Silent Waters by Kumiko Mae

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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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Sweet Summer by Kumiko Mae

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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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After the Storm by Kumiko Mae

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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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Hummingbird Reply by Kumiko Mae

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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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The Minute by Kumiko Mae

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There was sleeplessness clouding your tongue
with shared innocence taken from
the womb of your mother, until
you held my face so close to yours
and whispered, "Hello."

- Kumiko Mae

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Our Second House by Kumiko Mae

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I miss our old house
her secrets
closets filled with old toys
clothes of another
generation.

I long for
her redness
floors stained by soiled feet
of the outdoor games
by curious hands
I do not know of anymore.

I miss the roof
how it melted under
my cold feet as
white linen hang dry
in the open
soaking the sun
while rats escape in the shadows.

I miss our old doors
never locked for each other
with walls that wouldn't keep
us apart, when the world is close to my ear--
wild when it's quiet
I miss the years of everything
salted like butter, easy shelves
and soft corners.
I miss the games that cheated
us of nothing more than what we can give
how the bed was always made
even when there's a blackout
and we fan each other as we sleep.

I miss the sound of a day stuck with
you all around me.
until I hear you crisply burnt
taking my favorite pillow away
leaving not even a feather.

- Kumiko Mae

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Undiscovered by Kumiko Mae

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The morning started with a chit-chatter coming from my window. It was raining, cold, late. There was a stale taste of yesterday hanging on my lips; which I instinctively licked, and confirmed as the dew marking my just-cleaned window, it was there, lost spirits named after wild games, and a burn that gave tar for souvenir. It tasted of confusion and honesty. People wanting people for temporary company, and then some, just watching.

Unlike most mornings, I blinked hesitantly, disbelieving the grey that permitted the bit of light into my room of shells. The sound of a new day forced itself into my sleeping ear, and I turned into a bundle of curses until the beat started humming, from afar first, then louder, more alive than loud, unforgotten and demanding attention, and I, suffering from the recluse barricaded by art, of my hand and soul, was dragged to a trance, sheets falling to place, feet on cold floor, hands flirting with air.

(to be continued)

The One with Mornings by Kumiko Mae

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This poem was inspired by the Dashboard Confessional song, Hands Down

The sky was begging to be remembered, sheets of bloody orange and a blue
such was waking with only
a whiff of your hair that has fallen
to marry my sheets.

I miss how you rustled in panic
when you wake up late, and I, later than my promises.

So was the finger-pointing, harsh and punctual
to the rising of your voice when your hair is wet and dripping
down your back, wetting your shoulders, but I, sit quiet and absorbing
your voice before you go
because all I do is wonder
where have your wings flown
how do you shed your light, then return
with graceful, sometimes ancient, kindness regained.

These mornings when we fight
the undiscovered half-lit realities from our heads remain
to be my best memories of you.
How raw you are
muscles warm from my embrace
then washed off by the sudden need to live, away from love
more often, apart from me.

Until the last alarm would set
you off to where you have to be
for needs that take you every time.
And you don't notice, but I always have
when you realize you're leaving, perhaps standing too far from where I sit waiting, you stop
sigh and put down the brush that you never did use to comb your hair
and look at me from the mirror
where I always looked at you to watch,
your back would turn, you'd be quiet and return,
an angel of lightness kissing my forehead, saying goodbye
to the shadows that we set aside together
or to me
for the time being
so you can live and marry the dreams in your head
in time for us to also marry our lives, someday when we can.

Poetry Project #1 Songs

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I am a visitor here, I am not permanent
In flames I sleep soundly
With words unspoken a silent devotion
But my silent fears have gripped me
I am a ten thousand petal flower unfolding in this moment
Wrap me up, unfold me
Autumn night, I watch your face in the firelight
The moons have aligned our separate lives
It’s your beauty where I feel most free
Come let’s live like thieves stealing our time
They never stood in the dark with you love
If there’s no one beside you when your soul embarks
And the distance is quite simply much too far for me to row
I found a place to make a stand
I’m standing here until you make me move
Into the fire feeling higher than the truth
I can feel the angels falling down around my head
We kissed, as though nothing could fall
All the wonders remain become a simple fact
When the time comes, don’t run, just kiss me slowly
I know that you’ll find love, I will possess your heart

This poem was a gift. It was a project where A put together lines from the songs that she likes, to come up with a poem. If you know the songs used for this project, let me know! :)

Seven Little Things by Kumiko Mae

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There are seven little things about this house that annoys me
 
One is the pack of Maltesers that you keep
hidden behind ice cube racks
so no one will see
and by no one, you mean me.
Those choco-coated malts roll
down my patience like bad liquor
they remind me of your selfishness and of
my gluttony.
 
