So, I'll Tell You

Verse I

There's been a lot going on here
We talk for minutes that seem like hours
I don't know if that's good or bad
All I know is you make me laugh

My world is bright, you make me fall through
Everything is brighter, you know it's true.
Thank you love, for just being you.

Gray skies follow me through the day
I'm pierced by you, that golden light
The urge to break and crash into you
and hold you tight is still brand new
So I'll tell you

Chorus

I wanna stay lost in my blanket
And fast forward to the day
When you finally say to me,
Girl, I want you to stay.

Verse II

Let yourself hold tight enough
You'll get blisters on your hands
Everything is rough and frayed
But I'll grasp your heart because
you make me real. The way I feel...
I don't want to be away from you.
I tell you, you're already mine.

I don't think you know yet,
How much you need me
I've got to admit, this is all kinda scary
Coz this is the part,
where you have to trust me.


Refrain

You still don't get it
We're supposed to be
If you'll let yourself be free
To truly fall in love with me.
So I'll tell you...

Chorus II

I wanna stay lost in my blanket
And fast forward to the day
When you finally say to me,
Girl, I want you to stay.

I want you lost in my world
I'll play hooky in your universe
Lie beside me, hold my hand.
Look into my eyes.
Tell me who I am and you'll see.
I'll be here, I see you.
Don't be afraid of me.

Verse III

You're everything I wish for
Don't ask me why because all I'll say
I love you, it's simple.
I want you this way.

To whispering and tickling.
And laughing and loving.
Just let us be, baby.
It's okay to want me.

be my midnight star

be my star at midnight
light this lonely room
inside my lonely heart

i can only call you once
let this one time brilliance shine
like no other brilliant shine
tell me what you see

be my midnight star
on a lonely Christmas night
i found a lilac dying outside the door
can it even be here, i'm not sure

be that lonely midnight star
i need you so, i can't tell you so
stars blind and hurt you
when you dare come close

be a brilliant midnight star
and i'll watch you from afar
i'll destroy your light
so i can hold you tight

but i won't do that.
not to the midnight star that shines for me
on a lonely Christmas night.

I feel... Nothing.

I've shown myself... And was shot down. Not just by him, but by my friends. They couldn't take it, this part of me. If only they knew... All they had to do. Was look past the disaster. To see me. To look at me, and say: "I don't believe that's really you. I don't believe that's you. I see that you're fighting. But why are you fighting? Why are you struggling? I see you. You don't need help. You don't need to be fixed. You need to be accepted now. Right now. You need someone to look at you and say, I see you... I accept you. I know that's not you. You're just scared. I'm not scared. Because I know... That you are someone worth knowing. Someone worth loving.

I am not afraid you'll hurt me. Because I know you'll take it away. I know you're like a cornered animal, lashing out. I know you're afraid. But I will be gentle with you. I'll take the scratches. I'll take the pain I'll get from your hisses and attacks. Because I know you're not doing it to hurt me. I know you're doing it to protect yourself. I know you're scared."

Drifting

I forgot time. I forgot endlessness. I am a winged creature of high noon. Can no one see me? Can no one understand? Can no one try? No one will. No one can. No one will try. I fly over the city, crying down on beings running away from the heat, the blaze, running away from themselves and others. They touch their face and look up to the sky, wondering if someone spit on them, because it can't be drizzling on such an excruciatingly hot day.

My wings snap, and I fall the ground so suddenly, so unexpectedly, that the earth shook for a full minute, and everyone panicked. With my ears I heard screams, the whir of machinery as geologists scoured their instruments for levels, quirks, resonances and what-nots. CNN reporters and anchors rush to the air, hoping to say more than BBC about the sudden earthquake that rocked the nation. And in awhile they'll notice something peculiar. This so-called quake rocked the world.

It was a phenomena unlike any other, apparently. They've lost so much knowledge of the ancient past that not even old stories and poems can bring light to the fact that it wasn't an earthquake, just merely a sun god that fell to the earth. Nevertheless I watched with shrill anticipation as they ran around for a rational explanation, while most started calling to their own gods. Tsch. None for me, even now.

