Wednesday, June 11, 2008


I have an offensive adversary – lie, it is called.

It leaves a trail of emotional cadaver and compunction where it rests.

It feels no reprieve as it enmeshes its victims.

No pity.

No clemency.

What is more lamentable is the sightlessness that befalls its sufferers.

They are left not knowing the divergence between fact and fabrications.

Their lives punctuated by mediocrity.

Filled with perplexity.

Clouded by mayhem.

I have seen this catastrophic arena one too many times.

Individuals doubting intimates as they are haunted by their own lies.



Athwart my peripheral vision,
Is a man's frame ensconced in benightedness.
He was clutching a wooden sword close to his frame,
As if trying to draw certitude amidst a profusion of prejudice.
Beauteous contusions,
Accouple his lancinated bossom.
I stood transfixed by the blood,
Trickling down the apertures of his being.
The beautiful imperfections that made him look so frail,
Beguiled me into coveting more than the mere image tattooed on my mind.
It must have been his resplendent battle scars,
That had me looking back for a more lucid view.
It must have been when he decisively let fall the wooden sword to hold my hand,
That I was disenthralled...enough to embrace ardor once again.



I’ve been here before.

I faced this avenue of intractable reservations, with an unscathed definition of hope and passion…cognizant of the fact that adversity has always been my constant companion.

It must have been the sheer exhaustion of this journey that pushed me to reacquaint myself with old habits. The ones that are emotionally entrenched…those that prove too difficult to break.

The twisting roads and dimly lit highways got me all confused. I got lost and let uncertainty feed on me before I decided to square my shoulders in pitch darkness.

There was no light.

I was waiting for light.

But I fear that the twinge I nursed for too long will become painfully obvious at daybreak.


This Woman


"Was there a point in time that you regretted being with me?", he asks.

Up until now, I have not been able to postulate an appropriate and decorous reply to this question. All I know is that it took me decades to realize that he will never change his selfish ways.

The emotional exploitation.

The abuse and the lies.

I can never change his self-centered ways.

"You remain to be the only woman that I love.", he utters.

When everything grows murky and the world gives the impression of being an ominous stratagem, he calls my name… at the outset and up until now. Funny how he always says he doesn't need me…he doesn't need anyone…as his actions carry out a different tune.

"I want you back in my life", he says.

Once upon a time or so it seemed…I would have moved heaven and earth to hear him say this. It felt like I spent a lifetime waiting in vain for him to realize the folly of his impetuous decisions and selfish manipulations.

I grew weary of waiting for things to get better.

'Tis the reason why I chose to move on...a long time ago.

'Tis the reason why I chose to live a life without him in it.


I had a long chat with one of the few people I share a venerated friendship with.

It felt good to say everything I wanted to say.

It felt good to have someone listen without inflexible foregone conclusions.

It felt good to admit that I carry so much detestation from my abject childhood.

It felt good to admit how empty I truly feel…how sad I truly am.

I normally had a tight grip on my emotions.

It must’ve been the rain.

It must’ve been sheer exhaustion.

It felt so damn good to cry.


I do not write to have a crack at exhibiting some semblance of literary flair.

It was never an attempt at perfecting a prose that holds no meaning to most.

The memories of frailty from earlier days…
The absolution that I could not extend to my own flesh and blood…
The purity that violence stole from me…

I write, as it is the morphine that dulls ten thousand two hundred and twenty days worth of tears and pain.

Ecstasy is easily feigned so long as I don't let anyone take a closer look at the real me. For if they stand close enough, they would know what's hidden behind the jungle of words I cleverly conjured.

I write because I want to forget.

I am appalled by the sorry truth that I had infinitesimal to fictional choices over most things that concerns me. The responsibilities this ethos bound me to, are far greater than any agony I opted not to rebel against.

I write as a bequest to the person that I was and the person that I am.

I resort to elation as it is easier to smile than offer a vindication for despondency.

I write because I refuse to let anyone see how weak I truly am.


In a parallel universe where my broken dreams are as potent as reality, I shall make countless wishes knowing they’d all come true.

