luna cielo

for there never was

and never will be

a finer vagrant soul

to poetically allude me

than the billows of notes

that fall from your shade

and the stars in your lips

to sing a thousand serenades

dear, if only i could compose

about all my woeful throes

in lights enchanting as yours

no word a wasted recourse

and the aesthete that lies

beneath restless amber eyes

will dream up a promise

for fallen eternity’s premise

where the universe spins

as relentless time should be

and no whispers of parallels

between the lines of you and me

i’m quite dizzy from the sun again

but i’ll close my hands, count to ten

and wait against such fragile hope

that you’re the sunrise to decode

so why do i weep, ever still?

in the midst of my bedroom floor

only bare remnants remain, until

a voice paints a distant nevermore

of faithless keep, an endless rue

tomorrow’s heart, nor i nor you

southern nights, quaint afterglow

the days pass on as we’ll quietly go

i may be weary, yet do not think

i’ll give up when i’m on the brink

let’s chase the wind, and we’ll ascend

to an everlasting paradise we can spend

for there never was and never will be

a finer valiant soul to poetically allure me

than the muse of the moon and billowing notes

that fall from your shade and the stars that you wrote.

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for the future hearts

Shake until we move the floor
What are we waiting for? Let’s go
I’m tired of being ordinary
Don’t care if there’s people staring
I’ll rely on your strength to carry me on…

~*~

possibilities

on my side

complexities

once defied

.

jumping off

the rooftop

i’ll fly before

i can ever stop

.

hiding no more

navigating this

communication

into better places

.

move again before

i give in, taking the

long way…i promise

to tomorrow’s today.

~*~

I’m not invisible like you
Next time things get a little messed up
I’ll shine, but I’ll never be see-through
I’m fine just trying to wake the rest up…

aseru

loud vivacious fireworks

and soft iridescent bubbles

little fugacious memento mori

serendipitous whimsical illusions

that i quietly wish to keep eternal

yet when it fades, only melancholy.

rain, rain, don’t go away

i’ve written

a billion words

for the rain

one for each

raindrop that

falls down again

.

drenched in

poetry, chilled

to the bone

neutral weather

in rhythmic

diamond tones

.

hole in quaint

heart, and rest

for the weak

and solace and

comfort is all

my skin seeks

.

i’ve written

a billion words

for the rain

hoping that each

one makes it

fall down again.

Weekend Hymns

“If you call me at all, don’t tell me that I’m ordinary, ’cause I won’t be passing you, please don’t leave…” serenades the familiar strains of a soothing voice, interlacing delicately with the quaint glassy chords of a softly-strummed guitar, and dissipating behind the skeletal mist of the hazy whorled coffee smoke. Spongy traces of a cold jelly roll melt and shiver in my tongue, leaving traces of a sweet sensation to tease these anticipating taste buds of mine. On my right side lays a Fantastic Beasts colouring book opened on a page of Newt Scamander’s luggage, abandoned coloured pencils scattered everywhere, and a half-finished unwritten postcard with vibrant pastel shades complimenting each other in mild, careful strokes; and on my left side a battered notebook overstuffed with scribbled papers and a slightly-chewed black pen, waiting patiently to bleed words into blank parchment.

“Turn off these lights, call my name. Don’t talk, just drive…“ Another potent vocal joins in with the tranquil music, rhythmic acoustic strains and deep baritone timbre sending quiet shivers pleasantly down my spinal column. The rain has come to a cradlesong refrain, and, time being, has ceased from thrumming a metronomic pitter-patter against the fogged-up windows. I pause, place a cat bookmark on page 12 of John Steinback’s Of Mice and Men, and take another sip of my tepid milky drink and huddle further underneath my delicate blue blanket, starry night socks rubbing against the creaky bed mattress as I do so. After partaking in such a short interlude, I indulge zealously in my awaiting literature once more, losing myself against the mollifying song and letting my imagination run away and be caught between George and Lennie’s frolicsome bickering and humbler conversations.

