What If I Meet the Anti-Me?

What if I meet the anti me?
The once I thought
obliterated during Big Bang
long lost then found
the volatile concoction
the catalyst
the critical mass
the same badass
face-to-face?

They said he’s me
and I am he
It’s just that we have
opposite charges
What does that even mean?
Is this the Yin and Yang
of Oriental origins?

And from where is he exactly?
How can he
just pop out of nowhere
from nothing?

By who’s authority
is he summoned
into existence?
And in the same way
be gone in an instant
in a fraction of a second?
Can he just leave 
and come back no more?
Is he even aware
that when we meet
the borrowed energy
by which we both exist
will return to the Source
and cause us
to cease just being?

Is he my evil twin?
Or am I the evil twin?
Would he embody
the things I envy?
Will he complement
my imperfections?
Will he turn green
drooling
of what I already achieved?
Or will I be the one
to flood the Himalayas
and turn the desert green?

Shall I punch him
to break his nose?
or will the anti-me 
give me a hug
and a pat in the back?
And end up
releasing energy
and obliterating ourselves
in the process?
Or will it spark
a new cosmos
same as what
we know today?
Or maybe it already did?

Violence for no one in particular

Do exercise caution
When treading on my shadow
Lest it gobbles you up
And leave no trace
Whatsoever
Of your
Miserable
Existence

Never lay a hand
To where I’ve trodden
For they are full of neurotoxins
A quark of which
And you’ll be
Laid waste

And when you whisper
On my back
Never let
Those murmurs
Leave a trail
Let alone 
Reach me
And neither
Should your words

They take no responsibility
They’re just passing
Like the wind
And they’re gone
Irreversible
Damage
Done

They will betray you
For they are fleeting
Fleeting
And they’re gone
Gone
Gone
Gone
In an instant
Poof just like that
Yet you will remain
To suffer
The wrath
In my hands

Don't Talk to Me

Too afraid
To be vulnerable
Laughed at
Viewed with flaws
Mocked
Reduced to
Something smaller
Than the grand image
We see in the mirror

Who wouldn’t want
To appear awesome
His shit
All figured out
The ultimate idol
The envy of many

Or either we ask
The world
To mind its own
Fucking business
And for it to never
Give a fuck at all
Except to tread
Ever so softly

The façade
We all maintain
We make so great a fuss
With all our might
Futilely wishing
The respect and awe drugs
To perpetually remain
And keep us high and floating

Or that which
We have worked
For so long
Not letting anyone
Or anything
Not even ourselves
Destroy the
Old and familiar comfort

The scars we hide
Too afraid
That the other being
Before us
Will conjure
The ghost of the past
Out of our scars

Aversion of such
Is human
But to face them
Nonetheless,
Armed with all
The goodness
One’s heart can muster,
Is the virtue
Of the divine
Warrior god
That found
Its home within

The Man on Fire - A Tribute To The Black Mamba

The round leather
on fire
not put off
by any bounce
on the floor
or its sojourn in
mid-air
or hitting the boards
the rim
and eventually
the ring

One thousand shots missed
meant 10 thousand sinking in

The fire in the leather
borne of a flaming hand
from a heart ablaze
which can only come from
no less than the divine

That fire
might have
succumbed to the sky
but it found its home -

In thousands
Hundreds of thousands
Millions upon millions
Kindled
Ablazed
Always

Rest in peace brother

Halimuyak sa Madaling Araw

Halimuyak
sa kinasasabikang umaga
na tigib ng ligaya
ang bumungad
sa aking diwa

Basa sa hamog
ng madaling araw
mga talulot na nakalukot
naghihintay
sa masidhing dampi
ng haring araw

Ramdam ko ang
init na nagbabaga
na di maikubli
ng mala-nyebeng
ihip ng hangin

Aking hinawakan
ang nagbabagang apoy
mga daliri’y di napaso
ni nasunog ay hindi
Bagkus ay naramdaman
ang mainit na pag-agos

At aking narinig
isang sigaw na
walang tinig
sa kagubatang
makipot, madilim
na aking sinuong
habang nilalagari
ang kableng
sa lahat ng
kamalayan sa mundo
ay nagdurugtong

Ang kalaliman
ay binagtas
upang di malunod
mahigpit ang kapit
ng aking mga kamay
sa matatayog na
kabundukan

At matapos
ang mahabang sandali
muli kong narining
ang sigaw na
walang tinig
habang nasasaksihan
ang pagbulwak
ng kalawakan

A Thousand and One Reasons to Be Thankful For

The Sun woke up

this morning

to see me outta my bed

Took over from the Moon

my sentry

the instance the Darkness

gave way to the Light

I exhaled yesterday

as I breathed in tomorrow

All revved up

my engine

in full chime

Ready to

take possession

of another

historic day

Dream Past The Nightmare

We don’t hold tomorrow
Such a pity
We have plans
grand as the heavens
Funny thing is
tomorrow has got
her own plans as well
which usually
screws us like hell
Which is why at times
I don’t make any plans
to save myself
from disdain
of life as I know
But how will I relish the future
if I can’t savor it today
And how will I know if my wishes are granted
if I don’t dream of it
at this very moment?

