Fake Goods are Invalid

Sauntering, freed from my shackled soul

Alas, I found him again on this shithole

Creeping in this same place long years before

Ripened evil I had dealt few long years before

I quivered frantic, “leave me!” I implore

“For I had no more soul to give” but I saw something;

I shrieked, “what odious thing you have in stores?”

Ceasing, he seized my hand, giving that odious thing

Earthed, murky and ugly, he said, “it’s yours”

“Fake, your soul is fake.” he complained

A glimpse in my hands — it was nothing but crap

“Fake goods are invalid” he explained

At this point in time, I laughed on my trap.

“Why are you laughing?” he cried

“Why are you crying?”, I asked

“My money, give back my money” he replied

I picked up the money I got from the past.

“Here’s the money,” I then gave it to him

“Thank you, tell me, where I can change it for dollar?”

I laughed, “there’s a changer near the gym”

Few minutes later I waited; the I found him on a grim

“He said it was fake!” he yelped with a holler

I ran, laughing, with my soul on a roller

And you reader, perhaps not laughing

Well so am I, for I don’t think I’m trying.


Perverted Father

“Father” by Kelli Scott Kelley

A mere poetry for him may be so cheesy
For a strong man like him don’t treasure such folly
A man whose deed to carry his household
With a heart and mind not left untold.

The bringer of life and the great shepherd
Careful and thoughtful, focused on his herd
The faultless foundation, the pillar of strength
Still and resolute, strong at any length

The grand model of his progeny
Perfect, suitable for any topography
The man that holds my ailing legacy
The man that caused my reckless mutiny.

He is the creature I deeply loathe
He is the creature who left his oath
Away from everything, he fell awry
In times of pretense he friv’lously cry

He is the master of his very will
But fails to capture my very soul
He is the callous man of his own thrill
And the macabre corpse of his own hole.


“The Persistence of Memory” by Salvador Dali

bringing forth the most
 idealistic dream that kindles like a fire
snogging with the cold,
 mundane reality we ought not to desire
conflated, to form an
 aesthetic chaos no one wants to transpire.

A Weeping Glass

Sachi Nanjou

Fragile, yet wet and weary
Once upon a twilight dreary
On a world sans silver and rose
with colors polarizing
Where life fails to impel its prose

A glass on a brink of breaking
Her eyes in tears, her heart shaking
Waiting, waiting for a certain call
 from someone engraved on her soul
To come or not, a reason not to fall

Don’t you weep, oh breaking glass
Whence did you come from, nubile lass?
Pardon me with my unnerving call
 for no other words to tell
your dividing beauty from all

Don’t you break, oh weeping glass
Halt, halt! time soon shall pass
For pain has been always fleeting
 yet death is always unending
Tantamount to weeping to breaking.

Today is Not Yesterday

Cut into pieces
Broken into fragments

What must the cure became the bane
Without love, all hate, full of pain.

Move on.
Cut the hindrance
Cast the burdens

Once laden must be free
Once beset must be happy

Stretch your arms
Stand to your feet

For today is not yesterday
And thunders do not strike everyday

Palasyo ng Malakanyang (Malacañan Palace)


A palace confounding its mirth
Overhauls manifold abodes
Of hatred and despair that girth
The large quarry of precious lodes.
Concealed beneath the earthen roads.

A palace protecting its gem
Scarce a value, lest was refined
To gain certain values – thus stem
From countless faces which defined
From various views, freedom – confined.

Isang palasyong hinalo ang sigla
Pilit ayusin ang iba’t ibang hibla
Ng poot, galit, at desperasyon
Na bumabalot sa mga yaman ng panahon
Na itinago sa ilalim ng sibilisasyon.

Isang palasyong kumakalinga ng yaman
Noong magaspang, walang dulot, walang laman
Nilinis, yumaman, bagamat galing sa mukha
Ng mga taong nilarawan sa aspeto ng dukha
Na nakulong ang pagkukusa; karapatan ay nakuha.