(A tagalog poem)

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Tyaka na lang kita papansinin,
kapag kaya na kitang bigyan ng isang
matamis na ngiti gamit ang bibig na hindi
nangangamoy usok ng sigarilyo.
Tyaka na lang kita kikilalanin,
kapag kaya ko na ring kilalanin ang sariling tinig at hindi ang sigaw ng mga demonyong nangungupahan sa aking isip.
Tyaka na lang kita tatawagan,
kapag kaya ko nang alagaan ang aking katawan at muli na akong natutulog
bago pa magpalitan ang araw at buwan.
Tyaka na lang kita iisipin,
kapag ang tanging kinakatakutan ko na lamang ay ang pagkakawalay sayo
at hindi ang maaari kong gawin sa sarili
oras na maiwan nang mag-isa sa kwarto.
Tyaka na lang kita papakatitigan,
kapag ang aking mga mata'y hindi na pagod, namumugto, namumula.
Tyaka na lang kita kakausapin,
sa araw na pag-ibig na ang aking bukambibig,
sa oras na kasiyahan na ang nasa isip
at hindi kung paanong tali ba ang gagawin sa gagamiting "lubid".
Tyaka ko na lang hahawakan ang iyong kamay,
kapag naghilom na ang mga hiwa at sugat na ginuhit, inukit sa pulso,
kapag ang isip at kalooban ko'y
muli nang nagkasundo.
Tyaka na lang kita hahalikan,
kapag kaya ko nang talikuran ang mga bote ng alak kapalit ng dampi ng iyong labi.
Tyaka na lang kita yayakapin,
tyaka ko na lang hahayaan ang sariling
maranasan na iyong mahagkan,
kapag muli na akong nakakakain ng tama, sa tamang oras.
Kakayanin mo kaya ang maghintay kahit magpa-hanggang kailan?

At patawarin mo ako. Patawarin mo kung ano ako. Patawarin **** ito ako.
Patawarin mo ang kototohanan na
binubuo ako
ng kalungkutan at kaguluhan.
Patawarin **** kung minsan
kapag bumuhos ang luha
ko'y mas malakas pa sa ulan.
Isang araw, aawit ako
ng awit ng pananalig at katiyakan.
Susulat ng tula na naglalaman ng kasiyahan.
Ngunit sa ngayon,
dasal ko'y patawarin mo muna ako.

Giliw, tyaka na lang kita iibigin...
kapag kaya ko na ring ibigin ang aking sarili.

Ang gabi ay hindi dapat maging kaibigan ng delubyo. Nangangambang baka sa isang sulok ay may nag-aabang na demonyo. O baka sa likod pa natin mismo.
Saksi ang dagat at bundok sa pananaghoy ng bagong umaga.
At sino ang hindi makakaamoy sa pagsabog ng mga tala?
At nasaan ang gabi, ang inaakalang tanging katuwang?
Kasiping ba ng mga pangarap para sa bayan na siya nang nilamon ng digmaan?
Lumuluha ang bawat lawa at nagtatanong ang mga talon; makakaahon pa ba ang nalunod na tuwa't pag-asa ng kahapon?
O baka ang tuwa ay siya na'ng hinigop ng langit. Pinagtatawanan na tayo ng langit!
Sa mga dugong dumanak at ang naglalakasang pagtatangis na tila ba isang bulong sa bingi, tama nga't hindi ko kaibigan ang gabi.
Ganid ang gabi, palaging uhaw at nasisidhi sa kasawian.
Ang ngalan ng may akda ng munting tula na ito ay "delubyo".
Paminsan minsan maaari nyo ring tawaging demonyo.
Hindi na ako magpapaligoy-ligoy pa, sa sulok ay hindi na magtatago. Haharap ako para tingnan ang bawat isa sa inyo sa mata. Sa dangal. Sa diwa. Sa puso. Sa dasal. At kakalabanin nyo dapat ako gamit ang mga ito... hanggang sa pag-usbong ng bagong umaga.

Pula, bughaw at dilaw laban sa kadiliman.

Nakaukit na ang ngalan mo sa akin.
Ito ang katotohanan na alam ko.
Tila ba paulit-ulit nang ipinipilit ng panahon
na tayo'y pag-lapitin, na pag-lapatin pang muli ang ating mga palad. Ang ating mga labi.
Ngunit sa pagkakataong ito, nagpapanggap at nagsusumiksik ang panahon sa likod ng aking katawan at pagkatao.
Matagal nang kumawala ang tunay,
tangay nito ang ating awit at binitawang
mga sambit.
Hinalughog kong muli ang bawat tula mula sa pagkakawala ng mga ito sa lawak ng tagpuan ng makisig na buwan at payak na lupa.
Pilit kong isinaboy ang nakakapuwing na buhangin upang balutin nito ang mga bituin.
Upang mapadali ang sa kanila'y pag-dakip at sa mga pangamba mo'y aking itinakip.
Sinubukan kong gawing sigwa ang natitirang patak ng tuyot nang lawa.
Isang kasalanang pagbabayaran ng ilan mo pa kayang lihim na pagluha?
Sa dampi ng ginaw, isang ihip lang iyan, at hinding hindi na tayo muling magugunaw.
Ibinulong sa mga alitaptap na kung mabibigo at masusugatan man sa isa pang himagsik,
hindi alintana kung ang gantimpala ay
isa pang halik sa labi **** nilikha para sa akin, oo, ito'y para sa akin
ngunit mananatili ka namang naglilibot.
Kahit isa pang himagsik.

At isinumpa ko ang panahon. Ang relihiyon.
Hindi mo ba alam na ang pagmamahal ko sa'yo ang aking relihiyon?
Tawag ko ang ngalan mo hanggang sa pagbubukang-liwayway.
Dinarasal sa tuwina ang pamamalagi na lang sana ng iyong ngiti.
Niluhuran ang nagniningas na lahar,
nakayapak na nagtungo sa paanan ng iyong pagkabahala. Ito ang aking altar.
Patuloy ka pa rin namang maglalakbay.
Lingid sa iyong kaalaman na hinamon ko na ang araw sa gitna ng tag-ulan;
"Husgahan mo na ako. At kung mananatiling magmamahal itong puso,
maka-ilang ulit mang apak-apakan at kaladkarin, sa bawat araw man ay magalusan at mag-langib, habangbuhay mo pa akong sunugin at ito'y malugod kong titiisin! Sa araw na ang aking katawan ay masasawi, hanapin mo ako sa anyo at kulay ng mga puno at damo at siyang parusahan din."
Ngunit itong pag-ibig ay tila ba nagmimilagro o ito ang milagro mismo.
Araw na mismo ang tumanggi, pinasinayaan pa ng mga agila at payo ng mga talampas.
Anito'y mauubos raw ang sansinukob sa ugnayang ito. Natatawa kong tugon; "iyon nga ang aking punto!"
At ito ang naging kapanganakan ng kawalan ng ginaw dito sa piling ko.
Pinarusahan pa akong muli na mananatili kang maglalakbay, maglilibot, malayo sa aking tabi.
Na patuloy **** hahanapin ang lamig ng hatinggabi.
Kahit halinghing lang sana ng iyong tinig,
malaman ko man lang na tayo'y tumatanaw sa iisang langit.
Manatili ka lang na nakatungtong sa sansinukob na minsan ko na ring isinumpa.
Manatili ka lang na naglalakbay at naglalakad sa kulay ng damo na minsan ko nang inalay sa saliw ng pagkabalisa.
Manatili ka lang, giliw...
kahit hindi na sa aking bisig.

