Intersection

I am running away
from the road that used to seem so long
littered with an endless stream
of everything.

Now the road
is a hallway, dark and gloomy
with nothing beyond and
all behind me.

Wall clocks that dwarf,
count off seconds.
It's hands eerie, reaching out
with the Reaper's scythe,

synonymous to the thump-thump
of my beating heart;
and I run, clutching my sides
up the stairs, the halls and
through the door. Still, it follows me.

Escape eludes me
as I scramble for the exit
that fades, dancing away
from my fumbling grasp.

It'll soon be too late.

For Totally Optional Prompts

Okay, so intersection...
This came up as I was running late for class. It popped into my head while running, *ahem* I meant brisk walking, along the hallways. And then I wondered: What if I tripped and fell and hit my head really hard on the floor? Will I die? It was quite a morbid train of thought, really.
So this was born -- Time and death. Both things we all can never escape. =)

If only I had time

If only I had time
to write it down,
the words that elude me.

I had them right here,
surrounding, taunting.
Then. . .

For One Single Impression

How to Fall

I met a clown,
Halfway through the circus,
On stilts, smiling down

At me.
He asked, "Would you like
a balloon, perhaps?"

"No, thank you.
What I want is to climb
up your stilts and see as you do."

"Well now, little girl
let me consider!
If you fall, you'll be none the wiser."

So he jumped off,
gave me the poles
and said,

"Don't look down now!
Look far and wide,
to the mounts, the hills and countryside."

But I did, yes I did
look down
and fell.

For Meme Express

Distraction

Blaring music
coaxes the body to move

Repetitive choruses
draw out the song

Screamed profanities
bend the psyche

Tacit insults
force callous retorts

Lost repartee
harvested at wastelands

A wordsmith
sidetracked to hysterics

For Voices of the Underground

These are for the poetry reading group of Bacolod City - the Voices of the Underground. I haven't been active for so long that I feel rusty.

Forefathers

It would be an honor for me
To take your hand,
And present to you the world of my time.
This favor that you ask of me
Is no chore but rather a privilege,
A task I shall take on with pride.
I give you this world.

Much has changed, true
But some things have remained the same.
War, famine, pollution, disease,
Death -- humankind has yet to overcome.
So forgive me if I tell you fib
For the truth is, I am much too ashamed
To give you this world.

-o-

Stilts

Whispered half truths draw out our faults --
His guilt, her paranoia and my sin.
The final verdict dragged as nails
Scraped down an empty board
Gouge out his fault. Her obsession accused my misdeed
As a play written on a blank epitaph.

Her blood color the field and her face,
The object of my worst nightmare,
Stare back at me with eyes empty and devoid of life.

His flag flies, like a beacon of harm.
He bids my submission.

My will fades and I surrender.

-o-

We dreamt of a world far too perfect

We dreamt of a world full of possibilities --
One without unpleasant circumstances.
We dreamt of a world where dreams are unleashed
And nightmares are but trivial encumbrances.

We dreamt of a world where opportunity spells success
And failure as a closed door making way for open windows.
We dreamt of a world unconstrained by the physics of mortality,
Where goals are easily within our reach, each blessed to endow.

But reality trumped our dreams
And our lackluster lives undermined the make-believe.
Our visions were but delusions and we were ridiculously idiotic
To dream of a world far too perfect.