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Bearer of Bad News: Poems About Misfortune

Jason, is an educator that uses his spare time to write poems


Bearer of Bad News

This is a collection of poems I wrote previously. Some the poem are about loneliness, death, injustice and failure. Some of the poem are just my outlet of my emotions during bad times in my life.

But we have to remember that any misfortune can be overcome.


The Sunday paper said:

He was a son, a father, a husband, and

A good man

May he reach the Lord’s hand,

May he rest in peace.

To the editor and family the man wrote:


Accept my condolences,

Now that you believe that

I am dead

Circle, I Chase


The wheel of time goes round and round,

Always forwards but never back.

A Mobius loop, an unending band,

Many seconds lost but never lacked.

Time is a gem, that I was told,

Too precious to be a waste,

More valuable than gold,

—Just don’t ask someone who is a laze.

For the sands of time falls down and down,

To the dune of moments in the infinitum,

History to be repeated till the end of dawn,

Recalling our boon and doom

How harsh a mistress Time really is,

Mistakes are final when they are done,

You might believe that waiting is bliss

But nothing is immortal when they are gone.

The clock ticks round and round,

I have no more strength to fight it back,

Hear I lay, in a bed I am bound,

Vision dreary, fading black

Prisoner 4-23

Court room is silent

The gavel’s thunder echoes

The sentence is passed

Desperate pleas ring

“That murder is not my deed”

It’s an injustice

My only fault done,

Drink ten bottles of cold rum,

Passed out on the street

No one believed me,

My friends, my family are gone,

Alone I stay here

This cell is my room,

This prison my new home,

These bars are my friends

I lay in my cell,

Waiting for the judgment day,

Angel’s horn, bursting

God is my witness,

I am good from heart to soul,

I walk, head held high

There! To the gallows—

They escort me to my rest,

My hands in shackles

They asked my last words,

I have nothing to reveal

There’s only silence.

The Nihilist and the Nil Lists

The Nihilist had written

A list like

It’s nothing.

He would give a man a list

What is written?

It’s nothing.

The man said “thanks?”

The Nihilist smiled,

“It’s nothing”.

Flickering Lamps


Broken grounding,

Shorting currents,

Chaotic pulse of light

On a peaceful still night.

Sudden electric burst,

Ends abruptly,

It’s a pyrrhic victory

That the darkness engulfs.

Sudden jolt of joy,

Depressed by loss of choice,

Start of a jubilation,

Ends with swift termination.

Let there be light,

And there is,

Let there be night,

And it was.

The bulbs tick

And it cracks,

Live as fast as a zip

And be gone in a zap.

Where Our Home Is


This home we had built, a home where we stayed

Where mem’ries gathered, where feelings cascade,

I fondly cherish this house with walls of stone,

But sadly, we will leave it all alone.

I have this feeling that started to grow,

Like a dynamite that’s about to blow.

When I look back at moments that we had,

I am irrationally sad and glad.

This is where our story has begun,

When a husband and a wife became one,

Where our two happy children run and play,

I’m teary eyed recalling the old day

Hush my love; I know that it is hard,

I remember when this is but a yard,

An empty lot filled with grass, it’s a hassle,

But see we endured and built our castle.

I also don’t want to leave our old nest,

For I keep in me a part of this place,

But we have to move, for more things await,

New memories to make, just have faith

For as long as we have each other’s love

This family is a rock held by powers above,

My love, be brave, before we hit the road

We are a home; where’ver our abode.

A Dream of Private Gonzalez

A returning soldier, Private Gonzalez,

Rides a bus bound to Zambales,

After months of battles and sleepless nights,

The horror he saw was ever countless;

It is a dream that he was blessed

To come home, alive no less;

But now it is time to come back to the nest

To see and care for his daughter, Tess,

To cheer for her in her singing contest;

He knows right now his heart is a mess,

He can’t deny this dream, ‘cause it is time to rest.