Sa hagupit, sa kamalasan na lamang ako makikipaghimagsik.
Hindi na magmamakaawa ngunit hindi pa rin magsasawa.
Tatanawin ka sa kabila ng ginaw,
ngunit ang awit ng pag-ibig para sayo'y hindi na malulusaw kahit sa tag-araw.
Ang tagtuyot ay pababayaan na lang o hihintayin kahit ang pag-ambon, hindi na ipagdarasal ang sa atin ay isa pang unos.
Mga buhangin ay isasauli na sa dalampasigan, upang sa pagbalik ng tag-init, mga halakhak natin ay mananatiling nakakabingi.
Sa iyong mata'y manatili sana ang mga bituin.
Marahil hihinto na rin sa paghahalughog ng nawawalang mga tula at prosa,
lilikha na lamang ng mga hungkag na pangungusap na tila ba pang-hele sa
sarili sa mga gabing nasasabik pa sanang basahin ang pagpapatuloy ng ating nakabitin na akda.
Ang iyong mga awit, ang iyong pag-awit... ipinagdarasal na aking mapagtagumpayan ang pagpapanggap na hindi na ito kailanman balak pang marinig.
Ang ika'y makadaupang-palad, ang sayo'y makipagpalitan ng maiinit na halik...
ay, para lamang dito'y lilikha na naman ba ng isa pang tula?
Panahon, isumpa mo ako pabalik.
Susukuan na ang pagpilit sa iyo.
Wag ka lang sukuan ng pag-asa na sa iyong nais at tunay na matungtungan ay pihitin ka pa-usbong. Ako na lamang sana ang gantihan ng panahon.
Ang katotohanan na sa kasaysayan at mga katha ay hindi na maaalis; kailanman, anuman at saan man...
nakaukit na ang ngalan mo sa akin.

What's the use of my hand,
if your skin is not under its touch?
What good is my skin,
if yours is not under its heat?

What's the use of my lips,
if yours are not locked with it?
What's the use of my eyes,
if yours are not looking at them?

What's the use of my body heat,
if it's not overlapping with yours?
What good is my body,
if yours is not over it every hour?

What's the use of your body,
if mine is not on top of it?
If it's not me you're sharing the heat with?
If I am not carressing it?
If I am not the one beside it?
What good is it,
if you never really knew what good is?

Marahil walang isang salita
ang makakapag-bigay linaw
Sa kadilimang taglay ng tuwina,
sa aking labi, tila nawawala ang ilaw

Mga mata'y malayo ang tanaw
ngunit hindi nito saklaw ang pagitan
Higit na malawak at binabalot ng panglaw,
sa paggising ay salat sa iyong galaw

At oo, tila nagkakaiba ang wika
na kilala ng ating mga dila,
kaya't iaalay na lamang ang buwan at araw
sa'yo, aking mahal, pati na rin aking diwa

Mula sa sulok ng aking silid
at sa isip na puspos ng suliranin,
isinusulat itong munting tula
sa buwan ng aking wikang kilala

Mga kamay ko'y ipinagdiriwang
na mayroong ikaw at ikaw ay akin,
ipinagbubunyi ang buwan ng ikaw
puso'y tatangis hangga't ika'y makapiling

Ikaw
ay isang mataas, malakas at malaking alon.
Kung makakapili at may pagkakataon,
ang mga manlalangoy sa paligid mo
ay hindi na muli pang aahon.



At ako
ay isa lamang butil ng buhangin,
alikabok sa hangin na nakakapuwing,
nakatadhanang tangayin din ng hangin,
isayaw ng agos patungo sa'yong direksyon,
at mananatili sa'yong karagatan ng panaghoy.

Ang pagkain ng croissant at floss buns
sa public places.
O ng saging o hotdog sa jeepney.
Ng chocolate ice cream habang naka-all white ka.
Ang umibig ng mga taong may mental illness.
O ng taga-malayo o magkagusto sa pari.
Ng taong hindi maaaring ibigin.
Ang maki-apid sa asawa ng may asawa.
Ang kwarto **** napabayaang linisin
dahil mas masarap nga naman ang siesta.
Mas nakakahalina ang tawag ng pahinga,
kaysa talak ng pagliligpit.
Ang trend ng salted caramel everything
dahil mas mainam ang may konting alat.
Ang nakaligtaang lakad sa government offices
dahil mas kaakit-akit ang gumala.
Ang buhay **** salat sa kaayusan
dahil mas masarap ang makalat.

You sang hymns of solitude across my shoulders,
uttered summer sonnets down my stomach,
whispered your prayers between my thighs,
all in a language I have yet to translate or remember.
All of it sounds in between the foreign and familiar.
You screamed of ballads of adoration
hungrily against my neck,
confessed your long-hidden elegies on my bare chest,
moaned your blues inside my dry, anticipating mouth.
All of it rings and buzzes and resonates throughout my body.
My body which no longer belongs to me.
And this is the very comedy of our sweet, sudden parting.
But I shall turn over and dance for you this time,
and promise to never stop playing my favorite song for me while I'm at it

Ang masalimuot na pag-aalboroto.
Hindi na sana muli.
Ang nakakapuwing na mumunting bato.
Maging ang huli na sana ang pinakahuli.
Aasahan pa ba natin?
Ang nakakabulag, nakakaiyak na abo.
Hihintayin pa bang dumating?
Hindi na sana muli.
Ang natuyong lahar ang aking kapatawaran.
Ang iyong kapaligiran ang sa iyo naman.
Tuwing Nobyembre at Enero
Ipagdarasal ko ang hindi na muling pagputok, pagsabog
at pagbulusok ng Pinatubo.
Hindi na sana muli.
Maging ang huli na sana ang pinakahuli.

I want to open my ports like never before
I want to welcome you into my shores
I spent months bending my trees
I spent weeks without sun or sleep
Until you came, my summer sky
I forgot about the heavy rains of December
I forgot about all the damages from November
I feel like I could even grow mountains
Like I'm brand new
I feel like an unnamed island again
Because of you

My new season
My summer sun
My rebirth
My new earth

F*ck the postcards and dried mangoes, baby.
The prayers in The Philippines,
The prayers from and by Filipinos,
will be the best souvenir one can ever get.


The Prayers in The Philippines, by the Filipinos
are what has been keeping our islands, vintas and mangroves afloat
and why more new islands have been popping up like moles.
The Prayers in The Philippines, by the Filipinos
are what has been keeping the storms, typhoons and hurricanes all but a joke.
Another one? Bring it on and on and once more.
The Prayers in The Philippines, by the Filipinos
are what has been putting earthquakes and tsunamis to shame.
My grandmothers have been through worse,
what's a little bit of motion and shake?