Two are the remote controllers
scattered on the floor
tucked in the creases of our rickety sofa set,
lost when needed, otherwise all over the place.
They switch on my memory
of better times when everything
was a button away, we were gods,
until the clouds of your lies fell upon the dreariness of our
every day.
 
Third, is the most personal
I cringe even at the admission.
I am annoyed by your clinginess
wet hair to wet skin
unshakeable
parasite of some sort.
But with the same velocity
I cling on to you. 

Fourth
Stands for the glare
Of the television you wouldn't turn
Off, nor mute down, even as you sleep.
Nightly, I sneak to kill the blinking lights
that seem to tuck your eyelids shut
but nightly I fail
for in your sleep, though you are lost to dreams
your hand shields the TV
and my hands are nothing
against yours.
 
Fifth is partly mine
to apologize for so I won't open the door too wide
out of pride.
Fifth is for the lights
that are never out, an expensive resolve
to have inner peace.
 
Sixth are the broken lids of our jars
thus we are vulnerable
stuck with the spoiled stench of yesterday
faced with a routinely
exposure to a further poisonous well
happening as we speak.

Seventh, and last
of the little things that infuriate
is for the gate that we can never lock
from the outside.
It leaves me dependent of your potency at night
when I miss the last bus.

How it leaves us trapped in our white rooms 
by our own doing. 

What Happens When You're Sleeping by Kumiko Mae

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When it's quiet I hear
myself break from
the inside.
It is a ballet,
a painful flex
running across my limbs
an arc disfiguring
my back. How it vibrates
on a still unslept bed.
 
It is gurgling water
in which my tongue awaits
your name
to form from nowhere
a ghost that dictates;
but never arrives. You stay
in your sleep
while I sink
deeply awakened
by the hope and need
to hope some more.

When it's quiet
I fold like
scraps of paper being burnt
by a weak candle,
not even lighting a room,
until my ashes are blown
unto your feet
where you're open. When you rise
from the slumber that stole
you from me
where imaginary keeps you
captive and drugged
by togetherness only clouds
will understand. I scratch
and etch myself
in that still second,
where the moon is glass
and the night is only broken
by a silence
put to rest
by your demons
in your head,
my bible of truths,
You
by your yawn
or an alarming jerk
that would trigger
my gun. 

No Regrets by Kumiko Mae

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I regret
giving 
to every other
possibility
I have
stretched
perused
to spend
Time.
I lost
a finger
a tooth
a sense of
being still
from all
the grinding
that crumpled
the peace
of rooms
for nothing
permanent
just fleeting
like ships
only crossing
borders
never docked.
But
I thank
each feather
that broke
Free
and flew.
Their gentle
nature caressed
my tensed
muscles
to reach
to dig
to search
deeper into
my well
my clouds
my forest.
And less
of a name
I have
learned
have become
more for you
enough
for me.

Papers by Kumiko Mae

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Remember
In my head are days when papers cut through your hand to reach the tip of my fingers.
They beg to be noticed, to be read and considered, until the palm of my coldness turn red from the rash of holding too tightly.
Do you?
Remember how you hummed as you sliced through the spices that teared up the room.
It was delicious to listen.

Think about it, you said. And I did because it's you. I didn't want to
but I must because you asked so I should
do, remember what happened
all that was lost and could be found.

To remember that the days that counted our chances were all devils in my head, foams of the sea, never the ocean.

How I remember
the acid burning the edges, the shining stain of real black seducing my lips to read,
Your name, bewitchingly
signed first
above printed letters of a dream we thought we could only hope for, and then
that real bursting feeling inside my stomach that crumbles the very mortars of my hope
to be with you, til death
keeps us apart.

(unfinished) by Kumiko Mae

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It is humming
your name with a high
pitched voice
like a leader
of an angelic choir.
It sounds like death
whispering hello
on a bright sunny day
just when you thought
it was perfect.
It goes on and on
this vibrato of souls
clenching on the hope
of rebirth.

I Do by Kumiko Mae

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When you hear the tracks creak
like a storm with secrets
underneath, breathe because it only means
I'm going home to you

When meat sizzles and oil hisses
for the rawness of each emotion
that falls flat, head first, diving airless on this heated earth,
I will smell the feast that follows--
I will know you will soon be ready

Life is happening
it's in motion, rapid sometimes
and it will consume each space
like water is to vessel
filling up to the rim til it overflows,
if you let it,
or can't help to

Like when I tire
and lie on my stomach
where my chest will fall heavy
but never enough,
my mouth will be open
saliva will fall--
I am thirsty,
can't help it,
I never can control

Like in my dream, where anything can,
does happen, helplessly
the walls shriek
the pipes speak
and the hollowness is revealed
not to be the endless hall
or the catless night,
but within, thus
gasp is all I do

And you, a blanket of silence
will cover my eyes
with peace

Lacing your fingers between the married
truths and lies that lurk the night
until lashes fall
and I see clearer
then I believe what I already know,
I'm already home.