Just another one of my random thoughts.


Do you see what I see…
The shattered reflections…
Of an unfilled fissure…
When your eyes meet mine.
Can you think of a time…
When my whispers…
Meant more than breathless citations…
More than a mere jungle of words.
Are your visions…
Decreed in accordance…
To how someone else comprehends…
Sagacity and failure.
I gaze fixedly at hackneyed scenes…
With weary tears…
It’s the same putrefied vestibule…
For the sun refused to shine yet again.


I force myself to close my eyes,
As the cessation of another day,
Aggrandize fears,
I never learned how to let fall.

I was basking protractedly,
In the vagueness of his devotion,
Increasingly realizing that his hands,
Lost the comforting warmth they once had.

I compel myself to plummet,
From awareness to slumber,
Putting a halt to this cycle of self torture,
That I voluntarily inflict on myself.

I think I should let go now,
For I've stood here for far too long,
Bearing witness to his iridescence,
Provisionally sightless.


I’m your life’s biggest perjury,
...the one that you can’t live without
...the distortion of your reality.

I'm your 6 am alarm clock,
...your cold shower after a drunken stupor
...your interminable narrative.

I’m the remorse that came,
...after mistakes were made.
...that extra shot of espresso.

I'm the nick on your skin,
...that just wouldn’t heal.
...your catapult towards oblivion.

I’m the smoldering glow, the shadows of your so called life
...your twisted fairytale.

I am what’s abhorrent to your cock-and-bull story, what tragic scenes are damsels in distress.

I am a walk in the rain at the beach,
...I am your valium
...I am your sedative.

I am all that and more if you start seeing past guises.
All that and more if you see past pretty smiles.
All that and more if you stop letting your hormones cloud your thoughts.


“I don’t wanna hurt you anymore.”

Pain, the human conception of which, aptly entails an unpleasant sensation occurring in varying degrees of severity as a consequence of injury or emotional anarchy.

There is no shame on giving in to pain and on occasion, allowing it to engulf us. The reason being, we are the masters of our life’s junctures and giving in to pain is giving in to ourselves. Virtuosity comes from hegemony, discomfiture only from despondency.

“I would rather hurt you now than hurt you over and over again.”

I chanced upon a prose that describes a glad heart as the author of cheerful countenance and a broken one as the end of happiness and the beginning of peace.

I would have to say that the agony that comes from having one’s heart trodden is an aberrant awareness. It is the sort of pain that goes paradoxically beyond our influence. It is something we have no ascendancy over.

However, what is more remarkable is man’s characteristic aptitude to bury the hatchet. What transcends pain is the human ability to forgive errors. What defines us is our openness in embracing resilience.

“I can’t give you everything you need.”

We are slow to conceive of Ecstasy as of Bliss. We see preceding lapses yet never learn from them.

Undoubtedly, we are never so prophetic as to be prepared for what the next hour may bring forth. We can never presuppose what other people require from us. We can never portend what we can and what we can’t be for other people. All because no matter how inconsequential we choose to see ourselves, we may possibly mean the world to someone. We may conceivably be everything to one person.

“One day you will thank me for letting you go.”

The recognition of one’s self begins with walking away and love is proved by letting go.

I was told by a good friend that there is no greater sacrifice than letting go…and I see things the same way. In the face of the sorrow that destroys my soul…I cannot hold him to me; for to do so would be brazenly selfish.

For days to come, I will subsist by holding on to memories. Recollections of the love we have…the love that will always be there.

I lost my heart…all because of a meaningless warfare that took one too many lives. I lost my soul on that fateful day when he told me…

“I will think about you ‘til my last breath. And when I don’t come home alive, tell my soldiers that you are the woman I gave up to save them. I have to let you go because I love you so much. I have to let go because you deserve so much more. I have to say goodbye because loving a soldier is a walk through the pits of a nightmare.”


I wish I had what it takes to believe all these were true.


You look at me and smile in punctuation of your beautifully seamless fabrications,
Professing devotion that's as cunning as your machiavellian ways.

