Tag Archives: past

August’s Journey

Dear August Journey,

Things have become rather difficult on your behalf now. The quarter moon has gently risen from above freshly-planted cornflower fields, and the way it illuminated the stalk of wheat stuck in between your taut scowl somehow reminded me of a vagrant angel I once saw in passing; perhaps in my most violent fever dreams, perhaps in the periphery of a forgotten childhood memory. Though, pray was I wrong about my prior assumptions?

I see that the jingling change in your pockets has been growing lighter with every dead-end town you pass by; your phantom presence barely rustles past rickety wooden establishments and suspicious-eyed locals like lost tumbleweeds and chasing dust by your worn-out rawhide boots, as you search for something that adamantly refuses to be found. The other shoe has dropped, all your horses have long-ago died of exhaustion when the heat rang high and clean water was scarce, and what you wouldn’t have given God’s mercy for just a little more time. But, isn’t that what you were running away from in the first place?

Your lover’s hands have slowly become loveless and the cobweb cracks are beginning to rapidly spread beyond your glazed eyes onto your craggy cheeks; and when you point your rusty revolver at an awaiting glass bottle, you always seem to target tattered fences and yonder valleys instead of hitting the mark dead-on, like you once always used to. And you grieve—oh, how much I have seen you grieve—but that’s just life. The prowling wolves have not ran for your bones yet; but with the way you refuse to interfere with your intrepid fears, they may as well already have stripped off your aged soul from the very edges of your sunbeaten hat and devoured the rest of you whole with a final triumphant flourish. And you let it be—and you sit on the initials of your name like a half-boiled eulogy—and you simply wait for the end—but won’t you try to shake off the ghosts stowing away and going in circles on your bloodstained coattails?

The ashes of the past shall surely fall, and fall in relentless mayday storms it shall; though it will not dwell any longer than a sluggish summer’s day if you bravely shut your eyes and hold your breath for just a minute…inhale not a speck and you may just come out the other end and weep in relief. The devil may arrive horns akimbo to take us both in our sleep, but please keep faith in me when I tell you that the journey is still far from over. It is embedded in your fate, in your veins, within your very namesake itself. I know your mama taught you from the very beginning to carry yourself ablaze and go out nobly, as rightfully as that may sound—yes indeed, she is your lifegiver, but she is not your sole devotion to life. Now come ye, renegade riders, hold out your pains and set them forth beneath the river of obscure sorrows, where every prayer and worry and promise shall all be washed downstream, away from goldmines and cardboard towns and shaky bodies without nerves—come ye, and hold out to me—hold out for me—

For you are you, August Journey. You are snapping tongues and bloody wit and resisting restlessness, you are the last stubborn leaf on a wilted elm branch still resolutely hanging on amid the very cusp of winter’s solemn death, you are the weary travellers you crossed and the sweetest damsels’ hearts your broke, you are the raucous enemies you peppered with cordite and the allies you shook callused hands with over a quiet pint, you are the mistakes you made peace with and the aimless footsteps you trekked all over your stolen frontier map—you are you and more than you, more than you could ever be. So, what do you say? Ready for one more hell on high water, or will your yellowed sheets hang short on the bedframe tonight?

The canaries chirping their royal codas, and the towering citadels built of crushed diamonds, and the coiling canyons without coal dust and cold nights, they all beckon you on. And I am me, and so must I be. Dear August Journey, I surely wish things would not be difficult for you any longer. The full moon shall rise once again from above unharvested fields and illuminate the crooked dagger’s glint in between your cunning grin; the vagrant angel they spoke of in hushed tones and classic legends is finally coming home. Ride on, August Journey.

Heaven awaits you, and so do I.

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Filed under Prose

Callosamia Promethea

Has the moth in your flame

Finally begun to complain?

Weathered nerves, testimonies

Burns—felony—in third degree

.

When the pressure caved your ribs

And catgut spun from the ceiling

Drenched with red but never bleeds

Gums clenched from dissenting

.

But when the moth in your flame

Brings the fire back into your skin

Their sanctity becomes your agony

Pain—murder—in second degree

.

But ashes shall beget winter ashes

As dust conceals carrion under pasts

Maybe you deserved all their abuse

And maybe the flies deserve to watch.

