at twenty five.

They called it quarter life crisis,
an existential dilemma one cannot escape.
A phase one simply goes through,
forget even as the worlds keeps on spinning.
A period of confusion and epiphany,
a small hurdle in the long run of fate.
Is this the face of failure or shot in success –
oh such feeling of youth, full of unrest.

In celebration of Bad Poetry Day (18th August), I made a little poem that talks about the ‘bad’ phase one goes through at 25.

ruby woo

the window to her soul –
a peek in the blazing fire
ignites a warmth within,
shows wonder, laughter, sorrow,
brings forth your shivers.
a pale cover of sensation,
the right touch turns vermilion.
lacquer in
ruby woo, scarlet,
a real damsel’s weapon.
the dark, alluring simper,
her greatest poison.


Inspired by my recent MAC haul including the iconic Ruby Woo matte lipstick. Every time I wear the Ruby Woo, I feel like a totally different woman with oozing confidence. Was actually writing a blog post about the recent purchase but it seems that I’m having problems uploading pictures due to the fluctuating internet connection. Let me know your thoughts! 🙂

words enchanting


Skulls and roses,
the heart and the mind,
Thoughts and emotions,
butterflies and bones;
each are alike,
yet each seems to oppose.
*
Through rise and fall,
of celestial orbs;
Through the constant tick and tock
of mechanical clocks;
Through doubts and indecision,
suddenly,
a magical moment found.
*
Years passed,
caged in an enchanted sleep;
Yet in this magical night,
and the splendor of words,
ignites the sleeping beas
t


The notebook in the photo was what I once called as my perfect notebook the moment I laid my eyes on it. I can’t seem to find the courage to start writing on it since it was given to me as a gift. I hold it with so much reverie that I think that my thoughts and my emotions aren’t worthy enough for the blank pages it beholds. In fact, I even searched and bought for a new one. Yet, just only last night, this magical moment happened, and I was finally able to gather up the confidence that I need to start devouring the pages and fill it with my own wonder.


one of those nights

I stare at the keys, taunting me
illuminating blue light, dark thoughts
it’s crazy how these feelings do.
Raw, unfiltered, unmasked
letting it all go in heavy, little presses.
Where to start, how to continue?
Ten thousand more hours I need,
to make little pieces that count.
Trying times, jaded mind,
the white canvas, blank lines
my bunker underneath this mess.
A scream of plea, a cry for help,
created a world to keep me safe.


smothered

one last time, I told myself
look you in the eyes,
feel the tenderness of your lips.
one last bottle, as i empty another
enough tears and such sad music,
shut these mem’ries that linger.
one last drag, huffed and puffed.
the warm comfort of your touch,
now part of my haunting past.


must’ve been kismet, or call it fate
maybe just my own sinful measure.
count the chug, the drag, all the tears i’ve shed
in your arms, my walls could never deliver.
again, staring at those deep dark eyes,
forever – my undoing, i’ll surrender.

let the bull win

My whole body trembling,
pressed my foot, held tighter,
Going on superhuman speed,
the world flashing in red and green.

The chance I see is all it takes,
my fate to be etched forever.
A silver knight riding before me,
an opportunity to seize – I’m ready.

The voice urged; I pushed further,
took the battle to the sharp curve.
A fraction of a second it took,
the knight, the curb, my world.
I fought, I spun, and shuddered –
more is what I deserved.

Inspired by one of the moments in the eventful race that begins the Formula 1 2020 season. Looking forward to see more exciting races for the rest of the season.

alternate reality

In a parallel universe,
colliding you and I – freezing,
stopping clocks;

In a parallel universe,
my grasp matches yours,
steadfastly strong;

In a parallel universe,
your voice wanes not,
sorrow has no place;

In a parallel universe,
for you and I alone,
planets, stars align;

In a parallel universe,
we would be
what is of
love.

how free?

Dripping ink on parchment,
the quill – the only thing I have left;
Family in brisk danger,
beloved betrothed to another;
A piece of paper – it all started,
tempted to rip it, tattered.
Though each breath numbered,
Blossoming freedom is all that matters.

Lines of verticals, all I see,
Each wall domineering o’er me.
A loaf of bread, I had to take,
In return, soul and body encaged.

Politics, greed in every turn,
sins, injustice and stronghold –
let’s watch it burn.
Thoughts voiced and acted
no longer numbered.
How does one use this privilege,
this fought and died for – power?

Inspired by what’s happening in the Philippines now, where our freedom seems to be at stake with the new anti-terror law that has been signed just today. Channeling my anxiety, disappointment, and fear through art.