In pursuit of a Muse

An open letter to the goddess Katha

I could no longer contain my hatred, Katha. I performed your requiem while traversing steep mountains just to be in front of this tombstone some say is your palace. Fourteen full moons have passed and my frail body already scathes to this warm air. The crows feasted on my open wounds and I can no longer drive them away due to my condition.

Still I chanted the words you long to hear
“Ohska sisha! Katha!” (Come to me! Katha!)
“Ohska sisha! Katha!” (Come to me! Katha!)
“Ohska sisha! Katha!” (Come to me! Katha!)
Until I could no longer bear to speak the words properly. And my chants turned to low whispers.

Feeding on these decaying rodents upon my feet came to be a treat in the long run. Barely to lift my body, I see to it that I kiss your tombstone each time the faint light of the moon touches its arches. Still it fell on deaf ears. I’m already beginning to doubt your existence. A goddess already warned me along the way that you don’t exist. But I mocked her and chanted your requiem in my heart while conversing with her.

A goddess of mourning, you are. Haven’t I had enough of this mourning for you still not to make your presence be felt? Even a soft whisper in my ear would do. Just to make me know that yes you do exist, and not just a damn fragment of my brittle mind.

I feel I’m nearing my last breath and soon bade this body farewell. I feel Ylolly drawing closer and closer eager to accompany me and be by his side.

Kiester

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Hints on pronunciation:
Oshka (Os-wah)
Sisha (see-Yah)
Ylolly {lee)

I woke up before her and saw the first ray of light hit her curled lashes. It glistened like corn hair against her deep eyes. Her long auburn hair rests upon her freckled bare shoulders. I ran my fingers above her pale red lips toward her ear. Then my hands made its way to her contoured cold back. It’s as smooth as an old brandy rushing thru my throat during lonely evenings. Her perfume and stale wine still filled the room even from last night. I took her small hand and held it with both of mine and brushed it on my cheek, kissed it tenderly and placed it over my heart hoping it would awaken her. There was no response. I tried to contain my tears but few I can’t hold longer. I rested my head over her chest, and stared blankly. Every moment elapsing the more I held her hands tighter. I rose to my feet and kissed her lips to bid farewell. Such finality I thought could only be seen in movies, and it feels I’m trapped in one. Covered her with the white linen blanket and exhaled heavily.

The roses are no longer red.
There is no warmth here in my bed.
Things come running over my head.
It’s no use now for you’re already dead.

Dark room.
Stale coffee.
Ashes and butts of cigarettes on a nearly filled ashtray.
Cracked peach blank walls.
Neatly fixed bed with books by its side.
Scratch papers of poetry.
Scratch papers of women’s number.
Dysfunctional extension phone.
Fitness magazines underneath a side table.
Smut magazines in a hidden old bag.
Metal plates for my dumbbells.
Sands from Boracay in a small pot.
Broken alarm clock.
Unfinished matte floor in gray.
Four pin lights where only one works.
Edgar Allan Poe, Anne Rice at shelves
Unnamed CDs stored in a box
An old black radio by the bedside.
An electric fan given by an ex
(She reminded me once she wants to have it back)
Different bags hanged on an unused drawing table
An old used KFC bucket used as a bin.

It’s my lair when I’m proud.
It’s a dungeon when I’m in a cloud.
A place you don’t want to be found.
If I die I won’t make one sound.

If I was Orpheus, I’ll take you with me.
In a realm you’d be enchanted and feel free.
I’d wrap you with my serene voice and comfort you til eternity.
I’d close your eyes and offer a different reality.
Your ears would be a slave to every note of my lyre.
Your thirst would be quenched with just a smile.
Together we’ll travel it may take awhile,
To seek new sounds and some different style.

If I was Orpheus, I’ll take you with me.
And chain your heart for only me you’d see.
A resonant minuet named after you,
A natural courtship only my music could do.
Feel the harmony coming from my soul?
Will give you heat and never feel cold.
These nylon strings my fingers crept
And touched those who hears and so they wept.

But I’m no Orpheus as you can see.
I’m just your mere Eurydice.
Orpheus it’s who you are for me
And I won’t mind being your Eurydice.

Your vodka tonic
And your soda drink
You savor how it bursts
The darkness wraps reality
A handshake to a curse

You breathe filthy air from your open wounds, and
You seek a nemesis on the other side of the moon

Oh friend just take my hand
close your eyes and trust your senses
There’s no use holding back,
It’s the same old line until we
reach the end

Your spiral life is heading nowhere
A fate no one deserves
That emptiness you drown with booze
A mask worn proud by fools

Well you lied to yourself pretentious glory
And you did afflict the weak I think that’s sick, yeah

Oh friend just take my hand
close your eyes forget this madness
It’s best to hold it back while there’s still time
To pick up where you left.

The calm black sea seems to lead to eternity. Flicker of light seems to be scattered like gems as it crashes its waves upon the shore. The moon heed to the request of the sea not to show itself up. Warm air enveloped my body like an embrace of life, but pawns my soul to something darker on the other side.

I came across a lady in white with hair cascading to her waist. A vision that leaped from a Mona Lisa copycat struck my mind. She held out her paper white hand for me to take.

“Alone?” she asks.
“ I invoked the soul of Katha.”
“ Katha? Goddess of mourning?”

Need her say that? No war present by these gods on my knowledge.

“ There are no gods.”
“ Mock my wisdom. Yes, you may. But my faith would never wane.”
“ The gods gave way to extinction.”
“ Making you a god.”
“ Yes.”
“ But you’re no god. Never knew you.”
“ I’m not a god. Yes. Katha is.”
“ So why the confidence to stand before me?”
“ You also claim to be a god.” She replied.
“ Placid human.”
“ Ravenous mind.”
“ A kiss of scorn you may offer some. But not for me.”
“ I forgot your wisdom is excellent.”
“ And your sarcasm is perfect.”
“ Invoking Katha?”
“ Yes.”
“ There is no god Katha.”
“ The goddess of mourning.”

She reached for a dried branch and placed it near her heart. Hurt signifies this action for gods. For a goddess like her could gain everything except shed a tear. And a being like me could ask for anything except wisdom.

“You could gain it.”
“ No I can’t.”
“ Yes, you can’t.”

For the hyperboleans

I walked through darkness,
But found no consolation
Excitedly hopped through the sun,
But never felt its heat
Flew through the clouds
But never felt the mist
Dived the deep Atlantis,
And found colors never complete
Stared death at its face
The numbness took its toll
Enjoyed rivers of wine
Never fed my soul
Spent days with different
Women’s unwavering beauty
Bloody red rose moist lips
Tried to battle this apathy.
Earnestly thrust my sword to oblivion
But there’s still no consolation
Bathe myself in pools of scorn
Filth wrapped every part of me
Life. Breathe. Reality.

Face one
Smooth as silk from bud it grew
Mountainous peaks chosen men go
Resting their mouths at its rosy peaks
Tasted nothing yet emotions sweep.

Tender earth pressed by the palms
Awoke the buds seeks to be calmed
Round and twins to and fro
Raising heat but still we go

Face two
At its peak the children fed
A taste of life where first beheld
Relief of thirst weaving life
The is no time chosen to seek its plight

Face three
Alas! The buds are dry
Wilting brown the peaks now wry
Lest it has no use
But still a place, men would always choose.