Alongside the promise that you'll do everything to get it right this time,
Is the avowal that you'll never let go…never turn your back on me again.

Now I grieve on account of the all consuming pain,
Not for the timorous man that you are but for the love that I can no longer feel.

And for one more night, I shall shed tears of remorse for the choices I made,
For the route I took that left me broken and crestfallen.

Tomorrow…the pain you left in your wake will be nothing more than factions of a debauched abstraction,
At daybreak…you will be nothing more than an empty promise…an obscure recollection.

One more night of grief for the wounds left by your callous ways,
And in the morning…I shall be on my feet again.


It’s funny how most people’s life experiences turn out to be a vicious cycle of mistakes because options they deem would fit them to a tee, prove to be colossal shams.

I had my first predilection towards freedom when I stopped running and learned how to walk.


1. The nation's political mayhem: Slapstick comedians eagerly anticipating their idiosyncratic scenes in a drama anthology turned sci-fi thriller flick. Enough said.

2. Corporate Slavery: I drove myself unrelentingly, to nail down the career path I want. I got everything I set out to accomplish…got the promotions I wanted. Time and again, intimates remind me that most people would kill to get the post that I presently hold. But despite all these conquests I couldn't discern even the slightest semblance of self gratification. I have come to perceive of myself as nothing more than a high end conglomerate slave. In succumbing to these bouts of discontentment, am I plainly yielding to the many facets of human nature? The lot of you are probably thinking what an ungrateful little fiend I am. To each their own, as I oftentimes say.

3. Integrity, a rare commodity in today's world of quick fixes: Most people think that the reasonable thing to do is to simply get by and the only thing that's unsuitable is to get caught. But shouldn't the real measure of a man's character be what he would do if he knew he'd never be found out?

4. Comradeship and Alliances: It's always a clout in one's self worth, when friends transform into characters you don't know. Some are consumed by the assiduous "I am a nobody pretending to be a bigwig" malady. Moreover, there are these fleeting connections that leave you feeling depleted and derelict. They bespoke of today's modern ways - in the case of the present day's thingamabobs, they're the consumer-genial prototypes. It's quite appalling, but as concrete as the existence of iPod's, laptops and digital cameras.

5. Transmission boo-boos: Imagine someone you hold in utmost regard consigning to something as reprehensible as mistaking you for someone else. And in the process, divulging a well-kept secret… that he is truly the muck that your friends warned you about! Hah! Conclusively , this comes with the birth of several realizations and a few more lessons learned.

6. Karmic turn of events: Nurse thy wrath, if need be. Weep till there are no more tears to shed. Come the 'morrow…hope not for resurgence. For it comes with the dawn of forgiveness.

7. Erroneous beliefs on love and relationships: All our lives we search for someone who makes us complete, not realizing that we have always been intact to begin with and definitely not the other half of a multifaceted equation. We choose partners and change partners. We dance the song of heartbreak and hope all the while that our personal voids will be filled by being in relationships.

8. I have one too many random thoughts. Hah!


I have had the luxury of experiencing how it is to be unoccupied these past few days. Alongside these unrestricted moments came the realization that solitude does not signify loneliness and the pain of being alone.

Henry David Thoreau explained in one of his writings, that man’s most companionable aide is solitude. I couldn’t agree more with these thoughts, as we are for the most part more lonely amidst men than when we stay confined in the seclusion of our chambers.

I have come to understand that solitude is finding the glory and splendor of being on my lonesome and putting together the building blocks of my character.

There is a German Proverb that says one does evil enough when one does nothing good. Character is much easier kept than recovered and is higher than intellect. Furthermore, I prefer to think that my life may be the only Bible some people read.

We all subsist in a very tense society and we are all pulled apart by our ambitions…our personal aspirations. I believe that it is only when people realize the true insinuation of solitude can they hear the whispers of truth that life reveals.

Only then can any of us begin to be au fait with the fact that solitude should be reserved for sculpting the basic conceptions of human righteousness.

Needless to say, there are too many people who think that the reasonable thing to do is to simply get by. I have witnessed these episodes time and again, in the corporate world where I dwell in. Moreover, most business folks think that the only thing that’s unsuitable is to get caught.

