AUTONASCENT
then
there
within
as fair eilithyia beheld
in the fecundity of darkness
as life sorrowed
and love waned
nox adorned
selena kohled
eos rouged
the matrix parturient
light beckoned
divinity hailed
...ripe basil cometh
September 14, 2005
Thursday, May 3, 2007
anuk anuk anuna
naayima ay ay anuna…
sa hampas ng aking gunita
nabulag sa mapanlinlang na awa
pighati’y sumikil sa laya
dunong tila nawala
anuk anuk anuna
naayima ay ay anuna…
yabag ng iniwang alaala
sa pusong inarok ng pagasa
anino mong inanod ng luha
pigil, pilit na pananampalataya
anuk anuk anuna
naayima ay ay anuna…
10.21am mla viernes 4 may 2007
naayima ay ay anuna…
sa hampas ng aking gunita
nabulag sa mapanlinlang na awa
pighati’y sumikil sa laya
dunong tila nawala
anuk anuk anuna
naayima ay ay anuna…
yabag ng iniwang alaala
sa pusong inarok ng pagasa
anino mong inanod ng luha
pigil, pilit na pananampalataya
anuk anuk anuna
naayima ay ay anuna…
10.21am mla viernes 4 may 2007
Tuesday, May 1, 2007
excerpt from a rough work...
Chico wiped the beads of moisture from his brow, squinting at the hot glare of the sun. He swore under his breath, hating the infernal climate. It had only been three days since they have come back from Vienna and his body has not yet fully adjusted. His master is bent on making up for lost time, going through a whirlwind of activities all around the Hacienda and the Rancho, after all, it has been ten years since they left to tour the cosmopolitan centers of Europe for Rojo's education. He looked with affectionate pride at the young Don Rojo, only three years junior to his twenty four years. His relationship with the don has started with proud servitude, to honest friendship, to brotherly affection. But now…
He urged the horse on, "Senor, it is nearing siesta, I think it would be better if we go back to the house now, Genoveva would have prepared an elaborate repast for you, and she would be greatly hurt if you are not there to enjoy it. "
Rojo slowed his stallion down to a canter, "Yes, she does love to spoil Leonora and me."
"Well, it has been a decade since she last had an opportunity to do so."
Rojo laughed, his voice as clear as a crystal bell pealing in the early morning, Chico was distracted, staring at his master's smooth throat, his swan-like neck held back. "Chico, remember the stream in the woods?"
"Si."
There was an adventurous gleam in Rojo's eyes, "Amigo, do you feel like being spontaneous?", this partnered with a devilish grin. Chico responded with an apprehensive look. "Oh, don't be such a coward! Usted es como un perro que cola esté entre él sea siempre piernas..." Chico, by now used to the merciless teasing of the youth, scoffed then retorted "Huh, you dare the wrong hombre, senor. Hala! Lead on!"
Rojo broke into a gallop with the horsegroom racing after. They entered a part of the woods that is rarely visited by the people from the Hacienda. Within minutes, they reached a thicket of bushes and an ancient oak tree. Beyond this was a deep bend in the stream. This has been their private place since the don's childhood.
Rojo tethered the horse to the tree, and Chico followed right after. They used to come here a lot during hot summer days to splash and wade, sometimes even to bathe in innocence. This has been the place of their dreams of battles and adventures, of ancient treasures and chivalry. With the horse's bridles well secured, Rojo walked ahead towards the inviting water. Chico hesitated, suddenly unsure, and confused why he felt so.
Rojo continued slowly, feeling bold. For some reason he felt free, like he can do anything he wishes to do. It had only been two weeks before when he was sent a telegram informing him of the death of his only surviving parent - his father. Now his only blood relation in this world is his sister Leonora. They have never felt any genuine affection towards the man, more like civility, because it came automatically to them, and because it was expected of them. He came home to pick up where his father left off. He was now the lord of Baile del Sol.
Rojo has now grown up to become a self assured, suave, and intelligent young man. A far cry from the shy and bookish boy who was always sickly, who appealed to Chico's protective instincts. He took slow, deliberate steps towards the stream. He pulled off his shirt and stepped out of his trousers and boots languidly.
