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A few clicks till Judgment Day And Other Short Poems By Caloy Peña A few more clicks




I will


Leave me be


When silence strikes


Behind the tracks


Making it right


Loving you, forgotten


A few clicks before judgment day


Countless hours I call thee


I could’ve been you


If I was the last cowboy


I am what they say


I took a fork by the hand


Sometimes it isn’t enough


When your room becomes still


When darkness falls


Masturbation is not for kids


I see you, but do you see me


Time stands still


I worry not for tomorrow’s end


Coming to terms


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Foreword It’s been a while since I wrote something decent, or I think at least is decent. The past few weeks have been a grueling struggle to survive and keep afloat. It has been a difficult few weeks after my family has gone back home, and I have self-diagnosed myself with acute domicile affliction. Homesickness. They say people write their best works when they are sad or depressed or oppressed or alone. I’m writing this compilation with a big cup of cabernet sauvignon. Tipsy as I might be at the time of writing most of these poems, I feel that such vulnerability merits me more credibility, not for you, dear reader, but towards myself— to finally unmask myself once again from the dark recesses that my personage takes refuge is a lee in a battlefield that is worth taking. Read through the lines and figure out how raw I can actually be, and atrocious— or repetitive— as most of the lines might resonate, I ask you forgiveness, while at the same time, agreement that such sublime retort to poetry is merited to a man less fortunate than you who have the capacity to actually hold your loved ones at night and whisper sweet nothings unto their ears, as the night treks on in the shallow joke that the world bequeaths us, as it travels in its never-ending axis around the jovial sun. I bid you a good read, if you think this is what it should be, and an apology, if you feel you have been deprived too much of your time, after reading through the pages. Salut!

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I will I will let you touch my sun-kissed face If you let me kiss your tender lips And let me get lost in your labyrinth of locks All frocked, inviting and gleeful I will let you fill my head with senseless jokes, Trifling and wonder that seem to never end If you let me understand what your tears mean When you sit alone at a corner at night And heave a sigh so heavy. That it breaks my heart to dust. I will let you into my little secrets, those scornful even more, If you take me, without question, into your arms And wrap me until I fall asleep There where little boys dream of sunny mornings And girls take quiet walks by the bay.

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Leave me be Leave me be And let me die In the silence Of the still night, So that I may drown In my own tears And bask in full emotions Instead of feeling the loneliness Wrap my heart all night.

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When silence strikes When silence strikes, I call for you But you do not beckon me; I sit in the middle of the room, aching But you do not heed, nor see That I am tattered, bruised to the core Silenced by my own doing When silence strikes, I call for you But you do not beckon me. When silence strikes, I ache for you Your touch, your kiss, your eyes That subtle breath that wakes me up Is not there in when the morning comes. When silence heeds me to welcome it I call for you and run away, But little echoes are not that strong— When silence strikes, I call for you But you do not beckon.

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Behind the tracks She sits there, waiting for the sun to rise The calmness of the moon, her only companion. She sits there, crying before the dead of night The whistling winds, her only friends. She sits there, wailing her heart’s content The rustling of leaves, her little confidant. She sits there, keeping herself convinced That behind the tracks, life begins.

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A few more clicks before Judgment day I took a little sip of water, from the cup that sat nicely at the corner Of the table that served as my only companion, amidst the burning hot afternoon. She took pity on the loaf of bread, I saw— then she ate with much gusto After that, she looked at me all uneasy, thinking about the craziness of it all. Moments later, the time arrived—I made sure I felt that I was still alive; Grabbing my pulse, I was stirred for a moment, figuring out everything that’d happened. The littlest things— the cup, the table, the humid afternoon, the blasted weather I made sure everything was perfect—no mess, no frills, no unforgiving bother. A few more clicks, and that was it—how time flies when you fear it; When reality comes as a swift blow to the head, and to the heart, more heavily yet. I took a little sip of water, from the cup that sat nicely at the corner Of the table that served as my only companion, amidst the burning afternoon weather.

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I could’ve been you Hey you, how’s it been? Been a little while, since I’ve seen you here. So how is life treating a bloke like you? Still messing with the neighbor’s missus, are you? It took me a while, before I figured out That life was way better, without you around. I cried a bit, yeah, I know, how stupid But hey, we all make mistakes; don’t look at me that way. So what do you plan to do, now that I don’t have you? Still seeing the doctor for that little thing you call a fluke? I guess I’m just glad I called you today And see how great it is to not be you.

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I am what they say I am what they say A bloke, a braggart The worst of the crop The saddest, the frayed. I make people cringe; I scold them with lies. I make people suffer; Deliver lies, tears, and cries. I am what they say Dead among the living Thrown to the lions With no howl, no complaint, no remorse.

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Sometimes it isn’t enough Jeremy took the gun away; he didn’t want any of this—it just happened. He knew he was innocent, but none of them would believe. He thought it was all just a game, but it was a game that went wrong— Now there was little time for him to blame anyone; he was all alone. He took the gun, pointed it at the mirror—he didn’t like what he saw His face all smothered in blood, where kisses used to land, and smiles were abound. He knew he was innocent, but none of them would believe him now. He thought it was all just a game, but it was a game that went wrong— One, two, three more rounds. He felt the metal on his palm, burning the skin away. He did not falter, no—he welcomed the pain; it was a friend. Now there was little time for him to blame anyone; he was all alone. The lights went off, and Jeremy knew he was innocent but none of them would believe him No, not anymore.

