LIBERATING

LIBERATING

by Philip Vasquez

"Hide nothing from me, however hard."

-Sigurd -
(for PLM)

You were alone.

The tumultous traffic conceals
My intentions, my longing.
Obscured by the hustle and bustle
Of my own heart beat.

I stopped.

You took a glance,
From a distance,
I feigned innocence
Timorous of nonchalance.

It was the same feeling long time I last felt.

The feeling that tickles yet incites,
The love and fear at the same time.
Frivolous gestures of two souls
Devoid of yesterday's hurt and tomorrow's sorrows.

Tonight I neglect that feeling.

In tonight's veiled moon,
I remember that of nightingales' dare.
To emancipate this soul from broken dreams --
The one hurting is now

Liberating.Waiting.Dreaming.

The Librarian

It was the color of tree I remember,
More than the smile and the flirting
of guys,
of lovers,
of those astrayand
of those in between.

Amidst the deluge outside
and wrath that Frank can only bring,
there were news of heavy thunder.

Putting into halt
the transport,
the plans,
and the flirting.

On stage I see faggots in changing colors and hues,
You admire the changes of colors and hue.

Wonder where they were from?

The colors,and the hues.

Like a nightingale you sang,
And made my swirling mind swirl much more.
I feel the spirit that only YOU can give.

I saw the emotions and smelled the leaves
of Acqua de Gio,
of cigarettes
and of liqour.

Then Frank, the librarian brought more havoc
and turned day into night.

The faggots stopped.

The fun halted.

You said we have to leave.
My heart yearnedfor more days like this.
If not for Frank, the librarian.

We may have not met.

Poem of My Heart

We said it was forever.

We thought it was.I thought it was.

I am a man of my ambition,
of fulfillment,
of dream.

You are a woman of your own self,
of world,
and all it's infallibilities.

But it was fate which brought us together,
and it was her which torn us apart.
I once thought life is how I make it.
It wasn't.

It is how fate plays with us
that shapes it.

Life is imperfect. Oblivious.Uncertain.

No matter how much I convince myself
That life is mine alone to meander,
Life will always be

Someone else's dream to batter.