I grow bored of their drama and decide to sleep deep in the heavens. When I awoke, the earth is gone, and some beings have fled. I blink my eyes as I followed a few around the solar system, noting how much they've changed, how little they've evolved in the mind, and how great their hearts are, even now. Ah. The earth being's hearts. So capable of destruction and mayhem, love and understanding. I close my eyes, and when I wake up, they're not even there anymore.

In the twisting rubble of what used to be Jupiter and some of Saturn, I drifted. Feeling uniquely alone and contemplative at my isolation. It is lucky isn't it, that I am a god. I don't need hugs or embraces, or even conversation. And even with my omnipotence, I bore myself...

Hopelessness

I have lost my urge to write. I have lost my urge to live. I have lost my urge to function. I have lost myself. How did I manage to do this? How did I manage to lose everything I ever hoped for, when I didn't even have it in the first place? How do you expect me to go on with unbearable sadness and relentless hopelessness, bearing down on my shoulders?

I now know why people want to die.

I don't want to die. I never wanted to, until I realized I had no choice. I had nothing. I was worth nothing. No one could help me. The only merciful thing I could do for myself, is die. I have convinced myself so foolishly that this life is worth living. I thought I could do it, I thought I could be happy. Why did I let this go on for too long? Why did I have to set myself up for more pain, more disaster? Disaster. I am a disaster. My life is a disaster. No one will care if I die. I am a worthless human being. There is nothing left for me in this world. The world has nothing left to offer me.

untitled

I lie awake, I can't believe how true it is for me
Now that I know you, now that I realize that I can feel this way.
All those love songs, they didn't lie. I now know
how it is to want you so badly, it hurts.

Morning comes without a clash of cymbals and drums.
Dawn breaks quietly, as still as my heart is when I think
Of you and how you make me feel. Am I selfish?
I glory at power of waves and storms, the earth
Is rising, deep and powerful.

You take over all of me.

A Great Way to Be

Open windows let in a sigh, I look out at a beautiful summer night
The laptop is open, I've got work to do, but all I've been doing is thinking of you
Music is playing, I'm singing out loud and words are dancing, I want you around
I might have to hate you to get me some peace, but no.

This feeling is too sweet to ignore
Sure it hurts but then I'd be bored

I'm going out jogging tonight, I'll smell flowers and grass, sweet scents of the past.
That's the road I grew up in, where I climbed up the clouds and you saw me
We never thought you'd have me, it took us by surprise, blood started to rise
And then we were gone, the stars hindered our flight.
And yes they were right, you needed her light.

This feeling is too sweet to ignore
Sure it hurts but then I'd be bored

I see how you've grown now, and yes I am proud,
I'm so silly, you're wise, this is the path I'll follow now.
The next bend is yours, we'll meet someday and then
Somehow, somewhere, we'll grow up again.
That's the chair we sat on, she plotted your dreams
This love will take you higher, I'll watch from the trees.

This feeling is too sweet to ignore
Sure it hurts but then I'd be bored

Here's your silly girl, who grew up with clouds.
She fell to the ground and was laughing out loud
when you found her, grass stains were stuck to her face.
The skirt was all over, she's tangled in lace.

Brown eyes that meet, who knew each other before,
Will always remember being kids on the floor.
Wrestling on backyards and fighting for cake
He ate all the burnt pies she started to bake

Caring for kittens, and laughing till night, she broke mom's dishes, he hid them in fright.
Wanting to hold her, that very first day, when she told him at last, I'm moving away.

This feeling is too sweet to ignore
Sure it hurts but then I'd be bored

They swung across rivers, on frayed ropes, you see.
And that in itself, is a great way to be.

A Badge of Rhyme

by Marjorie N. Cocjin

I have a story, deep within my heart
About a girl who wonders, (as all girls do)
On how to move (oh, how to start!)
towards greatness, immortality--
What to do. A little clue?

Not a fan of rationality,
I want it now! Greatness now!
Jack of Trades mentality
No one cares about the how

I want to show it, while I'm young
Applause for me, the little child!
I'll leave you at the bottom rung
Up on high, a little wild.

Cough, cough, snicker snicker,
all you say is boy, come hither,
grab a horse and ride away
no one's here to save your day.

