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Deviant for 12 Years
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Literature
Chasing Sunsets
Saying farewell
while tainting the sky
with titian hue
orange drops murking
the quiet ocean of blue
your spirit ripples
across the yawning sky
this is how I yearn to die
to leave the world
brighter than before
even if the night is certain
to invade and the shadows
linger in uproar
to leave fingerprints in the sky
and on the waters
a legacy of colors
to leave the world
with the dying of the sun
perhaps to be forgotten
buried under the horizon
into oblivion
save for the colors
of twilight.
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Literature
Icarus
I saw you
Fly like the air
Is but a staircase
And gravity
A figment of imagination.
You threw your arms
Toward the sun
The blinding light
That beckons
And your spirit bent over.
I saw you
Desiring, yearning,
As you stretch
To the heaven
For that one thing
Neither God nor His angels
Could grant you.
I saw you
Leap from cloud to cloud,
Eyes fixed to the sun
-no, past the sun, -
Behind the yellow stream
Of incandescence,
Nothing would seem
To stop you,
Nothing between your longing
And what you longed for.
But I saw you
And your wings melted
Into midday rain,
Falling to the earth
One drop at a time,
Like tears that run
Along the furrows
Of a waxen face.
I saw you burn
Across the blanket of blue
Into the bend where
The stars wait
And the moon prepares
To catch your embers.
I saw you fall
A streak of red
Against a dark canvass,
A stain in the glorious
Skirts of half gods and heroes.
Your tragedy
Is not in your dying,
O beautiful falling star,
But it lies in the thought
That none saw your fal
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Literature
Empty Chairs
I turn around
towards the sound
of your absence,
a longing for your presence,
yet you've run away.
After all the truths and dares
I end up with empty chairs.
the song plays on
from night 'till dawn,
It is a different day.
Here lie the choices
where once our voices
chase the forgotten years,
We conquered our fears
and now I am afraid.
Afraid of empty spaces
and lost embraces,
of flying solo
heading for tomorrow,
of memories that fade.
Still I wait for the chance
to have that one last dance
in wide empty spaces,
hands cradling faces,
and shadows are in madness.
For now I sit silent
with somber sentiment
beside a vacated chair
in a room full yet bare,
a crowd of emptiness.
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Literature
Anniversary
Once a year
At least
I recollect the scent
Of your shampoo
That shamed the garden of Eden
Greeting the sleepy morning,
Silky kisses tracing,
Rushing and then slowing down
To wait for the sunrise
That comes
At least once a year
Waiting at
The infinities between your embrace
Soft hands, quiet eyes,
That whispered words
Cuddling the quivering lips
All through the night
At least once a year
I open wounds
Layer upon layer
Wiping every blood
Escaping, gaping, hurting
And the sun would blind
The weary eyes dried
And the heart breaks
And it un-breaks
At least once a year
There are hopes
And there are regrets
They walk barefoot in
Early dawn where birds
Do not sing yet
And the stars fade -no, die-
Right above empty benches,
Beside bus stops
Where choices are limited
And answers are delayed
Or at least they come
Once a year.
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The Enchanted River by bayen The Enchanted River :iconbayen:bayen 2 0
Literature
The River
Let me show you a secret,
in the hallowed space
of a forest forgotten.
On the riverbank come wait,
under the sunshine softly
raining through the ancient green.
Sit beside me and rest
and in a while you'll hear
the river sings a treasured story.
It tells of yesterdays,
of promises made in yester-years,
along with fleeting tears.
It tells of broken hearts,
of mended souls, of lovers lost,
of lovers found and kept forever.
It tells of whispered hopes,
of quiet thoughts, of ambitions,
in search of peace and truth.
It enchants you, lifts you,
brings you to a world of dreams,
flowing into the hideaways.
It distracts you, mystifies you,
makes you remember and forget,
this song, this river, the silence.
Here in the gentle current,
from the spring unknown,
we will confess our own secrets
and only the river shall hear,
and it shall hide them forever,
like the other secrets made
in the banks of Encantado.
And when our lives are nearly spent,
we shall find our steps
back into the riverside,
and we
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Literature
I Am Your Manager
So I was told I will be your manager.
Then, let me be clear about some things as your manager.
One: I am your manager, but not your master. Therefore, while my name might appear a little above yours in the organizational chart, it doesn't imply superiority. Therefore, don't treat me as somebody you should "obey", as slaves would with their masters. You are not a subordinate. As your manager I will engage you in every step of the way, arriving at mutual agreements and not dictates. I will seek for your opinion for I value it more than mine. I manage your growth and development at work so you can find better opportunities to obey your true master: your Passion.
Two: I am your manager and since I manage you as a person, my most precious investment with you is trust. I trust in your capacity. I trust in your capability. I trust in your creativity. I trust in your energy. I am not the center of your world. So I will not always tell you what to do. That is not my job. I manage opportunities
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Literature
When You Are In Love
When you are in love with someone
you cannot keep it a secret.
You have to tell the world
how much you love that someone.
It is fatal to hold this feeling
within yourself.
So, when you are in love,
tell it to the Universe,
write it on a lonely wall,
scribble it on a crumpled paper,
carve it on a neighbor's tree,
paint it beneath the ivory clouds.
Don't whisper it. Shout it.
Scream it from the rooftops,
above the highest mountain,
while on a ferris wheel,
above the water falls,
on top of the platform
as the train creeps to leave.
Let not the noise of the world
discourage you from confessing.
Even if you're not allowed to,
say it straight and clear,
inside a library,
inside a coffee shop,
inside a church,
in the middle of screaming fans
in a crowded football stadium,
in the middle of a cemetery
where cherubims guard those who sleep.
In moments when words cannot express
the profoundness of your love,
tell it in the touch of your hand,
in the twinkle of a teardrop,
in the brevity of a smil
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Literature
In The Furnace
I am inside the furnace
wrapped by the heat of the flames.
It is painful and yet
it is necessary.
I resisted at first
but I could not escape
the fires that smooth the edges.
Often the hammer comes
one blow after another
and I feel the strike
   in every frustration at work,
   in every struggle at home,
   in every disappointment in life.
The hammer strikes
and I feel the bashing
   in the wounding criticism,
   in the loss of a loved one,
   in the separation from family,
   in the mockery of betrayal.
I fear that I shall break
in the next beating
and I shall shatter into pieces
beyond mending.
But in every hard brush
of the heavy metal
