violent dispersal

You asked me how certain I am that I really love
you. How did I arrive at that conclusion? Is this just a fleeting obsession of
a derelict poet or a yearning of a desperate and quixotic man fighting the
windmills of his foolish dreams?

How can I ever measure my love for you? How can I
count the times my heart throb not because of mere existence but of a dire need
to touch yours? Will you ever believe? Do you think of me at all? Do I occupy
even a negligible space in your occupied heart, in your pensive mind, in your
indefinable time?

How certain I am that I I Iove you?

I certainly love you because it is a matter of
subsistence. Even the pompous embers of fire will wither without the sweet
embrace of the wind. You are like the wind. Often you drag me to the
uncertainty of your beautiful current, the whirlwinds of your quintessence, and
the storms of your perseverance. Sometimes you simply blow my reasons away, the
things all I have ever cherished in my shriveled life, leaving me only with the
pedestal of your lucidity, so transparent like clairvoyance, so beautiful that
the blind can see.

I love you because I am the keeper of your
recollections. I wear them like a bright shining armor for everyone to see.
Such exquisiteness does not belong to the forgotten graves of a remote
desolateness. Each day I celebrate you like how a kid celebrates his seventh
birthday. I treasure your smile like how Da Vinci valued Mona Liza’s glorious
beam. Utterly effortless, complete poetry.

I wear your scent, fragrance of a thousand elusive
butterflies. You are perfume, aroma of January rains and humid nights. They
deny me of anything else. You satisfy my soul.

Your scent? They seemed indelible, not bound by
time. Your satisfying air I consume when you breathe heavily, when you laugh
effortlessly, when you sigh whenever our lips do the talking. You triumph over
flowers from the most sacred brooks; you are the reason why the air searches
for you, trying to reach you, begging you to give her back her once celebrated
whiff, her fragrance. But you breathe in unreserved ecstasy. You are my sweet
life itself. Without you is like me running out of air to breathe.

I definitely love you… love you without
expectations, hope and redemption. I will love you even if it means my demise,
my downright ruin, my eventual negation. For what is the promise of deliverance
if it is severed from your soul? What is the purpose of existence if the reason
for my heart’s beating cannot be found, lost in the tragic coincidence of life
like the luck of definite accidents and fate?

Love cannot deepen without risk. And I am here
terribly risking, demanding the impossible, comprehending the surest ambiguity,
understanding you, even if you are heaven itself, I will bear you close to me.
Risk, yes risk. Risk almost everything; throw away the comfort of retreat, the
temptation to recoil.

And yes in the end, love you, love you and love
you….maybe not in a way most conventional people would expect a man to be, but
nonetheless love you with all I’ve got, with all I can be able to, with all the
changes in me. I love you and even time, space, coincidence and fate greatly
understands, for this woman each time I see I fall in love more.

Tell me who fool will not risk?

 sashaninel

Who am I? Am I a mere speck, a passing thought in
your evading recollection or am I the progeny of coincidence clumsily playing
tricks on us? Am I a disciple of enlightened eccentricity or the unbending
conclusion of fate and destiny?

Who are you? Who are you that keep on haunting me
even in my sleep? You who take away the comfort of my drowsiness? You who
ruminates my mind of dreams untold, thoughts discovered and lines unexpressed? Are
you lucid profundity expressed in beautiful simplicity or the depths of my
raging seas unfathomable in serenity?

Almost all the answers escape me leaving me
shackled in this mysterious chain of events relieved by your presence, touch,
smile and laughter. You move me in ways even miracles will envy. You shine on
me like a thousand sunsets infinitely fixed in the horizon. You caught me
defenseless, unaware, and yielding to your ceaseless radiance.

You said you wanted to know me more. I can offer
nothing except the earnestness of my feelings for you; the collective
aspirations of our people reflected in my imaginings and yes, my shriveled self
against the backdrop of your beauty and lyrical grace.

I do not desire to make promises and make you wait
in alacrity. People are remembered in words but are immortalized in dauntless
actions of sincerity. I need you beyond words, deeds and time combined. I want
you. Without you is worse than deprivation. Without you, life is completely
incomplete.

sashaninel

Permit us to refresh your memory
Conchitina R. Cruz

Permit us to refresh your memory: what comes from heaven is always a
blessing, the enemy is not the rain. Rain is the subject of prayer, the kind gesture
of saints. Dear City, explain your irreverence: in you, rain is a visitor with
nowhere to go. Where is the ground that knows only the love of water? What are
the passageways to your heart? Pity the water that stays and rises on the
streets, pity the water that floods into houses, so dark and filthy and heavy
with rats and dead leaves and plastic. How ashamed water is to be what you have
made it. What have you done to its beauty, its graceful body in pictures of
oceans, its clear face in a glass? We walk home and cannot see our feet in the
flood. We forget to thank the gods for their kindness. We look for someone to
blame and turn to you, wretched city, because we are men and women of honor, we
feed our children three meals a day, we never miss an election. The only
explanation is you, dear city. This is the end of our discussion. There is no
other culprit.