MassKara

And as promised..

Mask

I found her under a mask.
A mangled corpse -- gruesome, bloody.
On hindsight it seemed silly
but I turned to her to ask,
"Who killed you, little lass?"

She turned her head,
smiled and answered with a grin,
"For a boon, I give a tremendous task
to find my killer and unmask
who killed me, the little lass."

Half of me jumped in surprise
Half, with glee undisguised
For how often does one see
A spectacle such as this --
A dead girl talking with a mission for me?

On to the city I went where a festival commenced.
Man, woman, child wore a mask
Of hand painted smiles and a barrel of laughs.
I frowned, wondering which ass
killed the little lass.

Boldly, I approached a street chippy
Wearing, brazenly, a mask and a
Gown too red, too racy.
Bravely, daringly, I asked,
"Did you kill the little lass?"

Her mask, she took off swiftly
And there stood a child no more aged three.
In a voice so innocent, sweeter than any
she answered my once-valiant query,
"No, not I. Not I, surely."

With her reply, all the others turned to look
and their mask, they removed.
Not one who I thought they would be.
My question, unspoken to me they cast,
"Did you? Did you kill the little lass?"

It was then I realized
that I, I too, wore a disguise.
It shook me at how I couldn't see
the mask I wore so clearly.
And there, there ended my task.

For it was I.
I killed the little lass.

Festival

The city skies burn brighter
On flickering lights of gold.
The city folk come alive, with bold
masks and smiles of tales untold.
Merchants call to tease
The city's hunger willing to appease.
Walk, walk the city streets
Walk and dance to the frantic beats.
Smell the aroma of sweets and spices,
Of food once-raw -- cooked, flawless.
It's a night of fantasy, of make pretend
It's a night of imagination unleashed, unbent.

If you're wondering why I have two poems for MassKara, it's because I couldn't decide which to write - the festival or that of wearing masks which implies identities. So here they are.

On Hiatus

Ok, I'm off for a week or so. It's a week before the exams and we all know how OC I can get about "studying". Or, well, trying to study.

I promise I'll post my poem for Voices of the Underground when I get back. Voices is a poetry reading group that meets every Saturday. I met the guys yesterday and was chosen (by the ballpen) to write a poem for MassKara or Masks.

I swear I'm posting a poem, okay? I'll be about the City of Smiles' October festival, MassKara. Just click on the link for more information about it. I'm inviting you to go and visit Bacolod. You'll enjoy it, I promise. =P

Something to Share

This is an old poem that I found lying around unfinished. I decided that it was high time to finish it and here's the end result.. Now, I only ask for TWO things: 1.) for you to share your understanding of the poem and; 2.) criticize it. Please? ^_^ Thank you.

Archivists Farce

Wisps of smoke sucked into a vortex
cloud the mind of an anxious complex.
Being of body, form and frame,
a figure cracked impassive to fame.

Chaos emulated on a grotesque outfit.
Riot embedded on black skirts; scarlet alphabet
twist metaphors and cut the mind with halting wit
on a warped strain of a string quartet.

Ancient scripts' articulated tragedies
befell on to the innocent's guilty lies.
Nominal diction contend Dantesque allegories -
a trait false gods and idols struggle to personify.

Conflict with the demons redeemed this soul gone astray.
Genuine hounds direct back the real path of mischief
as blessings in disguise curse the wicked influence the way
devils, imps and fiends plague the diffident and ill at ease.

For Totally Optional Prompts and Meme Express Pick-A-Prompt #1

Invitation In Lust

Don't you see? She wants you.
Her eyes follow you as you pass by.
She licks her lips and moans
when you smile.

Her hand strays close to yours
when you are near.
She presses her body to you, when
you hug her. I fear

Her eyes tell too much
of her desire
to kiss your lips until
her touch sets you on fire.

She means to make
you forget of your love for another.
She means to douse you in lust,
to take her as your lover.

And thus, you are warned
of this succubus' charm.
Don't fall for it, boy. Ignore
her invitation to do you harm.

For Sunday Scribblings: #129 Invitation

I am very much uninspired and.. and.. like a zombie, I am walking around with a blank stare. I need...something! Anything! So.. Comments and constructive criticisms are invited. A warm hug and a steaming cup of coffee await you. Just click on the comment button. XP

Uninspired

I'm so uninspired. And I have a theory for it:

The moon wanes and I
have a hundred poems to write.
The moon fades - nothing.

Yes, I know. It's supposed to be a haiku but... it sucks.

Well, gives a new meaning to the word lunatic, doesn't it?

This is oh so insane.