Saturday, March 26, 2005

THE WAY WE LOVE

It doesn’t make a difference anymore.
Your tousled hair is the same as
your freshly shaved chin,
your crumpled shirt is no different
from the morning fragrance of you
The hours drag but with you it’s
never enough
You consume all of me in an instant.
You drive me crazy with your witty mind,
and I just love it when we disagree.

Sometimes I wonder what keeps it
going, but when I look at you,
your back turned to me
watching that same reality show,
or your eyes on the road,
it’s the same old you that I met,
shared a cup of coffee with,
some wining and dining here
and there, falling madly, madly
in love with.

We never fight anymore,
there’s just no reason to
when our opinions and feelings
and moods and ramblings
breathe the same air -
you're so right,
we've built are own little world.

It’s funny how you ask me
if you still make my heart tremble.
We’re way past that, although you make
my entirety melt, all the time, each time,
every time.

Time isn’t a factor anymore.
These years or was it days?
It’s the same feeling of newness and
familiarity right from the beginning,
and I bet, until we’re gray and weary.
I cannot get used to the excitement
of having just met you,
and I can neither remember anything,
anyone before you. It's always been you.

and I just love it, this feeling of growing
and changing and being more and being one.
I never imagined it would be so complicated
and simple.
It’s not like fire burning and I can’t think.
It’s like a flicker of hope inside and thinking
for sure that I’ve got company
all night long,
all winter long,
all life long.
Heaven or hell becomes just
one thing. Perfectly imperfect.
It’s bitter love, It’s sweet you.
It’s bitter you, It’s sweet love.

03/26/05

Posted by xam :: Saturday, March 26, 2005 :: 2 Comments:

Post a Comment

--------------------------------------- CIRCLES

I roll like a wheel
‘Round and ‘round and ‘round
my track a wiggly curve,
traveling far, seeing places and faces,
Carrying the weight of a caravan
My spokes are twenty-four,
non-identical

I roll like a stone
Collecting some dirt, leaving some
weather-beaten dust
Kicked here, and there, stepped on,
never crushed, I am intact and strong
and getting smoother, and smoother

I roll like a beach ball,
psychedelic colors, floating
on an ocean, spiral, violent waves
Bouncing on sand castles,
gone the next day, lucid dreams

I roll like a doughnut
Kneaded and shaped, Glazed
when hot, Decorated and sprinkled
rainbow bits of candy, Melting
Sweet, sweet me

Posted by xam :: Saturday, March 26, 2005 :: 1 Comments:

Post a Comment

--------------------------------------- i am only

i could’ve been Marilyn Monroe
or the purple-eyed Elizabeth
i could’ve rubbed shoulders with
Michael Jackson
i could’ve been Oprah Winfrey
i could’ve been Hilary Clinton
i could’ve been Venus
i could’ve been Cleopatra
i could’ve allured the power
into my hands
i could have been Princess Diana
or the beatified Teresa
i could have changed the world
touched so many lives
i could’ve been Margaret Thatcher
or the Muslim leader Bhutto
i could’ve made great decisions
for the People
i could’ve been Corazon Aquino
or the infamous lady Peron
i could’ve been loved by a country
for the woman that i was
i could’ve been Mulan of the Tang Dynasty
i could’ve brought glory home
i could’ve been me
if i were only

Posted by xam :: Saturday, March 26, 2005 :: 0 Comments:

Post a Comment

--------------------------------------- Truth Is

There was a momentary passing,
rhythmic, rush.

A few seconds to tame,
to teach my heart not to stop,
stop, just stop.
That little time I had,
to hope and be –

blissful,
Not knowing,
To wish that the world freeze,
I don’t want to ---
No
I cannot tell apart,
yesterday from today.
I have forgotten,
years.
But that small eternity,
when I was just about
to ---

Like a favorite record, broken.
over and over again,
playing and playing and playing,
over and over and over,
playing and playing,
over and over, Never
the same, each time, everything before
it spins in a blur, blurrier, blurrier.

There’s no more
memory, I hold on, I don’t remember
anymore before it.
a mosaic,
little bits of memory don’t even fit,
anymore. all is not well, there is no more to tell,
I already know.

There was a momentary Passing.
rhythmic. rush.

Posted by xam :: Saturday, March 26, 2005 :: 0 Comments:

Post a Comment

--------------------------------------- FLUTTERBY HUNE

I have thousands of faceless friends -
I’m a social butterfly.
They love me,
for the time I find for them,
for my words and efforts.
I am loyal to a handful,
and They will die for me.