The Prayers in The Philippines, by the Filipinos
are what has been keeping this country a curse and a miracle;
why we have mountains that we have today,
why and how they're shaped that way.
Despite the chaos of politics, corruption and news of crimes...
Why we have oceans that are bright blue
and how they could make a weary traveler or a desolate native feel brand new.
Despite the familiar dangers and age-old stereotypes...


The Prayers in The Philippines, by the Filipinos
are what has been holding Filipinos together,
be it with each other or to fight through another day for much longer.
The Prayers in The Philippines, by the Filipinos
are what has been keeping this country ever magical and mystical,
even if some days it's harder to feel that way.
The Prayers in The Philippines, by the Filipinos
are the reason why I'm here, why I exist,
why I'm alive and kicking,
full of dreams and spite and hope, writing,
the reason why I'm full of life, full of love
and will keep on living and loving.


I will live and die saying my prayers
in The Philippines,
as a Filipino,
for The Philippines
and for other Filipinos.

While I return and slow down
to the classics;
the film analog cameras,
vinyl records,
typewriters,
silent movies,
worn-out pocketbooks,
and other novelties
of the old world charm...

I also enjoy the convenience
of the contemporary;
my phone's one-click camera,
spotify premium,
notes app,
netflix,
kindle,
and other niceties
that the here and now has to offer...

And while I rev back
to the retro and vintage,
I also race forward
to the excitement and danger
brought about by the internet,
of chatting with a familiar stranger.
of exchanging laughters in electronic.
of feeling emotions from a vague, distant, technical, difficult source.

Oh, the thrill and tragedy of technology!

When his fingers traversed along my freezing and weary arms,
cruised a little further inside the trenches of my spent thighs and
navigated across the tropics of my exhausted back,
I could only close my eyes and think,
"oh, this dream voyage has to be a dream indeed".
    Back then,
I knew that my worst nightmare would be his touch steering away from my aching and craving skin.

All those homilies are works of comedy;
the only sounds you'll need to hear are my moans and plea, praying for you to take me.
I would need no altar to make you kneel,
the sight of my bare back alone would send those sinful lips of yours into overkill.
And, please, put that bible away,
we'll have the best erotica written by the time this night is over anyway,
or perhaps until the sun becomes astray from the unforgiving light and day.
So come on now, your able hands
would make the saints envious
with all the unkind things you'll do to my equally unkind body,
Bring it on, your cunning tongue
could make even a skeptic curious
even the angels would be stripped off
their grace and glory.
Forget about your god when all he ever do
is make you bleed, cry and beg,
you know the only place you'll ever find eternal salvation is between my legs.

Your hot breath and hands against my neck,
amen.

Ang wikang nanlaban,
ay ang wikang nanatili.
Ang wikang di nag-atubili,
ay ang wikang nagwagi.
Ang wika ng mga matatapang,
ay ang wikang di maaagawan.
Ang wikang awitin ng araw
at ang wikang tula ng buwan.
Ang wikang harana ng habagat
at ang wikang isinulat ng dagat.
Ang wikang ibinaybay ng alon
at ang wikang di aanurin ng baybay.
Ang wikang sinambit ng mga ninuno
na kailanman ay di mamamatay.
Ang wikang ginamit ng mga bayani
na habambuhay nang mamamalagi.
Ang wikang matapang,
ang wika ko magpasawalang-hanggan.

My favorite poem
is your hands on my neck.
If you need my lips all over you,
I'll deliver and keep it in check.
What about you?
You see I don't write love poems on paper,
I write them on the sheets.
You know my mouth and my tongue
are your new favorite sweets.
Enough of these rhymes,
we are just wasting time.
Just show me where your bedroom is,
and tell me how much you want me.
And I'll show you what you've been missing,
and it's heaven when you're deep inside me.
What about you?
What is your favorite poem?
I hope it's your hands on my neck.

I should've known from the first ride,
that I would be falling fast.
I should've felt it from my first fall,
that your show must go on.
I should've known from the first rodeo,
that should've been the last.
I should've felt it from my first trot,
that I'm better off riding alone.

I should've known you couldn't choke the horn,
but you were all but a yellow-belly.
I should've watched how you 'let her rip',
yet a horse is all of my riches.
I should've believed you don't want no cahoot,
but I rode for you 'til dawn while hungry.
I should've watched you ride to the sunrise,
yet I am left chasing sunsets.

But I am still the greatest,
with or without a lily liver cahoot.
I am the best, from east to west,
a taste from my lips would prove it's true.
I am the lone star that shines the brightest,
with or without your hat on, you'll be blinded.
I am all of the gold that they all rush to,
the legend they call 'light at the end of the tunnel'.

You should be sorry, oh you should be sad,
all you would be is a runaway robber.
Because I could've been your brokeback god
now I would be everything but your lover.
I put my hat down to say sorry for being your bandit,
Now I ride to where the lights would welcome me,
far away from all the grime, dirt and strife
They all cheer and whistle and holler my name,
while you weep that your whole life,
let alone your morning rides will never be the same.

My city...
I was here before it was even one,
my toys are older
than the high-rise buildings.
Yet all of my oldest dreams
have long been gone,
this is where new people
from far-away are dreaming.

People dream to visit here
even for a day,
I can't count the years
I've been trying to escape.
People travel here
to have a sip of coffee,
even the taste of water here
can tell that I am sick.

In the inner city,
while everyone takes photographs,
I try my best to walk
with my shoulders not dropped.
In the chic cafes
where others strike a pose,
I knew I never wanted more,
I had my dose.

My city,
that many people dream
of visiting and living in,
why, then there's me
who's here and feeling livid in.
My now-larger-city
that still feels like a small town,
I feel suffocated,
as if all my life I'm in a tight gown.

Can I see your wine menu? What's the bestseller?

'We have bottles and labels from France, madame'

Oh...

Do you have something stronger?
Something that will knock me off my feet?
Perhaps something more bitter would be better.
Something that will get me home crawling.
Maybe something smoother and a little closer.
French just isn't doing it for me.

𝘋𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘻-𝘮𝘰𝘪 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘭𝘲𝘶𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘶𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘦𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘶𝘴 𝘥𝘶𝘳 𝘴'𝘪𝘭 𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘢î𝘵.

A time from now, we'll put the French Riviera to shame
with the spellbinding travesty
of our *******;  

The stars that grazes the Monte Carlo sky must realize that they've never even really shined once they witness how my eyes will glisten with rapture as you taste me for the very first time.

Oh, we'll hush the musicians of Vienna with the rhythm of our moans, the terrifying yet invigorating song of your gruff voice begging for more.

As we succumb to each other's biddings, the world shall be left helpless with no other choice than to watch.

At oo naman,
oo nga naman;
dapat ay dahan-dahan...
kung hindi ay mabibigla.

