Tag Archive: mush


The Endless


Time has no purpose but to mark the steps

To show the forward motion

To give context to the journey

To this familiar nowhere called Us.

 

Maybe the feet know to go

Where your footsteps have left their warmth.

Maybe the center of my gravity

Is in the core of Was-just-here.

 

Maybe the heart is just too used

To being left behind

In the Almost.

 

In the ocean of Where-you-were,

The limestone cliffs of What-we-could-have-been

Shine like a beacon for my storm-tossed soul.

The crashing waves become hands upon my cradle

Drawing on this sleep,

Never ending this dream.

 

Our “here” just keeps on drifting beyond reach.

We never are and can never be, only

 

Might

Remains to move me.

 

 

The Comeback


Sometimes I think I’ve gone too far

away from you

That I’m back where I started–

Right behind you.

If only your memory were a corpse

Buried in the ground,

And I never had a shovel

Or pick

Or spoon

Or hands-

Then there would be no nights like this.

 

But you’re a seed,

That turned into a tree

And you know how I just can’t

Resist the shade.

And you bore fruit

And I ate them all

And spat out the pits.

 

Maybe if I just kept still–

 

Maybe if I destroyed you–

 

Maybe if you just stopped mattering

And I stopped muttering

We start happening

And I stop hoping.

 

Then I’d see that the seed

Was a weed

And the fruits were all spiney.

 

That would be as far

Enough to get past you

So you can be where you need to–

Behind me.

Goodnights


The wind machine drones off into a lullaby
and my weary eyes have met the force of gravity.

Your image is projected on my eyelids

and my mind knows it will find no sleep.

You ask me why i never lay beside you,
why i never lie at all.

And i know you know it’s for fear of dreaming,
because awake we do live on.

I crave your every meaningless expression–
The affected effort to touch my heart.

The words uttered with
meaning escaping,

and leaving the nasal baritone as proof.

You do have eyes for me.

And your mouth and feet,
they seem to follow.

Never your hands.

And never my eyes.

You stand ever so close,
Fists clenched.
And i stay
Eyes unflinched.


As we lay on the grass,
your belly was my pillow.
I was reminiscing
as you checked on the news.
The sky was that in-between color of cold pink,
little particles of water vapor vex and touch us randomly-
stirring a wariness of a hesitant drizzle.

Your breath is steady
while mine is drowned in the sound of you,
the feel of every blade of grass,
tasting my skin through my clothes.

Now, I do not care for the filth.
I do not care for the myriad footsteps that trampled our bed.
I do not care for the
waste of pleasures consumed,
of moments stolen
and light beams evaded.

I see the past,
yes,
and how blurry it is
through my myopic memory.

The stars themselves could not decide
whether to shine or fade.
They twinkle,
like your eyes and mine.
They zoom,
however steady in the sky.
And they each hold a wish for you and me.
A promise once only
hung upon a tree.

Is the earth exhaling or is the sky breathing down on us?
Is the world turning
or do we drive it around?
Is that not my heart beating in your chest?
Is this not your warmth kindling my breast?

It could be night fall,
the crickets have assured it.
But it is only dawn.

And you are with me.

FETUS


All but love curls up into a ball
And bounces around you.
Red and light like a slightly heavy balloon
That bursts with deliberateness.

My fingers are restless:
Today, I drew a sad boy
In shades of black and dots of white-
For contrast.

All in the name of being your missus.
Missus my surname hyphen your surname.
Hyphens become demeaning,
Like a prolonged negative sign.

It is the eve of Christmas
And a turkey is roasting
In my imaginary womb,
Stuffing stuffing the turkey stuffing me.

And you, the proud father,
Wait across my virtual vagina
With anticipation
And of course, a carving knife.

I wheeze-wheeze-wheeeeze
As you cheer me on
Simultaneously salivating
And feeling light in the head.

One great push
And my foot skims hell.
I am ripped apart
And bring forth your feast.

The turkey is burnt
With dots of white- for contrast.
Today, you eat a sad boy.
His fingers are bitter.

The red ball bounces around you
And explodes with deliberateness.
Like a slightly heavy balloon,
Love curls up into a ball.


Natupad lahat ng gusto mo.

Maraming salamat Jo.

