Nimbus carnival

"Nimbus carnival"
by mario paolo macariola

I grieve for the raindrops
and nimbus carnivals
falling within my walls

for the chimes swaying
by the window,
wailing for thunder and lightning
for the unquenchable.
for desire

I grieve for the dissapearing light,
for the fading day.
for my vision that blurs.
for you,
my unrequited

the wind is driving me away.

you are the morning star
that sings in the voice of thunder,
your eyes are calm lightning.
you are what the sun and moon envied:
my immortal

but the wind is your conviction,
i long for you at arms lenght
the wind is your conviction,
together we are apart

you are what the raindrops
could never wash away

and so
the stormclouds gather
within my walls

Pain faucet

"Pain faucet"
by mario paolo macariola

through her wrists
empties her heart
flows her pain
like a faucet

numb as stone
cold as fog
she wastes away

from her wounds
flows her heart

where lies silence

Christmas

"Christmas"
by mario paolo macariola

it was santa's sled
that flew us over ice cream mountains
as we chased the sunrise
wrapped in ribbons

just like my heart,
that i left on your doorstep
will you pick it up?

I am a dreamer
who imagines
reindeers dancing on sundae cones,
and angels making love
in cotton candy

I am a dreamer
who imagines our hands
bound together by ribbons
as did our hearts
riding santa's sled
chasing christmas

into the sunrise
trailed by unicorns
we shall dance with cupid

Pyro Luster

"Pyro luster"
by mario paolo macariola


I.
everything was swallowed by the bright lights,
spinning and turning- like a vortex
i saw you in the visual discord,
beautiful as strange auroras.
were you counting moths again?

you know very well
how moths are attracted to the light,
your light; beaming from the hundred
sunsets of your face
reconstructing the demise of sodom
and hence its birth: purity

the moths burned
whenever they came too close,
they burned of sin,
the sin of your refusal and my insistence.
an inevitable desire.
--for you are fire.
a bright, warm and forbidding vortex
that pulls me towards its core: a lonely blue,
closer and closer until you see

that i am just a fragile moth.
then it would be too late
for i have been already drawn into your luster,
already dead
and reduced to ashes

II.

I, the moth
shall step away from you: my fire
and silently collect all my ashes into a single clump,
wallow in a few drops of rainwater.
then bask under the sun
for a few seconds
and who knows?
after a day or two,
I might just be whole again

to fly somewhere else
and bathe in another's flames,
to feel the wind on my face,
to adore another's cadence
such as limelight,
or to be intoxicated
by the sun's glow.

and it would never be the same again

I, the moth shall leave your warmth,
your core: blue as ice,
triumphant in the ashes
as a phoenix

III.

For one last time i'll be dancing with the moths,
into your glamour
and light,
into my fire
--into your heart

I, the phoenix
will recklessly indulge in your core,
linger in it;
and see how the world changes
from a lump of rock
to a fistfull of sunlight.

but you, my fire has a soul of ice
that conceals your true self,
like a shroud of paleness,
disguised as blue flame...
you seal away your identity

deep in the recesses
of what remains unknown
lies your desire:
your true flame:
a midnight sun thats hiding
in the darkness,
where also lies my true self:
a moth mesmerized by light,
your illusion which no one else sees

maybe when the flames
finally consume us
shall we reveal our true selves

not as a moth,
phoenix or flame
but as naked souls,
lost in the darkness
starving for light

IV.

Our souls of fire and ice falter,
still we long for the myth of light,
we starve for it:
melancholy burns.

like the flames
that was supposed to consume us
that proved to be nothing more
that illusion,
our grand idea
stretched to the point of truth.

but alas! we had been burned,
not by fire or ice,
but by our true selves
that we had foolishly believed
as naked souls.

now i know.
I am just a moth
pretending to be a phoenix,
while you are just fire,
our cores are ash and frost.

I, the moth had already been reduced to ashes
in the adamance of the wind,
to the pity of envious fireflies.
while you: my fire,
is diminished
and from the howling darkness
you formed the shadows,
where i found sanctuary...
in despair
where i found you,
you,
my fire,
my unrequited,
my death,
my end...

where begins life

Virgos Spoliarium

"Virgo's Spoliarium"

by m.p. macariola

You mused

with Juan Luna

the night you took part

in the carnage of spoliarium

down my back

the warmth of lips

and fingers brushing

every inch,

exposing lust, sorrow and love.

defining envy and greed

for every drop of sweat.

our eyes lock

and i see my soul in yours,

our minds wander

the fields of Van Gogh.

somewhere in it

a petal falls from a sunflower

and we cannot stitch it back,

we were like mirrors without a speck

of guilt,

wathcing the arms

of Venus De Milo

slowly burn away

Night Mirage

"Night Mirage"

by m.p. macariola

tonight i sleep in the arms

of solace

under an empty sky

into profound loneliness

my soul departs

to the far end of the minds vastness

to the shadows that repel light

wherein i shall linger

until the end, until i end

listening to the muted voices

in my head

that mocks me

like crickets

betrayed by

moonlight

illuminates you

now and ever since

you stood westward

bathed in the moon's fragrant silver.

have you come to redeem me?

Ikalawa ng hunyo

"Ikalawa ng hunyo"

by m.p. macariola

nabasa na naman ako sa ulan

sa pag iisa,

sa kalungkutan,

sa kawalan

ngunit di

mararamdaman ng tubig

ang aking pagluha

at di rin maririnig ng kulog

ang aking pagsamo

iiwan mo rin naman ako-

kasama ang liwanag na nilamon na

ng maiitim na ulap.

kasama ang asin ng mga natuyong luhang

umagos sa kanal

lilisan ka ng

marahan...

sisingaw na tila usok

katulad ng ulan

na siyang pumapatak

sa aking pangungulila