Thursday, April 3, 2014

Be Your Love by Kumiko Mae





all songs feel like your voice
crashing down like madness
to a street of activists
screaming an idea, so strong
valid between two like souls
against the popular idea
of right and wrong yet
repeatedly in the air
punching mightily for hope
that gates would open
to a welcoming embrace.

- Kumiko Mae, a Beauty Blogger from the Philippines

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Thursday, January 2, 2014

When All Things End by Kumiko Mae





It begins with a whisper
that soft hello touching your shoulder
tiny blonde hair in attention
as if God Himself says, "Come,
my beloved, light up."

Slowly while the sky shifts
to a year freshly plucked
from the strands of time,
from fate's wrinkled hands,
quietly drenched in tears
that measure all oceans
of this world, she turns
with the air around her,
light as feather.

In that moment, the room squeals
after a click that sets
gears to spin, making sure seconds
are counted because you know when
She looks at you--
fireworks.

Pushing you
to fall into circles
upon circles
smaller each time,
as if ending with a dot--but

Before truth, you slip
and form two different names
at the tip of your tongue
waiting to come out, define
the face after the curtain
of hair rests
Finally.

Happy new year,

.

- Kumiko Mae, a Beauty Blogger from the Philippines

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Open Fire by Kumiko Mae





It felt like an orphan fire
removed from my body
or at least this deadly roll 
of earth
alit a second ago
then ash
just before it would kiss me.
After that last breathe
she pulled away
like ripped skin on my toe
because carelessness
being reckless
meant more in the dead
of night, than silence.

Remember in ballet
the stretch and extending
arms of grace
long necks
pointing
flexing--
these are the images
that flashed while
the last burn
of her swung
from my lips
to my arm
where she died
Slept
remained silent
or got lost
with dust
from fireworks that stained
the darkest of night
with promises.

- Kumiko Mae, a Beauty Blogger from the Philippines

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Wednesday, December 4, 2013

Silent Waters by Kumiko Mae





Some nights I sit in silence
Talking to sadness, basking in it
Surprised in the beauty of her secrets
How easy she slips between.

There's but the mechanical
Noise breaking the pressing heat
Of an untouched room
Craving for movement
Dreadfully deserved, by a lifetime
So far gone.

It starts when I return
To a room of broken chords
And allow the fallen pieces
Mark the edge of my skin
A burning rod that forms
Mostly in its absence.

How it shapes by numbers
Mattresses finding masters
Cards with free letters
For wordless travelers.

Until there grows tenderness
Ripe against my tongue
Familiar to the emptiness
Tireless against the void--
Granting stillness,
A calendar of Fireworks,
Rested sleep.

- Kumiko Mae, a Beauty Blogger from the Philippines

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Thursday, November 28, 2013

Sweet Summer by Kumiko Mae





Inspired by Bebe Moore Campbell's Sweet Summer

When she left, all women went out of my life.

Now, there are only surfaces that meet at a far point. I see no height, no measures to move since the day she had gone. I only have the occasional wine as reminder of every red dress I was supposed to wear--each indecency we wanted to share.

But there are also days of joy when I forget she exists, or existed. On those vague hours I live with five missing years in my life. It is less whole, you can only imagine, but at least it's also less tepid to drink from. My words are suddenly all mine and I feel free; free from a failed life and a rotting dream.

Until she resurfaces in the form of gods and muses. Sometimes I hear her in a familiar laughter or taste. An evening a-buzz with the enchanting ecosystem of cicadas and I'd be in bed, five feet away a small cable TV. A silent but aggravated release of air from a stranger's lips and I'd be taken back to a game of green mangoes and cards. These are the ghosts she left for me to fear; while, all the women are shadow, physically impossible to hold, always leeching off another's light.

- Kumiko Mae, a Beauty Blogger from the Philippines

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Wednesday, November 13, 2013

After the Storm by Kumiko Mae





I'm oblivious to the world
around me
     a silent tear
     uncontrollable things
     wind speaking through
     rusty pipes.
Then some days I wonder
why do cats
     have nine lives
     balance by instinct
     fall from known heights
     meow when it's quiet
Never say a thing at all.

Last week the skies
cleansed my land
of sins and laughter
scraped the smile off children
and the life off the well-lit streets
of Christmas
and unlimited spaghetti,
sweet but weird, says the foreign tongue.

So rumors spark
how friends eat friends
and cold strangers warm
hunger-stricken families
left without a choice, but to.
And I sit in the dark
embraced by the illegal glory
named Michelle,
asking for one thing to hold on to.

Perhaps Bioflu
a master drug
a solution to every pain
But I wouldn't really know because
I am oblivious to the noise,
     Hope in people
     Helping to uplift
     Nameless heroes
     Napoles scam.

Fortunately, the strings continue to sing
And it's everywhere,
You'll see. 

- Kumiko Mae, a Beauty Blogger from the Philippines

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Thursday, October 17, 2013

Hummingbird Reply by Kumiko Mae





Source

I insist on telling other friends that perhaps
this year is a better year
than my last, but--

muscle memory dictates a culture between us both
secretive and private coded notes;
like amber repeatedly setting on my broken phone.

It's like my eyes lied to reveal a certain truth
when I thought I read you love me, before
you signed your letters like you always do.

Scrupulous and sticky were the leaning curves
while all the S's in the world sank
deep into the the crevices of my name.

Shadowed by the need for more space
to say a lyric or two; but there is always an end
a limitation for you. Albeit--

yours is the energy that travels with grace
where every risk of damage is mine to take,
yours to evade.

Over mountains and bloody red tapes
you course for my hand to hold
where you once held.

Until there is no need to try
because we just are,
as we always were.

Surrendering to acceptance, our legacy
running like river
tracing valleys.

Or quiet storm brewing from the distance
while villagers run the opposite
direction for safety.

Married couples making babies
in the middle of the night,
desperate for eternity.

Undressed victims of a lie, gloriously hanging
as curtains shine with light
to dance with a soft breeze.

Candescent feet from all the walking
to find what will never be lost
inside your mind.

Hoping that at the end of the line, is my silence
like I hang on the thought
of your breathe fogging mine.

- Kumiko Mae

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