John Daryl | XVI | Writer
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"

I never asked you to
whisper to my ears
the words I’ve been
longing to hear from you

All I want is for you
to bite my ear until it
bleeds the words out
to suffice all that was
lost in translation

I knew it right away
that a love like this—
two people with mouths
of different languages,
wouldn’t be that easy

That somewhere along
the way, one will get tired
of biting and the other will
faint of bleeding

"

(j.d.a)

Say What?

"

Perhaps, this is where
we should draw the line:

i. between the stars that
have written our fates
ii. across the seas we
tried walking on, but have
drowned midway
iii.and between the space
separating our souls

Tell me dear, if this love
has grown cruel.
Tell me, if it has gone
beyond the point of
no return

Had this love been hurting
your lips when we kiss?
Had it told you that the pain inflicted
is poetry written on your soul?

Tell me, for one last time,
where should I draw the line?

"

(j.d.a)

"

Of all the people
I’ve met in this cruel world,
she was the one who taught
me that honesty is brutality
in its purest form

It inflicts violence upon
the parts of the human body
that are beyond the reach
of our fingers

She said, to hurt someone,
you really don’t need to
have firm knuckles
metal-cold fists
and heavy palms

Sometimes, all it takes
is an unfiltered mouth

"

(j.d.a)

"

I. It’s on a Saturday night when she told you
that a love like the one you used to have can
exist even beyond the ends of the cosmos.
Her lips were like the galaxies collapsing. Her
lips were like a promise bound to be fulfilled.
Her lips were like the stars in the night sky—
vibrant, burning, yet so distant to be even touched.

II. An endless entity, she told you, that would
only cease to exist if it chooses to. Love—oh how
vague of an idea it is that humanity have crafted
multiple definitions for it. Yet in a way, the
crashing sound of the letters of her name was more
than enough to fill the gaps between the lines of
every love poem written.

III. Once upon a time, there was hope in your eyes than can
illuminate even the darkest of alleys but now there’s
only despair howling in the drops of tears you shed.

IV. Once upon a time, you believed that something
boundless, something invisible, infinite, limitless, something
non-perceptible could really exist in this world we live in.
It’s Saturday today and nobody is across the table. You
are as lonely as the moon. Devoured by your own loneliness,
you ask yourself where her promises have gone now.

V. And in the silence, you hear her promises reverberate back
and forth the walls of your mind. Perhaps, this is what she meant
by having an endless entity; Love never really cease to exist,
it only flows through a different river. It only kisses a different pair
of lips. It sleeps in a different bed. But it never really cease to exist.
It only calls another house its new home, and leaves its old address
abandoned.

"

Apeiron | (j.d.a)

"

Close your eyes for a moment and hear the drumming waves of the ocean. That’s the sound of your heart beating against the current of your mind. Don’t open your eyes yet. Now, from the darkness, two doors rise from the horizon: the first one is painted red, with a sign above that reads “EXIT”, the other is made from a rust-gnawed metal, half-opened, and has green light pouring out of it like words from the lips of the person you loved most. One door will lead you to Today, the other will lead you to Yesterday.

It depends on you what door to open.
Both have consequential sufferings anyway.

Breathe in the universe around you and let all the stardust make their way into your lungs that has long been devoid of light. Don’t open your eyes yet.

Now, from the darkness, the portraits of the people you met in your life will slowly appear. The bigger ones are of the people you loved most. While the smaller portraits are of the people you don’t expect to attend your funeral. On the floor, you will find a match and a container of gasoline.

Temperature drops below zero.
The cold wind whispers to your ears the words you’ve never heard before. The words that you never thought would have come from these faces.

Don’t open your eyes yet. Imagine icicles are making their way into your veins and the only way to warm yourself up is to burn these portraits. Of course, like every other people who have undergone this examination, you too will burn first those smaller portraits. But the wind grows wildly. If before it was whispering, now it is shouting at the top of its lungs. At this point, you have to make a choice.
Don’t hesitate. Do what you first thought you should.

Open your eyes. Now, tell me, which door did you choose? If you were given another chance, would you choose the other door? Now, tell me, whose portraits did you burn? Consider these people would take this test too, do you think they’d do the same to your portrait? Why? Why not?

"

Examination | (j.d.a)

"

They call themselves
The Quiet Souls of the Busy Streets
yet people call them
The Dangerous Minds

All rise!

