in my youth i saw flying plates
broken glass lamps, wasted rice grains,
invectives and curses were always
the sounds of the house,
i promise not to copy and paste
those things, sad,
disappointing, unfortunate human
conflagrations of the innocence
of some souls,
now i am free.
i listen to nobody but only the voices within me
it is peaceful, every event embroidered with logic
and reason,
searching for more wisdom
listening more than talking
i am staying and i like it this way now
the shells of the past were burned
the ashes thrown to the belly of Dipolog river.
These are poetic experiments. Man's quest for the poetic element never ceases. He is always caught in the eye of awe. He does not make the rules now. The rules change depending on the emotion that time and space feed him. He must see everything with his wide eyes gaping. The beginning of poetry too, like philosophy is wonder. Look and see. Do not stop wondering You are the poet. And everything is poetry. Wonder. Wander.
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