If  God didn’t care, would you still be here?

If God didn’t watch, why is life full of drama?

If God was dead, then why dream of nirvana?

If religion is bondage, I’m a slave eternal.

If religion is  cancer, my case is terminal.

If religion is a crutch, I’d claim infirmity. 

If loving you  was folly, I’ll be the biggest fool.

If commitment was stupid, I’d forget about IQ. 

If time had a price, I’d spend millions on you. 

If love was a drug, I’d be an addict for you.

 If we ever came apart, I’d use super glue.

And If love be a liar, then burn me at the witch’s pyre. 

If kindness was idiotic, I’d gladly be the dunce. 

If chubby is deadly, I’ll live on the edge.

If chastity was suicide, I’ll stand on the ledge.

If people aren’t equal then the factors are wrong. 

If modesty is old fashioned, then I’m a classic song.

And If  the good die young, I’ll accept martyrdom.

Yellow Nights

Lights at ankle height

Guides toward safety,

A gated community

Hidden in the mountains

Commercialized nature at its best

Courtesy of SMDC

Concrete passages

Light from behind

Welcome to man made paradise

An exciting opportunity

Premature retirement

Courtesy of SMDC

Yellow night

The trees haves eyes

Yellow light

Buzzing flies

A nice apartment is for the best

Courtesy of SMDC

A Christmas among the Trees

I live in the tropics, 

Barren of snow,  full of Christmas spirit.

The sun, hot and humbling

 Makes me thankful for the trees 

Just shady plants, no shady plans, 

The opposite of a busy bee. 

I praise the Great Creator.

His Son, the savior from Man’s Fall.

I feel the palms surround me, 

Flowers, grasses and vines abound

I remember His journey to Jerusalem,

His determined steps on sacred ground.

I  adore the peace, the not so quiet,

The birds call and other ambient sounds, 

The running water, the playful breeze,

Uncrowded delights, and  time with family.

I live close to earthly paradise, here in the Philippines

But I await the one on the other side, I hear it’s Heavenly.

The Guardian and The Fallen

I live with two angels, the epitome of naughty and nice. 

 One is my guardian,

 the messenger of Divine Grace.

 He is strict and straight and true. 

Nothing escapes his notice, my conscience within his sphere. 

He breaks bad habits, pushing me to achieve.

 The Other, my Fallen advocate, 

lieutenant of the Greatly Accursed. 

My angels fight and bicker and force me to decide.

 No matter what I choose, one is left unsatisfied.

  My angels are not like cartoons. 

They don’t stand on my shoulders and they don’t look a thing like me. 

They just want me to be happy.

 But is it happiness or fancy? 

With the path I wish to take they offer me free advice.

 One cautions to stay, the other loves to stray.

 To wander like a pilgrim, will my desires be mine alone?

 Have I been fooled by the fallen or am I fooling my guardian?

 My guardian so wise,  sweet and guiding, 

the Fallen is sweet too, honeyed words oozing with temptation. 

I know they tally their scores of who I listen to more,

 it’s like a mini-championship, the winner brings home my soul. 

I know my every decision affects their score, for the grand final on Judgement day, 

to bliss or condemnation,

Winner takes  all. 

With Sentiment in My Eyes

A while ago, I went away

 scared and alone, spirits low, 

full of ambition, dreams and doubt 

but even if I achieve fortune and fame,

 who’s to say I won’t still feel the same?

My love ones, players of fond memories,

am I important to them as they are to me? 

We had fun, we had our games.

We have lives filled with shenanigans, laughter and tears.   

  Visiting infrequently, hopefully , happily

My parents are quasi-strict, quasi-there

My grandma is kind with religious flair  

My siblings I annoy and are annoyed by in turn

My extended family both nebulous and firm 

Their love is the greatest credit  to my name.  

It’s a family of Hicaps, Sons and daughters

Broken and glued with pieces wondrously made

 A tumultuous and  wonderful rollercoaster of emotions

Better than any wealth, power or fame

My family, the starting point of my acclaim.

Your Friend, the Internet

Have you ever wondered what the internet would be like as an actual person? He’d probably be a guy then again he could be a girl. That would explain all the online shopping sites….Hmm. For the sake of this conversation the internet is a guy ok? (Feminazis please don’t kill me) 

He’d have all the answers like the cocky man he is. He’d be a willing messenger boy for everyone. He’s on everyone’s side, that is if you can afford him . Willing to give  everyone  a chance, then again he also has no loyalty, singing your praises one moment, insulting you the next. Often saying things that aren’t true, he seems to believe anything that is said to him.