Her finger glides along the sill,
Dust settles on the skin and still,
A surface, smooth is all she knows
A tickle here, she blows her nose.

Stains do fade, a lewd girl dies
A painful breath, and great goodbyes
To sleepless girls who say they dream
We close our eyes and fly, They scream.

This bed is thick with land and notebooks
(scribble, scribble, cough and scribble)
A leaded stick, a sketch of outlooks
Her valued brick of sand and scrapbooks
(smudge and scribble, they belittle)

It's been that way since she was little.

Scattered there and under, lips are fair,
Tangled hair. A pretty mess, that evening dress
The house is silent, no one's there.

A great idea, her dormant mind
The shadow moves, it's just behind
She turns and calls, Come out my friend.
Faceless fears won't be her end.

Power, it is. They whisper. Find it,
who you are. Bind it, who you'll be.
Seek it out and then be free.
Pursue one thing to eternity.

And then, they say, a sweet caress
You'll find your life is far from less

They'll sing of one whose lips are fair
Who told us once, she will be there

Among the trees, on every page
The girl who broke our golden cage
You'll be the sweet one, yes you are,
Who never meant to go that far

And yet you did, you silly mind
A greater toast, to all your kind!
For it is you who cannot rest
Until the day has been its best

And then you fade as all things do
The world can't do a thing for you
But you shall live beyond your time
One honored by the badge of rhyme.

Started: October 5, 2009
Finished: October 13, 2009

Draft: June 1

He was a prisoner of war. She is fighting for their rights. He hates the system she belongs to. They meet in the night. He takes her away from the scene and tries to make her understand. She holds on to what she believes in and he leaves her.

They meet again and she’s powerful. He’s a vigilante. He is now tasked to kidnap her for a hostage exchange. She sees him and trusts him. He abuses that trust. They get 6 of their best men, and the system loses 6 dangerous criminals.

She meets him in the night. He stares at her and she stares back at him.

“I trusted you.” She said.
“You should have known better.” He is smiling now, certain that she loved him.
“So should you.”

Bright lights surround their place in the night. He is taken prisoner and she watches as he kills four soldiers before he is put down. They can’t kill him despite of this. He has too much information.

He looked at her, his eyes flat and cold. She knew that if he managed to escape, and he probably would, that he would find her and it would all end. But she didn’t care what he did at this point. He had used her vulnerability against the system and everything she believed in. And yet after all that, the fact remained the she loved him. Why? Because she was a stupid human being. No. Stupid had nothing to do with it. She was human.

It wouldn’t do to take her life. She didn’t believe in such things. But this time there would be no denying him. There would be no more betrayals. She was sick of it, of her emotions. She would let him do whatever he pleased.

When he found her she was sitting in her own living room just watching the news. He stopped and looked around carefully, momentarily confused. “You know I would come looking for you.”

“I know,” She said, without looking up. “But honestly Gerry, what’s the point in hiding?”

Something about her tone angered him beyond belief. He thought he was mad at her, but the way she looked and how she said that offhand statement made him see red. With one step he was across the room and in that absurdly lethal instant, she was on her feet with a gun on her head.

Everything inside of him froze. He took in the sight of her, pajamas and an oversized t-shirt, hair tousled as if she had been running her hand through it all night and eyes that revealed nothing. Her finger was settled on the trigger, firm and sure. In a flash he knew he was about to lose her.

“Damn you.” He whispered, his eyes turning black with rage. “Damn you for even daring to do this!”

His voice cut her, hard and deep. Despite her anger and resolve, her stomach clenched and she felt the first stirrings of fear and uncertainty. What was she doing? Wasn’t she supposed to let him kill her? And then she realized she was threatening him by killing herself.

Tears were forming in her eyes and her willpower roared in protest. His quick eyes saw everything and his features hardened even more if that was possible. “Give the gun to me.” He bit out. “Give the fucking gun to me, and I’ll just kill you myself!”

It was too much, his voice got under her skin and suddenly she didn’t know what she was doing. In a sudden burst of energy she threw the gun at him hard and took off for the second floor. He caught it with a flick of a wrist and was after her, burning with anger and cold fury. She betrayed him and left him to be tortured and interrogated. She knew what the system was like and she let them take him, hell, she even led him to the trap.

