*a constant parallactic paradox, sublime*

Visual Arts

A Selection of 10 Photomanipulations

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These images are originally uploaded and credited in xyldrae.deviantart.com

Xonnette*Soul is now up!

On what expense does a man bare his soul
to a woman he does not intend to keep?
And on what expense does a man keep
a woman he does not intend to bare his soul with?

Excerpts from On What Expense.

Read More in poetry.xyldrae.com!

Leaving The Moon and Art Night With Kids

By Xyldrae Diane Espineda Jacob and Xyljon Noel Maano Jacob

As the car turned they were
Leaving the moon…
Footprints of houses, homes
Carried by tenacious flesh at legs’ edges

A road turn that turned new art old…

Poet’s anatomy,
Rapid physics on perplex dimensions;
Star-written compositions of astronomy
Fashioned toward astrology…
Biology of souls
Biology out of bounds
Empathized chemistry…
Literature found…

Child or wanderer?
Or both? What do we know?

Howling breaths aside from taking them
Chants of the sufferers, slaves to Allure
Surfers of the unfamiliar
Surfaces of a fleeting rocket

Will an explosion occur?

It all began with leaving the moon…


While driving my sister Wanna and her son Baby Jon to buy milk, the moon hanged beautifully on a thicket of clouds and a shy gathering of stars rendered a calm night. On one turn Baby Jon uttered: “MOMMY WE’RE LEAVING THE MOON! WE’RE LEAVING THE MOON!”

The statement called for a literary unfolding.

It was art night when this poem was created. In my Valhalla the kids came. Baby Vaughn said “Tata Di can you teach me how to make a poem?”. Baby Jon said “Tata Di can I draw?” So both had their pens and empty sheets. One wrote. The other drew. Baby Vaughn was unable to complete his first poem because Erasure made him decide not. Yet him and I constantly paid attention to the 3-yr old’s drawings. On one piece Baby Jon explained: “These are footprints of dinosaurs and …. ” I didn’t hear clearly. Then Baby Vaughn fondly smiled and said “Are you nuts? Only dinosaurs and chickens and animals and people have footprints.” Then I asked the latter, “but isn’t that what Baby Jon said?”… Baby Vaughn said (with a facial expression that connotes some sort of amusement to his Baby brother):

“No. He said ‘footprints of dinosaurs and houses and chickens and dogs…”

Then we both giggled while the littlest was busy with his masterpiece. I told Baby Vaughn, “Footprints of houses! That’s some kind of Imagination- Houses ought to have feet to have footprints. I find that statement very poetic.” Of course, I could not teach this adjective (poetic), yet, to a 6yr-old. So I just told him to carry on with his poetry and use imagination in such a way.

And that is how I came up with the poem “Leaving The Moon”. So since I’m using Baby Jon’s metaphors… He’s technically co-author. 😀

Baby Vaughn finished his first two lines of “The Big Kingdom”:

by Xylvaughn David Gonzales Jacob

The Big Kingdom is a beautiful kingdom
Where joyful people have lots of freedom

So there goes his first rhyme.

Xylvaughn's First Digital Artwork

Copyrighted in xyldrae.deviantart.com

DECONSTRUCTING CINDERELLA and some other poems (WARNING: Not suitable for little girls!)


Everybody knows her story… branded Cinderella:
She was born. She lost her mother.
Some witch took over. She lost her father.
Her properties coveted by step-women.
One day with the help of pests for friends,
And her bored fairy godmother,
She catches the lead clown in a social circus most grand
Leaves one of her shoe pair upon unethical eluding
Per chance to be found.
And she was.
Clown boy puts her back in her original place
And they flatter happily ever after.

Here are the non-moral lessons:
Cinderella is a loser.
This has nothing to do with parental loss.
She simply lost her sense of self
When she chose to be coveted
She had no role in the story
Aside from being the conflict for the doers of deeds.
Pests got to be friends.
Fairy godmother existed purposely and looked good.
Clown boy is tagged heroic
And step-women were made necessary for all.

To be not mundane, know yourself and be.



If I could get some native to lean this rooftop pillar
Paint half his face with sunlight, radiance exact,
Take a snapshot and go
Send the photo to some Sherlock Holmes
To identify exactly when and where
My timestop has been missed…

It would be a little less in vain.



Ennui is offspring to a fool and his continuity
They make such a horrid family
Casualty to awareness
Blasphemy through silence.