A Manileña doesn’t mince her words.
She doesn’t sweeten up the bitter truth.
A Filipina’s words strike like a sword.
She would get down and ***** to the roots.
She could sing like an angel, easily join a heavenly choir.
But she could curse the devil, make him quiver and cry.
She could recite poems and prayers,
think of you during novena and death alike.
But she could also write your eulogy,
hold a funeral for you while you’re still alive.

My words shoot when provoked,
my poems heal when deserved.
My quill could ****,
my sword are my words.
My mouth could bring drought,
spit that could send you down to pits.

And even when I hate,
it’s out of care and love.
I know I’ll never lose a war.
And when I don’t feel the best,
I simply breathe, read, and take a rest.
And I write poetry, you can never **** or defeat me.

It’s up to youㅡwhat’s it gonna be?
You write and decide, should I heal or ****?

You’re right.
I do not take rejection well.
For I take rejection sea.
I float and swim in it until I’m free.
I dive in it until I feel opposite of glee.
You’re correct.
I do not take “no” graciously.
For instead of grace, I become the sea.
I slap the shore until my blue turns green.
I blow my waves into squares as I scream.
That’s right.
When I lose, I never use it as a noose.
Instead I sizzle and heat up like a fuse,
smile like a muse, call ******* on truce,
win and govern all your lands like Zeus.
That’s correct.
When I’m denied, I show that I can bite.
I show teeth and they sparkle bright,
tell them I am not as frail as a kite,
I am the moon on a star-free sky at night.

But what is spring breeze,
if not absence of a kiss?
If summer is hot and torrid,
spring is lacking indeed.
If spring is but a tease,
summer comes with ease.
If summer brings the true wind,
spring only hides want and need.

No.
Stop, darling.
I don’t want love confessions in the rain.
I fancy them in movie scenes,
not so much in reality, it seems.
It is late March now,
summer’s coming around.
If I should ever want a love confession in the rain from you,
that would take about three to four months from now, that’s cruel.
Way too long.
No. No. Stop it, honey.
Anyway I never cared about my life looking like a movie.
I’m saying, if you wanna say something,
then hurry!
I prefer kissing in the sunset because we just can’t help it,
than melodramatic yearning in the rain and we’re both wet.
If I should want a love confession from you,
I want it in summer here,
enough time has passed and I’ve been kind, don’t you think so, dear?
No. No. No!
Stop right there, my love.
In June, it will be rainy, lonely, drab
and dull here again.
Should I wait and ask for another six months: “God, when?”
When?
When?
I don't want love confessions in the rain.
Come here, darling.
Go.

Lemme start with the letter L for
Ley/Lex

A for Actus reus;
Alibi, Alter ego,
AND my favorite; Ad nauseam

Nemo debet esse judex in propria causa or
Nemo judex in causa sua or
Nemo judex in sua causa

Contra,
consensus,
𝗖𝗿𝗶𝗺𝗲𝗻 𝗼𝗺𝗻𝗶𝗮 𝗲𝘅 𝘀𝗲 𝗻𝗮𝘁𝗮 𝘃𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗮𝘁.

E for Ex post facto.
Estoppel!
Ex gratia...

Quid pro quo, thanks for the comedy gold.
Amicus curiae, you have no friend to spare.
Res ipsa loquitur, go run and hide
like the ***** that you are...

***** de jure...

Coffee for fuel, wine for relaxation.
Beer for party, water for hydration.
Green tea? I fancy.
*****? One for a kiss.
My words shoot when provoked,
my poems heal when deserved.
My quill could ****,
my sword are my words.
My mouth could bring drought,
spit that could send you down to pits.
Liquid is for assets, solid for *******.
Gas is for air, gas is also for fuel.
Come back here, why fear a little duel?

Crees que conoces la ley,
pero yo soy la maldita ley.
Y en realidad no me conoces,
así que en realidad no conoces la ley.
Permíteme volver a presentarme;
yo soy la rey de esta ciudad
y de estos mares.
Yo soy la maldita rey.
Debajo de mí, te arrodillarás y llorarás.
Para usurparme, no habrá manuales.
Porque no puedes acabar
con el régimen que es mi ira y mi furia.
Me cuentan en los cuentos de hadas,
estoy escrita en la leyenda.
Bebo las lágrimas de las perras,
sus gritos son mi merienda.
Crees que conoces la ley,
pero yo soy la maldita ley.
Y yo soy tu maldito rey.
Y frente a mí, te arrodillarás y orarás.