“Red and blue and green rabbits, Lennie. Millions of ’em.” George concluded drowsily as the chapter came to a finish, synchronously alongside Jonny Craig’s flourished crescendo of “And baby, honestly these teeth won’t let you go…”, and I thumbed down on the page and set down the book once again, lost in a silent reverie. This day seems to be nothing but a lucid woolgathering, and in a momentary splinter from reality, I am quite unsure which is a fact, and which is nothing more than a mere dream anymore. It left me slightly confused whether I had actually been chasing musicians through a cornfield full of bedraggled zombies in Southern California, or if my grandmother had actually been confined in the hospital after an unfortunate slip and needs three months of bed rest to recover, or whether any of those were even real, not just derogated fantasies of an inured mind in dire need of a proper rest. Perhaps I’m simply tired. I had, after all, been looking for my exuberant nephews for a good part of the afternoon. But this is a good tired, unlike the draining emptiness of a tired stress that I have been beleaguered with the entire week. And this time around, I’ll sleep not to forget the memories. Rather, I’ll sleep to remember them.

“If you call me at all, oh if you call me at all…” The mellisonant sincerity of his lilting assurances envelopes my weary and aching bones tangibly, as if the xanthous stars had personally touched down from the lavender-blotched sky and given me a synesthetic embrace from the gentle cosmos. The final coda of the song falters and fades against the distant monsoon, washing away every worry, every qualm, every cynical thought and nightmarish daydream of mine, washing me away under the horizon’s encore performance of dying sunshine and inchoate moonbeams alike. I breathe deeply and finally close my eyes, listening to the hymn of the rainy weather and halcyon weekend continue to play around me. I’ll be alright. For now, at least…I’m alright.

Nightfall Notes

You remind me of a former love that I once knew
And you carry a little piece with you; we were
Holding hands, walking through the middle of the street
It’s fine with me, I’m just taking in the scenery…

~*~

Residues of a timeline leisurely spent

Promises breathed easy, given to vent

Turnpikes taken and sick forced down

Traded daydreams by the gilded crown

Unexpected rejuvenating fells of shower

Courtesy of an erratic downpour weather

Music humming past veins of a blue moon

Wish I didn’t have to go home quite so soon.

Sleepless in San Diego

Splash over your body while you drown on me
You ain’t seen nothin’ yet
Enter the galaxy of our sober demise
To the young and without type…

~*~

Just slow my breath

With drowsy whispers

That seek nightmares

And wayward kisses

Intertwining graceful

With my quiet jinxes

The ocean steals you

From a painted coast

I’ll retrieve the wind

Tasting your incense

And count the sonatas

In pastels of past tense

Listen to cold promises

Making us both shiver

But don’t hold the rope

Bullets suspended over

Misdirected phantoms

Of our faithless prayers

Arsonist hearts burning

Kerosene in full colours

Dear, don’t be ashamed

Of these tinderbox stars

Ash on your cinder skin

A paper town from afar

Froths of sea-foam teal

Alcohol in warm blood

Confessions and candy

Nonexistent rest flawed

Sundays spent revolving

Match stricken in water

Clocks in a slow motion

In a misleading summer

I won’t lose you this time

As my dreams begin to fall

You’re making me worse

And I don’t mind it at all.

~*~

Don’t believe it’s a never-ending summer
‘Cause they don’t exist
Tied around your tongue in all the rage and spit
So why am I the one falling apart?

Alice in the Garden

lit epiphanies overlooking

the pale peninsula

in entities of naphthalene

parchments of aria

diaphanous dirndl weave

fading cornflowers

embroidered needlework

strewn cool odours

fingertips brushed lightly

delicate rose petals

ebullient riparian stream

cascade in intervals

mysterious quiet keyholes

revealing a reverie

never has mine fanciful soul

felt such blithe ferly.

Oh, She’s a Handsome Melody

Allow me to exaggerate a memory or two
Where summers lasted longer than, longer than we do
When nothing really mattered except for me to be with you
But in time we all forgot and we all grew…

~*~

Oh, she’s a handsome melody

Singing as butterflies

Shimmer down her lips and

Leave traces of soft kisses behind

The wind tastes like summer

When that girl makes up her mind

And oh, she just reminds me

Of the dancing willow tree

In the daffodil garden

That we used to count the stars in

Like the seconds of eternity

As the hazy veil of smoke obscures

The beliefs and milestones we observed

Under a faithless smile

Of neverminds and lost boys awhile

A lemonade serenade

A penny for your thoughts

Your citrus heart may be bitter

But I’m coming back for more

And if the autumn leaves don’t rain

Your firework eyes will remain

Chartreuse grass wilts with a touch

But I don’t think your bloom was too much

So laugh along with me

And with the stubborn weather

We’ll catch a painted reverie

With our open palms and fragile fingers

And find our way back home

And let the world sing our songs

.

