don't let the rain

Missed the train and it's almost midnight
I feel the chill coming close
I've been standing here for like forever
And the night's getting deep

Fewer people coming out to the platform
Desperate of the time
It's getting late, probably morn'n
And the train  hasn't yet come

And I look at my clock, and I look at the minutes
And I look at everyone, every face there is
And I hope to catch a single memory

And I hope, the train would stop the rain


Don't tell me it's going to rain,
not yet now, the train's still out
Don't want the rain to fall down now,

Not yet, not now

 

He's leaning on his back like it was his cradle

He's standing in the center of the train

He's staring blankly, deeply, wonderfully,

And I'm lost in thinking why

 

His stillness was moving slowly with the train
Like it was his motion

It stopped gently and doors slid open

He seems to get awakened by reality

How could time be so much a constraint
And space be an obstacle
My train is here now,
but his face was gone.

How could things be so confusing
I've waited hundred times
I've fallen many tears
in this train, in the rain.

mirage

If I walk down
And I blend in,

If I try,
Could I find?

If I think I saw
And followed you

in the crowd,
Would you turn around?

If I walk up,
Turn up, speak up,

If I try,
Would you mind?

If I felt I saw
Then I touched

If I do, if I say
Would you know?

If you were,
If you are,

Walk up,
Turn up, speak up

If YOU only are..

mirage...

Handful

how clean is a hand that's a handful of little things?

   no matter the size, the color,and the weight it bore

      it's never clean, no matter how empty

how clean is a hand that's a handful of mud?

   washed it all over, but the stink,

      it's still there, it never would leave

how clear is an eye to see a handful 

   no matter the vision, the color, and the sight it bore

      it's never clear, no matter how fair

how clear is an eye to a handful of dust

   rub it against the handful, what do you get?

      it'll never be clean, nor clear, nor perfect

how pure is one's soul that's mortal in nature?

   living, existing in a world of perfection

     cast no sin, speak nothing bad

       

and then we'll see, in His time

   the clean, the clear, 

     from this handful of tears...

valley morning sun

heat in the morning from the sunny side up plates in my table, yolks are

as yellow as the

valley morning sun. keeps me standing, looking far, beyond,

i see the few fresh rays of

a lovely morn

creamers, sugar, bitterness of beans brewed, aroma

as dark as the fading dawn, silenced by the

valley morning sun. 

illuminating, trapped amidst Bernardos

and Sierra Madre, and heights of Antipolo

rising valley sun, 

keeps me, on the run.

was i born, in a valley somewhere north

and now lived, valley still,

amidst a busy new world

and now I live, valley still,

savoring still, freshness and dews,

rising valley sun,

valley morning sun,

you are my homerun.