The internet would be a gossip. Spilling news and announcing people’s dirty secrets for the world to see even if we really wish he wouldn’t.
He’d also be absolutely pretentious assuming he knows what you really mean even if he is completely off. When you try to correct him he refuses to see your point. (Unless you’re talking to professor Wikipedia but that’s another topic)

He is never there when you need him, but extremely distracting when he’s there. Making announcements, recommending things to divert you from your original goal, he can be the most distracting thing you’ll ever meet.

The internet can be an absolute rascal, but a rather useful one. A wellspring of information, he shares the most amazing things from articles to videos and so much more. It’s easy to spend hours devoted to him, especially when you need help in your assignments.    

You can’t help it if you want that connection. Whether you’re at home or outside you are always looking for him, almost as if his presence suddenly makes a place better.  You chase after him, but at the same time hope he doesn’t slow down. The internet truly is a special kind of friend, there is no one like him. But please don’t make him into anything more than that


Cry for Humanity,

heaven’s tears are falling down gray skies
on dirty land always littered with man-made debris.
Wash away our transgressions, our apathy, our graceless planetary care.
Our world, our home undergoing greedy renovations.
Man’s desire for greatness marking every surface
The ice breaks, the walls close in.
Our vast and sprawling land decimated,
Crammed with Leaders of Unjust Progress.

Cry for your country,

Your tears water the barren fields of yore.
The man at the plow has ran away,
chasing whispers of better opportunities that his forefathers left unheard.
We endanger life, we feed on lies
Trapped between extreme thirst and flood
We starve for attention, for recognition, for bread
Our dreams but grains of rice, we count them one by one.

Cry for family,

the one great love
Bound by blood and strife.
When confined and without distraction, we can grow no closer
Too close not to fight, all bark and bite
Volatile chemistry, sparks of creativity
Bitter words, Bittersweet memories
Man is shaped by his family
He is molded by those he draws near.

For yourself,
For your calling
For your freedom in the light
Cry to your God, to the being that will answer
Cry till the tears turn to blood and wash away your insufficiencies.

Oxygen Whispers

Branching through the lungs,

passive-aggressive molecular absorption in

tiny rivulets flowing with botanical cast-offs.

Breath in, Breath out

Can You Hear It?


Deep Breaths this time.

Flood your mind and 

try to fill the yawning expanse with tree-gifts:

glucose and paper backs

a stop-gap to death and anxiety.

Swallow reproaches like cough candy, solid ashy unspoken words, 

With mumbled frustrated sighs, airy and bitter.

Life-givers disappear into the unimaginable. 

It’s equivalent exchange,

Absorb and release.

In, Out, In, Out 

Who’s Listening?

Sullen rain batters down

punishing smokers like a disappointed mother.

A hydrogen homecoming straight into dirty potholes;

mingling and dancing with the grimy grim.

A chemical shower intended to clean the air.  

Walk safely, Little One.

Passive Listening: A poem about podcasts

Podcasts are so much easier than conversations.

The measured and thought-provoking ideas that speak to you

with excited nerdiness and self-assured expertise.

Intro music and manufactured giggling,

a dash of Casper, Quip and Audible promos for

a rainy day companion with a pause button.

Wouldn’t it be nice if you could fast-forward social niceties?

Skip the bolstering and rumor mongering like peddlers selling ratty washcloths.

No more missed calls or tired exaggerations.

It’s easy to listen when it’s on your own terms,

but it doesn’t make you a good listener

just a content one

Podcasts aren’t a strain on my social battery.

There’s no nagging or whining, just

Revolutions and Planet Money

with a dash full of Criminals.

They’re useful, informative, and minimal

and they don’t get mad when you fall asleep.

It’s getting personal without the people.

Listening without commitments as the sound vibrates

in your head-shaped works in progress. 

Taking the Leap

Writing a poem is discovering. Robert frost said that, so here I am discovering if I have any potential as a poet. No matter how hard I try and trust me I’ve tried a lot. I can’t seem to shake the feeling I might be good at this. In this blog I’ll be displaying some of my latest attempts at poetry hoping against hope someone will read it and not want to go jump off the deep end.

Poetry is what happens when nothing else can -anonymous