Dapat ay hindi binibigla,
kung hindi ay madarama ang puwersa.

Dapat ay hindi pinupuwersa,
kung hindi ay hindi makakababa.

Dapat ay dahan-dahan...
kung hindi ay masasaktan.

sa pag-baba,
sa pagtalon,
sa paglangoy,
dahan-dahan...

sa pag-ibig,
sa pagsisid,
sa paghalik,
dahan-dahan lamang...

𝑫𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒂 𝒍𝒂 𝒊𝒈𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒂,
𝒆𝒍 𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒂 𝒑𝒖𝒆𝒅𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒓 𝒚 𝒍𝒂𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒓 𝒕𝒐𝒅𝒐 𝒍𝒐 𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒆𝒓𝒂,
𝒔𝒖𝒔 𝒑𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒔 𝒏𝒐 𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒍𝒂 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒅𝒂𝒅, 𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒕𝒓𝒐 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒃𝒓𝒆;
𝒆𝒏 𝒆𝒍 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝒅𝒆 𝒕𝒐𝒅𝒐, é𝒍 𝒏𝒖𝒏𝒄𝒂 𝒔𝒆𝒓á 𝑫𝒊𝒐𝒔.

𝑫𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒂 𝒍𝒂 𝒊𝒈𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒂,
𝒍𝒐𝒔 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒔 𝒏𝒐 𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒔𝒆𝒈𝒖𝒊𝒅𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒔 𝒄𝒊𝒆𝒈𝒐𝒔,
𝒍𝒂 𝒊𝒈𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒂 𝒏𝒐 𝒆𝒔 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒇𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒂, 𝒆𝒔 𝒖𝒏𝒂 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒖𝒄𝒊ó𝒏;
𝑨 𝒗𝒆𝒄𝒆𝒔 𝒆𝒔 𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒍𝒖𝒔𝒐 𝒍𝒂 𝒐𝒔𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒅𝒂𝒅 𝒂𝒍 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝒅𝒆𝒍 𝒕ú𝒏𝒆𝒍.

𝑫𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒂 𝒍𝒂 𝒊𝒈𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒂,
𝒆𝒍 𝒑𝒖𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐 𝒏𝒐 𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒔𝒖𝒔 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒄𝒐𝒕𝒂𝒔 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒂 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒇𝒊𝒍𝒂𝒓,
¡𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒐𝒔 𝒉𝒊𝒋𝒐𝒔 𝒅𝒆 𝑫𝒊𝒐𝒔, 𝒏𝒐 𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒍𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒔 𝒅𝒆 𝒍𝒂 𝒊𝒈𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒂!
¡𝑺𝒊 𝒍𝒂𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒔𝒂𝒔 𝒆𝒎𝒑𝒆𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒏, 𝒆𝒔 𝒑𝒐𝒓 𝒄𝒖𝒍𝒑𝒂 𝒅𝒆 𝒍𝒂 𝒊𝒈𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒂!

¡𝑫𝒊𝒐𝒔 𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒃𝒔𝒐𝒍𝒖𝒕𝒐, 𝒍𝒂 𝒊𝒈𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒂 𝒏𝒐!
¡𝑫𝒊𝒐𝒔 𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒐 𝒚 𝒍𝒊𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒓, 𝒍𝒂 𝒊𝒈𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒂 𝒏𝒐!
𝑬𝒍 𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒓 𝒅𝒆 𝑫𝒊𝒐𝒔 𝒆𝒔 𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍, 𝒄𝒐𝒏 𝒍𝒂 𝒊𝒈𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒂, ¿𝒅ó𝒏𝒅𝒆 𝒆𝒔𝒕á 𝒆𝒍 𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒓?
¡𝒀 𝑫𝒊𝒐𝒔 𝒆𝒔 𝒅𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒐, 𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒔𝒐 𝒚 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒇𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒐, 𝒚 𝒍𝒂 𝒊𝒈𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒂 𝒏𝒖𝒏𝒄𝒂 𝒍𝒐 𝒔𝒆𝒓á!

𝑬𝒏𝒕𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒔 𝒅𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒂 𝒍𝒂 𝒊𝒈𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒂,
𝒑𝒖𝒆𝒅𝒆𝒏 𝒉𝒂𝒄𝒆𝒓 𝒅𝒆 𝒎í 𝒖𝒏 𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒈𝒐,
𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒎𝒆 𝒆𝒏 𝒍𝒂 𝒉𝒐𝒈𝒖𝒆𝒓𝒂 𝒐 𝒂𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒄𝒂𝒅𝒎𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒂 𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒓𝒆;
¡𝑨𝒍 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝒅𝒆𝒍 𝒅í𝒂, 𝒑𝒐𝒓 𝑫𝒊𝒐𝒔 𝒕𝒐𝒅𝒂𝒗í𝒂 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒓í𝒂!

𝒀 𝒅𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒂 𝒍𝒂 𝒊𝒈𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒂,
𝒑𝒖𝒆𝒅𝒆𝒏 𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒓𝒎𝒆 𝒐 𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒎𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒔 𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒛𝒐𝒔,
𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒛𝒕𝒆 𝒅𝒆 𝒎í, 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒗𝒊𝒆𝒓𝒕𝒆 𝒎𝒊𝒔 𝒉𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒐𝒔 𝒆𝒏 𝒂𝒎𝒖𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒐𝒔;
¡𝑯𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒂 𝒆𝒍 𝒇𝒊𝒏 𝒅𝒆𝒍 𝒎𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒐, 𝒍𝒐 ú𝒏𝒊𝒄𝒐 𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒄𝒆𝒏 𝒆𝒔 𝒅𝒂ñ𝒂𝒓!

𝑪𝒂𝒚𝒂'𝒕 𝒔𝒂𝒃𝒊𝒉𝒊𝒏 𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒚𝒐 𝒔𝒂 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒃𝒂𝒉á𝒏;
¡𝑬𝒍 𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒂 𝒏𝒖𝒏𝒄𝒂 𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒂𝒓á,
𝒉𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒂 𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒔𝒖 𝒂𝒍𝒎𝒂 𝒔𝒆𝒂 𝒑𝒖𝒓𝒂!

~~

𝑨𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒉á𝒍 𝒏𝒂 𝒄𝒂𝒃𝒂𝒃â𝒚á𝒏,

𝑺𝒂𝒃𝒊𝒉𝒊𝒏 𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒚𝒐 𝒔𝒂 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒃𝒂𝒉á𝒏,
𝒏𝒂 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒊 𝒂𝒚 𝒎𝒂â𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒔𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒂 𝒂𝒕 𝒅𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒅á𝒍 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒈𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒏𝒂𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒏 𝒏𝒊𝒚𝒂,
𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒚𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒈𝒂 𝒔𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒕â 𝒂𝒚 𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒊 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒕𝒐𝒉á𝒏𝒂𝒏, 𝒅𝒂𝒉𝒊𝒍 𝒔𝒊𝒚𝒂 𝒂𝒚 𝒊𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒂𝒐 𝒍𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒈;
𝒔𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒘𝒊𝒅, 𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈-𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒊 𝒔𝒊𝒚𝒂 𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝑫𝒊𝒚𝒐𝒔.