Shouldn’t the real measure of a man’s character be what he would do if he knew he never would be found out?

I opted to belong to the group of people who work rather than be among those who take credit because I am in the opinion that every deed I carry out is a self-portrait of who I am.

I was a casualty of an experience with a self-regarding coworker not so long ago, who holds not a hint of magnitude towards integrity. I became aware of the fact that what is more appalling than this horrendous person and the unfortunate incident I was subjected to is the silence of the good people.

My definition of solitude in the workplace is not one that entails isolation from the entire workforce for fear of prejudice and inequality. It is discerning that the only person I have to get better than is me. It is standing tall and emerging a victor without leaving victims behind.


My best bud back in high school and I were having a tête-à-tête a few hours back. The protracted conversation we had, brought about several realizations. One of which is the fact that there’s some truth behind the statement, “time holds no consequence over friendship”.

Both of us may be an exclusion to this avowal, as she alone amongst my childhood friends, hold my abiding fidelity. The rest – I wrote off as inconsequential contacts…a dismal blast from the past. They are the individuals that come and go as they please. People that may at one point say hi and ask how I’m faring – with vacant smiles and simulated earnestness. Some would inquire on my wellbeing, profess delight over my accomplishments and happiness even…but where is the authenticity in all that? Was she…or were they… unadulterated well-wishers? Or were they merely keeping tabs of the promontories of their own existence? It’s poignant to note that I’ve known these individuals for more than half my life.

I have engaged myself in acquaintances that lasted for years, only to be disappointed that it doesn’t have much essence…doesn’t hold much foundation. It’s always a clout in one’s self worth, when people you’ve been calling friends for the longest time, transform into characters you don’t know. Some are consumed by the assiduous “I am a nonentity pretending to be a bigwig” malady. Quaint that in my experience, they were the people who assumed sickeningly saccharine dispositions back in the days. This has not always been the denunciation…but I can’t exceptionally say that there weren't any first-hand encounters.

Then, there are those fleeting connections that left me feeling depleted and mistreated. They bespoke of today’s modern ways – in the case of the present day’s thingamabobs, they’re the consumer-genial prototypes. It’s quite appalling, but as concrete as the existence of iPod’s, laptops and digital cameras.

Irrespective of these episodes, I am still auspicious to have convened with incomparable individuals that I hold in deference. It’s good to know that there are people out there that I can reckon as kindred spirits. They recognize who they are…for the reason that these folks have a terse outline of associations, as in my case. We all are under the comprehension as well, that for each other, we would demur matters that are of immense magnitude to phony links – persons who have the audaciousness to delineate a venerated bond that they know nothing of.


She braved a world of riddles and lies, with a non-chalance that fooled the naked eye. Cloaked in her dark robe of wondrous things unrealized, she assumed the role of solitude's paramour.

Her unbreached core served her well. It was her beacon of light in a path filled with uncertainty. She was perfectly safe in the throes of twilight, oblivious to what tookplace at daybreak.

It was an honest mistake on her part, to wander away from her realm. Perhaps, the beauty of the sun touching the horizon consumed her with inquisitiveness that proved too hard to resist.

She thought herself a walking paradox. And led herself to believe that a magnitude of bleeding hues, can alter the shadows of her existence. Maybe she was thinking that a blinding array of wondrous colors, were the personification of ecstasy.

The horror that lay ahead was her undoing. Emotions untapped are now acquaintances knocking at her door. She befriended them all- paid homage to trust and most of all, to ardor.

She lost her safe haven shortly after...turned her back on her terra firma. And the doom she faced was too magnanimous to ignore - for she was solitude's paramour.


It is travesty to assume frailty,
In the midst of all the fabrications,
That you led all and sundry to surmise.
How unreservedly palpable,
That all your imprudent infractions,
Led to your inopportune demise.
I can’t help but be engrossed,
By your many futile shots,
In upholding your innocuous deportment.
Categorically unhinged you are,
To presuppose you can recoil,
And renounce the mayhem you promulgated.

