If my country is going to war, yet again...
I want to let you know that I won't kiss you.
No, at least not in vain.
For my kisses does not soothe,
rather they burn.
Like that of a tropical summer afternoon.
I won't even touch your hand.
No, at least not with mine.
For my hands does not heal,
rather they hurt.
Like they wouldn't know you are not enemy.
If my country is already at war, yet again...
I won't indulge myself to hug you.
No, at least not with this body,
a body that could possibly fail and die.
For my body is one that refuses to live,
in and for a land wherein birds cannot fly.
I won't help myself and look into your eyes.
No, at least not this time.
For my eyes are a pair that refuses to look,
at a bloodbath that I've only read in books.
So if my country goes to war, time and again...

I want to let you know, that no...

I won't kiss you in vain, for I will kiss you
until they drag my body and take me away.
Until drops of my blood are flowing in rivers,
lagoons, farmlands, grass and grains.
I will touch your hand with the promise of sweet victory.
With the news that my mountains
and seas are yours to roam free.
I won't hug you with this body,
but with my bodies of water and seas.
Until you are embraced by the wild waves,
may you taste their liberty.
I won't look at you with my bloodshot eyes,
but with the promise that you will never again
see blood, and with the eternal sunlight
over our vast fields and blue skies.

I want him to be smart and funny,
so I can forget curses and bury older jokes
with the music of our laughters.
I want him to be happy, I'll make him happy,
so we can drown our worries and sorrows
when we're in each other's company.
I don't want him perfect,
I want him faithful.
I want him to take care of me better,
I don't mind a little cold here and there,
as long as we know that our home
is full of warmth and it's ours alone.
I want him kind too, and warm,
so I can forget for a while the world is cruel
when I'm in the safety of his arms.
I don't want him perfect,
I want him gentle.
I want him to hold me tighter than ever,
I don't mind storms every now and then,
as long as we know we are each other's
own sanctuary, safe space and shelter.
I want him loyal and raw as I am,
so we can rest easy and sleep at night
knowing we're the same soul, we are one.
I don't want him perfect,
I want him all to myself and mine alone.

Kumain ka na ba?
Anong oras na.
Oras na para kumain.
Umupo ka na, 'wag mahiya.
Para sa'yo lahat itong nakahain.
Isang oras lang.
Pero busog ka na ba?
Isang oras pa.
Merienda lang, mahal.
Kahit pa hanggang almusal.
Pasensya ka na, ito lang ang hiling.
Hindi na nanaisin pa na ito'y patagalin.
Pwede na ba akong umalis?
Hindi na aasamin na lalong magkamali.
Boses mo ang siyang multo at baon ko.
Ang mga mata ko'y suki ng alaala mo.
Mali ang ito'y piliting maging tama.
Tama na siguro ang muntik na.
Plato at kubyertos ay iligpit na.
At ang basura ay aking susunugin na.
Kutsara at baso ay itago na.
At ang alaala natin ay kalimutan na.

⁠Even if you are an enemy
who's bound to hurt me,
I would still ask you
to come sit and eat with me.
Even if you are an enemy
who's sent to capture me,
I would still ask you
to stay for a while,
share even this one meal with me.
Even if you are an enemy
who's ordered to **** me,
I would still ask you;
"Have you eaten?
Kumain ka na ba?
Ya comiste?
Ja has menjat?"
And if you say you haven't,
I'll take out the plates, but
I'll be angered.
Because look at the time!
And if you say you already did,
then I'd let you take me out,
my head lowered.
You can waste my time!
Even if you are an enemy
who's bound to hurt me...

What of languages, if you only need a few words to tell me the truth?

What of learning dialects, if you only need a single sentence to ask the ocean to stay still for a moment?

What use are the multiple languages you speak, when you can't use a single one of them to say what you feel?

What about the new language you taught me, do I forget it and throw it to the sea? What good is it, if I'm slowly becoming mute?

So what of languages, if you only have to answer yes or no?

So what of dialects, if I couldn't even ask you to drown me in your ocean of lies, let your waves sink me, eat me alive?

So what use are the multiple languages we speak, if we can't use a single word, a sentence, not a single language to say
the multitudes of feelings we feel?

What about the new language you taught me?
Do I write about it, let it hurt and ****?
How bad will it be, if I were to die on this hill?

I've no need for sleep, until all the stars above our seas are free.
I've no desire to wake and rise, until the sun sets in our fields of rice.
I've no time to shed tears, until every drop of my ocean is allowed again to be salty.
I've nothing to lose, until I lose my motherland to the hands of another enemy.
I feel no hunger, until every farmer's family have something to eat.
I feel no thirst, until every fisherman's friends can sail and live.
I've no mind for pain and logic, until every politician's ideals are not from their ****.
I've no heart for heartbreak, until each of my countrymen's heartache has been healed.

A pearl waits indeed,
albeit of exceptional beauty...
No matter how rare or how valuable,
a pearl waits indeed.
A pearl waits indeed,
for the bravest of divers...
No matter how long or how far,
to swim deep for her historical harvest.
A pearl waits indeed,
albeit of celebrated rarity...
No matter how treacherous the ocean,
a pearl stays still and sits pretty.
A pearl waits indeed,
in the embrace of the sea...
No matter how tumultuous the waves get,
a pearl waits indeed...
A pearl waits...
to be worn as a necklace
or earrings by a poet.
A poet who also refers to herself as a pearl.
A poet so foolishly comparing herself.
But then again, she's not so wrong.
Asking questions to the sky before bed.
Will you pick me up and take me away
from this seabed of moss and loss?
Will you harvest me from the vast ocean
and its mass of loneliness?
A pearl waits...
to be held, touch and kissed by the fingers
of a brave diver, of a worthy surfer...
Or simply by a simple island boy,
whose heart is that of a lion's
and whose hands are able...