Category Archives: Poetry

Parola (Lighthouse)

Ituring ang iyong sariling
Tagahawi ng ulap
Sa kalangitang kulimlim
Kampanang yayanig
Sa bawat nilalang
Magigising ang lupang
Kulang sa dilig…

~*~

Tila yata nabanlian ang mga araw ng walang-hanggan

Yumayanig pa rin sa mga pilat na sugat ng nakaraan

Galit na para bang umaarangkada ng walang humpay

Nilait na alindog, laging sinusubok ang sarling tibay

Ng dumadausdos na bagyo, uubusin pa ng kalangitan

Ang malakas na ulan, ibubuhos ang lahat kahit kulang

Para durugin ang konkreto ng kanilang nakausling mga buto

Ngunit hindi papalagpasin, nakabilanggo sa bawat minutong

Aawatin at aawitin, halina’t pakinggan ang boses na walang aruga

At ano pa kaya ang mga pagkukulang na hindi sinasadya

Ngunit ang maantak na balat kung saan ang kalumbayan nakatampok

Ay umiwas sa huni ng dapithapon, at nagdurusa pa sa munting usok.

It was as if the days were scalded by forevermore

Still trembling from all the scarred wounds of the past

A fury that seems to plummet on without ever ceasing

Vilified captivation, constantly testing one’s strength

By the cascading storm, now emptying the skylines

Of torrential rain, deluging all to give despite the lack

Just to shatter the concrete from their protruding bones

Yet never squandered, and incarcerated by every minute

Restraining and singing, come listen to the voices without sympathy

For what other shortcomings might have been unintentional

Though the tenderest flesh where every sorrow is exposed

Has avoided the humming of twilight, and is tormented by mere smoke.

~*~

Ikaw ang liwanag sa dilim
At sa paghamon mo
Sa agos ng ating kasaysayan
Uukit ka ng bagong daan…

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rusty mailbox

you’ve got that

american blue in the very pits

of your iris,

and sometimes it feels

almost electric

but i know i’ll just end up

with a black eye if i

keep on staring

i’m not usually this brand of rude

but i can’t help it

if i’m clichĂ© suckered

by that beach-at-early-gentle-dusk

kind of blond,

figure i could still taste

sea salt in my throat if i inhaled

hard enough

maybe you’re afloat

waiting for

a false breakwater romance

drowning siren song

with a hateful kinda endearment

and speaking of

you hate sports and my visual arts

but you like virtuous

green heroes

and staying up for 38 hours

and i like monochrome serial shows

and the number of

sweets i could still spell out

if i threw your full name

in an anagram machine and let it

run wild, here’s one:

cotton candy

maybe that’s no fun for you

don’t worry, it’s no fun

for me either

but it’s always fun to dream a bit

afternoon stargazing

spitting grey fur

overthinking about it some more

buttercup, that’s not one

but i quite like it pinned on your hair

if you won’t mind

i don’t live near a garden

but we could always find some way

or another

to quote a reference

for something

you probably don’t listen to—or do you?—

i’m never gonna see it

all in bloom

because now

it’s almost late spring

(summer ’round my axis)

and not fantasy football season

and i think i love you

all the same

so maybe i’ll just stretch

out my stiff spine

write a generic letter with no

return address

and turn the unplugged television on

just to see how it all

pans out.

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brushwork

peace in painting

colourful nothings

tranquil world building

depths over blending

.

peace from painting

painstaking everything

images constructing

for an evoking unveiling.

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In Excelsis

He proclaims to ravage your sanctity with the act of a knighted defender

Find another way to twist the tales, for he’s the tactless paladin, oh-so clever

And he’s far too proud to suck the hollow fibs right off of his glowing teeth

But when it goes around, it comes around, so just strike a match for his greed

Because he’s most obviously the higher man in such a simpleminded charade

Crashes his temples against the ground three times so you would hear his pity parade

He’s better off, he’s better now, he’s still stuck grovelling in his plagiarised sanctimony

All hail to the king and his fucking sharp things, his blood’s thicker with every abusive elegy.

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terraria

autumn leaves

and nothingness

seasonal escapade

ache more for less

.

hills that whisper

junipers without whim

love without living

wounds without skin

.

mental imposter

corrupted serenity

flimsy enclosures

where art humanity

.

mountains that shake

hellebores without bloom

live without loving

oxygen unconsumed.

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Erethism

i am tethered to my sickness—

brain worms and implacable affinity

soil and blood like strings on

careful fingers, knitting precariously

the loose ends, every alteration

another implication, pull hard enough

and i am tightly bound to peril

deeply fused into your liquid mercury

insensate though that may be

unliberated; as my mind is a metal can

rust and decay so effervescent

an empty clanking of unlinked adages

circulating alluvial expectations

throughout all of my weeping nerves

and stillness, if i were still able

pain could only wake me for so long

before attachment becomes a

blunted weapon, and your infection, my

bereaved maladaptive paradise.

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#BlackLivesMatter

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caffè e latte

there’s a galaxy

in my coffee

and it’s making it

taste funny

maybe if i stir a

bit and cool it down

then it will taste

more sugary

.

there’s a galaxy

in my coffee

i take mine rather

black, usually

but i might just

go on ahead and

give it a chance to see

if i like it milky.

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Expulsion, Repulsion

I bow before the

Ivory cistern

It is my deity

It shall accept my

Grotesque offering

Lights dimmed

And the ritual

Thus begins

Slowly, hands poised

Carefully, mouth

Gaping wide open

Trickling waterfall to

Hide all the

inhuman prayers

Passing through my

Throat, along with

Whatever else

One try, two tries, three

Rigid flesh heaving

Body shaking

Knees buckling

Trying to keep myself

Together enough

To tear myself apart

Undecipherable chunks

Fluids falling

A constant stream of

Involuntary tears

But—begat me

It’s too little, too little

For too much

Poor performance

Unsatisfactory

Pathetic—

Yet why, oh why does

Everything just

Fucking hurt all the

Very same?

Losing track of life

Almost half an hour has

Since passed

And my lungs could

Take no more

Begging for some repose

But it needs more

More more more more

So little so less

So full of shit

So full of me

It wasn’t enough but

Maybe it has

To suffice for now

Please, I hope

Slow down

Troubled breaths

Catching up

Though not quite the

First attempt

It never does get

Easy with every usual try

Metallic water drips

To wash away

The transgression

The evidence

The guilt

Leaving me with

A happy daze and

Messy shirts

And stomachaches

To last for days

But that’s okay

The ivory god is forgiving

And welcoming as

It is cold, and

I’ll always be fighting

Against temptation

And failing

And slipping

And cracking under

Pressure, and

When I’ll do

Rest assured I’ll

Be atoning

Pleading within this

Porcelain temple

Waiting for

Another unholy dying

Making amends

Saving my shrinking spine

And trying to be fine

Until the next time.

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selling out

“hell to pay”

is a threat

to you, but it’s

not for me

.

it’s just

another debt

to take, another

lesson to keep.

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