The cloud withdrew
A low, rumbling noise
Hovers
Dropping soldiers
And they crawl
And crawl
How they came in
At tall grasses
And lost at it
And never crawl out
The rotor flew away
And hovers back
Dropped soldiers
Day and night
Until they got tired
And felt these all was shit
The world
Never utter a word
Smoke wrinkled
Gradual slow
Photo: skipt.com
Some
Of us meant to stay
And some
Intent to
Leave
Never tire
Out in nowhere
Anywhere
Years and years
Had gone
Rain
And storm
Sun glitter
Early near the port
The stars in the sky
Cast
Replica
above the dark
Ocean
Your knapsack and
Tired boots
Aged compass
Dog-eared Atlas
Few bucks
There are moment
You stop
And think
How far
You gone
And you
Look back
And you cry
At night in cheap
Backpacker hotel
Memory
Fade and
In solitude
And in silence
You could only
Hear
Yourself
Drift
Like leaf
In the water
photo:
http://www.123rf.com
I just read a poem
It caught me
Like you taste an ice cream
For the first time
Still my eyes
At the words the way it
Goes doesn’t go with what
I thought it should
From my past read
Of poem
The Titans look shameful
I guess that
They had it good
On their time
But not at this
On this dusty chapbook
A story
Had ended so fast
Rain consumed during
Summer burn lilacs
At the graveyard
Like ash that go
With the breeze
As if it wasn’t there at all
Of everybody does
That we just passing through
We live and
We die
And laugh
Then feel sick and sorry
Then we climb to our bed
And not asleep
For hours
Days and contemplate
Stood and put on sandal tiredly
Sat at the side of the bed
No one was there beside
And ask what’s wrong
The late wind
The night go deep
And open the first page
Of that book
And read gloomy
Beside the lamp
Life
This is what I see
Frustration
Beating and
Sorrow
You can judge me now
It’s okay
Because I’ve seen it
In ways not
Of everybody else
Does
Feels about it
I’m not the only one
I could name few
On my finger
While I tongue the last drop
Of my tea
Already cold and bitter
Here on my window
That faces the desert
Attempting to observed
A last plight of migrating flock
Avoiding electric lightning
That forked down the sand
I see it as not defeat
Perhaps
A chance
Like a last train ticket trip
At deserted night
A last card we throw
With a cross finger beneath
Our trouser
Or rolling a dice on our calloused hand
With the raw raw raw circling sound
In a wooden table
Bit our lips hard
And
We just get lost interest
Of living
In a corner
Getting tired
resting one hand
On the chin
Thinking more
About life
It’s insecurity over death
Bewildering
About how life had its claw
That not everyone
Might
Won a lottery
Some of us came in like fart
Poor with old pants and ripped
Shirt with a drunkard father
Beating them every night
Some got lucky
He had everything
Only he had
silver spoon
Dangled in his sorry ass
Painting by Carlos Francisco
Over 300 years of slavery from Spain
Like a torn soldier
In heap ruin of —
debris
and sharp rubles —
Splattered blood
On disfigured wall —
Painful wails
Of agony —
That couldn’t able to stay
On their knee —
When all else
Fail —
Among
The carcasses —
And wounded
Soul —
You still standing
Unbroken —
Deteriorated yet
Unbowed —
Unwavering
Through ages —
(How Easy They Forgot) Typhoon Haiyan
Just a rain
Poured down gently
On monsoon day
Coat and lunch box
Their bags
Books, pencils, and hope
Papa
Smiled and kisses hard
Hugs tightly
Often
As if it was the last
Momma was silent standing
In the doorway
Waved goodbye
The night came
Everybody stayed inside
Papa, Momma, big brother,
grand ma Nana, the dogs
Cats and
Her
(O God!)
A small breath arose over
The Pacific
Mirth
Lust eye
Dances like Raven
In the night sky
Let’s pray! Papa said
And they prayed
Oh Lord! Let us stand together
To face this storm
(Yolanda came in like a rage witch
And claimed many lives)
She took Papa and Momma
And John and Nana
Her cat and John big brown dog
Her doll Kaitlyn
All of them drifted away
And she was there
In silent clasping the air
How many are they
Still young
Live alone
Not sure
If their dead
Would come back
And start living
On their mind
And on their eyes
The way they put a smile
On their lips
It’s gonna be fine
All seem to be alright
Even they
(the world) give up
For life
But no
Not at them
on a long hot
summer of the 90’s
facing the sea over the Pacific
underneath the big ancient
canopy that stretched its twigs to a
deathly pale finger
a kingfisher
stretched it’s wing
down the burnt
exposed dead coral
just the rumble of the far crest of
white foamy gust
shutters upward
I am there sitting silently
in a protruding land pile
alone
all alone
wishing I had a cup of tea
on my palm while I enjoyed
the serene song of gail wind of May
that rhyme with the kettle
snoozing at the cold kitchen
but whom he can stop the clock from ticking
nor hush the raven that visit
unexpectedly at night
life crawl even if you want
to stay a quite while
light were eyes bathe
from that youth filled dream
turned to
ashen memories
of cerebral macabre
like a rusty can that roll and roll
at the lips of the sea
not long ago
till now
like Trojan war
echoing immortality
the bird marred the carcass
of the skeleton
oozed on mud mimicry
the banshee shriek
screeching on the dark wood
skeetering like mouse
that lost in the hole
beside the unclosed old diary
now tell me
life is always all alone
I’m sure of it
you came in this world
and gone in the grave
all alone
a soft creaked
the door hinge ajar
the silhouette of a curios
man sat there
forever
envying the final
sweet sigh of Van Gogh
hugging the one shot
that shocks the whole world
in awe
tea cups and pencils poem 