Chico swallowed with unease. They had taken baths together as boys, but there was something different now. Rojo was the Don now. And besides, the last time they did this they were both very young. Now… If only…
The young don stepped into the water. His skin glowing from their recent exertions. It was silken and creamy, tinged rosy in all the right places. Chico gruffly gasped for air. His air tunnels narrowing. He raked hungry eyes from the don's hair, the color of night ink. Its waves plastered with sweat to his head and the nape of his neck. His smooth shoulders now burdened by the responsibility his ancestors left behind. His arms and back smooth and ignorant of manual labor, tapering to narrow waist and hips. He dared to go lower to the tight globes of flesh, pert and teasing, followed by velvety columns that existed for legs and feet.
Rojo knew Chico was watching him, feeling the difference in his scrutiny, different from how he looked at him before. He felt bolder. He turned his head and looked with downcast eyes towards where the groom was standing. He looked at Chico under the curtain of thick, long lashes, and his rosy lips broke into a smile, a smirk. He purred "Are you just going to watch me all day? Don’t you want to play?" They both knew the game was different now, it has lost its innocence. The rules have changed.
Chico threw caution to the wind, his resolve melted by the fiery promise held in the depths of the stormy pools of his master's eyes. He took another raspy supply of air, puffed out his chest and walked towards the waiting don. His steps marked with purpose. Rojo felt burned as he looked at his servant, slowly undressing his apparel. After divulging himself of all pieces of clothing, he continued on towards Rojo. It was Rojo's turn to hold his breath. He was awed by the compact and sinewy flesh lying under the glorious bronzed skin of Chico, peppered by fine, dark hair. His eyes traveled down, but he caught it in time. He wanted to look away but he can't. His gaze was caught by the intensity of Chico's eyes. They were dark and hooded, but what he found there made his mind reel. Nobody taught Rojo about this. Nothing ever prepared him for this.
When the groom was only an arm's breadth away, Rojo was able to tear his eyes away, he gathered his wits and turned. This prompted Chico to say "Scared now, hijo? This was your idea… why do you turn your back now?" Rojo's confidence returned, he laughed, then dove into the cold, refreshing water. Chico gave pursuit to the tease. They stopped a few feet further, with Chico rising first. The don rose leisurely, gradually lifting his lithe body near Chico's bulkier package. Their faces near each other, Rojo looked up at the taller man, his breath fanning the groom's face. The groom inched closer, his arousal evident now as their loins touched. Rojo faltered.
"Rojo..."
"I think we should be getting back to the house now, Genoveva might be worried by now, you know how she can be…" the don stammered.
The groom was bewildered by the change in his master's mood, worried that he did something wrong he grabbed Rojo's hand who was turning away by now. "Rojo..."
"Let's go back now." Rojo stated with finality without even looking at his old friend. Chico understood, this was the Don taking over, not the friend and confidant that he knew. He let go without really wanting to. He heeded the direct request as if it was a command. "Si, Senor."
Rojo was hurt by the formality, but he had no choice, cursing inwards he picked up his clothing and dressed quickly. Chico dressed more deliberately, his mind going in circles, resolving that this situation will never happen again. The don untied his horse and placed himself on the saddle then rode speedily towards the direction of the house, leaving his friend behind.
Chico was left to contemplate the retreating figure of his master, "Who's the coward 'chacho?", he sighed and urged his horse to follow...
He urged the horse on, "Senor, it is nearing siesta, I think it would be better if we go back to the house now, Genoveva would have prepared an elaborate repast for you, and she would be greatly hurt if you are not there to enjoy it. "
Rojo slowed his stallion down to a canter, "Yes, she does love to spoil Leonora and me."
"Well, it has been a decade since she last had an opportunity to do so."
Rojo laughed, his voice as clear as a crystal bell pealing in the early morning, Chico was distracted, staring at his master's smooth throat, his swan-like neck held back. "Chico, remember the stream in the woods?"
"Si."
There was an adventurous gleam in Rojo's eyes, "Amigo, do you feel like being spontaneous?", this partnered with a devilish grin. Chico responded with an apprehensive look. "Oh, don't be such a coward! Usted es como un perro que cola esté entre él sea siempre piernas..." Chico, by now used to the merciless teasing of the youth, scoffed then retorted "Huh, you dare the wrong hombre, senor. Hala! Lead on!"
Rojo broke into a gallop with the horsegroom racing after. They entered a part of the woods that is rarely visited by the people from the Hacienda. Within minutes, they reached a thicket of bushes and an ancient oak tree. Beyond this was a deep bend in the stream. This has been their private place since the don's childhood.