But seeing her with that gun, threatening to kill herself—it had thrown him into a rage so unlike any other that he was starting to believe that he might love her, just a bit. For a moment, she was the girl who tended to his wounds in prison.

“Sarah…” He whispered. His steps faltered and he leaned against the railing, suddenly doubled over with pain. “Sarah…” She didn’t hear him. She could be climbing out the window for all he knew.

He leapt to his feet and scoured the rooms but she was nowhere in sight. He took to swearing and slamming his fists on the wall. It took a full minute before he could calm down. Looking around he realized he was in her bedroom, where the walls were pale yellow and everything was neatly kept in drawers and dressers. The queen-sized bed drew his gaze and settled on the dark velvet nightgown neatly folded on lilac sheets.

In the darkness he became aware of silence and the gentle sway of the trees outside her window. In the silence, memories of his interrogation, torture and imprisonment assailed him, and with it, the flooding of his senses. Her sweet scent was everywhere, taunting him with thoughts and emotions he couldn’t control. Tightening his fist on the trigger, he raised the gun and aimed it at the offending garment, lost in a wave of anger and despair.

“Spare the nightgown, please. It didn’t do anything wrong.”

In one fluid motion he stepped back and pointed the gun at her. He should kill her for what she’d done. He despised the system she was a part of, and she spit on everything he was fighting for. They were on opposite sides that could never reconcile. Only one would emerge victorious from this war.

Sarah had witnessed his frenzy from the other room. She knew there was something wrong because he didn’t find her, and that was what he was trained to do. But he had broken down and made a noisy mess of things, and that had put her off guard. She had come to him and saw everything, and this time she knew she wasn’t going to run away anymore.

“Don’t worry, I’m here.” She said slowly, and took one brave step into the room. She ignored the barrel of the gun and looked into his eyes. “I won’t run away this time.”

“I should kill you.” His voice was cold.

“I should kill you.” She said hoarsely and took another step towards him. “Because of you, everything that I’ve ever worked for is gone. Everything I worked hard to achieve for my city is in pieces! I hate you! I should kill you!”

“You did more than that.” He put the gun down. “You betrayed me.”

“You fucking asshole. You betrayed me first!” The fury built up, hard and fast and before she knew it, she struck him in the face and wound up flat on the floor, her wrist twisted and burning. It didn’t take much for him to take her down.

“I won’t let you do this to us.” Gerry said, and bent down to kiss her. In an instant, the pain on her wrist eased and he was on her, his body pressed tight and straining against her soft flesh.

“I hate you!” She sobbed, and fought in earnest, trying desperately to get away. “I hate you damn it, get off me!”

“I love you Sarah…” Gerry groaned helplessly against her throat. His hands slid down the side of her body and grasped her narrow ribcage, holding her tightly against him, doubled over by how much he wanted her. “Damn it, I didn’t want to want you…” He bit down on her throat and shuddered when she moved against him unwillingly. “Feel me Sarah, you know it’s true. God how I love you…”

Sarah was in pain. She felt him loving her, heard his rough words and knew they were true. It was a terrible thing, to be in love with everything that went against who she was as a person. But the pain and pleasure was a sweet combination, devastating and pure, divided and turbulent. She gripped his shoulders and felt him laugh, love and sing, the way he should have been if there had been no war.

There was no end to this, she was sure. But at this moment, all she could do was hold him and dream of a reckless future.

Mosquitoes

My mother smells like plants; fresh and drenched with summer rain. My father smells like wood, new earth and grease from nails. My sister said that whenever I was happy, the makahiya would be content and close its leaves when I was near. For three seasons my family grew this place of wood, leaves and grass. Every Sunday we would rest and dance in the garden, four people who knew life side by side, always holding on to each other, ready to face the world with their heads up towards the sky.

My sister knew of pain when her twin died. My mother knew of death when her first love was killed in the war. My father knew never ending sorrow when he realized she could never love him the same way. But he went on to love her even as she dreamed of someone else. It wasn't that she didn't truly love him, she told me and my sister. But some things a woman couldn't give a man, no matter what she felt.

