On the first day
He ran toward her mother
To the kitchen where she busied for dinner
Telling her his problems at school
But she didn’t listen
So he cried alone
So he looked for Ben, his father
So he waited
That’s the time his father never came back.
On the third day
He ran toward the cedar lane
To the big apple tree
Watching the fruit if it’s ready
But it’s not
So he went home
So he called Shirley, his friend
So he waited
That’s the time he promised to her.
As the spider knits its web…
The spider moved its legs
Came down the green curtain
Paraded, crisped, paused, paraded
Perfect place to web a home
It heard shouts, rumbles
Noise was drawing near
A door opened in a roar
Swallowing the terror of the hidden crime
A girl, cries for help
Yet nothing but walls called hear
Following, men of three
Smiling – no- laughing Continue reading
Of what he fears beyond hate
That he doesn’t feel any hate.
Naming what he felt as love.
He lives in hate.
He had grown in hate.
He hated the mother who left him.
He hated the father who was gone.
He hated the world.
The world who did nothing.
Nothing but hate him.
Hate is what he only knows.
Yet, he felt fear.
He’s afraid of this unnamed emotion.
This absence of hate.
Telling that he never hated the girl before him.
He was afraid.
That it’s a feeling,
More tragic than what hate could offer.
Creeping under the unknown breath of winter
Over its white blanket and under its silver sky.
Life of what’s known years ago.
Now lost, gone, and can’t tell why.
This is a story,
Of what’s seen.
Untold fierceness and beauty.
Defined through eyes of no form.
Yet damned. Continue reading
She rolled the flag down,
An answer to the sea bird’s call
She looked upon the sky,
Beneath the horizon,
Darkness is crawling.
The wind didn’t sing,
Nor dance, nor cheer,
But fear laid in its coldness,
A breath of untune retribution.
Suddenly, she’s underneath its blanket.
Lights blinked in unpatterned instance,
Illuminates the world she feared.
Fierce lights came hitting her senses.
In each blink, she saw her sailor.
Smiling, crying, dying.
She’s been spellcasted,
She heard the voice,
The grasping horror of the darkness.
Ravishing, heavy, loud.
She ran inside her cabin,
Afraid, terrified, haunted.
She cried in fear like it was the first time.
Tears streamed down heavy and warm.
It’s been a year since her sailor died.
Three in fact with the same angles.
But sizes are obviously different.
A small, medium, large of what it is meant.
I placed the smallest on top and the largest below.
Colored ‘em green, hues of life and glow.
Then made long diagonal rectangles.
Placed like a sash awarded to the triangles.
Gave one to each of it as it was told.
Color ‘em maroon or yellow or gold.
Then I put circles in sizing variety.
Do the math and have as many as it can be.
Do the color according to your like.
Play with shades, just let the art strike.
For the finish touch this is an easy call.
Put a square under the largest rectangle.
Then put a star on top of your creation.
Color it gold or silver or even combination.
And viola! You see!
You just created a Christmas tree!
The Rain, The Dance, The Tears
With touch and wishes and rain romance.
He dared to move a lovely dance.
Set the fears aside, let the hopes remain.
“Tell me.” She asked. “Have you ever danced somebody under the rain?”
“Ah!” He said. “I did. To you I have danced.”
“How?” She wondered. “We had never met once.”
“In my dreams.” He replied. “I held you in my arms.”
“You’re graceful and enchanting, a dance full of charms.” Continue reading
I am pretty.
I’m a lot more caring than her.
We we’re married.
And you still wore the ring in your finger.
You can go to her,
I can let you play in her bed.
Because I stupidly Love you,
More than my heart had said.
I’m still confident and not afraid.
Eventhough right now you’re with her charms.
Because in the end of the day,
You will always end up in my arms.
And that’s what it says.
For in the world and God’s eyes,
A mistress would always be a mistress.
I’m just a mistress,
And yeah I’m proud of that.
For he always took time,
To have me no matter what.
You are pretty,
And the hell I care with the things you have.
For your time is up,
You can never bring back his love.
You might be her wife,
But you can’t even give him a kid.
I might just a mistress,
But for months now I’m bearing his seed.
You were married,
And for me that’s just fine.
For you have his body,
But his heart will always be mine.