I feel stronger, braver,
stouter, firmer.
So I shall be patient
while I endure the trials
inside this merciless furnace.
I shall trust the invisible hand
that holds me over the flames,
confident that one day
my time shall arrive when I
will be pulle
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Literature
Full Moon
Wide-eyed moon
why do you stare?
You stare with ridicule
while I gaze at you
with envious eyes.
It shall be over soon,
this predicament unfair.
For while on this calm pool
I lay half-covered with dew,
you sing me songs of lies.
One day I shall own
the light you leave in traces,
drifting on a sea serene.
I shall keep it in my bones,
memories of your many faces;
across the mist so lean.
For now, I shall settle
as your awe-struck watcher,
always jealous, always amazed
by the fullness of your deception.
The fates will meddle,
I fear, to renew the future.
You will be dazed
by my dreams' conception.
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Literature
Love Letter
A love letter
rolled inside an old bottle,
cast into the sea,
welcomed by the waves.
It drifts to search
the ivory sands
where the Lover waits
for her love.
The sea that separates
is the same sea that links
one longing soul
to another
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Mature content
Blessed Dirt :iconbayen:bayen 0 0
Literature
Sun Lover
Alas, the tears on my face,
lost in the warmest chase
of the sun's trembling hand,
forerunner of summer days.
I feel her fingers rough with sand,
I am her slave in this hidden place
where soul meets fire eternal.
Even if her kiss can melt away
the memory, gone in wind's sway,
fast as the blink of a lover's eye.
With stretched arms I chant to pray
longing for her lips, lips to die
for every single and finite day,
love in exchange for fire infernal.
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Literature
Madness Of An Insomniac
A pause in a sequence of breaths
Gasping in between
Enough time for a thought
To pass through the thickness
Of present realities,
A shattered glass of ideals,
Of dreams, of ambitions,
Dried cup of wishful thinking,
Is there ever a chance to retrieve
What was once regained?
Even if I should numb myself,
Can I still lift my face
To see its reflection, and call it
Worthy of being loved?
Unlovable they may seem,
My eyes still sparkle with the tears
My incapable hands
Can never wipe away.
My mind has always wondered
If the body it dictates
Can ever be better than it
Can make itself think of.
For even when it is naked
Underneath these sheets,
My mind can only see the scars
It wears.
And the lips can never lie,
Even when it mumbles as it speaks
What can only be described as
Half-truths.
In every whisper spoken
Against the dark of evening,
The withered soul rides
above its crest
a trail of smoky foam follows,
poor cover up for the self-pity
incarnated in words.
Until the tip of heaven’s
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Literature
Unspoken
Strong hearts can defend
the fragile trust
from the whip of slandering
tongues
but the loss of blood
has made me weak;
how long can one stand
the numbness
of his flesh?
In the arms of evening
a cold shudder covers
like a blanket,
moon-lit scent mingles
with twilight's dew.
I long for the warmth
of mid-day, where snow melts
and the air is breath
that fills the spirit.
Perhaps my salvation
is in the long embrace
witnessed by the sun
blessed by the heavens,
a secret well-kept,
hidden from the envious moon.
Embrace me for a minute longer,
lips trembling for a kiss.
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Literature
Men and Gods
The affairs of men
are a joke to the Gods
who stare at us since Time
created itself, along with Sin, with Death
and Life, too.
The lives of men
amuse the eternal dead,
in frozen smiles they giggle,
perhaps more bewildered than amused.
For we ride the merry-go-round,
and we run in circles,
racing against others in blindfolds,
stumbling, fumbling, groping
the darkness that has never
escaped our eyes, even when
we light the candles that never melt,
or seek the sun that never sets.
And in the shadows we play
and in every game we make certain
that somebody wins
and somebody loses.
We promise ourselves never to lose.
Headless creatures
swimming in tepid broth,
in a bowl leaking at the sides,
how can this be amusing
to them?
Perhaps if we share a seat
in the balcony of heaven
where these gods fatten themselves
until they explode to our own amusement,
perhaps if we sit on their laps
and dine over the same dish
they fill their throats until
nausea tickles their guts,
perhaps if we see ourselves
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Making Waves
You've tried so hard
To walk the line
Live and let live
Obey the signs
Not making waves
But questions came
Without answers
Life will be tough
And it matters
Not making waves
They needed you
Defend the weak
You were afraid
Chose to be meek
Not making waves
How many times
Will you let go
Of real truth
It's what you sow
Not making waves
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Mature content
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Literature
finding your life jacket
I have a heart like numb limbs,
bad circulation tingles hands
and essays are like a bus journey in rush hour.
I often take naps before the sun
and take walks with the moon.
This is not planned,
this loosening of eyelids, this creaking
of floorboards, this plucking of organs
one by one, so I can get to the centre
where insects play and warmth hides
in the damp.
I did not say this would be easy, this re-hydrating
of lips so I can let kisses go back
where they belong, I do not want to be brittle
with aeroplane hair and match stick smiles that splinter.
I'm trying to find somewhere to go you see,
where cigarettes and supermarkets are not important,
it is not always that simple to find yourself again
under old CDs and that look in your parents eyes
when you return home with slumpping bags
full of eyeballs and clothes three sizes too large.
The world does not care if I am holding a magnifying glass
up to my flesh or holding broken plates tight
or saying 'I am great, thanks' when I really mea
:iconinmyroom:inmyroom
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Literature
Teenage Existentialists
Isn't it great,
How comfort is best found in irony?
There is such beauty in error.
And such error in beauty.
I would search for myself,
But I found accomplished this,
And I broke my heart.
I would search for truth
But truth has too much to do with love.
You cannot find either of them when you feel you need them.
You cannot force either one.
They both hurt.
And you cannot ever say that you, even for a second, deserve either one.
This so-called "truth" is beautiful.
But as soon as she steals your heart,
She leaves, and doesn't bother to return.
However, you can still remember the way she smelled, and that look in her eyes that you never wanted to change.  The one that made you cry.
Happiness is most easily found through feeling sorry for yourself.
Contentment is most easily found through realizing you have nothing.
Eternal life is most easily found through grasping the fact that you will die.
Irony is found in everything, and truth is found in nothing.
As we struggle to preserv
:iconPoetsoftheNight:PoetsoftheNight
:iconpoetsofthenight:PoetsoftheNight 2 1
like water in my lungs by inmyroom like water in my lungs :iconinmyroom:inmyroom 45 43

