Fear Not

6/13/13
Home
8:00 AM

Fear Not

Be brave my child
And fear no one
I'm at your side
The battle's won

No time for guilt
Remorse and shame
You are now healed
Just call my name

Believe in Me
I'm always here
You may not see
But I am near

So seek my grace
And faith profound
so all your days
Be love abound

Guess Who

6/10/13
Home
10:44 pm


When the sky
starts swelling
The water
comes pouring

The sweet smell
of moisture 
Brings the gift
of nurture

The clouds 
open their pockets 
Let out them 
cool wispy droplets

Hurry up my dear
Is that rumbling I hear? 
Guess who's here

The Inventor

5/26/13
Home
12:27 am

The Inventor

It is of significant meaning
That something is made
Out of nothing.
Yet not every inventor;
A writer, author or novelist
Is lauded for his prose.
Some offer revulsion.
Others simply overlook.

From the simple morality tales
To the accounts of tragedy and rapture
These statements are outcomes
Of substantial toiling.
An inventor plumbs the depths
Of a barren desert
Carving dirt and stone.
Waiting for an
Oasis to burst life.

An Inventor
Could be unassumingly
Prolific in the artistry of words.
Who in exemplary methods
Could make a fine living.
He could also offer
Sheer detestation
Where the sound
Of a grown man
Wrenching his guts from
A night of drinking
May actually appear pleasant.

How does one come up with
Something out of nothing?
Do you get inspired from
Someone’s bliss or tragic demise?
What tickles your mind?
May it be from a fraud or
Some grand editor
of the depths of one’s soul.
These stories let us escape
The confines
Of a stereotypical world.

Hope Against Hope

04/19/13

11:35 am

Sterling Place

Brooklyn NY

Hope against hope.

(En la reforma de inmigración)

There was man in the stable

More familiar by his beard.

He toiled for years, while unable

Mighty horses, he steered. 

Bristly hands were calloused

He worked through filth and loam.

Formerly, a skillful dauber,

Who was far away from home.

He has chosen to be mute,

For not one soul ever knew his name.

He was once a well-known artist,

Who enjoyed praises and acclaim.

The search for an improved life

Coerced him to depart his land.

Hardship now proven to be rife,

A paradoxical story at grand.

He slumbered with the horses,

And possessed no things to his name

Illegitimate, dubbed by others,

He contritely accepted shame.

Today his longing is furthest,

For the “Gang of Eight” is here.

May he finally obtain independence,

The hope for life draws near.

Uninterrupted

4/18/13
1:29 am
Home

Uninterrupted

My mind scorns
A quiet scene
Yet it never stops
To seek serene

It battles clarity
More often, the sane
At times it's inventive
Other times, a pain

Forgive the musings
Lofty or in bits
For only in writing
Can it purge the wits

For the Love of Beer

4/16/13

Happy Hour

New York, NY

For the love of Beer

I grew up in Manila,

Where pilsner was the brew.

It was actually gold water,

And the macho thing to do.

The palate remained in me,

A taste I never outgrew.

Be it faint, light or heavy,

You got it for the crew.

Be it mild or bitter,

Dark porter or stout,

Be it crisp, dry and malty,

It was sipped, without a doubt.

Now, I usually chase,

The good lagers and ales.

But be wise, for plenty of it

Makes crooked trails.

An Athletic Tragedy

4/15/13

11:20 am

Brooklyn NY

An Athletic Tragedy

And off he went.

He took off as if a caliber had detonated

To commence a race.

Bang.

He tucked the pigskin against his side,

And he ran the field like a spooked deer.

His sight was set from a vision not too far,

While the rest of his senses were impeded.

It was clear to him

That he need not hear or feel anything.

For he understood that all that mattered

Was getting there.

He was a robust machine of a man,

His huge physique launched instantly

Lifting himself off the ground.

His feet latched onto the mud,

Propelling him effortlessly.

One could hear his step from miles.

He was swift.

He shifted side to side,

While he pushed off defenders from all sides.

He jumped through some of them,

As if they were hurdles,

Leaving a track of dirt,

Like an earthmover went through it.

He was undisputedly the best competitor

Anyone had ever seen.

A highly regarded player

From a prestigious institute.

He won dozens of awards and accolades

From various competitions during his youth.

Then as if the sun went dark at noon,

A guileful rival attacked from behind.

It was purely performed ordinarily,

And yet his speed decelerated immediately.

No exceptional or foul play was expended,

Yet it was adequate enough

To halt his imposing power.

Then as if it was done in slow motion,

Down he went, eating dust.

He succumbed to the field.

He slithered through grit and grass

While he quickly diminished in earth haze.

The crowd was motionless, just as he was.

His formidable strength enfeebled.

And as he stared at the sky,

His passion moved stealthily out of his body.

He started feeling every inch of pain

Like he never had before.

A broken leg and fragmented rib,

Slowly depleted his soul,

Consuming his humanity.

Men rushed towards him,

Even opponents came to aid the fallen competitor.

They carried him out of the field.

As the crowd roared in optimism.

Weeks went on and his health improved.

He was then able to walk,

Yet his supreme ability was no longer there.

And as months continued, it became clear

That he would not make a return.

Years had passed & he succumbed

Deeper into sadness,

He surrendered his all to addiction & abuse.

Attempting wrongfully to ease the pain.

Eventually, he lost all of his possessions.

And ultimately, he lost

The most prized possession of them all,

His family.

One by one, they left him.

And on one fateful night,

Perversity and irresponsibility ruled over.

He took his own life,

Tragically without anyone in sight.

   

“People come, people go,” one journalist said.

“All good things come to an end,” added another.

Everyone should hear this,

For it rings true to each one of us. 

All experiences will eventually be over,

Whether they’re good or bad.

His athletic prowess may now be

A distant memory,

But let it serve as a reminder that,

While he lived through it,

All of us should do the same.

But we MUST continue the fight,

To wherever it may lead.

Combatting adversity and trials

That have been brought forth our way. 

For it isn’t important where one comes from.

All that counts is where one is headed.