Kristoffer Randolf Ramos

Near the sea,
I filled the earth with fan leaf tree
To give chirping robins a clasp, and hide
Late the day, one enjoys the ebbs of tide
...

Describe not what empathy is in a not so hard to bear way on my account. I' am churned up in confusion, realizing that in a not so distant future, I will witness how you un utterly misjudge my spirit. My heart is not calloused as you may see it seems. Those pricking pain may prick me not now, but time will find its way to let me know I feel your suffering (words in mind as I see pt in suffering and tacitly find comfort in silence) . I may find comfort in company of those who take pride in easing my pain, and I will find it vexatious to handle those who let my tears flow, for my situation calls for preserving my dignity until my last breathe brings life to my body, and the last dropp of my blood will stop flowing through my veins.

Treat me not like a guinea pig, you may realize that I am still a person and will always be who feels pain, but comfort is not on my side. You may see and feel the beauty of living and eternity in suffering and that life is priceless, for now you may be blinded by the blossom of youthful vigor, Do not the ticking time betrays? , for now time is on your side. Tell me now, whom are you going to trust? , and so time silently betrays.
...

This little thing,
larger than life,
the gracious pursuivant of journey
with quirks on its gait.
...

Emancipation shouts aloud
From the freedom that enslaved
Seemingly plausible delight
Buries brutely a habitual grave
...

Sleep tight my child
shroud yourself with blanket of childish innocence
I drunk the cupful of worries
that keeps me awake this late
...

The end of a means is goal directed whatever the cost, it will always benefit the one who intended to harm. Any tactics may hold the answer to accomplished goal and no matter how shoddy it is the only way to eradicate a threat is a hidden use of mortar conspicuous to logic...

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...

The untimely death of my grandmother is a grief producing tragedy of our family. Every news that regards death in its formidable form, there is no exception. Even in the hierarchy of caste system of human race, death put its name in vain. It vows to no one, from high profile to the poorest among the poor, death strikes its hellish glare without warning, a devastating inference among those who were left behind by its trail.

Death knows no boundaries, offer no clues on whether when to strike and what way would it strike. It is a great representation of eternal sadism. Human race has no way of renouncing its role in embracing fully the grim wrath of death in its unlikely time. Is God sadistic enough to use death as a parable role played by all creatures who took flesh, incomprehensible by human's feckless mind in its highly advanced disposition. Is it God's way of enlightening us that with our education and achievement, still, we do not have ways of knowing the meaning of such sententious event that captivate inquiring minds.
...

Stretching beyond horizon,7,100 acre ricefield
golden beyond gold in sapphire blee
Plowing gowpen that hobglobin's deed
Disenfranchise millions who owns the field
...

I wish, I was a feather gliding in air
Soft as the crystal's flare
And wish to be blown anywhere to take
Journey not by wing hook on peregrine's fleet
...

Thank you Miss Ennui for your elaborate encomium
And prayers for time you foretell
The demise you prayed for, my enlightenment's well
That within your name lies a character hard to change
...

Who would define the silver linings of the spring
The rushing river that defines peace?
If leaves are golden as it falls from the trees
Who would define this bliss?
...

If it is not for love that you love me
Then it is not love that is truly love
Freely we choose what to feel innuendo
The time that love is in the air
...

There is no other sponge like the mind
In immutably soak all sequitur in slew
In traverse of rain that pass the lieu
Will always find shoggy sponge tremellose pose
...

It turned to gray
With raging cold inferno
Traces of its gloomy haze
Soon the land in contagion
...

I built a haven,
between the road less traveled and the road well traveled by man
Who are longing for answers and they found none
All roads are poorly lit
...

The day you were born mirth and wild
Mire is the bosom in yuletide
Her charm lend the chariot and thee enthroned
In clod through autumn, loved thy brethren a hundredfold
...

You sat with your solitude under the plenilune sky
And tell the shore to have a plangent sigh
Who was made by laws invisible to the eye
And be complaisant for you not to cry?
...

Poor shadow,
whose soul unknown,
looming in phantasm
of nights ambiguity.
...

Gentle sleep, this shiver, a sweet embrace.
Sweet as nectar on budding rose of May.
From a window, a wind as sweet invisibly traced
Though the night is a long road we find
...

Red flower that bee cometh
the dew have kissed thy lips
thy sight is peace
a thousand bees didst tamed.
...