Categorically unhinged… indubitably deranged.


People dissect the injunctions they follow and imbibe its fundamental nature…all for the desire to appear orthodox and communally accepted.

What then would be the distinction between an accounting of one’s moral fiber and the social order’s take on what you should and should not do?

Would assuming a surreptitious façade gratify the craving for favorable receptions?


It’s comical how transmission boo-boos paint the true ensigns of an individual… especially those who you think you know very well. A friend or even the imperative half of your crux can change from distinctive to unremarkable. In dire circumstances, these people can transform from Prince Charming to wart-infested toads.

Imagine someone you hold in utmost veneration and devotion, consigning to something as reprehensible as mistaking you for someone else. And in the process, divulging a well-kept secret: that he is truly the muck that your friends warned you about.

Mirthful, distressing and factual - provisos that are incorporated in one folio, brought about by episodes in the vein of the one that I previously narrated. The union of which was brought about by inanity’s amplification towards malevolence.

What brought about these observations? It dawned with the birth of several realizations - a few more lessons learned.


The madcap race towards matrimony is less auspicious than it used to be. A total negation, given that it used to be most women’s childhood dream. What used to be an entrenched quixotic notion – finding one’s soul mate; suddenly became an ineradicable marathon.

What if not everyone’s ordained to have that someone to spend the rest of “eternity” with? Does this reality give the general populace the license to wallow in dejection?

In a culture where tying the knot is more of a mandate than an option – should solitude be considered an unspoken anathema?


The resolute cohort that attends the unfilled darkness,
That is my subsistence.
The adversary that makes the acquaintance,
Of my life’s every daybreak.

A dismal reality that seized the aggregate quintessence,
That once was my valor.

This woman…
The forlorn offspring of fictitious optimism,
Parading as a callous adult.
In the absence of facades and pretenses,
I am but solitude’s paramour.


In the hours of darkness,
I dream visions of monochromatic hues.
Denying multi-faceted tinges that were slowly making their way,
Into my involuntary voyages that constituted unfathomable repose.
I have lived a thousand and one lives,
Glimpsed the world’s wonders with unfettered obscurity.
I have treaded life’s corridors in solitude,
In desolation…I walked alone.
Now…I have stirred from my slumber and wait with bated breath,
For the legend that has yet to be inscribed on my skin.
Consumed by a pit of indecision that permeates my senses,
I fall prey to the seduction that fate deviously extemporized.
I have treaded life’s corridors in solitude…for what felt like eternity,
Eager to walk through that all too familiar path holding his hand.


I am besotted by solitude,
Yet covet the thrill of being amongst a crowd of strangers.
Lavish trinkets hold my attention,
Still, intricate baubles fail to capture my fancy.
I am enchanted by the rain…the lament of paradise,
But opt to keep warm and detest getting sodden.
Music appeases my bewildered soul,
It unleashes the demon slumbering within my nub.
A profound adherent of adulation,
With belligerence cosseting my purpose.


Our memoirs are that of heartaches and tears,
Somehow you failed to eradicate all my fears.
Now we’re caught in this tight spot of misery,
Drowning in what seems to be a sea of uncertainty.

You tell me that you love me and will never cease to care,
To lose me is something that you don’t think you can bear.
I wish it’s as easy to believe and hold on to what we have,
As easy as the day we first alleged our love.

Somewhere along the way I lost my friend and lover,
And staring back at me is the face of a stranger.
At night, I’m left to wonder if this is all that’s left of us,
Reeling in this moment and sinking way too fast.

I am hoping I would somehow understand,
Why the path we chose branched out in different lands.
Your words are loud and clear yet to me they’re broken whispers,
You remind me of the man who, a long time ago… promised me forever.


Caught up in your mendacity,
You bit more than you could consume.
Now feast on the consequence,
Of your odious deceit.
It was amusing to be the passenger,
Of that ride knitted with pretenses.
The paramour of your own lies,
Was a role you conquered exceedingly well.
Engage me in your diminutive waltz,
Of make-believe veracity.
Amuse me with your oeuvre,
Librettos reeking with narcissism.
And as the hour escalates to darkness,
I yearn for more time.
To witness your last soirée,
Your abysmal depiction of the truth.


