Do Not Endear Yourself to Me

Dear oh dear, do not endear yourself to me

And tease me with a care only for me to see

With the single color that dives into my eye

And speaking in sweet of things that I like

Do not smile at what nothing I have to say

Or get close, one touch before the end of day

Dear oh dear, do not endear yourself to me

For I will welcome the care you care to give

With a color given, my favorite to receive

And kindest words I'll accept as what makes me

I'll see your smile and smile, finally a smile

And your close touch, I by soul will embrace

Dear oh dear, do not endear yourself to me

Your chosen last day, you'll take your care from me

And garbage into lifeless gray, a color dead

Your words made of candy, no not a lasting taste

Apathy underlying all along, your smile will fade

A touch to you, I leper, a sickening disgrace

Dear oh dear, do not endear yourself to me

For I will be endeared, you as my only One

The One who kept this meager life up

A girl I thought who loved that I lived

And that I bothered to live at all

Only to be gravely bothered

By what once was your care

Dear

Oh dear

FACT #566 ABOUT ME

FACT #566 ABOUT ME: I am you and your boyfriend's relationship strengthener.

To King & Queen, I am but a pawn.

To my horror, my outward appearance lends itself to a female's eyes some matter of appreciation. Get an eye check-up, ladies. There's something wrong with your peepers. It is because of whatever they sight of my exterior that they come to with a step aside from who matters most to her: a relationship grounded heavy into care with a boy who can give her the world. The girl, in but few moments spent with me, finds out for herself I am no suave beast, no king confident, and no future to make her time worthwhile. This is known to her but to her boyfriend, having no knowledge of who I am aside from what his girlfriend sees, spotlights me as a threat. A jealousy. Another One.

But I am NO ONE. I am a LOSER. I am a BUM. I am a MISTAKE.

She might tease her boyfriend with the vision of me. Put on some minor hurt to give a pulse check to her boy to see if he really cares. He does, naturally. And there will be tension. And in that tension they'll know they do mean everything to each other. Aware of the nonsense inside now fully revealed, no longer veiled by my fedora and tie, the girl soon goes back to the boyfriend. She skips back to him merrily, thankfully with a joking tune of the wreck left far behind her. And I'll stand alone as I always have and I'll see the laughs of both boy and girl sharing the storied massacre of the fuck-up she once stepped aside to in a moment of blindness.

But she can see now. And so can you.

And you two in your kingdom will be the better for it.

Yeah, you're welcome.

A Fool in the Hurricane

Walking through a hurricane wind

The hurricane rain

The hurricane spin

The heavy, thrashing spit of gray

Roars the gloom of the fool

Who walks through the ache

Ache he does

And the world cries

Ache he does

And the world screams

Ache he does

And the people of the world

Live through what it is

To be a fool in the hurricane

Shout for a Knock

September, Monday-Tuesday 19/20, 2011

From one side of the world to the other

Into the tunnel. WOOOSHH!!! The change swooped instant-in, kicking out the cool and ease of the remnant Stateside air that was kept in the plane, uppercutting it aside, replacing it with closer-to-the-equator heat. It's a sudden dump into steaming soup.The warmth sticks itself onto every surface with a scratch, scratching out an aroma that lets you know -- uh-huh yeah -- that plastic, glass and metal airport is getting cooked. Bags in hand and stepping through that tunnel I say with familiarity, "Ahhhhhh the Philippines."

Flight time: 13 hours. It's pretty nifty, you know? You'd think a baker's dozen of hours on your ass would be a chore -- admittedly, 275 powerfat pounds on mine was . . . a sore -- but the modern in-flight entertainment system is good carnival fun. No longer are the movies restricted to specific times and on the big screen up front. There were a vast array of films in multiple genres that you could watch at a whim on the screen in front of you. Touchscreen controls. Pause, play. Rewind. I want to see that funny line again. Month-old Hollywood blockbusters were available along with a few Filipino flicks. I watched Fast and Furious and the new Pirates movie. Saw bit parts of The Dark Knight. For dinner? Beef Stroganoff. No adobo tonight. For breakfast was a dish the flight attendant simply referred to as "American": a plate of scrambled eggs, hash browns and a giant chunk of ham. Had they served that ham at the beginning of the flight instead of the end I would have used it to cushion my butt.

