Waves Without Sounds

When things come crashing on the shores of the mind.

Month: October, 2015

Treasuring First Love

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Basking in the reminiscence of the heyday of our love.
I do not ever want to forget you though we have grown apart.
By loving you, I have set the cornerstone of my rebirth–
Of the metamorphosis into who I really am– and for that, I owe you.

I owe you the moon, the stars, and the blazing sun;
I owe you the earth, the sea, the wind, and every breath I take.
For leading me out of my cocoon and into the realization of my being,
I owe you the universe.

Thank you for being the key into unlocking my very heart and soul.
Thank you for proving that love can be as true as you and me;
And also for proving that love can just fade and drift away
Like ours did.

Though the flame you lit has now died out, the embers remain
Glowing faintly, smoking feebly in the cavern of my heart.
Long years passed, yet nothing can wash away your traces.
Hence I will keep what you have left as treasures and trophies.

From the first conquest of a heart; from the first exploration of love;
Like securing a photograph of the first flash of color
In my once monochromatic existence,
I shall treasure all I have left of you, my first and truest love.

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Undying Beauty

Clothe me in the richest silk and satin.
Adorn my head with jeweled crowns.
Make my hands clasp the precious treasures.
Keep my skin flawless as it was in life.

Should my dead eyes remain open,
Mind not the coins to pay Charon.
Let them stay staring at the living sky
Ever-longing for heaven.

Let my cadaver be the canvas of thy macabre art.
Break my bones and twist my body into a splendid sculpture.
Cover me with flowers in and out.
Make me your obra maestra.

Open me up for all to see
My guts, my brain and once-beating heart;
Such that, though soulless, my body could
Still brim with splendor apart from the rest.

Display my corpse for all to see
My ultimate surrender
To you,
O artful reaper.

I seduce you not into murdering me, for was art ever a crime?
Though they won’t understand, do promise me
That we share the credit for this masterpiece
Of true undying beauty.


Again, another Hannibal-inspired poem. It will take long before I get over that series. The image I used above is from the episode ‘Kutamono’.

At Least

You tell him he is better off than many,
As if he has no right to bear
Crippling burden that pulls him to the ground.
You tell him a lot of people have it worse
And he would nod and fool himself to smiling,
Though how he wishes he can say
You don’t make things any better either,
But he just tries to understand–
Thinks to himself that you mean well.
Can he not complain, though?
Just because he has a roof over his head.
Oh, but do you know that day after day he struggles and fights
To keep himself from losing this very head of his.
Does having clothes to wear daily
Make him immune from feeling bad,
From feeling the world weighing him down,
From solitude and melancholy?
Should he be free from suffering
Because he forces himself to smile and laugh
With society that condemns him?
Do you offer him every “at least”
As the most that you can do for his bludgeoned soul?
“At least you– this”, “At least you– that”
At least you force on him these petty consolations
To make him feel his most.
But have you at least asked yourself
That this “at least” makes him feel the worst?

At least you tried.


It saddens me when people tell someone struggling with depression that at least he/she has this and that and just get over it. It seems not everyone understands that suffering takes a lot of forms. Not being financially poor does not equate to not having problems.

To the Bearers

Stalking in the darkness, lurking in the shadows,
Whispering into ears in random times of day.
In broad daylight, there it stands still,
Glaring lances piercing through armors.

Behind the lids of tightly-shut eyes,
Its after-images linger teasingly.
In dreams and in nightmares,
It leaves marks everywhere.

This haunting of a broken heart,
This taunting of a shattered dream,
End it, end it! This suffering
Consumes heart, mind and soul.

The elephants in the room,
The skeletons in the closet,
The monsters under the bed,
Are injustice to live with.

It is all inside and just inside
Forced into possession
Of poor unwilling vessels
By the stifling outside.

Should the burdened and the bludgeoned
Carry all their crushing crosses all by themselves?
Must nobody help though crimson drips from thorn-crowned brows?
Must no one including themselves be able to forgive them?
Is each and every sufferer a sacrifice… for what?

Trainwreck in My Head

There are trainwrecks in my head.
Every single day.
Trains of thought stopping,
Crashing against each other,
And getting off-track.
They happen all the time,
Sometimes all at once,
Even in my dullness.
My mind is a railway with ever-changing routes.
Ride one thought and off you go
Wherever the speeding wheels wish.
There is no controlling where they all go.
No saying where they all lead.
There is no stopping once they began.
And I am a slave to my own thoughts
Just thinking and thinking and thinking of things
Until my head explodes.

The Patient Penitent

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I mourn your loss, beloved, I mourn you everyday.
I mourn you in each passing moment that I hear not your voice;
I mourn you in each single minute that I see not your smile;
And in every split-second that I feel not your breath.

I mourn you;
I mourn you, as I drift away myself;
As I surrender to the guilt crushing my cowering bones.

I have loved you with every single particle
Of my wretched being.
Oh but wretch I am, my love, for I cannot defend you,
For you were like sand scooped in my hands
That I had let slip away.

Though your departure pained me so, love, there was little I can do.
I possess not the power, dear, to keep you anchored to me
Who cherish you more than life.

I feel your blood upon my skin trickling warmly still,
How your eyes then did not expect any help from me
Because you knew, my love, just how meager I am
In the face of those who tore you off of me.
And each time I recall this, dear, I shed oceans of tears
Never ceasing sobs cannot be silenced
Brought by all the guilt and hurt of my ineptitude.

Though I know, love, this is my penance,
This is the cross I have to bear for my craven misgiving
For my being powerless over your oppressors,
Never, love, will I stop wishing and blindly awaiting your return.
And if this be a dream, my love, to crave your resurrection,
Then I will gladly dream
Without the hope of ever waking.

Isolation

I fenced myself in with the borders
That I have made myself.
Colorful, tasteful and very artful
Beautiful in every lens.

I will not let the ugly and the negative
Flood into my world.
I will not let the bittersweets
Taint its seamless beauty.

I fence myself in; I blind myself
With art of my own making;
With art that I wish someday would be
A far better reality.

And so for now, I rest in peace
In my splendid isolation
Surrounded not by burdening thoughts
That crave utmost attention.

Let them tear down my barricade
But here I will remain
Ignoring and always refusing
The wails and cries surrounding me.

My duty lies not upon them
But on myself and art alone
So let me be and go away
Just envy my isolation.


Just being sarcastic.