If fire and ice collide, will it define peace?
And if there would be no villains
will there be heroes?
If all lives forever?
Would there be heaven and hell?

Then why does opposite attract each other?

URBAN

6:00 am
church bell ringing
echoed by the early puto and taho vendor
the wee hour is yet to end
the buzzing of cars and jeepneys
the rushing foot steps on the streets
they make music of the urban world
Mondays to Sundays
All painted with black smoke and red spots
Back to back
children cries, lovers moan, driver and vendors quarrels
heating the day like hell
not an hour will the city rest
24 hours open
bars and fastfood
ready to serve you
the girl in red pops off smoke at the middle of the night
winks to any man he sees
her cleavage popping like pop corns
the men in black walk in and out
with their guns stocked on their waists
frustrated soldiers
this is the life they chose
on the city...

FOOTPRINTS and MEMORIES

..the mud sticks well in my toes, i remember...
the field where we once play
lay asleep under the sun
the green grass that cuts our toes
turns golden, wilting in lush
how the wound that it left
has now turned to fading scars
a remembrance of childhood and first love
bittersweet, indeed
those times, they shall remain
the green field melting in mud during storms
has now turned to dust
sweeped by the boastful wind
leaving not a single footprint.
but the footprint that it left in the hearts
shall remain till the last leaf fall...

Destiny

...as the old pine tree stand in the stillness of the day...
he waits for the sun to sleep
without a clue, the sky turns black
and rain starts to pour hard on the land
the rain crashes down on earth
a storm, the strongest for the year
Weak old tree
bend his tired toes
breaths profusely in the storm
his leaves scalded
his branches, not strong anymore
crashed down the ground
his tears pouring with the rain
picking his self back
but his not like the grass nor the bamboo
who could stood still in the nature's wrath..

cycle

...as the old lavenders wilts as the summer ends
there shall be another pollen
waiting for another spring to come
and bring her to full bloom...

...as the old grass grew in lush...
waiting for the rain to pour
waiting for the sun to rise
waiting to die...
But if ever he dies,
his roots shall remain to bear another new born grass...

..and now PHILIPPINES is turning yellow..
..it may mean, it is blooming or it is wilting..
...for all we know, colors are deceiving,too...

Deadlines

Let not your doubts kill you
when you feel unsure
Let things weigh itself
Pass them off for a while
Return when you've killed your doubts
Someday, you'll see
Rushing is not making you beat the deadline.

To you chief cook President
Who runs the biggest bakery
and fed people with bitter cakes
You shOuld have baked bread for us, instead
We'd rather be full than be fooled with your sweetness

ten drops of rain

I f I could only count the rain
Then I should have given you ten drops of rain
You shall remember me
when one by one, each drop will run dry
And the field you land will crack
You shall crave for more
I f I only give you ten drops of rain
Then you shall be keeping it
All through the years of your life..

Mom

A sweet lullabye
remains singing in her tiny ears
A hum of joy and pain
glints in her lips
How her angel spreads her wings to fly
She threw her hands in the air
And cursed the crying sky
As the clouds mourn with her
She bend her tired knees
And banged her head hard in the floor
Sees her angel flying
She jumps and chase her
But how the angel leaved her
pained her too much...
too much to bear..
a poor six year old kid
knocking her mothers locked bed.

Ting! ting!
a single centavo coin touches the can
echoing like tens of coins
How the child hold his can
So precious, he'd die for it
With trembling hands
that skiny child held the can tight
Sits along the rusty street
Inhaling the city black smoke
Like the oxygen running into patients veins at the hospital
Each heavy breath and hearty moans
slowly fading into the eve
Each stranger's coin
keeps his tiny heart pumping
to which each day, death misses to take him.

R

Lolo stood still in the field
the sun burning his patience
Tears ain't enough to bring his rice back
His bulging red eyes kept staring the sky
Angry and hopeless
He closed his fist and curse the cloudless days
The carabao crazily seeking mud in the dry land
Raised its nose and mourns with him
And the velvet blood turns black
But the face is pale, white and cold
Three days, he stood there
Restless and foodless, he kept his hand up in the sky
Waiting for a drop of rain to touch his field.

YELLO BELLS

Yellow bells hanging in the garden pots
Bowing her crown to honor those she sees
The wind blows, she sway and dance
The rain pours, she humbly bend her knees
prayed and thanked God for the blood
Seeping through her dying roots
Each drop, it skirts into each veins
and revive the dying soul inside

Rain! rain!
Why have you denied her now
When all have gone dry
her mother, her father, her friends
why now?
when the devil who calls himself sun raised her arrows
and strucked her so hard
with million stabs, she slowly dies
Poor yellow bells who wilts in summer with eyes
hoping to see her son and daughters.