A Poem God Wrote

 

My dreams are typos.

My happiness is a grammatical error.

My heart is a scratched-out doodle.

My body is a crumpled piece of paper.

My life is an unnecessary metaphor.

Oh God,

You could’ve proofread my face.

Oh God,

You made too many mistakes.

Artwork: Swiniaki on DeviantArt

It’s Finally Out!

But I still haven’t ordered a copy (I’m gonna do it soon though, I swear! Hahaha!)

World Poetry Day 2016

So March 21st is World Poetry Day, and in order to celebrate, let’s look back at some of English poetry’s most memorable lines!

Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard are sweeter.– John Keats

“Marie’s Love” By Hemelson Heraldo

Hemelson Lucio Heraldo (May 15, 1989)

Love is a burning candle

It’s not always easy to handle

It burns, but it’s still beautiful

And it makes celebrations oh so meaningful

Marie is like a sunset

burning with romance

and a song

that makes you wanna dance

and forget everything

at that moment

fills in deep

slips in real

makes you feel

that love is real

Marie’s love is like a lasting fire

which view less vestals tend,

that burns for ever in the soul

and knows nor change, nor end.

it just grows stronger

as bright as the sun can be

even heats up hotter than it

flourished and fills the soul as it can be

through it’s lasting flame

 it can fill the heart with will

 to survive with you forever

Marie’s love is like a razor

 cuts me deep

 yet heals me perfectly

 it slices up eraser

 yet it’s as as clear as a diamond

 it bleeds deep

though it slices me bad

Marie’s love is like a time machine

it goes up until the screen screen

it’s all in mind

that creates a litany

a magical mystery

whether in future

or in past

it’s all good in every time.

Depression

 

“Just keep yourself preoccupied, you will feel better.” “Just think positive!” All these–easier said than done. Ever since summer ended last year, I’ve been having depressive episodes, and its getting harder and harder for me to cope with it as time goes by. I’m afraid as the voices are getting stronger and the depression deeper. I never thought I would finally see suicide with perfect, crystal clarity. I used to snort with derision at the very idea of it, but now  I am facing it with its hand outstretched, enticing me with a really lucrative offer. I’m reeling in this pit, stagnated. I feel isolated and going nowhere. My career is on a standstill, so when I decided to try something else for the mean time, for some reason, I keep getting rejected through no fault of my own. I can handle rejections, I’m used to it all my life. What I hate the  most is when people around me can’t seem to understand my predicaments whenever I get a rejection. They can’t understand my plans, and if they do, they shoot it down as an alibi–a weakness. To make matters worse, the people who are pulling me down are mostly family members. They make mean comments and start stupid issues about me. They don’t like me. That is the fact of the matter. I’m this useless appendage they so badly want to get rid of. No one among them wants me to be around. Everyone is in a hurry to ditch me somewhere because I don’t serve any purpose to them. They are discarding me, or more specifically, they want me dead. I miss school. It was my opium for a while. The very few ones who do understand and care are so far away from me. There’s only five of them and for some reason, I can’t tell them everything. Perhaps I’m trying to protect them, especially my husband, from all these mess, and sometimes I feel such a loser because I’m envious of my own friends. Their lives are so much more streamlined: school, work–normal things normal people worry about. Why can’t I have a life like that? Let me worry about the normal things, not family feuds and random illnesses. I feel bad because I’m supposed to be happy for them, well I am! I just can’t help the bitterness. The unfairness of life. The cards I’m dealt with are too much and I’m trying to scrape by in order to save my sanity. Anyway, I’m not able to talk to my friends for support on a regular basis, and everyday, so what’s the point? It’s getting scarier than ever. The voices within me are getting stronger, and there are times when I am about to surrender to them. Maybe they’re my true friends…my they’re the honest ones, the voices in my head. Maybe no one would really care for me, even if something bad happens to me. Maybe I’m just this huge hindrance to everyone and anyone I come across with. I could shoot myself right now, and everyone would throw a party. Even my in-laws started hating me for some reason. We are currently on a long-distance relationship, so chances of me being rude to them or doing anything of a huge mess against them is extremely slim to none. They just flipped personalities and changed for the worse. I feel bad and pathetic. This is not the first time people just started hating me for no reason at all, but I’m so tired of everything: the drama, the hostility, the mess, the frustration…no one cares anyway. I could just leave everything behind and no one would give a damn. I just want to leave. I just want to leave permanently.

Ravens

There is a ruckus
within my skull: 

ravens are perching
on the nerves;

pecking at the walls;
etching their names.

How I wish they would
just fly out--

beaks clutching
sinewy misery--

and never return,
but they know 

home, and I'm wearing
it inside my head.

Peeking Cat Poetry Magazine

I am proud to announce that one of my poems, “Moon Eye“, was selected to be published in the upcoming 12th issue of the Peeking Cat Poetry Magazine! Many thanks to their wonderful editor, Samantha Rose, for giving my poem a shot at their awesome literary journal 🙂

First printed publication for me (and there will be many more to come!) :))

Breathe

 

Traces of his goodbye

still linger in the air–

its gentle breeze slowly

hums his form,

and I’ve been breathing it,

ever since–inhaling

his silhouette, exhaling

his essence.

I’m not doing this

for sheer frivolity;

I’m not doing this

simply because I want to.

I’m doing this because

his memory is the only

thing that’s keeping my

dying heart alive, and

I will keep doing this, until

my shattered pieces–

my stained glasses–

are mended once again.

With Love

 

With love, be very wary–

there are swindlers in its

nooks and crannies–look

 

both ways, like a hare does

for a fox. Avoid the crossfires,

for some of its bullets are

 

poisoned–dipped in faux

affections and expired

holy water. Darling, if

 

anything, just lie still and

wait for it. Let true love’s

warmth cradle your heart;

 

let true love’s vines climb

on its own, to embrace your

steady limbs. It will firmly

 

enfold you near, and you will

know it is real, for true love

holds you down to set you free.

Cold Feet

 

The

cold feet

are

five feet

below

the

head that

dangles

from

a silent

noose–

static

in the

stagnant

darkness.

Maybe

now they

will

care.

Maybe

now they

will

listen.