Redefining My Philosophy: Love, Lost, Pain and Everything Else in Between

On Love.

Defining the undefiable is foolish, redefining is an idiot's idea (mine). Cliche and still hangs as a perpetual question--- a perpetual pain in the ass.

As I 've said once, not a soul rests without  asking or speaking the four letter word. Even the most unromantic person (could be you) in history may have had and underlying long time affair with the word. Asking questions like what we always hear in movies, "Is there really love?", "Is this really love?" and still not knowing the answer, gave up and proclaimed himself non-believer.
Let's see, in literature love is often defined as an "intense" feeling of "deep" affection (superlative not optional), a "deep" romantic or sexual attachment (put that raised eyebrow down) to someone. And in sports, it simply means a score of zero.
But have you ever in your one freakin' life, sat down with a dictionary in hand, turned to the L-O page to define and help you define what you are feeling (I know I have.)? And seeing the words "affection", "attachment" or even "sexual" (c'mon!), decided that you are most definitely are in love? (Ha! Guilty!)
"Making love out of nothing at all " might be their motto or "Love will keep us alive" as their anthem. Always hoping and dreaming that fate will find someone perfect for them.
I know there are some "i-don't-know-what-to-believe-in-anymore"'s who are on the edge of passing a bill to make the L word a taboo. The broken-hearted, forever-waiting in vain and haters (but not really).
Thus my theory remains: Not a soul in his lifetime rests without the L-word affecting his system or even spoke of it once.

On Lost and Pain

You might be thinking, "what the hell am I doing reading this crap of fucking nonsense?" Might be two things: (1) You could relate (2) you're freakin' bored.

Losing someone or something has got to be one of life's greatest trials. Anyone who have had experienced loss may tell you it's like stripping you off naked then deserting you in a lone island in the middle of a storm. I thought physical pain was painful. But emotional pain was torture. One would cry,curse of the pain, have strings of what-if's, but's and why's. Even attempt to end the suffering. Most especially if your whole world revolved around that certain person, your first thought would be "how would I live without him?", you would say that you'd move heaven and earth just to get him back (though reality check, you couldn't. But who wouldn't?) Because we are so used to that fact that they're always gonna be right there, we don't want to be without them anymore. Because you were happy and maybe you felt complete. And you never thought it would be taken away that easily.
Loss. It is a gift borrowed and taken away just as you thought it was all yours for the taking. Because losing means you "owned", maybe for awhile it was yours. Consider yourself lucky for owning what most can't even find, doesn't even know they want or need. Savor the pain and memories then, move on.

A thought…
Tragic,
Sometimes wishes do not come true.
 And dreams are the only thing left for us to hold on to.
Ironic,
We let go of things that matter most.
And cry and write of pain.
We say we live out of love
And say we’d die for the same reason…
But we curse of the pain
when love does not deliver.  07/15/10

Incineration IV

She whispered his name again and again

The feel of her breath sultry and sweet

Like fire on his neck

making his hair rise

But it was in her sleep

He maybe dreaming with her

They are along in their own world

Alone, together.

She moans and cries, but is that a smile

beginning to curve on her mouth?

Eyes still closed…

With him, alive and true

And tempting like seduction

Bodies like fire

Bodies like wave, crashed.

Sweat like rain dripping.

Breaths steamed, fogged their sight.

Words came in and out.

Minds spinning.

Eyes hungry,

hands caress,

sculpt like it had been there before

Mouths feast on the taste both yearned

In her dream, in his dream

This is true.

Drowned with him, succumbed to him.

He breathed her breath,

His breath became her’s.

Captured.

Enthralled.

Bound to be,

through dreams they spun.

A fate to be,

Tis true, though in dreams

It has been done­­­ --- he and she,

---Entwined. 05/13/09

Incineration III

He whispered his clichéd quotations

With a steamy sultry breath

Under a new moon, under the dark vast skies

A dreamy stare in his eyes, fiery and tempting

His aura gave a warning of seduction

Body gleaming with the sweetness of sweat

Rolling down his moist skin

A view to my hungry eyes

Made my heart thump louder

His arms stretched out to capture this frail body

Awaiting for his heat

These hands shaking stroking down to feel

What has only been a dream for my senses

This we’ve yearned for so long in a dream

He whispered again what I heard him say before

I gasped for breath and took him in

These hands stroking his face,

These eyes burned with tears flowing

Bodies heat up skin to skin

Each’s heart beat thumped on each other’s

chest growing stronger with each beat

Feeding each other with desires and dreams

that only we knew

In this moment, the world is ours

No one else’s but ours. 04/30/09

WEB

Stuck in a land of clones

Every soul is a wanna-be

Every breath stank

Like it was of another who spoke

 the very same words yesterday

Their saliva boiling on those careless mouths

And spoke nothing but of humbugs

During doldrums they spat

And grind their teeth ever so grimly.

I’m hopelessly stuck spinning my web

In this dog-eat-dog world

Every fly that I catch

has the same rotting flavour as before

They try to cover themselves with fume

prayed all over

Taste like dust from an alabaster jar

Makes me throw up

This world is changing

And is ever so sickening. 08/21/08

Childhood Memories

-Nostalgia-

She played hide and seek

And counts good when she’s it

Memorized the lines of the song

“I Love You” by Barney

She bit her playmate when she was six

And their slippers under the stairs

She’s a brat and she’s good (at it)

She’s a real headache, but one thing, she’s not rude

She swung that swing in the mango tree

Till she was twelve

She got hit on the butt one too many times

Before she’s eight

She fell from the guava tree and survived

She fell from the old house’s stairs

She fell from that thing on the playground and cried

She too much chocolates and lost her teeth

She crashed her bike too often and skinned her knees

Every day on Summer she’s outside on the streets

playing patintero or piko

She’ll never go home until her Mama comes for her

She tried to cut classes when she was nine

It was back in fourth grade one afternoon

She resented it after fleeing upon seeing a snake

She made friends and she made fights

Sometimes she’ll come home crying from a school fight

She’s tough and a lover of her old crayons and paints

She loves her Jennifer and Panda Bear

But outgrown them when she was ten

She stuck to her books, pens and paints

And watched cartoons ‘til eight

She climbed that branch of the old mango tree

And slept many afternoons on that mat

And from that big window, she sad with her Mama.

She ran from her Papa’s belt all over the backyard

She cried one too many times

Skinned her knees

Got bumps on her head

Got bruised and scarred her skin every ten days

She loved that old swing.

She swung it from four ‘til she’s twelve

She love everything from her childhood.

The laughters and pains,

lessons,

preaches,

fights and friends,

cries and tears,

beats and hits,

bruises and scars,

crayons, books, Panda and the bike,

the twilight of summer and auburn sky.

‘My swing. Oh, the old swing where all the childhood memories cling.’ 08/01/08

Incineration

The hands that held my bony structures

The fingers that moulded unto my skin

The moist lips that held me captive

Touching this tear-drenched flesh

Through my ebony strands it caressed

Down my pointed chin

Sending a soft whisper

A melody of our sin.

Those eyes it gazed and it stared

Melting my own glimpse

Burned with its flare

Wanting, longing I could hear you confess

Without your lips parting

Warm, inviting, teasing with threat

A smile curved on your mouth,

Romancing.

The touch that sent my blood cascading,

Enticing.  07/31/08