I never sleep -
I am a nocturnal butterfly.
No time to waste for
senseless dreams.
I thrive on
Action and Acquaintances,
Adventures and Absurdities,
Ambition and Ambiguities --

I have many secrets -
I am a magical butterfly.
I know the formula for invisibility.
The fountain of youth is in my backyard.
And I can fly back and forth time.

I will change the world -
I am a potent, flitting butterfly,
Conquering all that I pass.
My superpower is hidden,
New and Unique.
I offer myself to all,
to reap and to weep.

Fly -

Posted by xam :: Saturday, March 26, 2005 :: 1 Comments:

Post a Comment

--------------------------------------- The Comfort of Dry

Little girl in the desert city
The drone of everyday
weighting her,
droopy eyes as soon as the sky sets.

It’s a simple life, young
The hours drag like years
Some days the sand whirl
she can’t tell when.

The sun pricks her skin.
Like a goldfish in a bowl,
it's the same everywhere.

a black shimmery satin,
modesty.
the robe that shields her
she likes it.

in many years she’s met
some hundred people from here
and there and nowhere;
every name she knows
it’s a small world, small

one day she wakes up
in a green land, green

A thousand in an hour
she ages thirty-seven years;
she bares her naked skin
quenches her insatiable thirst,
and breathes, breathes –
a smoky cloud, filthy

she longs for the raisin-making world, dry
it’s the same, it’s the same

Home sweet home, so sweet
So dry.

Posted by xam :: Saturday, March 26, 2005 :: 0 Comments:

Post a Comment

--------------------------------------- Toy soldier

Pulsing
Splattering
A bath
The soldier is used to it

The crimson that flows
Like a shower
To make it happen

About, face

It’s the face
He turned his back on.

Red, dead.

Posted by xam :: Saturday, March 26, 2005 :: 0 Comments:

Post a Comment

---------------------------------------

Wednesday, March 16, 2005

corporate bitchy

when you get there,
here,
all you want is to return.
Contentment
always distant
just play
all I wanna do
in my life
I did
when I was a tot
there’s no point ageing
no point living
it’s just plain existence
tainted with illusions
of wanting and having
you won’t really have anything
at all
it’s not like the movies
you see that
made-up lady kickin’ corporate ass
sitting in that long varnished table
while all the men in their ties
sip their coffees
and try to make up intelligent
things to say
it all doesn’t make sense after all
and there really is nothing
life-changing
about those jargons about
percentages and rates and the
bottom line at the end of
another 12-month cycle
it’s just the same
as kindergarten
when the ABC
seemed
so hard
and then when you look
two weeks back
darn it isn’t complicated after all
not different from the
multiplication table
5 times 5 is twenty-five
it’s the same answer
no matter how you turn it all around
when you get there,
here,
you really don’t make a difference
you don’t change your life,
the people
around you,
let alone the world
so there aint no point
making dreams
when you’ve had all there
is to get
a long time ago

Posted by xam :: Wednesday, March 16, 2005 :: 0 Comments:

Post a Comment

---------------------------------------

Tuesday, March 15, 2005

and they lived happily ever again

and everywhere I see the love-struck
eyes and hear ballads singing of new
loves, growing, dying and ending
and yearning and
starting
all over again
one moment it’s the sun ray burning all of
you, consuming all that is you next
you can’t even tell apart
one memory from the other and it’s so sad
and then you feel that
touch again
almost prickly it stimulates
your mind not just your heart
and then suddenly you’re writing
the best poetry
and all you see seems to be connected to you
as a zodiac is
the stars are all laughing
but maybe you’ll never know for sure
it’s just a big joke
and good ole Venus has a bet
with li’l Cupid who’s better at the game?
and we’re all just pawns
pretending to act like kings
and queens or even the knight
saving his lady in the tower,
giving up himself in a sacrifice
the end is already scribed
it’s a laugh really but it’s so fun
and even if we have decided at one point
that we know what’s really true
we still keep on waiting
waiting for that kiss
that kiss that will change
change your life
your life and make you
you will forget
that once upon a time
a time you fell
you fell so deep
so deep you never
never thought that one day it will be this
this
such a wonderful feeling
to hell with the cynics, the cynics

loop to beginning

Posted by xam :: Tuesday, March 15, 2005 :: 1 Comments:

Post a Comment

---------------------------------------