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Parola (Lighthouse)

Ituring ang iyong sariling
Tagahawi ng ulap
Sa kalangitang kulimlim
Kampanang yayanig
Sa bawat nilalang
Magigising ang lupang
Kulang sa dilig…

~*~

Tila yata nabanlian ang mga araw ng walang-hanggan

Yumayanig pa rin sa mga pilat na sugat ng nakaraan

Galit na para bang umaarangkada ng walang humpay

Nilait na alindog, laging sinusubok ang sarling tibay

Ng dumadausdos na bagyo, uubusin pa ng kalangitan

Ang malakas na ulan, ibubuhos ang lahat kahit kulang

Para durugin ang konkreto ng kanilang nakausling mga buto

Ngunit hindi papalagpasin, nakabilanggo sa bawat minutong

Aawatin at aawitin, halina’t pakinggan ang boses na walang aruga

At ano pa kaya ang mga pagkukulang na hindi sinasadya

Ngunit ang maantak na balat kung saan ang kalumbayan nakatampok

Ay umiwas sa huni ng dapithapon, at nagdurusa pa sa munting usok.

It was as if the days were scalded by forevermore

Still trembling from all the scarred wounds of the past

A fury that seems to plummet on without ever ceasing

Vilified captivation, constantly testing one’s strength

By the cascading storm, now emptying the skylines

Of torrential rain, deluging all to give despite the lack

Just to shatter the concrete from their protruding bones

Yet never squandered, and incarcerated by every minute

Restraining and singing, come listen to the voices without sympathy

For what other shortcomings might have been unintentional

Though the tenderest flesh where every sorrow is exposed

Has avoided the humming of twilight, and is tormented by mere smoke.

~*~

Ikaw ang liwanag sa dilim
At sa paghamon mo
Sa agos ng ating kasaysayan
Uukit ka ng bagong daan…

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Filed under Poetry

Peripheral Vision

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What a stubborn thought; to be loved, to be lost, to be loathed.

My initial mistake was to get myself foolishly caught up in the former instance, without carefully considering the ulterior consequences of my despicably reckless actions. I dived headfirst without peering in to see if there was a tangible ocean beneath me, and cried out in regret when my body got viciously torn apart by the jagged rocks awaiting below.

But, what else could I have done? And what else should I have not? I could spend my entire life painstakingly sifting through the showering grains of the hourglass, attempting to find a diamond until time runs out; or I could simply let the sand fall away to its own accord as I willingly hold out my roughened hands below—hurting, helping, hoping. The unfortunate namesake “human” is deeply threaded through my innocent nerves, shutting out the callous pessimism which only seeks to permanently cease my blood circulation; still withering against the gentler stings of anguish.

Though I have slowly faded out most of my past anamnesis, all of their phantasmic chimeras are still somehow luminously vigilant, almost even barbarous in its unremitting pursuit to frivolously preserve my already-squandered youth. Yet I suppose, no matter…no matter. For now, you are the overgrown wildflower field lulling my tired providence to rest, under fluid stars and unplucked scars and quavering sympathy—the only thankless relapse fully able to keep me awake for multiple infinitudes every twilight’s eve.

What a stubborn thought; to be loathed, to be lost, to be loved by you.

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Filed under Prose

Devotion Cuts

You carved out walkways in my brain

With a blunt-edged trowel—laboriously

Inch by inch by quiet inch until I felt like

I was losing my concrete mind completely

.

Only then did you decide to simply jump in

And submerge yourself neck-deep right into

All my secrets and have a taste, or two, or ten

Clinging like a dead bedbug on my worn sheets

.

But when I tried to shake you off, when

I shuddered enough to start earthquakes

Just to make you finally lose your iron grip

When I thought I could sleep soundly again

.

You came crawling back, wings crushed

Eyes blacked out, sharp pincers sheathed

Asking for all of our better times long-gone

My dried blood still on your pleading smile

.

And the sad thing is that I’m almost tempted

To allow you to overcomplicate things again

To let these faded phantom itches bother me

Enough to reopen healed scabs with dirty nails

.

But maybe I only really missed always feeling so bad

And I don’t have to fucking miss anything else

Because when you destroyed my heart for your own sake

I made damn well sure never to return yours.

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Filed under Poetry

Catastrophic Demarcation

Go wreck the clean air for me

And replant some darker green

The kind that runs the world

The one you sought to destroy

With cigarette spewing factories

And cold corporate handshakes

And mass hysteria ignorance

.