𝑺𝒂𝒃𝒊𝒉𝒊𝒏 𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒚𝒐 𝒔𝒂 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒃𝒂𝒉á𝒏,
𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒈𝒂 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒕â𝒚𝒂 𝒂𝒚 𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒊 𝒎𝒈𝒂 𝒃𝒖𝒍𝒂𝒈 𝒏𝒂 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒔𝒖𝒏𝒐𝒅 𝒍á𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒈,
𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒃𝒂𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒚 𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒊 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒑𝒆𝒌𝒕𝒐, 𝒊𝒕𝒐 𝒂𝒚 𝒊𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒕û𝒔𝒚𝒐𝒏;
𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒂𝒏 𝒊𝒕𝒐 𝒑𝒂 𝒏𝒈𝒂 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒎 𝒔𝒂 𝒅𝒖𝒍𝒐 𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒂𝒉𝒂𝒃𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒂𝒈𝒖𝒔𝒂𝒏.

𝑺𝒂𝒃𝒊𝒉𝒊𝒏 𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒚𝒐 𝒔𝒂 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒃𝒂𝒉á𝒏,
𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒂𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒃𝒂𝒚𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒚 𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒊 𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒈𝒂 𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒂𝒚𝒐𝒑 𝒏𝒂 𝒎𝒂â𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒅𝒂,
𝒕𝒂𝒚𝒐 𝒂𝒚 𝒎𝒈𝒂 𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒌 𝒏𝒈 𝑫𝒊𝒚𝒐𝒔, 𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒊 𝒎𝒈𝒂 𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒑𝒊𝒏 𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒃𝒂𝒉á𝒏!
𝑨𝒕 𝒑𝒂𝒈 𝒍𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒂 𝒑𝒂 𝒍𝒂𝒍𝒐 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒂𝒎𝒂, 𝒊𝒕𝒐 𝒓𝒊𝒏 𝒂𝒚 𝒅𝒂𝒉𝒊𝒍 𝒔𝒂 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒃𝒂𝒉𝒂𝒏!

𝑨𝒏𝒈 𝑫𝒊𝒚𝒐𝒔 𝒂𝒚 𝒕𝒊𝒚𝒂𝒌, 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒃𝒂𝒉á𝒏 𝒂𝒚 𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒊!
𝑨𝒏𝒈 𝑫𝒊𝒚𝒐𝒔 𝒂𝒚 𝒎𝒂𝒑𝒂𝒈𝒎𝒂𝒉𝒂𝒍 𝒂𝒕 𝒏𝒂𝒈𝒑𝒂𝒑𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒂, 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒃𝒂𝒉á𝒏 𝒂𝒚 𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒊!
𝑨𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒂𝒈-𝒊𝒃𝒊𝒈 𝒏𝒈 𝑫𝒊𝒚𝒐𝒔 𝒂𝒚 𝒘𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒌𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒚𝒐𝒏, 𝒔𝒂 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒃𝒂𝒉𝒂𝒏, 𝒏𝒂𝒔𝒂𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒂𝒈-𝒊𝒃𝒊𝒈?!
𝑨𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝑫𝒊𝒚𝒐𝒔 𝒂𝒚 𝒃𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒍, 𝒎𝒂𝒃𝒂𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒌𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒊-𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒊, 𝒂𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒃𝒂𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒚 𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒊 𝒌𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒈!

𝑪𝒂𝒚𝒂'𝒕 𝒔𝒂𝒃𝒊𝒉𝒊𝒏 𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒚𝒐 𝒔𝒂 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒃𝒂𝒉á𝒏,
𝒎𝒂â𝒂𝒓𝒊 𝒏𝒊𝒍𝒂 𝒂𝒌𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒏𝒂 𝒊𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒃𝒂𝒏,
𝒂𝒌𝒐'𝒚 𝒔𝒖𝒏𝒖𝒈𝒊𝒏 𝒔𝒂 𝒕𝒖𝒍ô𝒔 𝒐 𝒃𝒊𝒕𝒂𝒚𝒊𝒏 𝒔𝒂 𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒅𝒐,
𝒔𝒂𝒌𝒔𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒈𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒂 𝒅𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒌 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒖𝒈𝒐 𝒌𝒐;
𝒑𝒂𝒈𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒑𝒐𝒔 𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒂𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒕𝒐, 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒘𝒂𝒍á 𝒑𝒂 𝒓𝒊𝒏 𝒂𝒌𝒐 𝒔𝒂 𝑫𝒊𝒚𝒐𝒔!

𝑨𝒕 𝒔𝒂𝒃𝒊𝒉𝒊𝒏 𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒚𝒐 𝒔𝒂 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒃𝒂𝒉á𝒏,
𝒎𝒂â𝒂𝒓𝒊 𝒏𝒊𝒍𝒂 𝒂𝒌𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒉𝒊𝒎𝒊𝒌𝒊𝒏 𝒐 𝒊𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒊 𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒏𝒊𝒍𝒂 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒈𝒂 𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒔𝒐,
𝒊𝒑𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒑𝒐𝒏 𝒏𝒊𝒍𝒂 𝒂𝒌𝒐, 𝒈𝒂𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈-𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈
𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒈𝒂 𝒃𝒖𝒕𝒐;
𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒈𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒂 𝒄𝒂𝒕á𝒑𝒖𝒔𝒂𝒏 𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒐, 𝒍𝒂𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒏𝒈 𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒘𝒂 𝒏𝒊𝒍𝒂 𝒂𝒚 𝒑𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒏á𝒌𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒕 𝒑𝒂𝒏𝒈-𝒂𝒂𝒃𝒖𝒔𝒐!


𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒚𝒐,
𝑳𝒂 𝑭𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒃𝒖𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒂

I finally understand why renaissance artists
took their sweet time with their paintings
and why it took them decades to even dare
to begin working on a new one again.

I finally understand why my rock heroes
wasted years of their lives waiting for lyrics,
no matter how many hours they pour
and drink, creating melodies and music.

I finally understand why poets and beaus
would rather leave when words run dry
when artworks are new and songs are due,
that is the cue poems must bleed and cry.

Because like our love, a rare shade of blue,
like a ballad only played by the lucky few;
A love like ours is not the everyday kind,
because a love like this is rare to find.

I had my cake and I ate it too,
like all the time in the world that you took.
Adorned with cherries
and decorated with cream,
like the taste of my lips
that is only a thing of your dreams.
I thought I have once
tasted a slice of heaven,
only for it to rot away to
a thing from hottest hell.

I had my time and you took it too,
like my faith and my core that you shook.
Laced with grace
and the promise of salvation,
thoughts of your touch once felt
like a dream vacation.
I thought I have once
been granted patience,
only for it to burn down a hole
in my purest conscience.

But then I was sure I had it all,
the diamonds, the universe,
I had you, but then I also have a curse.
The parties, the best jazz age whiskeys,
these shall be enough to distract me.
The waiting, the wondering
are opulence I could no longer afford.
Like my favorite vice I had to abandon,
you are a glimmering borrowed gown
I shall never again don.

But then I'm sure I could do more,
the Philippine pearls, the world,
wrapped around my finger in a red cord.
The weddings, the finest wines I could buy,
these shall do good to get me by.
The patience, the pitying
are charities I could no longer give.
Like a prayer I utter in front of a new lover,
I am the luxury, the gold, all the fortune
you would never wager.

