Page 3 of Type Name Here


   

  of what you once thought you could or couldn't do

  but was never told to you 

   think for yourself, 

  nothing and no one else

  can be so true.

  Cold Pressed

  listen

  you were in a dream of mine

  and we fell in love

  are you listening to me

  we fell in love

  it all

  fell apart

  as we, woke up

  listen

  you were in this dream of mine

  and we're in love

  together from the start

  doing anything and everything

  that we're thinking of

  listen to me

  listen

  it slipped away

  as comes the day

  my breath was caught in the last kiss

  that was left in the fading memory

  written across your face

  in that dream

  that dream

  you came to me

  only for me to

  wake

  where the sun

  took you away

  listen to me

  listen

  sleep away

  call sick to the things that make you

  go any other way

  stay with me

  stay in bed today.

  swept

  for those discernable factors

  that create tangible matter

  into what is held

  beyond tear and laughter

   

  sing

  and i've swept away

  those unreconcileable things

  relics from years before-not anymore,

  ...they found their way into being

   

  sweat and wept

  forms the word: swept

  upon my brow, as it has beaded

  the source has dried;

              tirelessly depleted

   

  and i've climbed up

  a coin-fed well

  to a place where my true

  wish is

   

  come to rest,

  the length of a lie

  the truth

  is ever

  so viscous

   

  and fold

  and fold

  and fold

  as it may

   

  there may ever be

  so many sides

  that this

  unrecognizable piece

  maybe the part

  missing from your life

  echelon

  time does change everything

  as clothes change every day with the man

  the man changes himself in many ways

  this man is as many as he can

  for the things that he touches

  he wishes for himself to come closer

  to understanding the monumental

  and possibly seeking

  ...seeking?

  forgiveness.

  closure.

  life has exposed every crack in the cradle

  how foolish it is, are those little things,

  existing to govern themselves with...

  and what lies...what lies...those lies

  in the wake

  but nonetheless, still persistent to a honest earning

  for the chances that he takes

  to most that do not know...

  his opened mouth to swallow

  the soft repetitious reports

  that this,

  is still ticking on,

  the cold and less of comfort

  success has pulled his collar high

  but makes no regard to the breadth

  the one that he holds close

  is the one he cannot forget

  time does change everything

  as clothes change to this man

  from jean, to slack, to suit,

  he has done the very best to change himself

  the very best that he can

  End

  end my

  be that much of anything

  ~ suffering

   

  couldn't be

  ~ sides insides

  of agony

   

  answer my wound

  end my

  ~all too soon

  be that much of anything

  ~ suffering

   

  worth

  wasted away

  ~ (n)either (or) nor nothing

  full of

  awful

   

  to my eyes

  they look past

   

  end my hour

  it rips past

  (~all too soon)

  the wound

  Walk

  i am the mother that tends the stillborn child

  the knight that rides the ghost horse,

   a gimp horse of denial

   

  i do not stand 

  but i fall...

  though, not through

   

  adore,

  a jar of flies 

  feasts upon the painted flower

  a pale distance made crooked on the wall

   

  i am the fool steeped

  in the sky

  but none to hear, of the talk, (of the lie), of the walk, through the eye

  the chamber was empty

  before the shell

  made the sound

   

  that took (me) away 

  from everyone 

  and it pulled under ground

   

  this cavity of mine 

  the silver has thickened

  formed into heavy lead

  are my arms, my feet

  (shifting) much like the gears 

  embedded in my bed

   

  (she said)

   

  the question, the answer 

  how long ago, has this been happening

  why this much time,

   

  sought after

  to make it show

  the rabbit in the snow

   

  i am the brick that has wandered

  through the dust 

  that it is

   

  bludgeoned by wind

   that will not shatter

  haunted "hung" by those who love and live

   

  the gift of damnation

  i feel the missing rib

  oh, that body of water

  couldn't take away the father

  anchored, and anchored

  flesh of my flesh

  bore the chain in the sorrow

  tied to mother

  there is nothing left

  death of my death

  breath of breathless

  i live, i live, i live, i live

  i live.