Private Gonzales now must attest

That God doesn’t play dice but chess,

It would be harsh to think it’s a cruel jest,

That he was shot in the chest,

Dreaming of a bus bound to Zambales.

Insomniac’s Poison


Am I asleep or am I

Awake? Longer than I should,

Mind is tired but the body

Still doesn’t want to rest.

My mind is a mess.

Dark circle around my eyes,

Bags larger than anyone.

There will be no escaping.

Moving on is quite hard,

When I know secrets that I shouldn’t.

My train of thought derailing

On track like a locomotive

With badly sized wheels.

I can’t go on anymore.

When I know

The futility of running.

I held in my right are capsules

That should help.

And on my left,

Another cup of Joe.

Either I pour another cup

Or put a cap in my mouth

Be it asleep or awake.

Goodnight my morning.

There Was Once a King

Hear here for he has arrived,

The man freest of all alive.

Once ruler of this street and beyond,

Witness everything he once owned.

See how people kneel before him,

Putting coins in a can with rusted gleam.

Men and women doesn’t realize,

That they can’t look at him in the eyes.

They are disgusted of his freedom,

Mortified by his dirt of a kingdom.

How he sit in his stony throne,

While they work down to their bone.

From the view of humanity,

This man is a master of his poverty

And everyone else are just knaves,

Slaves of their own conclaves.

Men fears the touch of their lord,

As if he brings a barbaric horde,

No one admits that they detest most,

His tattered once regal clothes.

How frustrating that he tried to interject

With all the pleas and begs that they reject,

His voice might fall on deaf ear

But his plight never more clear.

On the dark and coldest night

That would freeze even the proudest knight,

The King rest on his stony throne,

Skin turning blue before the rising dawn.

When the alley of the church is gifted light

The down trodden old man is nowhere in sight

The old failed king is never to be seen,

Everyone acts as if his existence has never been.

On God’s hour, the bell started to ring,

The king is dead, long live the king.

Ghosts in a hall

There are spirits in the hall,

Keeping the school alive and whole,

Always roaming the corridor,

Helping children is their honor.

Silently working, finishing things up,

Even if the going gets tough,

They bear their pretending smile,

Even if they walk a thousand mile

How admirable this specter is,

Helping in our trouble with ease,

Helps us be the better man,

Let us believe in all that we can

Year after year children would walk away,

Yet there they are grieving while they stay.

New children will now walk the halls.

These geists will now heed their call

Today, I linger in my office hall,

Giving my work all my all,

Dedicating my work to all I call home

I work like a bristle on a comb

Now, I wonder how they are,

For I have walked so far,

But there they stay,

Till to this day.

A Father’s Final Message for the Occasion


The moment she was born,

A promise I have sworn,

To protect her from heartbreak,

My oath, my duty for her sake.

Now, it seems I didn’t realize,

That it is time for a compromise.

I can’t always be by her side,

Her fate was never for me to decide.

Now I stand in front of everyone,

I hope this day just is done.

I’m forced to give this message

Badly written on a page.

With all the things that had been said,

I have a reason for a tear to shed

Her beauty shines when dressed in white,

Now I doubt more if everything is right

Now our home would be truly empty,

Our princess now given her liberty,

She will be where paradise is,

And I’m not at all please.

If I had a choice,

If only I had that choice,

I will never let her go,

If only I know what to do.

—It’s hard… to make words come out,

Sorrow is a gag in people’s mouth,

She’s still young, a whole life waits,

Yet I escorted her beyond those gates

Gates that only us…

Could walk back out again,

I hope that today it would rain,

To conceal my tears away,

You’re too young.

That dress was for your wedding,

Not for you to wear it in a casket, Emily!

It should had been you burying me.



What is more enchanting,

For the down and hopeless,

But a show that dazzles,

Or a soft hands caress.

Why peer into the void

When sparks can blind an eye,

Why listen to ruckus,

When songs can hide a cry.

Applause floods a circus,

The show of awesome feats,

Trapeze flips, strongman lifts,

Their tears dried on their cheeks.

© 2019 Jason Villar

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