At the zenith of my existence,
Lies an aperture, indelible for as long as I can remember.
Each and every day,
Is an inexorable ordeal to embark upon.

I open my eyes at daybreak,
Diffident and wary of the unforeseen.
I wear my cloak of sham and take on the world,
Compelled to put on a euphoric guise.

I am in some measure replete,
To some extent hollow.
Awaiting my liberator,
With deluding fervor.

In the hours of darkness,
When anteriorities are no longer dictated.
I am extricated from this agony.
Cloaked by shadows…I can finally shed my tears.


It’s engaging to watch,
How fresh ardor commences.
Emancipated from prejudice.
It’s an unanticipated trip,
To the pits of euphoria.
A stroll to the ingress,
That leads to contentment.
Your idioms,
Melodiously satiates my senses.
I am fervent to share,
The quintessence of my existence with you.
Elated to be yours,
Humbled that you are mine.


Caught up in despondence,
That adulterated my existence.
Breathing the fumes,
Of your vehement past.
Eradicated by your dejection,
Your multifarious butchery of my core.
I watched as you got ensnared,
By your predilection to iniquity.
Defeated yet incensed,
I wished for your demise.
I cry the tears you will never shed,
I say the thoughts you cannot mouth into words.
Behold the consequence,
Of a dismal fate.
An index of vicious memories,
Of wounds that will never heal.
I am the spawn of your antipathy,
But to your will...
I shall bend no more.


My pace faltered and I fell,
I stumbled and plummeted,
To what turned out to be,
A colossal ignominy.

It was an obtuse oversight,
To let you preside over my thoughts,
To let your fancies hover above mine,
And accept your self-regarding ways.

I noshed your already magnified ego,
An opulent experience you savored,
While my own self-image wasted away,
Under your uncaring scrutiny.

As I proffered my farewell,
I am unfettering myself,
From this disillusionment,
Fortified by my indignation.

As I watch your tears fall,
I recall my pursuit for gratification.
It was brought to a standstill when you came along,
It will ensue now that you’re gone.


A warm beacon of bright emissions,
Punctuated by colors of bleeding hues.
Pilfered kisses on unforeseen moments,
Held in close digression by fervent embraces.
Smiles that are the prelude to laughter,
Small talks that are an overture to deep conversations.
Pregnant silences….wordless tranquility,
Feelings communed through locked fingers.
Cloudless skies and fields of green,
A sea of lucid azure.


In this avenue we call life, you come across that someone....thinking that they're the right person for you.

He passes by, and you tell yourself, "This must be it! It must be him!".
Then get crushed by the reality that maybe you were asking for too much....seeing beyond what's bound to end. In this case, sooner than later.

You secretly hope for a happy ending with him.....giddy with emotions foolishly conjured by what you wish to see.
False hope.

And when the love comes to a halt....when the relationship comes to an're left to wonder if you'd be good enough to keep and fight for.
Good enough for him to want to stay.

The irony of it all, is though we stumble and fall....we never tire of getting up. We never lose hope...never lose faith in that cycle called loving.


I dream in black and white.
Envying those who sink in rose-hued oblivion,
With eyes wide shut.
I seem to chase some fathomless core,
In awe of those,
Who learned how to come to a standstill.
Where others dream exultant dreams,
My subliminal thoughts,
Remain nightmares subjugated by faceless phantoms.
Others close their eyes in peaceful slumber,
I feign repose,
With perturbed deliberation.
I journey to a forbidden nadir,
Warding monsters,
The way a tormented soul would.
I dream in black and white,
Forcing a magnitude of colors,
In my subconscious wakefulness.


Hopeful yet afraid,
And yes, fear is my worst enemy.
When you tell me you love me,
I find myself searching for the truth behind those words.
I am trying to make you listen,
To the words you don't hear me say.
I am trying to make you see,
What your oblivious eyes fail to notice.
I am with you,
Yet I have never felt more alone.