   

  in nothing

  there is my gift 

  Now

  we can be thankful

  for words on a page

  but it is only a reference

  to life and lives - lived by others

  turn the page sideways, and the words disappear

  but do this to a person

  or if they turn themselves away

  you can always observe and listen 

  to the what they do not show, what they do not speak

   

  back to back

   

  how beautiful is the silence as they might be thinking

  maybe there is no thought of you

  its a handshake, a breath... their pace, a moment of inner truth

  it is not yours, even though you'd like to

  think for yourself

  even the level of one and the same,

  they are not you

   
br />   break away or to meet again

  this, you and them

  when does -if not matter

   

  reconnect,

  leave, smile,

  recollect,

  wither in anguish

  stay, or chase after

   

  does and doesn't applies

   

  in a flash in the span of time

  you share a gift that is present,

  and not the words that they have written, thus far

  so elegant, so fine

   

  they have never met you as you are 

  those words could not adapt 

  as they could be the mistakes and forgiven

  still or stirred in the past 

  only words they've said

  and not the words

  they will or won't

   

  tomorrow

  we may change our tone

  tomorrow

  we may share a home

   

  but it is not now...

   

  to question how it could be

  how it is somehow

  and you may miss it,

   

  as i have missed it so

   

  a guest?

   

  myself, with all due respect

  i will accompany

  and leave you alone

   

  but i can stand corrected, too

  as this is only as far to life i've known

   

  so let me tell you the truth

  so you can know which way to go

   

  don't listen to the words i write

  or even the words i've said

   

  lets walk away

  walk together

  behind, ahead or beside

   

  between

  never, a time, or forever

   

  it is now

  not to begin again

   

  with my deepest regards,

  -enemy, lover or friend. 

  One

  upon the day that is ever long

  carry us swiftly to where 

   

  as it was promised, as it is:

  the minute infraction, becoming unfold

   

  you are now more than those that could have been

  being removed, the way that it should 

   

  there

  this is the way

  will it always, forever more

   

  never to return, nothing to remain

  from mouth to eye to ear

  close in cold

   

  sustain life's breadth as it has measured indefinite

  over and over and over and over, this is retold

   

  nothing is ever away.

   

  rise if you must

  splintered in enough

  knowing we can stride the expanse

   

  when harmed by no man

  that does not have permanence

   

  temperance: to open our hands

   

  receive that life is limited to be limitless

  always never be the same

   

  compelled by the world's wonders

  you will answer

  the question we keep under

   

  the cornfield, the floorboard,

  the wheat riddled plains

  one will never be, because it always remains

  A Son

  would he forgive me

  in a place beyond heaven

  a place without steps

  to ascension

   

  lesions from conformed

  to a life's deformed

  lessons

   

  would he heal the wounds

  that do not shackle me

   

  give blood to this face that is blind

  and still continues to see

   

  would this man

  continue to allow

  me?

   

  if  am a son

  would he allow me to reap what i've sown

  would he allow me to feast

  upon the fields that ive grown

   

  would he lay the sun

  into my blistered hands

  and would he let me wash away the words

  weathered

  and worn

  and tailored

   

  to what

   

  other

   

  men

   

  demand?

   

  as in chaos

  and in order

  through the darkness

  and disorder

  i remain

  refraining

  from reveling in the light i see

   

  calling this imagination

  for the lonely...

  all it could be?