Mahal kita palagi

GUSTO KONG MAGING…

ni Joren Reysoma

Gusto kong maging
Lapis sa pagitan ng yong mga daliri
Kapag sumusulat ka ng tula
Na puno ng dalamhati

Gusto kong maging
Tasa ng kapeng dumadampi
sa yong mga labi
O alak na gumuguhit
Sa yong lalamunan

Gusto kong maging
Paborito mong awitin
Kulay, laro, salita
at gawin

Gusto kong maging
Liwanag sa yong mga mata
kapag ikay tumatawa
At maging dahilan ng pagtibok ng yong puso

Nais kong maging
Lupa na iyong lalakaran
Hangin na iyong lalanghapin
Salitang iyong bibigkasin

Nais kong maging
Araw sa yong himpapawid
Buwan at bituin
Upang masundan ko ang yong bawat galaw

At kung ikay mahihiga
Gusto kong maging
malambot na kumot
Na ibabalot mo sa iyong katawan
Maging unan na iyong hahalikan

Ang huling bagay
na papasok sa yong isipan
Ang huling salita na
iyong bibitawan

Gusto kong maging
Tagahabi ng yong panaginip
Maging musa mo, maging kanta mo
Maging pangarap mo
Maging alaala mo

Gusto kong mabuhay
Sa loob ng yong isipan
At syang pupuno sa yong puso
Ng init at pagmamahal.

Ang Paraan Patungo sa Aking Puso


Ang paraan patungo sa aking puso
Ay madali.
Nagsisimula ito sa isang hakbang
Palayo.
Hinihila ito ng bigat,
Di gaya ng dinudulot ng mundo
Sa patak ng ulan,
Kundi ng sabaw
Sa kumakalam na tiyan.
Walang hinihintay na atang
Ang aking pag-ibig.
Bagkus, nabubuhay ito
Sa kahungkagan,
Sa iyong waring di-pagpansin,
Sa iyong pagsasawalang-bahala.
Ang damdamin ko’y di rosas
Na malamyos,
Na bumubukadkad
Sa pagtatalik ng hamog at sinag-araw.
Ito’y isang damong-ligaw
Na kusang umuusbong,
Nakikiapid,

Pumapatay.

Ang paraan patungo sa aking puso
Ay madali.
Ang paraan palayo
Ang may kahirapan.

Amygdala


 

The thought of you
Stretches in my mind
With each whiff
Of the shirt you left behind.

A potion of
Cigarettes
And sweat
And shorea.

A souvenir
Of lovers’ glee,
Of promised love
Faded prematurely.

I lie with only
The echoes of your words to me,
“I cannot give you what you want.”
(Then take back what I don’t)

Another indelible
Love story
Stained my nose
And my memory.

I draw a deep breath
And I draw your trajectory.
If out of sight,
Were out of mind.

If your scent
And my feelings
Weren’t so
Intertwined.

If the smell of your shirt
Had no power to remind
My feeble heart of times
It was treated unkind,

Then I could exhale
Instead of sobbing.

I shed tears
More than needed
To drown your perfume
From my head.

But the air around me
Is filled with you.
And I cannot,
Hard I try, begin anew.

Your smell sends our love back in time.
However swift the time you were mine.

click

Shhh…


inspired by bjork

 

The blanket of Night.

I am caught in self-embrace.

Wonder where you are?

 

 

Cheerio, Boy


The rain pours out of a cardboard box
As I meet my destiny on the breakfast table
A clink-clink-clinking preludes the silent plop
Into a lake of frigid white-
Cheerio, boy.

Outside the sky is dark but tinted with incandescence
As the window slowly steadies from my
Vantage point. Your hair is a-tousle
And your covers are engraved upon your tear-puffed face.
Cheerio, boy.

You were so happy a week ago
You made her breakfast in bed.
While I was stowed away in the cupboard-
The wretched smell of bacon and toast and guilt.
Cheerio, boy.

Let alone that she labored as she ate.
She said she would have preferred me
And saved you the trouble. But you would have
None of it. You could do better- you were.
Cheerio, boy.

Breakfast forgives all inIdiscretions,
She confided. It was a plainness- or the wait-
The faded incandescence. She whispered
Fantasies to me. She told me she was leaving you.
Cheerio, boy.

I must admit I feared for my life
As you took your rage out on the counter
She looked on with anxiety- or was it fascination?
Which turned to disgust when you apologized.
Cheerio, boy.

It wasn’t plainness. It wasn’t the wait.
(She finally concluded that you were weak.)
The streetlamp exposes your soggy countenance.
The milk has turned lukewarm.
And I, now worthless, remained an untouched
Cheerio, boy