Witness here
The Disgust of
Yesterday’s Youth!
I present to you,
the once called
Eighth Wonder of the World,
yet has fallen in the ocean-deep
of desperations and broken dreams

I present to you
the very flesh that came out
of your flesh. The creature whose
blood is the very same blood that
runs in your veins.

Behold its beauty
in full frontal nudity

I present to you
this idol of blasphemy
the saint of all demons

Feast your eyes on
the monster that was birthed
from the curses of your regrets

Behold,
The Generation Now

"

The Generation Now | (j.d.a)

"

She’s been hoping
for a very long time,
that her name will
someday make his
tongue burn at every
vowel and will make
his shoulders shudder
at the echoing sound of it

She’s been hoping
that her name will make
his teeth gnaw on each other
and his eyes glow both
with despair and with hope

Let there be blood
in his mouth, she would
ask the stars each night,
and let its stinging taste
remind him of her name.
Her name that was given by
the stars, devoid of all
the darkness in the world

She’s been sending him
letter inside bottles. All is
but a reminder of what her
name is. She hopes the violent
waves of the ocean will tenderly
take these letters to him,
and in return he’ll write poems
about her.

She’s been hoping
for a very long time,
and perhaps she’ll
continue to do so
for yet another
century of desolation.

"

(j.d.a)

"He looked at her as
if he was a lost man who
finally found home"

(j.d.a)

"There are moments
that even the wildest of
mouths cannot speak of,
that even the greatest
of poets cannot
write down"

"A poem must go across
the universes between
two souls: the poet’s
and the reader’s"

(j.d.a)

"

I once was a poet.
A poet who writes
poems that always include three specific
words: I Love You. It’s written all over my body:
on my shoulder blades, on the nape of my neck,
on the creases of my dried lips, on the lines of my
palms. It’s written all over my soul: on every fold
of its remaining humanity, on every hue of every
shared memory, on every relentless glittering light
there was.

I once was a poet
whose eyes are filled with the green light of hope.
I was once a wanderer of the endless lanes of twisted
trees this world has to offer. I once was a wonderer
of the infinite possibilities in this universe: the colors
yet to be seen, the sounds yet to be heard and the words
yet to be written.

I once was a poet.
And like any other poet, I, too, had my own downfall.
My downward spiral that goes by your name. You
opened my eyes to things I’ve never even imagined of seeing,
and with your absence, you left me with nothing to explore.
Nothing unseen, unheard, and worst of all, nothing unwritten.
Ink comes out of this pen of mine, yet there’s not a word that
comes alive from it. There’s not a word, but your name and the
three words I’ve been writing ever since. I Love you, I Love you,
I love you, and it goes on and on. Relentlessly. Ceaselessly toward
the silence of my voice.

I became a poet
because of you.
And when my poetry run dried,
it was because of you, too.

"

Once Upon a Poetry | (j.d.a)

"There’s something radiant
about her; it seems like she
breathes in all the stars"

(j.d.a)

"

There is a howling hole
in my soul as there is
a desperate gap
between our bodies

Hear its hymns beg
for you to come closer
and stay closer, like the
way we used to

Feel the nostalgia crawl
up to the nape of your neck,
and let it make its way into
the demons dancing in your
ribcage

Once upon a dream,
this soul of mine
was filled with clouds
of thoughts, all of which
are about you

Yet now, in emptiness,
it succumbs in pursuit
of all the things
that it used to have
of all the things
that you used to give

"

(j.d.a)

"

For the past few sunsets,
I’ve been trying my
best to scrape your name
off the wastelands on my
tongue

I found there
a dying star,
a burning house,
an ocean deep
of unshared thoughts,
a cemetery of
forgotten promises.
All is but a reminder
of you.

For the past few sunsets,
I’ve been running down
the pavements of regrets,

Running away from the
yesteryears we shared and
all our glory days we wasted

Though it’s been years,
since this all started,
there still is a glint of
hope in my desperate eyes

With Desperate Eyes I meant:
Maybe, I will never be
able to swallow the truth.
Maybe all these roads
I’m taking will never lead
me to somewhere better
Maybe, for as long as
the sun sets down the horizon,
these afflictions will relentlessly
torture my already tormented soul

With Glint Of Hope, I meant:
Maybe, this pain reminds me
that I’m alive.

"

For The Past Few Sunsets | (j.d.a)
RF