  Instilled a Place

  there's as

  a place in my chest

  whereas that

  place you rest

  lover and lower as slower

  again

  always somewhere

  something

  where as

  the light has been

  along as

  has the begin

  which as that

  will never desire,

  never nor or until

  to defeat as

  lonely or expire

  patient and

  instill

  as back as ever

  as will

  as you're keeping still

  be

  this place

  is just as

  you and me

  and as you

  never mine

  that as

  we have

  and no time

  standing as

  first as

  placed in line

  as

  you'll

  always

  be with mine

  David

  little david

  i wish you never stuck that needle in your arm

  little david

  i could have stopped you from harm

  little david

  how could I have made you listen to me so ( I could have told you), and you would have listened to me so)

  little david

  why did you ever have to go

   

  we had a home, but i was only a part of me

  in the same place, because we had to be

  little david, how you haunt my dreams 

  with your smile

  little david, its been longer than a while

   

  little david,

  a heroin addict

  born a victim of the farm where (shallow)/only graves are dug

  inside her belly she /had/ poisoned

  (when) what should have grown

  /she should have known/

  was warmth and love

   

  little david 

  how cold it is,  i miss you so

  a little brother always with me

  you know, i'll never let you go

   

  you sat in that chair, in the open doorway, (waiting til i got there)

  your eyes glazed, half-closed, /old clothes/ there was only your blank stare

   

  no one was looking anyway

   

  how could i have walked in and past

  how it breaks me like that empty glass

   

  fallen to the floor, before ever being filled

  that water

  that life

  that you deserved

  they
were supposed to give

   

  little david, 

  by now you found your way home

  little david, 

  you'd be the man i'd would of liked to know (i would like to know)

   

  live

  little david

  live

  little david

   

  live. 

  Swept

  for those discernible factors

  that create tangible matter 

  into what is held 

  beyond tear and laughter 

   

  sing  

   

  and sweep away 

  those irreconcilable things 

  relics from years before-not anymore,  

  that found their way into being 

   

  sweat and wept 

  forms the word: swept  

  upon the brow, as it has 

  beaded 

  the source has dried;  

  you cannot deny yourself 

                          tirelessly depleted 

   

  and you’ve climbed up the well to a place where a true wish is 

   

  come to rest, the length of a lie 

  the truth is ever so vicious 

   

  and fold and fold and fold as it may 

   

  there may be 

  so many sides 

  that unrecognizable pieces 

  may be a part of your life 

   

  could you tell before kissing 

  those lips that quiver, that tremble in fear 

  anger, the danger is sudden 

  was this hidden before you got here 

   

  illusions can make deaf, mistakes of what’s left 

  but those are made up for eyes 

   

  you’ve said before I cannot believe them,  

  This is running, not something you can deny 

  the thread from the hem, not a concise reply

   

  See for yourself, say 

  "Let me make the mistake" 

   

  take hold

   

  "Who are you to tell me so?"

  This is what you give and you take 

   

  and fold

   

  press lips tightly 

  told,

  as poisoned or as sweet as they may 

   

  against those lips as cold

  as a shadow 

  against the limit and the line that we make

   

  with smiles they become wide(r)

  our mouths open in hope

   

  we show an outside beauty 

  to grow

  against the grins, against the know

   

  life pulls in many ways

  and so does the flow of effortless emotion

   

  how tiring it is to lack intelligence  

  and bear of burden to know!

   

   

  Last Tree of Ténéré 

   By way of the streets, alleyways, and roads

  the land has given way to factories for car parts, bottles and cutlery

  and alone in the multitude of cars, motorcycles, trucks and trains

  a tree stands

  in the midst and in the way of progression

   

  its on the last leg of its life that has had been long over due for an extension

   

  sundown to sundown the shade is the only thing that reaches this space

  reflected light cannot even find this place

  in the midst and in the way

  a tree stands

   

  the banks of the shore, 

  once half a mile away 

  have succeeded to pipes and their dreams of proper filtration

   

  a lone acacia thats found its way without moving

  (its way is to) but it sways in the wind

  waiting for this to end, just to begin

  again and again

  over and over again

   

  its a troubled time, where you have no time, lest to save yourself 

 
Eric Paguio's Novels