Go and poison my faucet drip

With more than bitter chlorination

And occasional sediments of rust

The kind that snakes highly-resistant

Prions right into my better sense

And chokes away all my optic nerves

Into the brink of utter blindness

.

Let me taste all our past and future mistakes

And pay for humanity’s most heinous crimes

For we all deserve imminent hell, don’t we now?

The kind that boils civilisation down to ashes

And piles up bleached bones for the scavengers

Cause if you heed requests from dying machines

Their toxic wasteland will be all that’s left of us.

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Filed under Poetry

voyeurism

conceal the past

wipe your filthy mouth

but your bridal dress

is quite sleeveless

and there’s too much

blood to staunch now—

now am i your perfect

silent witness?

.

the curtain protesting

against my hunched

body, you thought it was

just the midnight wind

billowing, but it was the

breaths i failed to hold

shallowly enraged and

almost fucking deranged

.

as the unspeakable acts are

fed to me live right before

my eyes, i want to throw up

i want to stain my melting mind

with a heavy dose of ammonia

and scream to god, and scream

to stop, let my oxygen burst into

flames from immense friction

.

disgusted beyond rationality

i can’t look away, my skin shudders

as i seem to hear yours being viciously

torn apart with a sickening rip and

a sickening crunch and a sickening

laugh—but why was it yours, shit

why the fuck was it yours?! eerie calm

ensues but i’m afraid to come out

.

from my flimsy hiding place—all before the lights

turn off and a shadow shifts in front of me…

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Filed under Poetry

Temporary Weather

and i’ll catch up.

i’ll stumble out of this blackout, even if it takes more than a few scars and stars and more than a few yesteryears

falling apart and over and down and out and again but never giving in and saving the old lies for the worst parts of my life

left in the past not made to last

i used to believe in you but i don’t believe myself

but now maybe there’s a sliver of faith left over for the both of us to have, if you’re willing to share

you’re doing better now. you’re doing fine more than ever. though you know that stability won’t always mean permanent happiness, you’ve found your comfort in the cold

and the sun, little darling, is slowly warming up to you

and i’m happy for you. i really am.

with your pretty floral dreams, in technicolour. beyond the vale, no longer fit to be called mere dreams. sweet pastels. exquisitely tangible. mine still exist only at night

hiding beneath the darkest shadows and crashing through shut jagged windows and seeping deep like charcoal into my nervous system

and most nights, i can’t even sleep at all

but i’ll shut my tired eyes and make a wistful wish, i’ll keep my sleeves clean for the magic tricks, i’ll bare my levitating heart for the ones that i love, maybe they’ll be amused by it and raise their lips, maybe they’ll simply dismiss it and hate the cheap theatrics but

i’ll hope, still. and i’ll wait. and i’ll create. until nothing becomes something becomes everything becomes

infinities. a second of a lifetime. time. i have time.

and i’ll catch up.

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Filed under Prose

Smother

Roam the vestibules

And find a safe space

To lose your affinity

Cast off the tight haze

.

Reminders of grim past

Of that person you were

Crushed in agony’s hold

But so blissfully unaware

.

There’s far too many traitors

In a world ever-unmending

There’s no need for you to be

Another parasitic festering

.

So just lose the tinted glasses

You won’t need them to see

And simply keep your distance

As all things should really be.

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Filed under Poetry

Æther

I’ll swim through the milky way

Where no one shall dare to find me

Past countless stars and infinities

Into the unknown mirrors of reality

.

Check in on the me that’s doing better

Find the fold and unravel underwater

Peering into a new parallel possibility

Where I’m not drowned in my misery

.

I’ll change my look and taste the colours

Hold my frozen lungs right into the aether

Push my old self away and then kill another

Just to take the place of a familiar stranger

.

And maybe then, I could find new ways

To lose reckless gravity and float to space

They wouldn’t notice the exact same face

Won’t miss the past me that I just replaced

.

In that strange dimension, I’ll live on

With the other fake ones, a different version

I’m starting over in greener pastures

My mistakes abandoned in a forgotten world

.

Until another me swims the milky way

In hapless search of a newer reality

Perhaps I might also be the unlucky one

This time around, I’ll also be chosen.

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Filed under Poetry