Waves Without Sounds

When things come crashing on the shores of the mind.

Category: Prose & Poetry

To Love You


To love you is to love a lot and love so easily.
To love you is to take a shot at loving endlessly.

To love you is to love the sky from morning until night.
To love you is to love just why and for whom I must fight.

To love you is to love your smile and all your sorrows too,
Because, my love, you are worthwhile in everything you do.

To love you is to love a world so different from my own
For which I’d abandon the mould of everything I’ve known.

To love you is a peril and to find peace and leisure.
To love you is to understand attachment to treasure.

To love you is to find a home in a living being;
It is to paint the monochrome with colors worth seeing.

To love you is to live anew in every waking day
Which, love, I get to spend with you until I wilt away.

To love you is to find the bliss that transcends all the worlds
And be sure that I’ll never miss the things this life affords.

To love you is to love a song in its cacophony
To love you is just to belong in blissful harmony.

But, dear, the joy of loving you, is nothing compared to
The bliss of being loved by you and knowing this is true.

So now, love, let us keep this love for all eternity,
Let’s hope to gain experience of unending ecstasy!

When We Fell


I have forgotten when and how
I came to love you so.
I wonder if it matters now,
If I should care to know.

This love wherein we fell, my dear,
Feels threateningly deep
For someone who has come to fear
Loving with whom I sleep.

Ah, but what woe it is to wake
Without seeing you smile;
What sorrow it would cause to break
This bond that’s so worthwhile.

We’ve known each other for so long,
It’s just too hard to tell–
And yet, somehow, it feels so wrong
To pinpoint when we fell.

Maybe it was the first climax
Or the clear afterglow,
Or far earlier in flashbacks,
When you I came to know.

Then again, do all these matter
Now that I’m loving you?
To know the start, will I never
Have to fear losing you?

You smile and say I need not fret,
And that you cherish me.
You only hope I don’t forget
That, right now, you love me.

So I say, this I’m certain of,
Our love is true for now.
As long as there’s a sky above,
Let’s make this last somehow.

Visions of You


Laughing eyes peppered with
Starlight and mischief.
Lips that kill me when they smile
And awe me still when they don’t.

Moonlight on your forehead,
Firelight on your cheek,
Neck as graceful as the waves
That tease my patient shore.

A noble chest whose rise and fall
Synchronize with peaceful dreams
While your eyelashes rest upon
Proud cheeks in repose.

A thin cloth draped over your hip;
Hair sprayed on the pillows.

Naked limbs wading in
The water of the night.

A pale arm raised,
Long digit beckons
For me to close the gap between us.
Once near enough,
I realize
I merely chase these visions.

Visions of you that fill my dreams
And my reality.
Visions of which I am cured
When I feel you close to me.

The Farce in the House of Phillips (Part One)


In the world of metaphors, there lives a young man named Richard Young who has seen at least eighteen summers. His parents made sure he had everything necessary to grow into a fine, well-educated gentleman. He has impeccable manners, is eloquent, virtuous and witty, but fairly impatient. Despite this, for some cruel reason, fate has cursed our young man to never be taken seriously by his elders. And so, Richard now wishes to prove himself to the world.

Now, Richard lives in the House of Phillips. It is a poorly-maintained estate, the owners of which allow wealthier nobles to grab whatever they could from the would-have-been beautiful house with imaginary recompense. This puts the House of Phillips in debt and poverty, and its inhabitants in misery save for the head family. The staff are used to this oppressive hierarchy. Their misery has reduced their perception so much, that they could only follow their masters’ lead. This kind of blind following is what makes them valuable servants however, and the House of Phillips would send its people to other nobles so they could earn money for the estate. It was in the midst of this system that Richard was born. His parents were part of the servants sent to serve wealthier nobles, thus his more refined upbringing as compared to the other servants of the House of Phillips.

Also living in the House of Phillips is a slave named Masa. Masa is as miserable as the rest of the blokes in the lower crust of the House’s hierarchy. Being a slave, Masa is not paid for labor, and is the most frequently and severely abused of all. Despite her masters’ maltreatment, Masa serves the estate with the utmost loyalty and the hardest of work. She was born a slave to the House of Phillips, has served the estate all her life, and perhaps, never dared know any better beyond her masters’ orders.

To be continued…



It has been another long and lonely day, beloved,
Made all the worse without you.
The skies were gray,
The rain has wept its roaring tears all day.

Tonight, the stars refuse to shine,
The moon has cowered too.
Each passing hour is a gloomy blur–
My soul is lost without you!

The songs we sung in laughter, dear,
I now sing all in tears;
The steps I took alongside yours are now
Filled with doubts and fears.

Only your arrival can lift this wretch
From the pit in which he fell–
This pit which your departure dug,
And has become my prison cell.

If I scream “I love you” at the skies,
Will you hear me wherever you are?
Or should I whisper it through tears
Upon a shooting star?

Come back to me so I can make you feel
How much I burn for you.
Come back to me, only you can heal
This heart that’s aching so.

I will wait and wait and wait, my love,
And I will search for you,
So I can keep you in my arms–
I am yours, forever true!

