False Expectations

If only I caught you

oh vivid rays of sunrise

then an unquestionably gladness

would dance upon my eyes

Within the wave of ballads

I'm hunting authenticity

I've learned: not all roses can sing

rather, some hum in perfect hypocrisy

The fractured path of yesterday

I wish I'd never been

the forlorn lane of faux promises

made me forget how happy I had been.

Some of them think religiously

the proper essence of self-worth

is the summation of their fabricated beauty

plus their unmerited towering net worth

Lucky are some roses on natural soil

no toxin has poison their minds

unlike some that are watered by money

fanatics of lies...color-blind.

Some roses are not roses in winter

only a camouflage of soiled beauty

a plague killing high hopes

a friendship of treachery

If only I'd caught you earlier

oh glossy rays of sunrise

then surely no pieces of broken trust

would reflect upon my eyes.

The Healing (Flu 4)

This harmony she hears
cradles her soul from the grave
to an unending stream of calmness
Her smile grows wider as the tune plays on
'Drown me in your soothing refrain',she says
Being swathed by this melody
only heaven knows no bounds
'an exemplary Wednesday afternoon'
She thought...
Head buried on tender pillow,
she shut her lids to slumber
Her heart melted in contrast of ardency on flame;
an aura of sanctifying bliss...
while the angelic tune goes on and on.

The Curse of Winter ( FLU 3)

The burning candle

weeps...

cutting...pallid...

canvas of anemic images

can be seen by these ailing eyes

Streams of cosmic meddling 

gyrating spectrum of phantasm 

reliving pieces 

zoetic in dynamic prelude 

a decrepit's vanilla brain bonk...

Troops of quietude

tried to mingle with multicolored lights

emitted from the Christmas tree

tormenting this earsplitting silence...

Sentiments never bail out these sickish lips 

reefed...laid-low...doomed...

take this bug in me 

this bug eclipses in hell's cloak 

impaling the weeks gone passed 

I hate the decrepitude it created

my prime pleasure killer 

As the burning candle weep 

melted flames infusing my arteries 

cutting...pallid...

canvas of anemic images 

can be seen by this ailing eyes 

a distant decrepit...i become...

Don't finish me yet
i'm not well rehearsed for my funeral
repulsive submarine
my imminent low...

before, the crisp winter wind blew me
each blow teeming with toxic spell
each breath...each flutter...
paradisiac...flawless drown.

Who would thought i'd breathe the wicked poison
out of mother nature's breath?

Was it your fault...
Was it mine...
Was it...the totality?

As the burning candle continued to weep
I lit the lemon grass incense
hoping the healing aroma
could ease the befuddling inside me

my eyelids half close
and again I submerge to the torrents of my favorite songs
leaving all questions to the unknown.

Breakdown on the Sofa Bed (FLU 2)

Seems this dark cloud never fades
no more smiles on this winter night
I chill to the coldness of this room
as my body temperature raises higher and higher

If it's okay, i'll say i'm okay
but even a little whisper.... aches
my throat complains of the pain it bears

I light the candle and the scent of orange and apple fills the air
and I light the lemon grass and Japanese cypress incense too
hoping them healing aroma could ease the restlessness inside me

I then submerge in the waves of my favorite songs on iTunes
for hours, i dream as coldness steals my soul

I woke up
to blackness

hands shaking
i again light the candles and incense
my favorite  candles and incense
then played my choice of music
again

while Bruno Mars' "It will Rain"  raises the emotion of these four walls
it reminds me of work, Sarah....when Lady and I sing this song together...

I miss work and the ladies...

the cold waters that leak from my burning eyes
the bear witness of how much i hate this

FLU

Antigenic Drift (FLU 1)

Head aching in alarming pain 

the torment consumes my eyes 

with run down heart

I complain...

How two weeks had passed 

your attendance, stealing and assuming 

chills successively burn my skin 

as each bit of your raging temperature races 

from my hurting head to quavering toes 

to mate my body aches...with watery eyes.

Ignoring your presence

the work is engaging and potent 

with wee changed of weather 

I complain...

How hours had passed 

your company, unwanted but condoned 

yet these mixture of your appalling indicia 

transmitted natural heat to a devastating degree 

formulating fatigue, lacking caution 

slimy liquid flows from the nose...antigenic drift.

Struggling to keep my cool,

the phantom sifting through bounds 

with respiration rough and roasting 

I complain...

How you easily passed immigration 

your donation, tax free and unauthorized 

shedding virus,raiding living cells 

terrorizing my reluctant pockets

with infection augmenting in noxious greed 

its wicked technique...invoked ordeals.

Glooming in ghastly threat,

the torment consumed my eyes 

with crestfallen heart 

I complain...

again and again..

POETRY

At night
you trip to my dreams
and snag a place
for my mind to be still

You block the disturbance
as you slowly paint
the silken canvas...

dissolving aggro...
defusing lemon grass-like aroma
so soothing,
so suited to my taste...

simple yet calm
you flatter my rustic mind
with a soft flutter...

such sweet indulgence,
a subtlety of some sort..

lock me away in your  snug
in feeble beauty of nakedness
bare each hunted feeling

see through me
for only this moment
i let you cradle me
in each current of emotion..

dear Poetry.

John in the Hospital

I sit in our empty room

beside the opaque shade 

of your favorite lamp...

I understand the despondency 

it is to be a woman.

Few valuable years ago

you were few years old younger 

I was thirty plus years younger than you 

and sparks tossed our hearts 

then they became one to flutter

with our dreams they tower 

in perfect addendum.

Beside the lamp shade 

I've seen us fractured

sometimes we were injured 

like the opaque light 

we failed to keep sight 

of why this life is meant living for

of why each path is worth walking for...

the opaque shade figured this long ago

equal to the lampshade beside me 

but it locked itself in deep silence 

not care to give a clue 

that it was harmful...

somewhat it could withstand 

and watch us grow as seasons change 

as we carry on to find 

the perfect guide to marriage...

and as i sit beside the opaque shade 

of your favorite lamp 

i recall the times you fall 

and how many times I've catch you....

and those times i lost my all 

how you became my guide..my strength...my eyes...

if there is someone who listens...

who can paint clearly the reason 

behind my aches 

or my smiles in the bend...

it is You.

Here in our empty room

immersed in opaque shade

thinking of you in your hospital bed 

i realize the worriment 

it is to be a wife in love.