They are both orange or gingers, as in my dreams
both crazy and funny, like you and me
and in our faces, in the morning, they won't scream.

In the apartment we'll never split rent together,
between the rooms we'll never kiss in
the kitchen we'll never cook in, not for each other.

The litter boxes we won't take turns to clean
the food bowls we won't refill, like you and I never did
wiping mirrors until they glisten and gleam
and looking back now, it's a relief indeed

The bills we won't compute, pay and solve,
the fights that we'll never have.
I find comfort in our inexistent marital issues
and the divorce that we'll never have to encounter.

If the green waves in Siargao
and the blue swells in La Union
could meet somewhere and speak,
what would they talk about?
In what language, even?
Ilocano? Bisaya? Tagalog? Español?
Or perhaps the better question is;
what would they 𝘯𝘰𝘵 talk about?
If the waters of Siargao could introduce itself
to the northwest wind of La Union,
I think,
they would create waves more gigantic
than Bondi or Nazare.
And if the eastern Pacific wind of Siargao
kiss the West Philippine Sea beside La Union,
I believe,
they would cause tsunami bigger than Japan's.
The waves would be bigger than anywhere else,
together they would be the best.
Or they could be the worst.
And so God willed La Union in the northwest,
and Siargao further down south in Mindanao.
And so they could not speak, meet and kiss...

To my friends whose hearts I'm about to break, know that my left cheek will shatter first before your hearts does.
I hope that's comforting enough to hear.
I've always liked the angle of the right side of my face better, therefore the papers and reporters shall see just that.
I hope that's relieving enough to see.
To my other friends whose eyes I will be leaving swollen ugly for days on end,
España's rain and floods shall hydrate you back to life.
I know because I have blessed the skies with my own tears on the nights prior.
Dapitan's dust and smog shall breathe air into your lungs, but not into mine.
I know because I won't he here tomorrow.
I hope that's alleviating enough to know.

Over the last month, I have never figured out if I liked España or Dapitan better.
But I suppose it's the former, for it shall have my sorry excuse of a body
for the very last time.
It's a bad metaphor for a feigned
and forced liberty,
as with this country that I lived in and loved better than the pretentious
and lifeless cities I've traveled to.
Singapore is but a fleeting fling.
Tickles your fancy but will leave you tired and in resentment.
Hong Kong is just another plaything.
Everybody would tell you she's good and all that, but she lost to your tastes still.
Macau is the lover that never gives but keeps on asking,
she was never the safest bet
nor can you lie and tell her she's the best.
Johor is just as frustrating.
She would be the hardest question in the test, the one you've thought of over and over but still stood miscorrect.
Bangkok, I have kept her dearly in my heart but ended up forgetting still.
My other lover from the farther west, but still wouldn't compare to the best.

But Manila, she lives in me. She is me.
It's a shame, I will never see her prosper and bloom in her waiting heydays,
whenever that may be.
But do I deserve to witness that?
I have never done anything to help pitch in her movement.
But it's a bigger, even better shame to have lived in this age of technology.
Forgive me for leaving too soon, Manila.
Welcome me tomorrow around high noon, España.  
Forget about me like you did with your history, my beloved Philippines.
To the headlines, I am diving in headfirst.
To the tabloids, I beg of you to once more tickle the funny bones of a dead girl.

I dream of wearing the perfect red dress,
skin-tight but easy to take off,
the fabrics light yet hard enough for
men to take their eyes away from.
And did you know that I love how your name rhymes well with death?
If my skin would bleed or sweat out rhymes,
it might as well be to the sound of your name.
My guts shall dance to your liking,
watch my blood flow like the wine
you've been gulping.
Do as you please, but please never go easy.
My body is made for the opposite.
Now excuse me, while I go and search for the
perfect
red
dress.

If little me comes to me
running and asking for help,
I know that I will hold her near
carry her, run faster away from hell
and tell her, "for you I would do anything"

"I dream of the day I would see the flowers bloom in Palestine", says an ally.
"I dream of the day I would see the flowers again",
cries an old lady from Palestine
"I dream of the day I would see Palestine",
prays a refugee in a faraway country
"I dream of the day when I would not dream and pray that there would be another day for Palestine",
screams a little child in Palestine


And the sun is the witness
The sun knows it all,
it has watched, witnessed and waited...


I dream of the day I would see the flowers bloom in Palestine!
From the bullets bored through little children's ribs,
to the bloodied blouses hanging in the clothesline.

I dream of the day I would see flowers again!
From the people's laughters and childish ease,
to the tears and pain I can't even begin to imagine.

I dream of the day I would see Palestine!
From the river, in the desert, in the colorful markets,
to the sea, in the beach, taking our sweet sweet time.

I dream of the day when I would not dream and pray that there would be another day for Palestine!
Because there would only be days of freedom!
Only for the children, for Gaza, mothers, fathers, doctors, soldiers, every Palestinian!
Days that are theirs!
Days and endless days are all there is!
And it is all theirs!


And the sun is the judge and the jury
The sun grants it,
the justice for every injury, freedom for every perjury...

Naririnig ko na ang awit ng mga anghel
Naaaninag na ang liwanag,
sikat ng araw ay tila ginto at kahel.

Maniwala ka, babalikan kita,
katulad ng pagbalik ng alon sa baybay.
Maniwala ka, hahanapin kita,
katulad ng paru-paro sa bulaklak.

Naririnig mo na ba ang yapak ng aking paa?
Handa na bang maaninag ang aking mukha?
Masilayan ngiti kong 'singtamis ng ubas?

Maniwala ka, hindi kita nilisan,
katulad ng hangin, lagi mo akong kapiling.
Maniwala ka, hindi kita lilisanin kailanman,
katulad ng oras, laging tatakbo sa iyong tabi.

Binasbasan mo ako ng haplos mo,
binasbasan din kita ng puso ko.
Ito na ang langit, ito ang paraiso.
Nandito na tayo, hindi na lalayo.

Isusulat ko at ipapahayag sa lahat,
babaguhin ang bawat aklat.
Pag-ibig ko'y ipagmalaki at iulat,
kaluwalhatian ng pag-ibig ay ibunyag.

Sa pagbalik ko
at sa pagbalik mo
sa piling ko,
at sa kaligayahan mo...
Mananatili, walang pasubali
Magwawagi, walang makakapigil

Sa muli **** pagdating
at sa pagkikitang muli
sa kaharian mo,
at sa kaluwalhatian mo...
Aawit ng papuri, mabagal at mabilis
Aawit ng himnong walang mintis

My body is a tropical island
Full of wonders, views are grand
A spectacle of various rare terrains,
overwhelming for the unadventurous
and exhausting for the meager brains.
My body boasts of all the different
exotic textures and new colors,
something your waiting eyes
must be ready to marvel at.
My body takes pride in its
mountain-like curves;
not exactly the perfect shapes
but awe-inspiring, like a painting.
Something your anticipating hands
has to feel thrilled to touch.
However, my body is also known
for its extraordinary yet abrupt movements;
scary for most and sensual for some.
Like earthquakes and typhoons,
you'll never know when the rhythms come.
Something your foreign familiarity
would either be thrilled or petrified about.
So I welcome you to this island of mine,
leave your worries back to the shores,
clear your soul and free your mind.
Leave you exhilarated and in monsoon,
my rainforest flora forever in bloom.

