You no longer

Doodles in between editing jobs.
Because I will take on something ambitious soon.

You are no longer you.
Each time evolving, morphing.
No one thing. Nothing.

Pagnanais

Kay daling lumaya
sa kinakatakutan kung
ito'y nanaisin.

Inspiration[s]. Sort of.

Tell me about it. I've been spewing words for weeks now. And I'm as surprised as you are. But amused nonetheless. So who could have caused this? Some list.

1. Someone of all trades. A master of one. Or two. Oh, alright, a few. Fine, several. It was good while it lasted. Sweet escapes. Quite civil given half the chance, no longer chummy. Questions. Kaput.
2. Epic: One of the most amazingly talented people I know. A mean combination of prose, poetry and photography. May wield more, I'm afraid to admit. Or maybe I have, i.e., reason for unsound sleep, flying.
3. Silent. Fleeting. Most likely. But then we'll never know for now. Feathers all around still.
4. Smiles that make me forget how dark the world can be. Sweeping. Primal and unadulterated conversations that could go on for days. Progress report: Nil.
5. Constant like change. 
6. Some kind of wonderful.

It should not come as a surprise that all of them are women.
Men, you ought to shape up. But I couldn't care less. Har dee har har.
Save for 5, I'm currently keeping a safe distance for my own good. And theirs.

Haiku-happy for days now. There are words but they speak too much of the truth. Only a haiku because the poems must get shorter in the attempt to not risk anymore of what's left (if there are any). Oh no.

Lose yourself in art ---
in poetry surrender
in song abandon.

and because the heart has indeed grown fonder but has learned its lesson and will opt for silence:

Windblown refugees
wandering with empty hearts
mistaken for stars.


See what I mean?

To silence

At night, she bellows

the sound barely audible

unheard ‘til the morn.

“I would like to know

what it will take to make you

fall in love with me?”

In the morn, humming

she sings laments of longing

the tune without words.

“Winged the span of time

Yet your footprint remains etched

right here, above my breast.”

That thing with feathers,

hope, discloses everything;

revealing nothing.

“Within the confines

of my heart, I begin the

task of vanishing.”

You

You are the wave that
quickly retreats the moment
it touches my feet.