Monthly Archives: October 2014

dearth

poets who write about writing poetry
are un – publishable today,
i read.

well, the truth never had a pretty face anyway,

and given the scarcity of poets
toiling on such a theme
will tell you why ;

either that or i can just take

a long fucking hard look at my rejection letters
and have the truth
wear
its clown mask on.

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postcards from the cancer ward

I.

seven death beds

each one

has their own

stories to tell,

not a single soul

seems to bother

asking

each other out.

II.

the door to the wash room was wide open,

the floor tiles dirty,

there’s a shit floating

in nirvana

on the toilet bowl and no one

gives a fuck ;

the room reeks of death.

that shit’s foul odor

was sucked out

of it’s own contagious

air of

disgust.

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ang alamat ni lourd de veyra

asan na ang bagong henerasyon

nang mga makata at manunulat ?

asan na kayo?

mapupusok,

matanong

at

mapag marunong ?

nabuksan na n’ya ang pinto

—- ang damuho nakuha pa ngangmag tampisaw

sa ulan ng komersyalismo, kumabig nang di n’yo pansin…

ngunit ang mahalaga

nai – pwesto na nag bola.

limang taon na rin ang nasayang, paalala.

matagal ng pangit ang mga tinatangkilik na pelikula,

wag na nating idamay ang literatura.

hinog na tayo, panahon na.

wag mo sana sabihing kelangan mo rin ng banda.

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got dem death blues back again mama and this time, they’re bleeding me good

if death is a dream

i would have gone

to sleep

and never would have seek

reasons to be calm and

begged for time ; i wish death

is a dream, i’ll take it

the good ones

and even the nightmares —–

they are all easier to shake off

but not death, the one with a

face…the one that

murmurs…the one that never

rests…

like casualties of war

carrying a

rambling ghost

inside their heads ;

it’s hard.

it will hurt.

it’s going to be a long time

tending this wound that will

never heal.

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ang mga bata

ang yaya

ng aking ina

nilamon ng

kanser ay

nag umapaw

ang tuwa

habang kaniyang

pinag mamasdan

ang anak

busog sa

himbing ng

tulog ;

pinagpalang mga bata,

sambit ko.

ang yaya

tila napa isip

nawa’y anak

ay malayo

sa bisyong

siya ay

marupok.

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crossroads

it’s not like I never wanted to leave ; its just that,

this time,

i just don’t know where

to go.

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kawalan

naaalala tuwing oras ng kainan

ang mapag arugang asawa

tanong lagi ay kung masarap

ang kanyang niluto ;

oo, masarap

nais kong sambitin

at hanap ang

kasunod na halik

bilang pasasalamat.

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