Waves Without Sounds

When things come crashing on the shores of the mind.

Month: June, 2015

It Rains

It Rains

It rains once more,
It’s maddening,
How the wind plays all the chimes.
It drives me crazy
When I hear
The thunder from the skies.
Bolts of lighting
Blind me of
My own sanity.
The sound of rain,
The smell of rain,
Drive me to insanity.
I want to rush outside
And let the rain
Bathe me from head to toe;
From skin to bone;
From mind to soul;
I need the pain to go
Out of my being
And let the rain
Wash it all away
With all my cares
And evil thoughts
And sorrows that I know.
However it may entice me so,
I know I cannot go.
I have to remain here inside
For nobody must know
How mad I am,
How sad I am;
The cries behind the smiles.
I shall remain inside and hide
The tears that fall like rain;
Hide the deep dark things
That make me feel so ashamed
Of who I am, of what I am,
I was and am to be.
So though it rains,
The pain remains
Right here inside of me.
It rains, it rains,
Outside–not here inside
Where it should be
So that I may
Be cleansed from deep inside.
Like consolation for me now,
The rain lulls me to sleep
As if inviting me into
An interim oblivion
And I accept the rain’s attempt
To soothe my weary soul
Though I do so with just one wish–
To not wake up again.
But I know the spell would last
Only while it rains.


It Hurts to Call You Mine

It Hurts to Call You Mine

My dearest one, I love you, and I so truly do.
But how do I make myself clear that my love is true?
How do I explain to you this act of letting go
While still making sure that I say how I love you so?

You’re not at fault, beloved one; I take all the blame.
My nature has made it so that nothing is the same.
I change quick and change a lot and I follow the wind.
In my doing so, I know I have so often sinned.

So my love, I let you know it hurts to call you mine.
It hurts for me to worship you in your noble shrine,
So pure and good to me that I’ll only stain its halls.
Hence the blame–the blame, my love, upon me it befalls.

Perhaps, love, you are your own. I only hold you down–
Down with me as I plunge into dark chasms to drown
The sorrows that make my pride prevent me to be yours
And you from being mine, and makes me close all the doors.

Myself only makes it hurt for me to call you mine
And keeps me from people like you who are so benign,
Because, my love, I know I am not worthy of you.
Not worthy at all of feeling love so pure and true.

Now this demon runs away–away from purity.
Far from the angel who was never afraid of me.
Do not chase me, beloved one, for I am adrift
Towards a shore not meant to make my own evils shift.

It hurts to call you mine because I’m not meant to stay.
A person so corrupted always remains astray.
Finding you, I found my anchor, but I got afraid
Of not sailing again and of you feeling betrayed.

I know, my love, in doing this, I’m betraying you,
And I also betray myself of feeling anew.
But my love, it has begun to hurt to call you mine.
As I leave, I let you know my heart you redefine.

Goodbye now, my dearest one, the one I once called mine,
Who made it hurt so much for me by being divine.
Maybe another time, my love, when I set things straight,
I might sail again towards your pure and distant strait.

For now, my love, I bid you a bittersweet goodbye.
If I return, by then we both shall see eye-to-eye
And perhaps we start again from pieces we had left
Of our own hearts that I had left broken and bereft.

Dream’s Worth

Dream’s Worth

How much is your worth,
O dream of mine?
My life? His life? Her life?
Their life or our lives?
Or are you worthy of my time?

You came to me as a fleeting breeze
So fragrant, I was promised spring.
I followed you and chased after you
Through winters cold and frost that sting,
And I follow you still.

I have neglected many,
For you, my fleeting dream,
And I don’t know how much the price
I paid to silence my heart’s scream
For you when they demanded silence.

They wish me to forget you,
They command me to oblivion.
My dream, sometimes, I wish the same.
But I have chased you for so long,
I have lost the will to stop.

So dream, I dare to dream
Of you who got me lost.
But dream, are you worth my way?
When all the world keeps on refusing
To guide me unto you.

I ask of you again, my dream,
Are you worth all the price
I could pay with every breath
I breathe as I chase you?

I also ask myself, my dream,
If I am worthy of you.
And I swear I never will
Stop until I know.

Next up on physics curriculums: “Interstellar”