Enlightenment is like living an orgasmic state of existence… (The) Name’s Not At All Relevant

Enlightenment
Is
Like
Living
An
Orgasmic
State
Of
Existence…

(The) Name’s Not At All Relevant

Unraveled

I yanked a string too strong

that made the church bells chime

and the fabric unraveled:

And there she stood

just her and nothing more

nothing between my eyes and

her golden skin and

succulent curves

revealed

in all their glory

set free from whatever

covered her

and thrown

onto my outstretched hands

Gag Show

I prayed for sunshine

The wind brought rain

Like pesky little kids

Sliding from my crown

To my sole and further down

Rinsing with it

My remaining

Patience and optimism

“Wonderful” saith the thunder

As the sun grew dim

And the tree died laughing

Of the gag show before him

She doesn’t like sopas

You don’t like sopas
and I don’t know why
Puzzles the hell out of me
Who doesn’t want a hot pot
of chicken soup
made creamy with evap
made colorful with
cabbage and carrots and
made gut-heavy
with elbow macaroni?

Detest is a word too strong
least priority maybe
but then, I could be wrong

Yet you made
one for me
just the same
saying:

“I still don’t
love sopas.
May never be.
But I’m
trying
to learn
to love
the things
that you love.”

More than the
hot pot of sopas
before me
I thank you
my sweet balm
for all the love
and for keeping
me warm
For a thousandth time
again and again
to the heavens
I implore
good favors
for you
my lovely woman
who cooks sopas
for her man

Hara-Kiri

I rent my soul in atomic bits
     and ripped it to subatomic pieces

          before you
               execute it
                    yourself

I saved you all that trouble

     what you’ve been
          relegated to do

               by whatever or
                    whoever
                         only you know who

Whores are Words, and Words are Whores

Some words
I used sparingly
others
I abused 
totally
But alas
despite of which
complete strangers 
their conclusion
have all become

I clothed them
in regal poetry
gave them purpose
through grand prose
which countless I’ve told

I, the maker 
accorded them
their place in the cosmos
in the known universe and beyond
ergo, I own them
and they are mine alone

But what a joke
the muse played on me
for the wholeness
I granted them
defined them not
Instead,
I got mocked.
For the pieces
defined the whole
which the whole
on them do not

As I established my kingdom
with them and their duty
to kiss my feet ever after
The whores were gone
prostituted themselves
in another’s hands

I Love You – With No Strings Attached

Quote above by Antoine De Saint-Exupery

 I said I love you,
 Of course you heard it right;
 Am not playing yo-yo,
 In case you think I might…
  
 Once a girl had a dream -
 Of the world that she would conquer;
 Once a boy had a dream -
 Something far more loftier: the dreamer girl… 

The Entitled

Entitled bitches and

Entitled pricks

What nasty li’l witches

Contending for the longest sticks

Leaves of Autumn

I will whisper it

to the autumn leaves

I will tell them why

the trees slumbered in a lullaby

I will reveal to them

how all tears have gone dry

it was when

you promulgated my verdict:

“good bye”

It was still the sunshine’s reign

as I recall like 'twas but yesterday

but before I can brace my self

for that mortal dagger

driven to my chest

the chilling sun

and the freezing moon

started to sing a melancholic tune

Nurtured in the soft breeze’s caress

and nourished in dew

brought forth colors

that are changing in hue

for what seemed the start

of a colorful show

marked the end of the summer glow

what else is there to say

but to let the light leave with the day

and this darkness that had befall

be there to stay while bells they toll

I will whisper its dismal moan

to those in twigs still holding on

oblivious to the truth

that it won’t last for long

I will whisper it

to those caught in midair

as they drift farther and farther away

from their beloved they just left bare

I will whisper it

atop the mounded heap

which to earth

did terminally cede

fool’s show it is indeed

for the varied colors that abound

speaks loudly

of the end

without a sound

Reverend Joke

One day came good ole Reverend Father Joke
Grinned as he saw past some bloke
“Say son, I pray, give me some of that toke
For you see, my boy, I’m a bit broke.”

“Heaven have mercy for I almost choked!
Pardon Reverend, is this some kind of joke?”
“That’s my name alright” said ole Reverend Joke
With eyes closed sniffing the smoke.

Interruptions

It infuriates me
when I’m interrupted
while sculpting my poems,
that does not in anyway
translate into something tangible,
with my day job
that puts food on my table

- (The) Name's Not At All Relevant

Let me be the wind

Let me be the wind

that will whisper in your ear

“relax, it's me my dear”

Let me be the wind

that will pass by your cheeks

to give them a sweet light kiss

Let me be the wind

that will meet head-on your lips

as in love my fingers dip

Let me be the wind

that will sway your hair

and expose your shoulders bare

Let me be the wind

That will caress your thighs

And carry your scent

In the valleys and heights

Dealing with The Embodiments of Pure Evil in the Workplace

I must thank God
and probably
so should you –

that instead of diabolical plots
and rhapsodic images
of your sweet affliction,
He manifested Himself
through reason
before anything
I envisioned
would irreversibly
come to fruition


I must thank God
and probably
so should you –

that instead of regrets
and abysmal sorrow
or that fiendish grin
and gratified puffs
at the sight of
a gasping prey
and the smell of blood,
I uttered a silent
wailing plea
Supplicated for restraint
within my inner sanctuaries
And stabbed my journal
‘til its blood filled the oceans
as it is tossed to and fro
by tempests and billows