain would Be no more? But it was deaf And stubborn hard-headed And so on it Went beating 60 per minute Sometimes less Sometimes I willed it to be less But still it fought And the rain just Poured Down-poured Torrential Washing away all 20 pounds Of flesh Why couldn't it Wash away my Heart instead? That place That was what The poets were Raving about Th

There was no sun today Nor wind to soothsay Only an ordinary dusk Silent, mute Bland No brilliant sunset skies No blinding light making my amber eyes No, there were no Audacious display of hues All that prevailed was a Distant quiet memory A thousand memories Whose voices are forcibly Silenced Like a heart that's Given up all fragments Of hope And all you can see Is an emotionless Unreadable face A living mantra of Buy peace, choose peace From what seemed like Decades past and yet The sting like that of a fresh Untended wound An unfinished novel That's beating around The damn bush Same old same old Story One satirical tragedy One irrefutable truth Me and well Who else? You.

One day It comes-- The truth You once so feared Everything becomes clear Without force or friction It just comes Unbidden Like the skies on a summer's day The sun in noon day Height Light bursting Seeping through the cracks A healing balm on your heart Like a sudden Downpour of June or July Heaven weeping Raindrops trickling Humming a soothing tune Water gushing through and around the rocks on the riverbed Mending your wounds And even as the rocks remain solid, unmoving, the water does not It travels on Like the blood in your veins Keeping the beast that's your heart alive Water, it goes on Onto the roaring beckoning sea And it comes and goes The waves Unrelenting, effortless The sun, that golden Orbit of light and Heat turning water Into vapor And vapor into A tuft of clouds Until it is full of itself and rains down again Life. Love. Fate. Curves

One big universe And here I am One minute insignificant speck of dust One blank canvass A Tabula Rasa The dust grows into a desert storm The canvass is filled The lines come forth Words overflow Brush strokes move across Rising and falling this way and that One unmistakeable image, abstract like these words that reveal nothing and everything Confined in my mind's blind spot, Unseeing, yet all-seeing Hearing acoustic strings being plucked so beautifully by a tone-deaf musician Telling a story Creating a mystery Eternally concealing the protagonists Singing an aria of longing and renouncing Undecipherable The middle of nowhere and everywhere The tug of war transformation of day into night and night into sunrise Forbidden corners emblazoned by light Lighting my frigid night And safe shadows comforting my excruciatingly bright sunlight Life's wondrously bitter ironies Like

The heavens are thundering weeping for my eyes that cannot cry The skies are loud Rebuking, remonstrating like cumulonimbus clouds without the silver lining angry for the muted warring voices inside wildly beating drums that is my heart Rain falls trickling down never-ending Sweet relief albeit brief like a hymn the song of the winds that sings, serenades a question whose answer cannot be bestowed upon for now at least cannot be fathomed deciphered unencumbered like the depths of the violin-shaped body of water of Lake Danao And the question? Why this life?

Beethoven's Appassionata Sonata Filling, encompassing the room Overwhelming Commanding , demanding Declaring, imploring Going on and on Do not stop Because if you do It may be the last of you Like reading Coelho's story Page by single page Ravishing, consuming Every subtle nuance of its Devastation and creation All at one time Every second grasped Every minute tightly clasped Every hour shackled To the veins of My heart Like writing verses Formulating lines that Mold the curves of Infinity like the Gold orbit on your index Blinding me, binding You to impossibility Like my life's story Stamped, carved Permanently immortalized In stone Your face is contorted Impassioned Your eyes wild The beads of sweat On your forehead The strength you Muster on those Black and whites With the force of A million universes Expelled merciless The adamant press on Those gold levers That resonates beaut