The Whirlpool

The Whirlpool

He has been told that she is
The harshest mistress a man can have
And yet our sailor has set out
To tame the raging seas.
This is a feat his fathers of old
Have been trying for many ages.
The sea maddened his father
Who lost his own father
To the waters he had loved
And yet this maddening, deadly love
Has been passed on by blood,
And he was enslaved like his father
And his father before him.
“I will come to know, my dearest,
Of your strangest, darkest depths,
And I will succeed, I will succeed
Where all my fathers failed.”
That was the promise–his wedding vow
When he married the sea–
When he set out to sail
His rather trying mistress.
Such passion he held that he survived
All the storms she birthed and threw at him
For many days, for many hours,
His love conquered the storms,
The crashing waves and the attacks
His mistress sent to kill him.
But such a tease, this mistress is,
For she allowed a glimpse
Into her deeper parts
To our passionate sailor.
A hole into the seabed–
A funnel to her heart–
A whirlpool was what
She teased her lover with.
Oh with what marvel and curious joy
Our sailor saw this teasing treat,
Clouding his mind of all
The dangers he knew and were warned against.
And so our daring lover
Sailed his great ship right into
The opening his mistress made–
The deadly trap that she had sewn.
He felt exhilarated,
Excited and elated
To be riding the swirling waves
That led to unknown depths.
As he rode the tide that took him lower,
Another tide was taking many things
Up, up and right onto
The surface of the sea.
And among those floating, he had seen
The ravaged remains of what he knew
Was his own father’s father.
At this he realized
What evil beauty he had loved
And also what compassionate
And considerate murderess
The splendid sea could be
Because at last his father saw
The father that he lost
With the son willingly
Submitting to the deal
Their mistress had offered
That the whirlpool had sealed.
With that deal the lineage
Of maddened lovers was also broken.
No insane man had fathered
Another maddened son
And no son had lost his father
To the whirlpool once again.

My father told me a story of my grandfather’s encounter with a whirlpool. There was another man who went to sea at the same time my grandfather did. My grandfather was fortunate enough to ride the current that was going up, but as he was being swept up, he saw the cap the other man was wearing just floating by the whirlpool without a head to wear it. Though it was a very close call, my grandfather survived but the other man did not. My father said it was believed that a huge fish resided in a hole at the bottom of the whirlpool, but it was never ascertained.

It has been seven years since I last rode a boat, and I would love to sail more through fair weather or bad. I love the sea, and I am sure my father and his father would say that too.

Where Do Men Cry?

Where Do Men Cry?

Father, where do men cry?
Or when?
If they ever do.
You guys cry,
I know.
Do you hold back?
Or hold it in?
You must let it out somehow.
Do you have to go to the restroom
And lock yourself up in a stall
Then cry silently
While sitting on a toilet bowl?

You laugh,
Is it funny?
I don’t think it is.
I think it’s pathetic,
Don’t furrow your brows,
Do not be cross.

I have seen you cry
Many times
Over a glass of stinking liquor
And while you puffed out smoke
From the stinking cigarette.
Father, why is it not okay
For men to weep?
Why do you feel entitled
To not let your feelings show?
Why would you rather
Destroy yourself
Than shed a few
Cleansing tears?
Is it pride, Father?
Is pride not a sin?
You told me so, Father,
Pride is a deadly sin.

I cried today, Father,
In class
As I was telling them
How much you meant to me.
It took courage, Father,
To be honest with them.
Should not men be
Honest with themselves too?
Courage does not solely
Mean not crying,
Does it?
You look like
You don’t want to agree.
You don’t have to,
Just hear what I have to say.

So where do men cry, Father?
Or when?
Or why do they pretend not to?
Tears trickle down your cheeks now.
Does it hurt,

To my own father who told me it’s alright to let it all out.



I would have been burnt to ashes,
I would have crumbled to dust,
I would not have stood through all the crashes
Had it not been for his trust.

I made mistakes in many ways
And I bear many scars
I tread my path whilst in a daze
And yet he shows me stars.

Many times I have been shaken
And yet here I stand tall.
In many places, I have been broken,
But he refused to let me fall.

He too is crumbling, he too is weak
And yet he holds me high
The highest he could, up to the peak
And further up the sky.

I am amazed at how he can
Be strong through all the years.
To you he’s just a simple man,
But for me, how much he cares.

Of everything I am uncertain–
Except for his support,
And that he would carry every burden
Even against my own accord.

When the light begins to dim
In my soul, I can be sure,
My pillar would be standing prim,
Ensuring that I am secure.

When all is dark I hold on tight
To the pillar of my soul,
The brazen knight who says all is right–
The father of this fool.

To my father.

To the Laughter of Faint Stars

To the Laughter of Faint Stars

Greetings, you, unreachable star.
I hear your laughter from here–afar.
Laughing with another one just as bright
Until a new dawn starts showing its light.

You both grew sullen, you both grew dull,
With eyes always staring far into the null,
Still your beauty, your laughter, your radiant glow
Remain in my heart, replaying the show.

The pollen, the laughter, the clinking of glass,
The promise thereafter, the withering grass.
Voices so merry I can hear in my sleep.
Easy and light, but the message is deep.

This gathering of Orpheus and Eurydice’s guests
Is fulfilling my dreams beyond my requests.
Oh, stars so distant, stars once bright,
Laugh and be merry deep into the night.