To My Lenore


You must have grown, Lenore, by now into a golden-headed lady
With moonlit skin and freckled nose and supple lips of cherry.
How old were we? Thirteen? Fourteen? Though young, we were never too merry.
But you were mine, Lenore, and I admit I wasn’t ready
To receive and give so pure a love but so filled with melancholy.
Lenore, with my coldness you must have been utterly lonely.
But now, Lenore, I love you back. Or at least, I love your memory.
For you were the only one who wished the very best for me.

Both of our souls, Lenore, were dark; but our hearts remained so pure and true.
And death, sweet death, was our sole wish–an eternal rest long due.
You loved me enough to wish me death. I could not do the same for you.
For I felt little for you then, but now dear, I feel anew–
Lenore, I feel to seek and love you is the only right thing to do.
But however you are right now, Lenore dear, I do not know.
Have you changed so much or have you remained my Lenore? I have no clue.
All I know is that I must go back in time to love you so.

Lenore, I remember my lovers when all is good and oh-so bright;
But when all is dark, Lenore, you are the only one who’s right.
Because now that I have grown, Lenore, I see past the world’s blinding light
You’re my future and my past, Lenore, the only thing in sight.

The Communion of Deviants


From Kink Karnival Philippines. July 30, 2016|Photo by Mal Columbretis

Welcome, little darling who has found our dim nest.
Here, we crack all shells open and here we exist.
Emerging from the shadows of the normal fantasist,
Is this communion of deviants; this aberrant tryst.

The foundation of our congregation is submission and seduction,
Passion, domination, and utter satisfaction,
Where bondage is freedom and punishment bliss,
And where slaves and their masters are never amiss.

Everything is beautiful and mysterious and dark,
Like a nightmarish dream that would sure leave a mark
On your skin, on your soul, on your mind and your heart;
And long it shall linger, this unholy art.

For as long as there is normalcy and the commonplace,
Us eccentrics will always exist with a face
Masked by expectations of the pious and good
To hide the existence of this unorthodox brood.

The Discreet Office Break


Edifices towering and reaching up the sky,
With the clouds ghosting round their tops.
Below lies the city clamor
Muted by the glass wall from which I watch.

Detached from them like in a dream,
My eyes keep wandering towards these scenes.
And in a trance I would then fall
But rise from it far too soon.

It seems that I am encapsulated
In a different reality
Of numbers, letters, wires and beeps–
All things outside, I’ve left behind,
Uncertain of return.

Glorious it is to be sat here,
Idling my hours away.
Working my mind to uselessness
Come the end of the day.

The Ghost Hunter


There are people in my periphery,
When I turn to look, I see no one.
Someone casts their shadow close to me,
When I greet them, it fades away.

I hear voices chattering,
But when I follow them,
They only lead to hollow halls
Where only wind is whispering.

Somebody dashes across my path,
And footsteps fall behind me,
But when I seek them, they disappear
As if they are afraid of me.

Though flesh and blood, I roam these halls
As lonely as these forgotten souls.
Without fear or hate, or intent of malice,
I’ve come to search for restless ghosts.

I only wish to communicate and ask
About the world beyond our own
But like the rest of the world, these haunters seem
To leave me on my own.

Goodnight, My Love


Closing my eyes, I shall preserve these after-images of you
And live once more in memories you’d left me in your wake.
These words whispered to the night scour the world for your ears;
They long to echo in your thoughts and dreams as yours echo in mine.
Each time I feel a longing for you, I sing the melody
That holds the promise our hearts have made before walking away.
Good night, my love, and may the sweetest dreams
Make you smile in your sleep–
For in my sweetest dreams, this smile is all I ever see.

Sigh of the Grown


Where have you gone, o hopes of mine
That once have soared so high?
Have you been caged along with those
Dreams that could never be?
A child I was when I allowed
You all to fly and roam so free.
Now I have grown, and how I’ve changed,
Is that why you left me?
Should you return, I will be here,
A plain face in the crowd:
Functioning and focusing,
Expendable, not rare.
Should you return, I wonder if
You can transform me so
That I could be the child who once
Had owned and cherished you.

Reminding the Dreamer


Look at the sky and please tell me
How many eyes up there you see?
Can you count the stars and count the sighs
Of dreamers just like thee?

Reach out your hand and look at how
The moonlight streams through your fingertips,
How your palm can shield the moon from view
And yet its light still passes through.

Do you now feel as heavenly
As these glow from above;
As their lights pierce the sordid void
And land upon your eyes?

Oh my dear dreamer, do your eyes hurt
From looking up too much?
Are you still mindful of the things
Outside the thoughts you clutch?

Behold the beauty. Hold your breath.
Look up at the night sky.
Ignore the world and blind your eyes.
Hold your breath ’til it dies.

The Asker


Is life but a strife for naught;
A suffering for nothing;
A boundless stretch of toil and hurt
That runs farther than death?

Or is it a depository
Of reputation and good deeds
From which one draws some peace
Or the sought-after happiness?

Could this journey from womb to tomb
Be only how we make it?
Could it be fate determined by
Some greater consciousness?

One questions much,
But are there answers
That can be chanced upon
Should one ask far enough?

Or perhaps, life could merely be
A string of queries to ponder on;
To strive and live for answers
Until we could ask no more.