poems

00>
karma wears jealousy [working title]

last night,
her voice –
i hate you, she said –
played over and over,
gathering upon my eyelids…

this morning,
i opened my eyes
and read on my phone –
her message,
his number…

01>
a letter to jessica zafra regarding “love”

“with”
is a preposition
that denotes
“in the company of…”

it draws the smile
on the face
of someone
who died
from
a fall…

02>
a college freshman asks his final exam

whatever

happened to
the concept of
multiple choice?

03>
i bought sampaguita

at the side of the bangketa -
children screamed “kuya,”
children screamed “kuya…”

strings of white flowers
in the hands of small maria,
her fingers tapped “kuya,”
(on the) window of this Kia…

i opened up the door
and let her sit inside
that air-conditioned Kia,
that tinted-windowed Kia…

i locked the door beside her
and started to undress her.
her fingers trembled “kuya,”
inside that freezing Kia…

i let her out that Kia
at the side of the bangketa -
children screamed “kuya,”
children screamed “kuya…”

04>
mount apo looks better at dusk

when red skies are behind her
and her flesh is shrouded by shadows -
black covering her rusting green…

05>
salt is the main ingredient in most filipino delicacies

a burst of flavor
in the mouth – it covers up
the taste of stale rice…

06>
time

gathered its drops
upon the roof of dried leaves
and tore it asunder -
leaving me wet and cold…

i should have changed
the leaves
when i saw the first signs
of leaking…

07>
the night sky in mintal

is where i trace out my smoke
to see if i can cover up
the stars that we once watched…

08>
love in the time of yosi break

when i see you come
from your afternoon class,
i pray that you’ve lost your lighter
again…
i wait for the moment
you ask for my
cigarette to light-
up yours…

yes,
take it in slowly,
the warmth
of the smoke,
and hand me back my
cigarette -
so i can feel
the clamy flesh
of your fingers…

09>
writing haikus before the car crash

so much can happen,
all around, in a fraction
of a mere second…

10>
green field, blue sky, clear river, a breeze…

I am the wind blow-
-ing softly, in the meadows
of your memory.

11>
unsent to vincent…

It’s been two years since I last saw you
and nothing much has changed in school in that span of time.

Well, probably a lot,
but then again, everything changes
day to day for drunkards like us, right?

Rest assured, we – Jeboy, Jords, and Budots – have continued
the drinking spree that you suddenly left to us
that one Saturday afternoon when your mother came over
with a baseball bat.
Good thing I was sober enough to run and hide
in the nearest patch of cogon grass.
Can’t say the same for Jeboy though,
the hit your mom gave to his head
kind of damaged is hearing.
Now, he can only hear the word “inom”
and he’d automatically leave.

On the sober side of things,
Chinay has a six moth old baby now.
Can’t say I’m the father,
we broke up and lost contact
five months after you left.
Sorry to bring the sad news,
I know you’re still in love with my ex.

Anyway, Poloy already passed is Philo class
after five straight semesters of failure.
Now, he can move on to sophomore majors,
though he’d be reaching MRR next semester.
I, on the other hand, got kicked out…
again.

By the way,
one night, I was drunk with Sarah and Lexie.
Guess what?
I’m now a father
of two illegitimate children.

We miss you, Binoy.
And as sure as the morning rises,
your name still lingers.

Not really,
we miss the debts
you seem to have forgotten.

P.S.

Fortune does
taste better than Hope.
I’m now fighting TB…

Glass Mountain

Sharp shards shine –
sits amidst mists –
along a long line
of blue mountains
and blue skies.
Sharp shards shine –
formed from forges:
from fiery pits –
beneath blue tips
and pinning pine pins.
Oh, see the OBSIDIAN surgeon!
step on steeping steps –
sitting amidst mists –
along a long line
of blue mountains
and blue skies.
Stepping on steeping steps –
formed from forges:
from fiery pits –
falling on flowing flows
of felsic projectiles.

Traveling Styx

 

 

Molten fluid flows
from the deepest crevices
of Gaea, parting the mound
in its center. A cloud forms
atop the fountain of liquid
fire – dark masses of the
softest cotton, suffocating
angels. From a grave there
springs a leafless tree –
frigid, with fingers reaching
out, trembling with each
breath from the clouds.

A little
boy stands
astonished
before the
lake of fire.

[image from: http://www.cosmographica.com]

Emocentrism

Were you created as the sun
the world needs to revolve around?
Does every song your kind has sung
be more than just dissonant sounds?