When I first became aware of my presence in the world, the rain stopped in the middle of a storm. The wind halted and hovered over me, as if shocked by my existence as I was of theirs. They couldn't quite place me, and I wondered what they told the trees and the seas, and the glorious mountains when they spread news of my presence. After that day, dragonflies and mosquitoes followed me wherever I went, and my sister called them my disgusting little fairies.

My father decided to take his life when I was 10. My sister caught him because the spiderwebs had fallen off everywhere that day. It dropped onto our breakfast plates and on mother's hair. I started screaming and my sister ran out to the shed and saw our father with a gun pointed to his head.

My sister never talked after that. Each day she would sit with me as I played on the pond and she'd never comment about the dragonflies and mosquitoes that had started to grow in number that one had to swat through a blanket of them to get to me. I watched her light grow dim as the months passed. She had been like the strongest sunbeam in the world; brilliant, vibrant and luminous. Now she lay in her bed and I saw her dreams over her head, replaying my father's last moments on earth.

Her tears burned my skin. My mother watered the garden at night and would sometimes dance with me when the moon was full. But the makahiya never closed itself anymore when I walked by. They spread as wide as they could, as if trying to absorb all the pain inside of me. Most of the time I wasn't even aware I was hurting, but my fairies would, and they would swarm all the more louder when I was about to cry.

Eventually my sister found someone to love, and he smelled of alcohol and needles. He helped her back to happiness and I often found myself on their front door, looking in through the peep hole to catch a fishbowl view of their life. For a time, it made me happy to see her smile.

When my mother decided to get a new husband, I felt angry for the first time in a long while. I was angry at the man who took my sister away. I was angry at my dad for taking his life in front of my sister. I was angry at myself for being aware of how the grass grew and the wind blew and how I walked with steady feet across the earth.

The day of the wedding was bright and beautiful, with skies so blue it could hurt your eyes. Everything was perfect and the wind blew with a smile and I knew they were all going to be happy, my sister and my mother. Far away to the north, where mountains still talked and trees whispered to each other, I felt my father touch my cheek and tell me that everything was going to be okay. As they took their vows, only the dragonflies remained, silent and watchful in the background as the band started playing the Wedding March again.

I Will Remember You

Dedicated to my dear, dear friends.

If you need someone to be with you when the path is dark, I'll be there. If you need me to hold the flash light as you poke around a dangerous looking underbrush, I'll be there, even if I know better. In fact, you'll probably get an earful from me, but if you really want to poke that damn thing, I'll be there.

The moment I hear a menacing snarl, my first instinct will be to run like hell. But I'll look back to see if you're with me. And if you're not, if you're there being stupid or brave, glaring up at some mean-looking creature, I'll go back and help you.

I'll be stabbing at the thing and making sure you get away safely. I'll be stabbing at the thing making sure we kill it effectively. I'll be cheering you on as you stab it. I'll help you bury the monster when we're done with it. I'll sit beside you while you cry, and make sure you get lots of food and water when you break down. I'll be the one bringing flowers to its grave and sharing the hurt with you.

I'll be cheering the loudest when you come back with its head. I'll organize the trumpets and confetti flinging for your triumphant return. I'll make sure our horses are shiny and gallant. I'll make sure your hair is okay.

I'll be the one to write about you and your failures, achievements and dreams. No matter what I'll be writing about who you are without glorifying your mistakes or successes. I'll be writing about the essence of the man... the woman. You'll be immortalized for who you are, not by what you've done. And I will love you everyday for the rest of my life, and I'll remember you after. We'll look at each other and remember the dream of our mortal life, when we fought, loved and lived for each other. We'll remember how we were everything to each other.

We will remember that we did our best to be the best of friends.
We will remember how well we loved. :)

draft 01: The Stream Bed Calling

(This short story is finished and is only up for grammar corrections. Please help me so I can post it in our Writing Blog. Feedback please! ^_^ )

The Chase

No one would blame her for what had happened. She ran as fast as she could. The wind was sharp on her face. It knew what she’d done. The leaves were snapping at her feet. One slapped itself on her face. The scream was caught on her throat. She had to get away.

The knife dripped blood. She didn’t mean to cut him.
He had grabbed her. Terror was stuck in her throat.

