The Aged

How pleasant it must be
To grow old and white haired.
To watch the fresh generations,
So young and unprepared.
And smile as they fiddle around
In the first part of their life.

To watch all mankind
In its new lows and new highs.
To find peace in that
You've done all you need do,
You've said what there is to say.
And even if death do you part
Heaven provides another day

-pangun

Slow Motion

A heart beat dragged out
Over tantalizing seconds.
The flash of a smile, so vivid,
now remembered in sadness.
The palace of your childhood,
now eternally lost.
Still getting nearer,
although time seems to stop.
Loving moments are relived.
So many things you wished to show her.
Life speeds by
as the headlights get closer.

Cracks

What kind of skewed outlook do I have on life.
What is this prescription I'm wearing?
If only seeing the truth was as simple as throwing those glasses away.
You don't know how much i want to be able to see.
To claw, punch and fight my way back.
To search the Drug Store shelves for "life adhesive",
Take a double dose,
And melt this pain away.

Lazy Battlefield

Dawn's first rays broke the horizon.
Creeping and growing,
Till my window shades were lined with gold,
And light shot through its cracks.
I hit the snooze button,
And dreamed up some poetic lines,
While i dug deeper into my trench of quilts
To strengthen my defense against the cold.

Dancers

A setting Sun,
Alone on the horizon,
I stood looking to sea
Remembering its last embrace.
Shadows grew
And consumed there makers.
Becoming dancing monsters
In Ball Gowns and Suits.
The City glowed and let them in.
And i laughed and shook my head
At their clumsy steps
And clobbering din

-pangun

Past Times

Do you know that feeling?
I hope you do.
You look back at your past,
and laugh at the things you knew.
Petty arguments,
pointless conversation,
and blind love.
or more like blind crushes.
All of this is in my history.
I've grown up and those days are gone
Till, a year later i open this book to this page
And laugh at what i thought,
cringe at my poetry, and smile at how much I've changed.

-Pangun

What is A Poem?

What is a poem?
Who writes a poem?
Laws are written by politicians,
A musician sings his songs.
But a poet writes not a poem.
For the poem is not his own.
He writes of the valley,
He writes of the sun,
He writes of God,
Tho whom poems belong.