Alam kong umpisa na ng tag-init dyan.
O baka lingid sa kaalaman ko'y
sa susunod na linggo pa o kalaunan.
Ngunit kung paano ang tag-init dyan
o gaano kainit ay hindi ko alam.
Paano ang tag-init dyan sa inyo?
Gaano ka-init ang mainit dyan sa bahay mo?
Sana'y naaarawan ka ng sapat at tama,
sana'y palaging malusog ka at masaya.

Alam mo bang tag-ulan na rito ng Hunyo?
O maaaring para sayo ay patak pa lang,
o marahil mga mumunting tulo.
Ngunit kung gaano kaginaw
o paano ang tag-ulan ay hindi mo alam.
Gaano kaginaw, gaya ba ng taas ng baha?
Paano ang patak ng ulan, tulad ba ng luha?
Sana'y bagyuhin at tangayin ang mga mali,
sana'y mawala na ang alaalang gipit.

Alam kong tag-init na pag Hunyo sa inyo.
Ngunit alam mo ba talaga kung gaano ka-init
kung ikaw sana'y narito sa silid ko?
Alam mo ba ang tunay na tag-init,
gayong di mo pa nararanasan sa bisig ko?
Hindi mo malalaman kung gaano kainit ang mainit
hangga't ika'y wala sa tabi ko.
Ang tunay na tag-init ay nasa aking piling.

Alam mo nang tag-ulan na rito ng Hunyo.
Ngunit kung malalaman mo nga kung gaano kaginaw,
tulad siguro ng paghagkan sa bloke ng yelo.
Alam mo ba ang tunay na tag-ulan,
tila mga patak ng luha kung mawawala ako.
Malalaman mo kung gaano kaginaw ang maginaw
kung mawawala ako sa buhay mo.
Ang tunay na tag-ulan ay ang aking kawalan.

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...

It was 3 A.M. in the heart of the metro,
although by the crossroads of Katipunan,
Aurora Blvd and CP Garcia,
the music of time seems to sigh to a stop.
And there by the corner, an orchestra.
Our hearts, on the other hand,
were out in the open
but the cold weather got the best of us.
Our sleepy eyes were giving us away.
You had to pull me closer
and I had to warm up your hands.
Have I told you before?
You have the hands that could unsettle
but your eyes tells a whole different story.
A tale I was too terrified to start reading, perhaps.
But a favorite of mine it has become in time.
Moments with you are as raw and surreal
as moments can be;
they were just once imaginations and inspirations for
those bad poems I used to write years ago.
Not that my poems now are good but the ideas I can now grasp,
they're inside my realm, within my reach.
Your far-fetched dreams are statement patches
on my denim jacket while my craziest of hopes
are tucked safely inside every pocket of your dad's
hand-me-down vintage jeans.
"He got this from Vietnam in the 80's",
you uttered between a puff of smoke
and before I could start talking about the war yet again,
just like in the movies,
you started asking me about my dad, his whereabouts,
'just anything' about him;
something a lover has never done before,
something a friend wouldn't even bother hearing about.
You were waiting intently yet so patiently
for my response as you threw away the **** of your cigarette.
Right then and there,
I swear I was in rock bottom in love with you.
Should I reach for your lips first then proceed to tell you?
Or should I tell you first and then stop to stare at your lips longingly before finally reaching
out to kiss you, like in the movies, too?
For the very first time, I was in rendezvous with the story
and the abiding pain that comes with its telling.
I almost liked the melancholy lying in its very idea.
I was at peace talking about it,
almost as if it wasn't my own story to tell.
You made everything so easy, like throwing up acid
after about twelve celebratory shots of Stolichnaya.
You listened, you didn't just hear me out but you listened
like no one did before
and right then and there,
I swear I could give you the world.
And I started doing so by giving you the bricks
from the ruins of the walls around my heart.
The same bricks that I shattered
and played my own heart with.
I even had the faint chance to understand myself,
but not as much as you did.
I saw some things I've never seen before
but not as clearly as you did.
I stopped mid-sentence, first to catch my breath,
second to recollect myself
and I wasn't very sure about the third
if I wanted to break down
or if I wanted to reach for your lips,
finally pull you in for a kiss but to hell, you knew
what I needed better.
You took my hand, kissed it tenderly before pulling me in.
You let my head rest on your lap like I would have with my dad, should he stayed.
And I told myself "there's no turning back".
You found me by the crossroads
and you made me tiptoe happily through
the speeding vehicles that once killed me
and destroyed parts of me that I could never take back
but I would do it all over again.
I would live only to die again.
For half the time, you were waiting for me on the
other side of the road but for the latter,
you impatiently crossed the other half of the road
to meet me in the middle,
so we could cross back to safety together.
I could double whatever price I had to pay
when I saw your face getting closer
and when you finally touched me,
I was willing to embrace the glory of bankruptcy.
Right then and there I swear I could do everything for you
and I started doing so by forcing my heart
with all its might to try beating once more
and it did, to my surprise, the loudest it ever has.
I didn't have to hold the shards for too long
with my already bleeding and wary hands
because you held them with me.
You held me.
And just like that, I am whole again.
We were singing along to Strawberry Fields Forever,
exchanging soft, contented sighs while wishing
Walrus didn't have to close so soon as 2 A.M.

We were both marching into a new war
when we knew we could end up doomed.
I once dreamt of reaching the stars
until living just felt like picking on scars,
as if opening old time wounds.

But I refuse to be bruised;
I refuse to 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 be bruised,
For I so desire to be thrown off the cliff.
I am ready to bust open my eyes and lips.
I long to have an arrow shot
to my weary heart.
I daydream of spilling blood
on your strong arms.

I refuse to be bruised;
For I am never more thrilled to perish,
Just to get a taste of your lips.
Into the lions' den
I would beg to be shoved,
Only for the glory
and name of your love.
Darling I am most ready to die,
burn and decay,
If that means I would feel your touch
across my face.

A line from a favorite movie of mine goes;
"Marriage isn't romantic,
that's why God invented poetry."
And I could not get it out of my mind.
So much that it kept me up for two nights.
That what if I am to become a wife,
life would be a never ending strife?
What if I can only sit still with a book,
but as soon as I am someone's woman,
I am a runaway and a crook?
What if I can only well rhyme my poems,
but affection for my husband
is something I would always owe him?
What if I am only clever with my riddles,
but fall short with my duties as a maiden?
What if I am only a good artist,
but bad in marriage?
What if I am ideal in theory,
but repulsive in practice?
What if I am a better lover,
but only in my letters?
What if only in fantasy am I a good writer,
but in reality as a foe am I better?

