peri-purple shoots

oft in relative towering height
small kisses gleam
these quivering lips
in sidewards'
little women
in peri-purple shoots

(crac 04-01-06)


i gave up years ago

at chances to settle down.

as day forwards to another day
and night bids farewell into an august morning flight,
your face beckons me
to stay
and frolick in our minds' limitless,
and in my mind's ever resuming longingness
for you.
i gave up years ago but your presence hangs,
in a tightrope balance to languish in forlorn images
of ---
in a deft of illumination,
takes delight in the arms of another.

while the day bids good
night brings moon's favor for the non-waking of this
seemingly lost

cac (7-19-2006)



love was always evading. possibilities were like butterflies disappearing in an instant flutter to the wild. somehow he detested being cornered... the possibility of dating, or being trapped inside with a couple who believed albeit, un-subconsciously, that they were made for each other since the heavens hurled them out of kingdom come. he had come to realize that he can never be found, much more, he to find, the life that everyone ideally finds. somehow he too detested realizing himself the truth that, for end's sake, he still denied.

"a?" he imagined she would have said in a low tender voice.

he would have done nothing, and would have waited for her to come over to him and kneel by the bed to say, "what is it? are you sick?"

no answer. her insistence would not have made him say anything until, "are you depressed?" would have struck him and entirely changed the realm of things as things would clock-work in his denying mind.

"are you depressed?" he repeatedly thought over and over in his mind as the woman he started to believe was real slowly collapsed with his sanity, and all else, except himself, lay wasted as each affirmation his lips muttered, in resentful tears, slowly drained the long weeks of accummulated tension from the room.



he whimpered, and then cursed faintly a few times in his head, not so much because he cared about the paperwork or the money as because he needed to maintain his good nerves. to do this he needed a degree of cooperation from the world around him.

truly he agreed to himself, the problem was money and the humiliation one suffers without it. each new gadget, high-priced durable apparel, and moderately-efficient yet dashing SUV he saw was a torment. he never was covetous, and he didn't feel so much of envy. but without money he felt hardly a man, and felt as if he couldn't find a woman to complete his sense of agency... a woman... the foundation of manhood... apparently, his manhood, having felt the loneliness seep in his being for the longest time and the desperation to feel the intimate warmth of a woman to cup his impetus.

"hey you're not alone. you have friends around you but you keep them at a distance, which is why you feel lonely." a message came to meet him dully through his phone.

he believed, mind over his fate he was fated to live a life of distance and loneliness, haunted by his ghosts of what could have been, being, that he is, incapable of intimacy.

"hey don't worry. my parents went home this noon so i'm alone. my flight is on wednesday afternoon. ah this is what i truly miss about the big city, i can be lost and anonymous in the crowd."

"oh. but you are fortunate you can experience both worlds, and get to compare the good things each has to offer. really, i am happy for you." he realized he sounded neurotic and seriously hoped she did not notice that his depression was starting to hit in. "by the way, where are you eating? and what do you intend to do before your return?"

"i was eating at the bistro. i'm set to meet my buddies for lunch tomorrow then i have to meet my boss on tuesday before i leave for the province. i'm on my way home, don't want to risk the weather."

"i like it when the storm's bad. i always get this fantasy of getting stranded alone someplace far." the idea of being a stranger in someplace unfamiliar, he always lived in the city with short glimpses of the unfamiliar during work travels. the thought pretty much gave him a sincere interest, less of a hard-on.



a path that eventually we have to take

after coming of age
to start
i graduate.
i pass.


where do

i managed to
open the door,
said to lead me to dreams
(and riches and prestige
that any man will ask for)
to find
an open field
that leads to nowhere

after coming of age,
i know not where to go.
i heave the door
and find
the road that leads back
my home.

a path that eventually we have to take
to mask ourselves in the comfort
that always leads in return
or find
the will
in open fields
to explore.

crac (04-05-06)


daily service record

from the eighth to the eight
morning til night
in between
unglued eyes
six minutes each mark
valued as billing
as per each ringing
the phone sets' mark
dreams cling, tire, die
in between
night til morning drops


i set with the sun

as i gradually prepare for the night that inevitably comes
the sun
in its retreat
amidst heaven's fog of war:

taints the darkness
with spilt blood
by the million revolutions of our lives
that inevitably ends;

at sembrano's shoulder
i set
with the sun's waning interest.


to fall once more

deep in thought, he felt he needed to be in love once more. since the day he parted with his first, rounding to a year to the day few days past he crept under his blanket, thinking, that for numerous reasons he can still bear twice to fall. elaborating on it on bed, he must have felt sandman's whisper... and to sacrifice the life of a free spirit and bind himself in an emotional typhoon. for as he knows himself quite well, expressions of the self give him serious rashes and extreme vertigo in vulnerability.

overwhelmed in dreams hearing the harried waves of the sea carry the love away...