Summer's Last

It's been long enough for me! Four months is too much at first. I didn't know what to do with myself, really. Overall it was a great summaaa. It simmered and sizzled and fizzled at times. All around goodnessz.

It's 3:20pm EST, and I have slept too much and eaten too little. I am home alone, with goals I haven't worked towards. These goals being "A Clean Room" and "Move into C's old room." I just got to do it on my own time, Mom.

I look forward to Fall, and the changes it will bring. I plan to change things. What I can, at least.

Sound the bell
Soon soon soon
The sun has fell
On and under the Earth
We are asleep now
For the season of the sun
Has come and gone
And now
We are to hide
All traces of warmth
Inside our pockets
In our seams
Around our hearts
To keep us during the cold
Streets of people
Taking a last stroll
Hoping not to lose
This freedom that comes
With the season of the sun
And faces of ease
Bodies of please
Find, search for the light
For the heat
As if it is the only
Fuel for our lives
But we forget
That the sun does not leave
But for a while
Away with fret
He will come back again

See you later!

restless

I asked for change
and it came
Only thing is
Was I ready?

What about you

Were you ready?

Can't say if we were
If, if we are

We are here
Again

If this is where we are again
we should know

Yes yes
Yes
No
No yes
No no

How to decide?

Growing Time

Mmm I guess it was about time
The seeds were planted long ago: it was about time
The sun had shone expertly,
The rain was called and came sufficiently
Caring vigilance provided
Warm touches surrounded
Encouraging words chanted, resounded
"It's about time"
Before that, "Your time will soon come."
Unearthed and new
Unbirthed and true
Only growth made sense now

Short Story of 55 Words (plus 20)

This is an exercise we did once in 12th Grade Writer's Craft. Write a short story consisting of only 55 words. You should try it.

Intent on making the evening pleasant, he slipped his arm around her, the umbrella in his other hand already open, shielding them both. "Mademoiselle," he announced.
She looked up at him, unconvinced, somehow knowing there was something he was concealing. She then realized how lost and lonesome he really was. Aware now, "D'accord," she said.

I then added 20 more words to the story - this happens later on in the couple's rainy evening.

Understanding his yearning, she allowed him to embrace her. Knowing it was all she could allow herself to give him.

one minute poetry

Could I please
Get a word
Maybe just a breath in?

Could you please
Let me
Have a way in?

Would it be
So bad if
I could possibly

Let me
Have me
Just trust me

- Write really fast, and edit quickly too

Au Revoir

I was thinking of what usually gets me writing lately. Things I dream up, of stories between people, sprinkling bits of truth I know first-hand, second-hand, no-hands. I started writing this in my Starbucks, sitting there after having sat for a while. This is what came out:

I packed up but I
Didn't leave - wasn't easy
Couldn't say why
I found it so hard
Like the top of a skull
Of your head against mine
On pillows soft
Cushioned with ease and comfort
We. Were. Relaxed.
Broken In
Days of simple rest
At rest, no music on
Just breaths
Yours, mine, ours
But as I put away
What was mine
And left alone what was yours
I found it
I found it, I found it
I found it
I found the piece
That held together
You with me
You from me
Me against me
Like a hand upon a mirror
I saw
- and, hear, I'd use all those metaphors about reflections
so cheesy and overused, I'm sure you'd already know -
What I'd been failing to see: Disregard
And in this regard
I say words which whisper farewell
Now the case is closed
And I've packed up better
This time 'round
I'm at the door
Between Here and Away
Steps taken --
Easy

++

I was gonna call this pain

This will be a "mass post" as VMaltese calls it. The following piece was written 23 March 2008.

There is an Ache - it is in my heart. Underneath it, around it, the discomfort is still there. I write this and I am reminded. I write this and I am not soothed. It is in my chest. I can't breathe it out.

It is a pain that expands, it does not diminish. Only growing to remind me. I have not healed from - well, what have I healed from?

It escapes my body, but it does not leave, it does not leave me. It escapes me and I am satisfied for a moment; then it returns. I can feel it, see it, by my side, in the crowd. A throbbing hurt: pulsing, because it lives.

Living - breathing as it does.

I write this and I am not soothed. Satiation is far away. This ache has no bandage. Patching it up does not mean fixing it up.

It lives. Breathing as I do.

This ache is bondage. I am caught, tangled, bound. A constriction, if you will. It does not let me, it will not allow me, it will not permit me.

3 AM

I wrote this a while ago: 25 Jan 2008, earlier this year. Tough winter. Hehe...

3 AM

It's 3 am.
What's the point in sleeping?
Could it be that I'll stay up till morning?

Feeling so tired
Can't feel more but this
Slumber away, wake up to exist

Cos I'd sleep now
If only I hadn't dreamed how
I'd wake and be so low.

Wind's so noisy
Can't hear more but this
Won't you come home, dear?

Wouldn't sleep now
Can't close my eyes
Without seeing how

It's 3 am
Can't feel more than this
Wish I hadn't dreamed how
I'd wake and be so low.

'ForeAnythingElse

Listen first for Truth She will speak, she will speak Quiet your voice As she may come quiet, too Soften your words As she is sharp, cutting Minds will turn And words will run out Quiet your voice Truth always comes written ~9 Aug 2008

Homebase!

Think I've got a new "homebase", much like the ND Drama Room was it for me during high school, right now, for now, it's the Kapisanan Philippine Centre for Arts and Culture at 167 Augusta Ave, in Kensington Market.

I am here, freely using a donated MacBook, for my creative mind to be at peace or something...

(And as I type that, what happens but the most recent piece of awkward walks into the room. Hahahahaha. I bet Krystel is laughing at me as she reads this. Anyway, whatever, we say hello. This is turning into a novel of sorts.)

Back to what I was saying. Yes, I do believe I've found the homebase I was missing throughout first year. None of the few libraries I dared venture in offered what I was looking for. I didn't even know then what I wanted.

I think it's this: that I can walk into a space without raising any suspicion as to why I am there. Rather, concern, delight and best interests are what I meet when I walk through the office space doors. I have no problem making my way to the Centre, no struggle passing by when I have nowhere immediate to be. There are times when my feet just take me to 167 Augusta as I walk from work with a friend.

The K is where it's at for me.

to be continued, for sho.

post some prose

Some prose I had written, on my sister C's arm.

This time she promised him would be the same. Cos truly, why would you ask for DIFFERENT when the first time
When the first time was just so fucking damn -- it was good. They came upon:
Little square doors with large triangle opportunities
Locked barred under green awnings.
Red sunlight invaded cold floors, armed with distant warmth.
Grey skies dotted with puffs of nothing.
But he knew. This time was different.
He had come upon her morning.

No Need

J'ai fini.
Je ne veux rien de plus.
I'm solid for a reason. This is why. This is why.

J'ai fini
Je ne te veux pas

Je ne jouerai pas la victime,
parce que no one is hurt
Personne n'est blesse

Vas-y
Vas-y!

This is further evidence
Strengthening my point
of View

Does this satisfy
The questions you once had
and the disbeliefs you held

I don't want to write
About you
After this

Je ne desire pas
D'ecrire de toi
De toi