When you pain your nails black and white,
do you see a child staring back:
his eyes, with hunger, turning white;
pockets empty; expression, blank?

When you cut yourself just to feel,
does it hurt you like a virgin:
when she bleeds and cries as she kneels
and her rapist basks in his sin?

If you see the child, feel the girl,
then, my whole world, around you, whirls.

The Counterweight and the Scaffolding

Structure pointing
heavenward — sway
ing, standing, sti
ll — a thousand e
mpty picture frame
s bound by melted steel: whose bolted limbs
of crimson rust smell of sour pus; whose he
ad’s a seat to a splinter-crown made of woo
d and dust. I stand before you, looking up.
Your shadows cast on me a thousand empty pi
cture frames of straps, restraining me. The
men that stand upon your head look down upo
n the world, but o
nce the fulcrum is
misplaced, their b
odies will be hurl
ed. And they shall
land upon the grou
nd where they were
made to stand and a
thousand empty pic
ture frames will t
umble upon their heads.

an epiphany in a car crash [ars poetika]

so much can happen,
all around, in a fraction
of a mere second.

ready for the possession…

the light – flickering;
the tiled, white floor – wet and cold;
my ass – wide open.

the mute witnesses to my possession…

a locked door with
its reflective go-
lden knob; a half-
empty trash bin;

an overhead fan
hums seamlessly
overhead beside
a white, circu-
lar light bulb;

a shower head marks the passing time with its dripping water;
a bottle of the same shampoo the ex-girlfriend uses;
a bar of Perla used as fabric and facial wash;
a pail of used boxers submerged in water;

a useless shower curtain beside a suspended
towel and a pair unused boxer shorts;

a cold, porcelain sink;
a half consumed cigarette;
a wrapper of Snowbear;
a bottle of hand soap;
ashes;

wet, shiny tiles and
wet slippers;

a roll of tissue paper;
a lighter beside a pack of
cigarettes; a ball pen stabbing a notebook;

shit stain on porcelain; swirl of shit, tissue paper, and urea…

Unsent to Vincent…

It’s been two years since I last saw you
and nothing much has changed in school in that span of time.

Well, probably a lot,
but then again, everything changes
day to day for drunkards like us, right?

Rest assured, we – Jeboy, Jords, and Budots – have continued
the drinking spree that you suddenly left to us
that one Saturday afternoon when your mother came over
with a baseball bat.
Good thing I was sober enough to run and hide
in the nearest patch of cogon grass.
Can’t say the same for Jeboy though,
the hit your mom gave to his head
kind of damaged is hearing.
Now, he can only hear the word “inom”
and he’d automatically leave.

On the sober side of things,
Chinay has a six moth old baby now.
Can’t say I’m the father,
we broke up and lost contact
five months after you left.
Sorry to bring the sad news,
I know you’re still in love with my ex.

Anyway, Poloy already passed is Philo class
after five straight semesters of failure.
Now, he can move on to sophomore majors,
though he’d be reaching MRR next semester.
I, on the other hand, got kicked out…
- again.

By the way,
one night, I was drunk with Sarah and Lexie.
Guess what?
I’m now a father
of two illegitimate children.

We miss you, Binoy.
And as sure as the morning rises,
your name still lingers.

Not really,
we miss the debts
you seem to have forgotten.

P.S.

Fortune does
taste better than Hope.
I’m now fighting TB…

what i can imagine…

my thoughts of you are like flowing water
>a river… clear, cold water running over brown, mossy stones…

sorrow comes as in a circle
and cannot be rolled up like a mat
>a mat that one sleeps on and can be rolled-up come morning…

draws me with her comehither eyes
wrestles me down between her bent thighs
>eyes of a snake… then, an image of a man being suffocated by one…

they are like nipples to the tree
like a child I shall suck their milk
>nipples… and a baby suckling upon it…

like a palm tree you are stately
and like its clusters are your breasts
>a woman’s naked body… slender, strong waist… firm breasts…

goodly is your beauty, honeysweet
>a jar of honey… the one portrayed in “winnie the pooh”…

why withhold thy goodness
sending down death and famine
>a field covered in darkness, red skies… a wasteland…

and was there water, vast and fathomless
>an ocean… during twilight… when little light is in the sky, and little streaks of light reflect on the water’s surface…

well tended is mankind – god’s cattle;
>a herd of cows… then, a butcher comes…

but only by letting alone is the world won under heaven
the divine brothers frolicked, singing back and forth
>a cast of angels… playing…

the grass will spring up from the land
but i am not grass
>a blade of grass… green and shimmering with dew early in the morning…