Rojo tethered the horse to the tree, and Chico followed right after. They used to come here a lot during hot summer days to splash and wade, sometimes even to bathe in innocence. This has been the place of their dreams of battles and adventures, of ancient treasures and chivalry. With the horse's bridles well secured, Rojo walked ahead towards the inviting water. Chico hesitated, suddenly unsure, and confused why he felt so.
Rojo continued slowly, feeling bold. For some reason he felt free, like he can do anything he wishes to do. It had only been two weeks before when he was sent a telegram informing him of the death of his only surviving parent - his father. Now his only blood relation in this world is his sister Leonora. They have never felt any genuine affection towards the man, more like civility, because it came automatically to them, and because it was expected of them. He came home to pick up where his father left off. He was now the lord of Baile del Sol.
Rojo has now grown up to become a self assured, suave, and intelligent young man. A far cry from the shy and bookish boy who was always sickly, who appealed to Chico's protective instincts. He took slow, deliberate steps towards the stream. He pulled off his shirt and stepped out of his trousers and boots languidly.
Chico swallowed with unease. They had taken baths together as boys, but there was something different now. Rojo was the Don now. And besides, the last time they did this they were both very young. Now… If only…
The young don stepped into the water. His skin glowing from their recent exertions. It was silken and creamy, tinged rosy in all the right places. Chico gruffly gasped for air. His air tunnels narrowing. He raked hungry eyes from the don's hair, the color of night ink. Its waves plastered with sweat to his head and the nape of his neck. His smooth shoulders now burdened by the responsibility his ancestors left behind. His arms and back smooth and ignorant of manual labor, tapering to narrow waist and hips. He dared to go lower to the tight globes of flesh, pert and teasing, followed by velvety columns that existed for legs and feet.
Rojo knew Chico was watching him, feeling the difference in his scrutiny, different from how he looked at him before. He felt bolder. He turned his head and looked with downcast eyes towards where the groom was standing. He looked at Chico under the curtain of thick, long lashes, and his rosy lips broke into a smile, a smirk. He purred "Are you just going to watch me all day? Don’t you want to play?" They both knew the game was different now, it has lost its innocence. The rules have changed.
Chico threw caution to the wind, his resolve melted by the fiery promise held in the depths of the stormy pools of his master's eyes. He took another raspy supply of air, puffed out his chest and walked towards the waiting don. His steps marked with purpose. Rojo felt burned as he looked at his servant, slowly undressing his apparel. After divulging himself of all pieces of clothing, he continued on towards Rojo. It was Rojo's turn to hold his breath. He was awed by the compact and sinewy flesh lying under the glorious bronzed skin of Chico, peppered by fine, dark hair. His eyes traveled down, but he caught it in time. He wanted to look away but he can't. His gaze was caught by the intensity of Chico's eyes. They were dark and hooded, but what he found there made his mind reel. Nobody taught Rojo about this. Nothing ever prepared him for this.
When the groom was only an arm's breadth away, Rojo was able to tear his eyes away, he gathered his wits and turned. This prompted Chico to say "Scared now, hijo? This was your idea… why do you turn your back now?" Rojo's confidence returned, he laughed, then dove into the cold, refreshing water. Chico gave pursuit to the tease. They stopped a few feet further, with Chico rising first. The don rose leisurely, gradually lifting his lithe body near Chico's bulkier package. Their faces near each other, Rojo looked up at the taller man, his breath fanning the groom's face. The groom inched closer, his arousal evident now as their loins touched. Rojo faltered.
"Rojo..."
"I think we should be getting back to the house now, Genoveva might be worried by now, you know how she can be…" the don stammered.
The groom was bewildered by the change in his master's mood, worried that he did something wrong he grabbed Rojo's hand who was turning away by now. "Rojo..."
"Let's go back now." Rojo stated with finality without even looking at his old friend. Chico understood, this was the Don taking over, not the friend and confidant that he knew. He let go without really wanting to. He heeded the direct request as if it was a command. "Si, Senor."
Rojo was hurt by the formality, but he had no choice, cursing inwards he picked up his clothing and dressed quickly. Chico dressed more deliberately, his mind going in circles, resolving that this situation will never happen again. The don untied his horse and placed himself on the saddle then rode speedily towards the direction of the house, leaving his friend behind.
Chico was left to contemplate the retreating figure of his master, "Who's the coward 'chacho?", he sighed and urged his horse to follow...
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