Pop tunes for February 14

(From here to eternity)

Their embrace in Mantua has lasted five thousand years & archaeologists are amazed how their bones could stay hidden in the crypt of shifting stones – Maybe, young & full of Varona’s passion to have made such fatal & final covenant. But, was it love that brought them together & having sworn in the name of the infinite, they could not have enough of each other & chose to perish in a manner folklorists would deem the heart’s mission in this age where love is almost always false & impossible? Was it misfortune that drove them into each other’s arms & in fear & panic locked themselves in an embrace a million times longer than their lives? This neolithic lovers have spawned so many cautionary tales we find ourselves perplexed & speechless: How fantasies we recount & cherish as proof that love is forever & real release us from our prison house of futile hope & unimganibale despair.

(Love is a many splendored thing)

The morning breeze scatters
the diamond glitter of the sun:
He couldn’t have enough of her,
she probably of him.
Being young, the earth
moves faster than their dreams.
Noon brings out the wine & cheese
& cruel lines on their faces.
Their hearts beat slower.
Their bodies wrapped
in the shadow of a dead star.
Shards of laughter litter the floor.
Then, “Suddenly, it is evening.”

(Got to believe in magic)

But only this,
this moment,
this here,
this now,
this company,
this wine,
these kisses
& the sweet, sweet scent
of sweat & tears
that make the bodies soft,
tangible, real –
only this
& the word
that doesn’t speak the truth
only the music of its saying –
Yes, this moment
that tells only
all possible moments
in a future
that will never be.
So lovers should live only
for this, this here, this now,
this company, this wine,
these kisses.
Tomorrow is full
of trickery.

(Trying to get the feeling again)

To be young & in love
on this crimson day
when lovers exchange roses, of course,
& kisses to act out a courtly rite
that they exist only for each other
& the devil can’t interfere
where cherubs giddily stir.
That’s all there is to it:
A hemlock they must drink
if only for the world to beware
that evil won’t dare tread
where blind hearts meet.
“Damn the torpedoes,
full speed ahead.”
O love exists!
This crazy gambit
if life is really pure hell, pure shit.

(Valley of the dolls)

Anna Nicole Smith, 39,
media celebrity & Playboy playmate,
died at a Florida Hotel,
& the curious felt curiouser
of the strange circumstances:
Heiress she was to a contested fortune
from a dying billionaire
who professed that he loved her dearly –
Something everybody thought
was scandalous for one so young & lovely
& one so old & wanton.
But the heart, cycnics say,
works in mysterious ways…
She pulled herself up
by her own bootstraps
& the trail of flashbulbs & grief
hadn’t left her since.
Do not speak then of love
when you marry into the filthy rich…
But O how she loved badly,
how she loved tortuosly.

(Staying alive)

Of course, wind & rain
can be clinically explained
in a mathematical equation –
But this labyrinth
keeps changing direction
& no architect can map out
the algorithm of winding passion –
Where lies the center?
Where lie the exit & opening?
How did it all begin?
The rule of love has a logic
all its own:
We can only celebrate
the wild leap of the heart
with the patience of Job
& mourn
the slow waning of the pulse
with the wisdom of Solomon.

(Just a love song)

“Ingat,” she says softly.
Before closing the door behind her.
“Ikaw rin,” he says softly
holding his heart
bleeding in his hands.
Always, always
the wind icily whistling.

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