Oh, she’s a handsome melody

Imagining new colours as she walks

Leaving lavenders behind her

Spilling sunshine when she talks

As the sunset buries itself in her hair

Clashing scarlet and the darkness

On the tangled ribbons that she wears

We have what-ifs and perhaps

And slow motions in a time lapse

The birds that nest themselves in the clouds

Are halo dreams we don’t say aloud

Oh, if paradise must not be you

I won’t bet my cosmic dust that it’s true

Toss a coin all the way to the moon

To see if evening falters soon

Northern lights explode in pastel stage

Baby blue against ancient beige

Of the sepia films we worn down watching

With butter eyes and late-night flings

The memories and pinkish stains

Of sugar canes and rusty weathervanes

Capturing skeletal affinities

In ochre negatives and perfect peach skins

But if your camera doesn’t wink back

I’ll fetch you a canvas and a paintbrush

Let the fairies light our way home

And let the world sing our songs

.

Oh, she’s a handsome melody

That whistling pirouette of a symphony

At the back of your thoughts

Cotton and silk voices singing reminiscently

Melting the headache with a cough

Simplifying the sea for me

The ocean waves flood my ducky umbrella

And we will sail on a little boat

In a rustic countryside river

As pleasant zephyr makes her shiver

On a sluggish Sunday afternoon

Let’s toast the scenery with our spoon

And hope not to tease the playful downpour

Of a melancholy foreign storm

Patient throes of our drizzling repose

I’ll be her divine capricorn

Let’s look for our cabin in the woods

Careful not to swallow cobwebs

When the rusty door creaks open and before

She tiptoes in her yellow Mary Janes

Around the silence of the wooden floorboards

And we’ll light the chandelier

With pink peppermint-scented candles

And warm the sooty old fireplace together

And if the scarecrows don’t disturb us

Tapping faint on the windowsill

We’ll count calendar days on our way home

And let the world sing our songs

.

Oh, she’s a handsome melody

My dear spinning music box ballerina

Found her missing puzzle piece

Under bronze cogs and silver machines

Hid away a lost golden promise

She’s like accidental poetry

The clandestine sonata under my bed

With her jewelry elegance and pretty mouths

And billowing scarves of vivacious red

As she dances to the march of broken clocks

She’s as memorial and as divine

As an overused book spine

The lilting laugh of the chimes

Her curlicues of static giving you vertigo

On an afternoon station of a radio

We’ll find an obscure carnival

And fly along like entangled kites

Drop our car keys on the berg of the pier

Toast wine and champagne all night

Visit each stall and play silly stuffed toy games

Dizzying in carousels and ferris wheels

Have a repast of friends and pageants

I’ll hail her as the crown princess of the hill

But the galaxies in her ice cream cone

Chilled her to the ivory bone

I’ll tuck a blanket around her shoulders

Perched delicately like mockingbird feathers wise

Dissolving traces of an efflorescent heliotrope of a smile

And smudged ink on her drowsy eyes

We’ll sleep the horizon night

And if the blue coast doesn’t close away

We’ll go back and have our swan song someday

Of our eternal farewells to the summer

That wouldn’t exist, we’ll stay that way forever

And if this love isn’t enough to put your fears at ease

The innocence will be yours to keep

And if we don’t find our way back home

We’ll let the world sing our songs.

~*~

Your melody sounds as sweet as the first time it was sung
With a little bit more character for show
And by the time your father’s heard of all the wrong you’ve done
Then I’m putting out the lantern, find your own way back home…

evensongs and hurricanes

evensong

la indolencia

a prosody

blushing abelia

eventides

of aegean atria

frail wisps

vitreous metanoia

evensong

in cold antarctica

a symphony

of quaint pluvophilia.