She didn’t want to hurt him. But he had hurt her.
Anger was stuck on his openly flowing wound.

His eyes bore onto her back. He was after her. God, God! He's after me!

The trees were dark enemies, they scratched her body raw. The wind howled menacingly.

Birds and small rodents scampered away. No one wanted to be close, not even the vile things. She was all alone and on the run. God! Help me!

A boy from school stood alone, a few meters ahead of her. He was watching the stream as if it were important. The thought managed to touch her screaming senses, her panicked brain. But she didn’t care about him. He wouldn't be able to help her. Not against her pursuer. God! He hurt me!

Her feet became wings and she flew past him like a graceful gazelle, the ones she liked to watch on cable TV. The beautiful, desperate prey.

***

The noise crashed into his solitude and he whirled around in surprise. Who in their right mind would be in the forest during these dangerous times, at this time of night?

Fragrant and furious, a blur brushed past him, disturbing the surrounding foliage and knocking the scent of fresh rain and earth into the air.

A girl from school. An absurdly stupid and idiotic girl from school, judging from the sole fact of her presence in the woods this evening.

Miguel knew her. She liked sticking gum under people’s desk when she thought no one was looking. He had borrowed her scissors once. She didn’t even look at him when he returned it. Her name was on the tip of his tongue. Lillian. The lily. Lian. Le-Anne. She went by the name of the country singer.

It hit him on the next millisecond.
Something was wrong.

Before he knew it, he was chasing after her. That’s when he heard became aware of the sinister, hostile presence. It was breathing hard. It was dangerous.

The man behind them was after the Lily. Miguel shouted out a confused warning. Fear bit at his heart, a furious naked imp. They were alone in the woods. The man knew it. Miguel knew it. This was his woods and he knew no one would be around for miles.

But someone answered. Someone to the left. On the corner of his eye he saw the man falter. Ahead of him, Lily ran flat out to the sound of the voice. Miguel shouted again. He ran after Lily and tripped over a root.

He swung around with a fist, his mouth sickeningly open, terrified that the man would fall on him, and stab, stab and stab. God, I'm going to die.

But there was nothing but the wind and the emerald canopy of banana leaves hovered over Miguel. The earth was slick with rain beneath his raw palms.

He lay there and caught his breath, alone with his sprained foot.

The Visit

The man was gone. The house was burned. The neighborhood was in shock. He had killed one of their own daughters. But now he was gone. Lily had seen him, but she was safe. All because of Miguel.

Lily was a gracious person. But not to her parents. Not to people she didn’t like. Not to her stupid teachers. Not to indulgent adults. She only responded to Le-Anne, but she hated the name. It was her sort of punishment to herself. She wanted to annoy herself. She was insane. She had wandered into the woods alone. Maybe she wanted to die. That was ridiculous. She had everything.

Mom told her to visit Miguel. That’s why she was there in the hospital, staring at the starch white walls, wondering why they didn’t bother to spruce the place up. Maybe hues of pink and blue would cheer the patients up. Black would have been too depressing for sick people, and gloomy rooms might remind old people of their impending death. In the end Lily decided she liked the white walls.

She was sixteen and sullen. She had never felt sullen in her entire life, or so she likes to tell other people. But in truth she was bored and haunted by feelings she didn’t want or need. Why couldn’t she just be happy? Happy people had it easy. They didn’t constantly think about nothingness.

“Hi.” Lily mumbled. Despite herself, Miguel was a pleasant boy to look at, and she couldn’t help but hide her hair to cover up her ugliness. I hate that I’m not pretty.

She’s making it worse by covering her face. It’s so obvious she likes me. Miguel stared up at his unexpected guest and wondered what to do. “Hey.”

Well we’re obviously not going to be friends just like that. Popular boys never bother with people like me. “Hey, thanks for you know, saving me.” Lily fantasized about being tall, pretty and confident so she could talk better English/Tagalog to this boy.

“No problem.”

Lily stared at his dark hair. Miguel smiled at her politely and looked out the window. She really wasn’t a very comfortable person to be around. “Well,” He said finally. “Thanks for dropping by.”

“Uh. Yeah. Okay. Buh-bye.” And like a coward, Lily left.