On the afternoon of the day my flight she dropped by with a smile, her dog, and a knock on the door. It was a treat to see her, oh yes! Throughout the flight my mind was occupied by the thought of her. My seat was just ahead of the wing. Look out, boy! Framed by the window was a view of the engines pointing out towards NAIA Airport, shooting through the night above plentiful clouds that scattered the below looking like icebergs floating on a vast unknown. If I shouted her name toward the engine it would rush into the jet along with a piece of the sky and shoot out the back in a glorious high altitude roar over the ocean all the way back to East Side. She hasn't heard me before. I wonder if she would hear that.

From a Tree Hangs Misery

I know what it is to be alone. Sometimes it's sanctuary. But to be lonely is a feeling that calls for shoveled dirt. Last night was the loneliest night of my life. I sat out on the porch taking what little cool the Philippine night air would give me, thinking-thinking of a painful truth that crashed my mind, a hurting real that threw daggers at my chest. If to sit here is to be miserable I could have just be in East Side. Give no ticket for an International Flight to Agony. Sitting slumped in a chair I looked out across where the streetlights (yes yellow) glowed arrogantly, humming, "Yoooou fuckiiiing loooooser zer zer-zer-zer." Looking past the mess of wires pumping the insults, looking out and beyond the rooftops I thought I could find peace in the eternity of the sky but it was veiled by clouds crayoned by the city electricity, cruelly reflecting the torment in panorama.

And to my left was a tree.

"That's the tree where he hung himself," I whisper.

That's the tree where he hung himself. What did he see in the night, before he put the rope around his neck, alone? What is it to be lonely? Is it to go where only few go and to go there by your own hands? The sky, the world is massive and sneakered insects live life only to die. Know me one less. Know me a lonely man. Know me a dead man.

On Marta

Yourself Null

"Just be yourself," they say. I tried that, to just be me, but you know what?

Me is a wreck.

Me is a mess.

I am everything you don't want.

I am your dread.

I am the end.

I am death.

"Just be yourself," they say. "Just be yourself."

Fortune on the Floor

And oh what a thought she was!

Over the bedroom door sat flies like gargoyles guarding, warning of the fragmented goblin inside. Monday/Tuesday's Bourbon Midnight threw itself onto my bed during sleep, unremembered but left with a wet sickening sweet that only teased the hungover Tuesday to throw-throw some more. Wednesday saw the bottleless fight to keep the burn away; it was a burn with drink I thought would keep the rue at bay. Thursday night I lurched picking up a scrap piece of paper in front of my bedroom door. It said: Simplicity of character is the natural result of profound thought. It was an uncookied fortune scattered random on the floor. To these words was the reaction, "I must not think profoundly because I am no simple man." There are many thoughts, yes. But they are not a meditation, a sanctuary with altars of promised peace, no, they are the arena masses of thoughts that cheer, jeer and chant raging to be heard by one.

But I can't hear anyone. It's just noise - one overwhelming RAAAAAAAAAAAAH.

I must be a broken man.

I've lost the profound thought that which kept me simple, functioning, joyous.

And to My Left Stands No One

And to my left stands no one

No one to call my own

As others stand embracing one another

Am left standing all alone

And with no embrace, I am left empty

No heart to give to who

To whom who never stood by me

This heart I hold with doom

And to my left stands no one

No heart she'll ever care to own

She stands embracing another

My heart left all alone

And with this heart I tremble

I stand in dread of who

I, fool who stands with heart in hand

Alone, never a groom

The Figment Sun

I sleep thinking of the sun

Only to wake

still thinking of the sun

And no hour ticks

without a thought of the sun

The sun who kept me whole

Curtain drawn and this door closed

I thought the sun

I'd see no more

But such a gem, a charm is the sun

She shines through curtain,

knocks through door closed

Such is my curse to have seen the sun

This sun who kept me whole

Who by smile, by shine

by being just her, oh sweet delight!

Took time to share

her shine with me

Took time to give me

a smile

Where is this sun

who brought the fine day to me?

She shines still (I think)

Though no longer here