Activity


deviantID

bayen's Profile Picture
bayen
Bien Nillos
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
Philippines
Current Residence: Manila
Favourite genre of music: R&B, pop
Favourite photographer: Tio Bert
Operating System: Windows XP
MP3 player of choice: iTunes
Favourite cartoon character: Dexter, The Simpsons
Personal Quote: Let us not drown ourselves in a glass half-filled with water
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Comments


Add a Comment:
 
:iconlovemelvin:
lovemelvin Featured By Owner Jun 3, 2008
hi bayen.... watch kita ha. :)
Reply
:iconbayen:
bayen Featured By Owner Jun 7, 2008  Hobbyist Writer
sure ah
Reply
:iconcecillecarmela:
cecillecarmela Featured By Owner Apr 4, 2008
nice gallery. ang gaganda po ng mga poems mo. i haven't read them all but i'll be back. :-)
Reply
:iconbayen:
bayen Featured By Owner Apr 10, 2008  Hobbyist Writer
thanks for the visit cecille... it has been awhile since i have written down some poetry here sa dA...very busy with work na. but thanks :-)
Reply
:iconcecillecarmela:
cecillecarmela Featured By Owner Apr 11, 2008
be mindful that even though i don't comment, i'm reading all ur works.. :-) it's just that i'm busy on some matters. sir, you're realy a great writer. keep writing. :-)
Reply
:iconbayen:
bayen Featured By Owner Apr 15, 2008  Hobbyist Writer
i'm glad you like it. I am more of an amateur in this kind of stuff. But i do appreciate you reading them. thanks
Reply
:iconilfmmffmcaa:
ILFMMFFMCaA Featured By Owner Dec 23, 2007
Hey! I just wanted to drop by to wish you a Merry Christmas, Happy Hannukah, Kwanzaa, etc. and a Happy New Year!! It's almost 2008, can you believe it??

:holly:
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