I come home weak and weary
From the turmoils of the day,
And so do you, and yet
You still can smile at me.
Ah, how your smile
And your sweet nothings
Fill my heart with warmth enough
To thaw the frost the day has cast
Upon my fatigued soul.
You then proceed to take me
Into your sweet embrace,
And I am rid of melancholy;
All bitterness erased.
Your care and your caresses
Assure me I am loved,
And no one else in this wild world
Can ever do that to me.
How sublime you are,
My little woman.
How you fill my days with grace.
You make me feel more alive
Than living can ever do.
Woman, I love you and I adore you
Maybe not as much as you do me.
But I tell you this,
Wonderful one,
You will always be my light.
You will always be my sun.

Unread Letters


Unread Letters

I have loved you for years,
And you will never find out.
Not now, not later or any time soon.
I will make sure you never do
As I hold a bunch of letters
I can never send to you.
Because the last time I checked,
The post cannot transcend worlds
And we live in different ones.
However, I love you so
I wrote this letters
That are not meant to be read
Every single day that I love you.
And so I will keep the hundreds
Of unread letters locked away
Before my passion burns them all.
And as long as I have these letters,
You will be truly loved
By the hopeless writer that is me,
And I will always be
Truly, sincerely and faithfully yours
With love
And my best regards
To you, my unknowing addressee.

To the Master of My Heart

To the Master of My Heart

Mister, what have you done?
You have conquered what I thought
I did not possess.
How dare you pierce it
To plant your flag upon
The surface of my heart.
Your steadfast grip
On my affections
Has not diminished through
The years that had me
Constantly changing
And challenging the thoughts
I have of you.
I was but a child
When I fell for you
And how I have grown
Ever since
You became the master of my heart.
All those years,
I thought I would forget you.
I found ladies and lords
Who can enslave me as they please,
And yet you are still my master–
The master of my heart.
Oh, how dare you
Enslave me unknowingly.
Yet, here I am,
Still truly yours
And you will never know.



They called him gem amongst his fellows and believed he is,
Until he was thrown in with jewels more precious than he is.
But he strove to be shiny, he strove to be known,
He strove to be polished ’til his full luster shone.
Though he did glitter more than he did before,
All the other jewels had glowed even more.
And when the time came that they had to be picked,
His brighter fellows were plucked–he was left.
He stayed in the mine, all surrounded by stone,
Never even minding if he had ever grown.
He endured and struggled through the bludgeoning rocks,
Ever oblivious of the spinning of clocks.
For the longest of time, he stayed in the mine.
Not minding, not caring, who came and who went,
But mindful of what is broken and bent.
It never occurred to him that the time came again
For the harvest of gems in the darkest of mines.
And so it surprised him when the miners start saying
“What a find we have got! Look how splendid he shines!”
They pointed at him and they started to pick
Their way to the lonely lackluster gem.
Surely, he thought, they are mistaking him.
But in fact, he is their most precious gem.
The coal that compressed quicker than his fellows
Did not know that he needed not be jealous
Of all the jewels that went before him
For it took lots of time for diamonds to trim
Or rather compress from a lackluster coal
To be the jewel that shines above all.

Jeepney Art

The streets of the Philippines, especially that of the National Capital Region, sure suffer from traffic as heavy as the air pollution. Filipino commuters like me are pretty much used to these. From the trains to the buses and the tricycles and sidecar pedicabs, all means of public transport (aside from taxis) are hell to ride– it’s like participating in the Hunger Games at least twice a day. But of all the hells I could choose from amongst these means of public transport, I would always choose the Filipino jeepney.

Jeepneys were originally made from the leftover US military jeeps from World War II, and the name is believed to be a combination of ‘jeep’ and ‘jitney’ though others suggest different sets of words. Since then, the jeepney became a popular public utility vehicle in the Philippines and was even dubbed ‘Hari Ng Kalsada’ or ‘King of the Road’. Like how rice is always on the plate of Filipinos, the jeepney would always be on the Philippine roads.

Now, the reasons why I prefer riding the jeepney over any other public ride out there are (1) it’s cheaper than bus and train, (2) I find it more comfortable as opposed to the train where you have to stand and have a number of people directly proportional to the area you take up squeeze you on all sides, and the bus where you either sit and get your way out blocked by a myriad of bodies or you stand and suffer every brake and acceleration the vehicle makes. However, the top reason why I ride jeepneys is because they are canvases for artistic expression.

They can have graffiti,

line art,


and portraits.

Sometimes, they even have messages that could tell stories.

‘Mula sa Piso’ (From a Peso)

And you would even know how many brothers and sisters the owner has and what their names are if you’re observant enough.

What I like most is you could know what they are fans of.

I remember my favorite jeepney when I was in high school, it had portraits of The Beatles all over, and they even play their songs inside!

I know some of these are borderline copyright infringement, but I don’t care and I believe I speak for the majority of Filipinos. Anyway, it will never change the fact that I will always find commuting more fun in the Philippines!

Also, a bit late, but happy Independence Day, Pilipinas kong minumutya!

Aking adhika, makita kang sakdal laya.