That was the closest thing they had to a conversation. For the next few months Lily watched him at school and marveled at the wasted opportunity. Who cares? She forced herself to think. It’s his fault that he didn’t see beyond the surface. It’s his fault and his loss, that he didn’t get to know the real me.

Miguel hardly thought of her at all.

All the pretty girls were nice to him. They were funny, cute and smart. They had great moves on the dance floor. They had great moves in bed. He never went all the way with the virgins. The guys got off on porn and dirty magazines. Miguel had a secret stash himself.

But he hardly thought of Le-Anne at all. Except when the moon was full and the silver glint of the stream caught his eye from the window. Then he’d remember the graceful line of her back as she ran away. A desperate, beautiful prey.

Untitled

----Starbucks 20090423-----

A drink to soothe my heart
That's supposed to be the point.
Another day to start
Tch! The cold attacks my joint.

How about the other joint?
The cold attacks it too.
Come on now, you silly girl
The point is lost to you.

The joint is far from gone!
How dare you say it is.
The point is on the run.
And I know where it is.

Look! I see a hill.
The point went on that way.
Go on, go look your fill.
My knee begs me to stay.

Your knee, my knee, his calf!
What does it matter now?
The point's ahead by half!
Give up you say, but how?

Be quiet cow, be still!
You force me on your way!
You clamor for that hill?
The clouds above are gray!

I don't want the rain
To pebble on my skin.
Tch! I think you are insane.
Go wipe away that grin!

You balk at your discomfort
And that's your greatest sin.
Go! Bastardize your cohort!
And trample on your kin!

"If you wish to be a writer, write." Epictetus

The cat watched as the child cried. What is she doing on my roof? The cat wondered. A sniff, and a sob. The child continued to cry. How bothersome.

The moon asked the cat, why is the child crying? The cat looked up at the moon and frowned. Why would I know? The moon's mouth turned downward. The stars could see it had become sad. Tell us cat! The stars whispered. Why does the child cry?

The cat was annoyed. It was perfectly comfortable, in its cozy little corner on the roof. But even the wind was insistent. It brushed against the cat, ruffling the soft, brown fur just a bit too aggressively. Go on cat!

The cat couldn't swipe at the wind with it's claws or pounce on the moon with it's jaws. It really wished it could paw the stars out of the sky, just to show the insistent lot who's boss!

The cat sighed and came towards the child. Paw by paw, the cat was silent. It traveled the red sloped roof, up and down. For the cat, the way to a child was very long.

What is the matter child? The cat purred when it got there. A bump on the shin was enough to get his attention. Tell me, tell me, tell me.

"Cat!" The boy exclaimed. He ran his fingers over the cat's smooth, furry head. "Where have you been?"

I have been busy being a cat. And what do cats do? We sleep on roofs, hunt birds and eat blades of grass when we have stomachaches. The cat sat tall and comfortably beside the boy, enjoying his ministrations.

"I love your fur. It feels nice, stroking you like this." The boy said through his tears. And indeed, the cat's silky fur against his palms made him feel happy and not quite alone anymore.
"I miss her cat. I miss her."

The night was unbearably cold, even with the moon and stars shining brightly above them. The sky used to give heat to the dark world. Now it couldn't. Not for a child who has been left behind by his mother. Said the Cat.

"Take her into your heart, dear God." The boy sobbed into the Cat's fur. "She didn't mean to! She didn't mean to do it!"

The wind was sad and the moon wept. The stars stayed silent. Only Cat stood with the boy. Only the cat knew how deep the hurt went.

The Wind on my Face

I stood on my mother's vegetable garden and waited for the sun to hit me. It did! And I never felt the same after that. Bright black-brown loam stood in stark contrast to the scattered vines of talbos ng kamote. I focused on that startling image and for a moment, wondered why I was real.

"Good writing is supposed to evoke sensation in the reader--not the fact that it is raining,
but the feeling of being rained upon." -E.L. Doctorow-

This afternoon I went out of the house with a goal in mind: I wanted to feel and experience the wind on my face. It should have been easy, the wind is everywhere. But I wanted an experience that I could remember years from now, when I'm lying on my deathbed (preferably happy and not in pain).

Did I fail? I created a blog, didn't I?