Waves Without Sounds

When things come crashing on the shores of the mind.



My heart swells with love for you
As tides rise for the moon.
This overwhelming, intoxicating,
And never-ending bliss
Is entirely new to me.

You blow me away
More than any storm ever could.
Your mere existence shows me
That there is something worth believing
And living for in this world.

As priceless as eternity,
Wider than the universe,
You, my love, deserve all the love
And more than I can give.

I love you more than dreams,
More than reality,
More than life and more than death,
More than I could give to thee.

With you, I became capable of things
I never fathomed I could do.
With you, I realized nothing
Could ever compare to love for you.

I love you, and this love
Shall keep thriving and expanding
Beyond Infinity.


Her Betrayal


“For you shall never rule over me,”
Was her claim for betraying me.
She bedded and wed the Enemy;
Kissed him as they beheaded me.

But who was Judas before the kiss?
Or Salome before the dance?
Who is she who trapped me in her bliss,
And killed me when she seized the chance?

She was a low-born and cunning girl.
Descended from a ruined clan.
Ambitious, zealous, wise, beautiful,
She rises for as long she can.

In our prime, the two of us had met,
Were gathered under one decree
Stating she and I were heaven-sent;
This land for us to oversee.

We fought together–she fought for me.
I rewarded her chivalry
With trust, affection, and, most of all,
Love, and I thought she too loved me.

But somewhere in our acquaintanceship,
She had begun to disagree
With my way of rule, my leadership;
A thousand flaws she saw in me.

She told me, as adviser to king,
I should care more for my domain.
But she should know the pain of ruling
And keeping my name clean of stain.

But being low-born, she cared too much
For every little life and soul.
She clung to small things, and thus, as such,
She severed from our common goal.

Caught in this conflict and disarray,
We were found by the Enemy.
He brought the promise of a New World
Achieved by getting rid of me.

Hence, behind my back, my lady had
Conspired to overthrow my reign.
She gave her hand without my command
To him who is to be my Cain.

She counseled me to paranoia;
Drove me into isolation.
She made me doubt my loyal allies.
I lost support of my nation.

When the battles were ought to be fought,
There was no one to fight for me.
Save for her whose guidance I had sought,
Only to know she entrapped me.

“For you shall never rule over me,”
She said when asked why betray me,
“Nor rule this nation which is now free.”

My people were my Enemy.
They kissed her as they beheaded me.

Honestly, writing this poem took much more time than it usually takes me–it took more than TWO DAYS! I initially intended for this to be a short story, but that takes a hell lot more time and I’d probably forget about it like I do with most stories I write.

It was interesting for me to talk about a “betrayal for the greater good” from the point-of-view of the betrayed. I hope you found it as interesting a read as I did in writing it!

Child With Silent Tread

Born an aeon to the day,
 A child in silence treads
Lightly, although knowingly,
 Upon Fate's fragile threads.

Lost and lonesome, wandering,
 But never with regret.
Lost with soul unfaltering,
 Mind that does not forget.

Home is something alien to
 This child with silent tread.
If there was, the child is sure
 Home is among the dead.

But Death, Life, and every god
 Forgot about this child;
For who would rather not they
 Forget one so defiled?

Thus a child walks on and on,
 A child with silent tread;
On and on through the unknown,
 Each step a different thread.

Lost from the world's consciousness,
 But never from its dread;
Lost as a damning consequence,
 Of deeds better unsaid.

Through the shadows, unrevealed,
 This child in silence treads.
Shrouded in nonexistence,
 Beware where that child heads!


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!

The Disappearing Rock Formations

I decided to make a new category to accommodate personal stories or anecdotes which I itch to share with you all. This began because I was about to post this story in the NoSleep subreddit but held back because I was uncertain of this story counting as a scary one. I hope you like it!

My family hails from a small town in the Philippines, situated right beside the Pacific Ocean. Despite being devout Roman Catholics, my folks still firmly hold on to traces of animism such as believing in tree spirits, fairies, dwarves, and other folklore stuff, to the point that we communicate with them. Honestly, supernatural encounters have become an ordinary part of our quiet town lives and I’m not even sure if I should begin with this one. Nevertheless, this is one unforgettable story which still keeps me up at night thirteen years later.

My first encounter with these rocks was when I was six. We were vacationing from Manila at the time and were spending the day at the beach in the middle of a cape. At the farther end of the cape is a steep cliff of yellow-white rock with lush trees and vegetation on top. I see it clearly as I type this– the pallid rock with greenery on top, the blue sky and the sea of the same hue– it was enchanting.

My mother was the first to point it out. “Look! It’s like a lady asleep!”, I remember her say in our native tongue.

The rest of us clamored at where and how it looked like a lady asleep. She pointed out that half the face was buried in sand and all we saw were her closed eyes, brow ridge, forehead, and hair of trees and shrubs. Surely enough, the lower portion of the cliff at the edge of the cape formed a pair of bulges that resembled a pair of eyes peacefully closed, with the vegetation right below playing the role of eyelashes. My aunt took a picture of the said rock formation and we spent the rest of the day uneventfully.

The picture my aunt took was developed (as we did not have digital cameras back then) and displayed in the shelf of her dental clinic back in Manila. It proved to be an interesting conversation piece. Acquaintances from our town who’d visit my aunt’s clinic were told of the rock formation. We returned to that beach a lot more times and we’d acknowledge her petrified slumber before going about our business. She was like an expected companion to our beach excursions until 2004.

I was eight when I was stung by jellyfish in the same beach and that was the last time I saw her. When we returned a few months later, the closed eyes on the cliff were gone. We have known the place for ages and there was no way that we were in the wrong beach. We were in the same spot by the same cape, but the rock formation was not there. In its place was just a boring cliff with no peculiar formations to offer. I reasoned that maybe it was eroded, or that there might have been a landslide but the people living nearby could not recall landslides at that cliff. People just noticed that it was gone one day.

I was able to convince myself that it was nothing supernatural and that the people just didn’t notice the erosion or landslide. I was content enough with this explanation until we returned to Manila to find that its picture at my aunt’s dental clinic has gone missing. Perhaps, it must have been a coincidence, but what an eerie one that is!

My family preserved the story of the sleeping lady as a conversation piece long afterwards. The rock has long been gone along with the picture, but the story was repeated to an acquaintance from our hometown. This acquaintance claimed to know of a rock formation just as interesting. It was situated in an islet not far from the cape and took the form of lovers locked in an embrace. He said it was detailed enough to make out the limbs, hair and torsos of a male figure and a female figure kneeling while hugging each other, their faces buried in each other’s shoulders.

My aunt decided to go see it with that family acquaintance. The said acquaintance has been to the spot several times and had no trouble finding it. However, the petrified lovers were also gone. A handful of people also remembered this formation, but they did not notice it turn into a shapeless boulder over time.

So far, those were the only disappearing rock formations we know about in my family, but they were enough to confound us for years to come. I cannot ascertain if both formations were of the same rock type though. I have not returned to our hometown for years mainly because the busy pace of city life has seized me. And like in the rest of the Philippines, people have left our hometown for greener pastures. However, that town is still home to my earliest memories, and in those memories remain things beyond explanation.

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.


Hi! I know it has been entire months since I wrote anything here. It’s just that I’ve never really produced anything worthy of putting here.

For now, I’m opening something more relatively personal–an ask.fm account! Yay! If you’re not familiar with it, you just ask me a question and I’ll answer it. Of course, I have discretion over which questions to answer. Check it out below and ask me something


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.

Writing is NOT so painful! 

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.