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When darkness falls When darkness falls, I stay awake Wishing the light of the moon sucks me Into the pale light she grants the weary Who travel in the silence of the night. When darkness falls, I do not fear Because the darkness is now my only friend; She keeps me cold in the stillness And lets me play with my dreams. When darkness falls, I seem to forget How life is complicated; I have little distress Since darkness keeps me occupied Unwitting, unknowing, out of sight.

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I see you, but do you see me? She took a full five minutes to brush her teeth; Sally didn’t need all that time but she used it anyway. She calmly put the brush away, making sure there was no toothpaste left On the brush whose bristles were are frayed as herself. Two more hours, and she was out of there, she thought. Two more hours and she had the day off; comforting, she knew. She didn’t mind the noise; nor did she have little regard for the moaning. All she thought about was the clock and its hands that ticked away— slowly, She put the toothbrush inside her little pink cup, and wondered now still it was. There was very little to play around with in the room, just a few chains, cuffs, bolts. She didn’t mind the hands that reeled her in either. They were just hands, not people. If they were people, she’d be scared—hands do little damage; people do. Sally took five minutes to remove her dress. It took him five minutes later to ejaculate. Sally didn’t mind; all she thought about was the clock and its hands that ticked away— Two more hours, and she could go home.

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Making it right Cuff me; I did you wrong Relieve me of my dastardly ways Kick my shins, ridicule me Untangled my concepts of the known Sew me up, and shackle me good Screw the living daylights out of me Shoot a few more rounds. You deserve to make it right this time.

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Loving you, forgotten I don’t know if it still make sense I mumble a lot. I take that you feel I’m a tad crazy; I don’t blame you—I am. I figured that love, when forgotten Remains as love, only in a different state; It shrivels at a corner of the heart Until rain comes, and pours life to it. Love you is forgetting myself; I don’t mind; do you?

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Countless hours I call thee Stop it. I mean it this time. Leave me be. I don’t need this. Stop it. I mean it this time. Don’t force me to shove you back. Stop it. I mean it this time. I need a little space. Stop it. I mean it this time. Please leave; I need this time To be mine.

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If I was the last cowboy I would round ‘em up real good Give ‘em a good hustling’ Take ‘em for a long haul to the barn. I’d keep ‘em occupied in the prairie With whistlin’ and gaggin’ and shit-load of dirt Then take ‘em for a long haul to the barn. I’d make sure I make ‘em pay Hard, solid, straight-up And take ‘em for a long haul to the barn.

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I took a fork by the hand Little did I know that you hold the answers to my quandary; How could you, a spoon, in a vast array of cutlery. I needed some wine for the night And the cork-screw was obviously not working. The cork slowly etched away, as I gnawed through it With you in my hand, I was limitless—dare I say, bold I was unstoppable—a raging bull, wanting to take a sip And the cork-screw was obviously not working. Slowly the fizz wore off, and I let you go; the task all done. Now all it took was to gather some ice from the fridge And some chocolate to soothe the aching mind; And the cork-screw was obviously not working.

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When your room becomes still What is that you’re holding? Some Vaseline, tissue, and a picture of Marlene? Little man, I know what you’re thinking! Such absurd actions, merit more discernment More maturity, more honest judging. What is this? A dissident scowl? I am but warning you of the dangers Have you not heard of the rumours, all foul. What is that you’re holding, young man? Hide it from me, try as you want But a mirror hides no secret, Nor does a nosy companion that your room has become.

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Masturbation is not for kids The dirty secrets you hold in your hand As you squint in the night, watching gleefully Every move, every thrust you partake as well As if you were there, a part of the maniacal orgy That now stirs your young mind. Masturbation is not for kids, no not even the faintest; It takes a lot of thinking, you see Not just watching mindless heckles, Or flipping webpages of nakedness. It needs focus, charisma to the touch Little man, take your childish ways elsewhere Because masturbation is for grown men Whose problems in life have outgrown The littlest woes you have as kids As you squint in the night, watching gleefully.

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TIME STANDS STILL Time is irrelevant To someone who is far off In a land where dreams come true Only to those who have time to sleep Time is a folly For those who believe in ever-after It is a joke to many of us here Who toil the morning and the night Time is a distant mem’ry A failed attempt to settle the score It is a fleeting circumstance That empties ev’ry soul Time is something we all want But we have no control of It keeps us sane to a certain point But leaves us anyway. A few more clicks

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I worry not for tomorrow’s end What little that I have, I’ll give to you If that makes you happier What much more I have, I’ll give away It that evens the odds with you What sanity I have left, I’ll share with them If that makes sure I have your company What little I have, I’ll give to you Because without you, there isn’t any.

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Coming to terms Sure you know that things’ll always end up okay; God has a master plan. But are you part of that plan, my friend? Or are you merely a smudge on the side of the paper? Have you ever though of coming to terms With yourself first, then to other men? Would you be willing To sacrifice it all, or gamble away everything that you can? I say, are you sure things’ll end up okay When everything else says otherwise? Will you still stay with me As God lays down His master plan?

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I do a lot of crazy things when I’m tipsy. Writing a collection of poems is one of them. - Caloy pena

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I was tipsy and I needed a form of release for the sadness that I was feeling tonight. Here is the result: 23 poems. Not that I'm saying the...