KAGEMUSHA

Kaninong mukha itong andito sa'kin?
sinong mandirigma itong sumanib sa'kin?
Di ko mawari kung saan papunta ang noon...
andito na ba o nasa panginorin pa?


puraella
sorsogon city
03.23.07

Day After the Storm

Calmness

to make a turnaround,
wreak havoc
to us down here.
Look up
sweetness
in the morn with fallin'
flowers from the Tambis tree...
Sweetness comes freshly
from towels and white sheets.
Can bitterness
be faraway
after this sweetness?


puraella
sorsogon city
01.16.07
(N.B.- Written March 18,2006 & posted Jan. 16,2007)

Evanescence

I almost loved the darkness
that engulfed my wholeness tight
the ephemeral vanishing points of light and night...
whiteness and blackness.

I almost blocked the passage of time
incommunicado to the rest of the earth
bringing in sleep to steal the spirit in wine
allowing the stillness to still me.

I almost waited in vain for the light
to switch on the slow diffusion of night,
from a blinding white tryst
with shades of grey into the final total eclipse.


puraella
sorsogon city
11.02.06

To Anaesthesia

Yes, to lay my body down into the darkness
of neverwhere,
i will feel my spirit tremble and fly free
into the world of the unknown.

I will feel the touch of darkness
happening in the bleakness
of the night as it glides
into my spine.

We are now in the shade of deepest black
blinding the core of dagger-looks
unpierced by human minds
unseen by naked eyes.

A figure swims toward me
leaving a trail of wings
and hair on fire,
to snatch me into regions
where all pains
turn to dreams.



puraella
sorsogon city
07.28.05

i never found home again

home has just been deleted from my inbox

and i do not find it anymore

except in bits and pieces in the mind.


we do not come home anywhere

we just grope for little memories

that slowly fade away into forever.


home is virtual reality of the heart and mind

it slowly recedes into nothingness...

it is neverwhere (tnx 2 neil gaiman).


memories are wonderful

as long as they do not deal

with the past (tnx 2 u 2 linklater) ...

but they do...

including what is now.



puraella
sorsogoncity
7/21/05

That gray thin man sitting by the bridge

(Inspired by Rilke's Pont du Caroussel)

His brittle bones enveloped
in withered flesh holding on to a tiny box
tingling with loose coins begged from others,
might be the only thing constant.

This isolated reposed soul
whose stars might have turned away,
where every bit about him flows
and flies away;

He who sits all day beneath the burning sun
waiting at some crossroads
beside other branching paths,
that are snarled and curled;

I would not think of him
gone and done.

Perhaps he will lead us
to a world invisible to dust,
a gatekeeper to an underworld
to an entrance that is just.



-puraella
sorsogon city
05.31.05

PAIN SUCKER

BREATH OF A BUD

Tonight I just lay down
the whole length of this body
upon my bed in this little abode
of mine where I savor the ticking
of minutes and seconds.

I saw a bud in the afternoon
after going through the hours of morn
and again - even then I always knew
this bud breathed life anew.

It felt the vibrating movements
of my body - twitching into fits
of seemingly unknown ailments.

I could not anymore move
because the whole span of sixty seconds
untied the knot of fifty yards
that reduced me into a single thread.



puraella
bacoor/10.05.02




FOUR COLORS

Four colors in linear patterns
converging towards the middle of my breast.

Twice i wore this top in black and white,
alternating with lilac and old rose
when pain came to an unguarded me.

You unlucky top! You saw me twice with this pain
and twice felt too the faint
rush for the stream
of twin rivers
that raced down my cheeks, my chin,
my neck, my spine...
wetting every strand of hair...
melting every tissue of skin.


The secret pain is now plunged
into the open skies
whispered into every leaf
caressed gently by a breeze
and pressed by lips...
swallowing my entire world.


puraella
bacoor/10.06.02


LITTLE STEPS

I grew up with this pain.

Now, I shall again
grow old in my pain
before my time.

It must be very hard
for one to bear
the weight of time
which we do not hold.

We shall run like rats
in little steps
that bite our bones -
that chill us no end.

Let no one bring me flowers
on my grave...
I hold not my feelings back
as time catches up with me.

I shall spit out the venom
from my mouth filled with worms
and hurl daggers from my eyes
hollowed into gaping holes.



puraella
bacoor/08.19.01