I Do by Kumiko Mae

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your clothes spin mindlessly
as I

into a foaming vortex
called

a deathly cleanse
I do

to wear you
again

Words by Kumiko Mae

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In my words, you say
You’ve lost and gained
all meaning--
yet within my shades
you memorize, every gray
is silver lining.
With cold erratic waves
you ride and then
become, a werewolf
a child of full
moons, and sun.
You search
to realize
to unravel
too much, sometimes
but you drink
from the chalice, of naked
truths and hazel eyes.
I am, you say The One
the love
the sun
the smoking gun
to your only sure, thought
and kindred
soul of which I also become.
By earning you,
golden girl—daughter of gods
and of milli-tries,
I win the most
and the best
of who you are
to your only one,
my only one.
And like a cub, hiding
I keep you from the wild.
Your words
in my mouth,
between my eyes.

Cabernet Sauvignon by Kumiko Mae

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What if I don’t know the difference between the whites of a wedding day
what will you make of me
a girl with a big
head or none?

Have I tasted—no,
have I tried?

What if there is nothing under my belt,
not even chastity—
I was robbed early in time
will you take away the questions aired out in a quiet veranda of promises
or just decide to answer them on your own—no
maybe you’d just change your mind.

From there, things will change
without permission or any indication that they have
until the walls become strange
stranger each day.

Where should I sit when everything is placed
by the masters of each corner
of this world
of your world and of mine—like your hand, with their hand
and my hand up in the air?

Tell me darling, will I get rest
when I’m tired
or my arms
hurt?

Will I deserve it?

Heaven Wants You by Kumiko Mae

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Heaven speaks to the quiet
mind like the devil
seduces the idle. You are
a target. Be steady
heaven is aiming
at you.
Between your eyes
is a red
telling stories
of fertility and openness
--an invitation
convincing vagabonds
to give up their bags
and offer to you
the world.
Stateless and high
are the load in your head.
They shall cushion
the poisoned arrow
flying straight
towards your plans.
Owning space
piercing pieces together
skewered
impaled
grilled by the precision
only heaven can teach
and outperform.
Listen closely
with your rustling hair
the wind will whisper
if it's almost
over. For now,
stand still.
Heaven wants you
with sky blue eyes
like the ocean
endless and quiet
with trenches that open
to a world of
Breathlessness. 

Ghost Hour by Kumiko Mae

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I smoke
for two lungs
a lullaby
humming within
whistling guns
shooting too far
my ghost cutting
like lightning,
piercing eyes
unblinking. 

Wanting by Kumiko Mae

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I just want a clear steady ground to stand on one foot in. Maybe balance, but that comes after. I just want a clean open space for me to stretch my good foot with. Perhaps even lengthen, and earn some grace. 

I Do by Kumiko Mae

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Today is
a yes and
are there more
yeses in
my mouth?
Because I
want yes
to be yes
and be yours 

When You Asked for Photos by Kumiko Mae

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There are 501 grains of your thoughts
scattered like leaves of a
Japanese fall
on my plate, ready
to be my sustenance,
this warm porridge of revelries.
Each careful scoop
invites your deepest secrets
to the surface
and I blow upon your fears
with gentle conviction
to lighten your load
and ready my mouth
to feed
on you, and maybe
even drink you clean.
But I hunger these days
when you sit by the window
craving for the world
fogging the glass
between your home
and the forest
of old stricken trees
on mine,
until I tap and break
your silenced silver.
There is only stillness. 

Hunger by Kumiko Mae

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Maybe I dare to not
notice the sound of you
that burns through
walls of becoming and
decay. But
Trust in this,
absent-minded decisions,
I have myself
defined by someone
else, like time
is to you
and to none.
My hunger echoes
to the tip of
broken toe--rest
assured I am always
thinking of eating
my way through
this need
to be ravaging
and be had. 

Grenade by Kumiko Mae

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With one careless drop
my body will explode
to ruin each trace
of your vicinity.

With one careless let go
I surrender
to gravity
to the warning sound
of your voice, loud and angry
as if talking to someone deaf
but really just far.

With one careless twitch
a piece of me clung on
to your finger
like a gift
or a thread
that reminds you of
promises that will
remain of me
when my body degrades
into hot gas.

With one careless touch
I give to you
my ring
and from me
your freedom. 

The Choice by Kumiko Mae

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I am a shotgun
one pull and I shoot
8 other souls
in varied directions,
the perfect way
to kill a lifelessness.
you carry my weight
marking and imposing
a curve on your
shoulder, but then
again I am your best
chance at survival,
riding shotgun
shooting aimlessly
towards a door
breaking all walls, and you
are the trigger
and mostly the recoil
keeping me still