Empecemos.
𝘜𝘮𝘱𝘪𝘴𝘢𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘯𝘢 𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯.

Cojamos las sillas, sentémonos
y empecemos a comer.
𝘒𝘶𝘮𝘶𝘩𝘢 𝘵𝘢𝘺𝘰 𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘨𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘺𝘢, 𝘶𝘮𝘶𝘱𝘰
𝘢𝘵 𝘶𝘮𝘱𝘪𝘴𝘢𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘬𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯.

En esta mesa, eres el único discípulo.
𝘚𝘢 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵𝘰, 𝘪𝘬𝘢𝘸 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘰.

Toma mi cuerpo...
𝘒𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘬𝘢𝘵𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘯 𝘬𝘰...

Y mis huesos, vale, rómpelos...
𝘔𝘨𝘢 𝘣𝘶𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘰'𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘭𝘪-𝘣𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘰...

Y te digo;
"Esto es mi cuerpo, entregado por ti,
hacer esto en memoria de mí."
"𝘐𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘬𝘢𝘵𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘯, 𝘯𝘢 𝘪𝘣𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘺 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘢 𝘴𝘢'𝘺𝘰,
𝘨𝘢𝘸𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘰 𝘪𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘨-𝘢𝘭𝘢-𝘢𝘭𝘢 𝘴𝘢 𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯."

Y toma la copa, lleno de mis lágrimas,
esperanzas y sueños.
𝘈𝘵 𝘬𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘬𝘰𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘢, 𝘯𝘢 𝘯𝘢𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘨𝘢 𝘭𝘶𝘩𝘢,
𝘱𝘢𝘨-𝘢𝘴𝘢 𝘢𝘵 𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘱 𝘬𝘰.

"Esta copa es el nuevo pacto en mi sangre,
que es derramada por ti."
"𝘈𝘯𝘨 𝘬𝘰𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘪𝘱𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘢 𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘶𝘨𝘰,
𝘯𝘢 𝘪𝘣𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘩𝘰𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘢 𝘴𝘢'𝘺𝘰"

En verdad, créeme, me traicionarás...
𝘈𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰𝘵𝘰𝘰, 𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘥𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘰 𝘢𝘬𝘰 𝘰 𝘣𝘢𝘬𝘢 𝘵𝘢𝘱𝘰𝘴 𝘯𝘢...

Pero está bien, lo estaba anticipando...
𝘗𝘦𝘳𝘰 𝘢𝘺𝘰𝘴 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨, 𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘢𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘯 𝘬𝘰 𝘳𝘪𝘯 𝘪𝘵𝘰...

Pero primero come conmigo, quiero
disfrutar esta ultima comida contigo.
𝘗𝘦𝘳𝘰 𝘬𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘬𝘢 𝘮𝘶𝘯𝘢 𝘬𝘢𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘢 𝘬𝘰,
𝘨𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘢𝘱𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘶𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘶𝘯𝘢𝘯 𝘬𝘢𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘢 𝘮𝘰.

Quédate conmigo, hasta que me lleven...
𝘔𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘪 𝘴𝘢 𝘱𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘬𝘰, 𝘣𝘢𝘨𝘰 𝘯𝘪𝘭𝘢 𝘬𝘰 𝘥𝘢𝘬𝘱𝘪𝘯...

Oremos toda la noche, hasta llegar al cielo.
Y antes de enfrentar el calvario...
𝘔𝘢𝘨𝘥𝘢𝘴𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘢𝘺𝘰 𝘣𝘶𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘢𝘣𝘪, 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘨𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘢𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘵.
𝘈𝘵 𝘣𝘢𝘨𝘰 𝘬𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘬𝘢𝘭𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘺𝘰...

But that night has beaten every bet, every win of a year's worth of games in Lisbonㅡ we both knew we've lost as reality went all in and we only had nothing but our dreams and art to gamble while the stakes were high.

And did we cruise along those rather soulless waters of Barcelona down to Málaga only to jump recklessly, drown and pull each other down trenches of more questions; our oxygen, our rescue being each other's whereabouts for the next few months?

Battered and almost breathless, I crawl my way farther up north alone. Don't fret for I wouldn't let Budapest thwart me one bit,
at least not the way you did.
The streets may be enthralling in every way, yes, but I would never take any photos in it, and that's a promise.

As we bid goodbyes and succumb to the perpetual agony brought about by the distance between our worn-out souls, the world shall be left helpless with no other choice than to weep with the howling of the new aurora sky.

I know you've heard things about me...
This and that, here and there...
And I also know you're a little scared,
could be of me, or of my beauty maybe...
This and this and this
Yet I know that as scared as you are,
you're also curious about my mysteries...
That and that and that
But if you take a chance on me,
if you step into my shores and feel my breeze,
you'll find that I'm just a beautiful island,
I could even be the best you'll ever see,
nothing more and nothing grand...
yet I could be the paradise you've never been
and I could have everything you'll ever need.
I could leave you exhilarated
with my magic, sunsets and seabed...
And you would leave me sparkling brand new,
like my oceans have never been this clear and blue.
This and that,
here and there,
I want you here now
and I want you near.

Bawat huling yakap mo'y katumbas ng sampal,
mga huling halik ng labi mo'y tila latigo ang lapat

'Di alintana ang tawanan nila't pangungutya;

Walang higit na sasakit pa
kaysa pagtalikod mo't palayong paglakad.

Bawat hakbang mo'y nadarama ang pagbigat nitong puso,
mga yapak **** dahilan ng makailang dapa at pagkahulog.

'Di na pinapakinggan mga sigaw nila't
'di mapunasan kanilang mga dura;

Walang higit na nakakahiya pa
kaysa pagtanggi mo sa akin sa harap nila.

Bawat kasinungalingan mo'y
pako sa aking kamay,
mga kasakiman mo'y
pako sa paa naman.

'Di na alintana ang hapdi at uhaw,
'di na hihintayin pa aking huling hininga.

Walang higit na kamatayan
kaysa paglayo mo't paglisan.

Your grumpy face in the mornings,
Your exhausted sigh in the evenings
Every late night until late breakfasts,
Every sunset that makes us whisper "at last"
All that makes us ourselves, all that's true
are all the reasons that makes me love you.
Catching the sunrise, breathing in the ocean breeze during the heat of summer.
Watching the snowfall and embracing the freeze during the hell of winter.
Our hands are locked through it all
These are the daily, mundane moments
I don't mind living with you and leaving with you for every rise and fall.

Please intertwine your routines with mine
Won't you spend sunsets with me
in the summertime?
I am not one to believe in forever after,
but I am one with you
for all seasons and weather.

They said you cannot pour
from an empty cup,
yet you fill me up, overflowing with feelings,
feelings that I have yet to feel,
let alone even believe.

They said you cannot pour
from an empty cup,
yet I find myself being able to give you more,
right when I thought
I could no longer give.

They said you cannot pour
from an empty cup,
so we throw away our old fragile mugs,
take out the fine, gold-rimmed glasses
and we began to clink.

They said you cannot pour
from an empty cup,
so we took out a bottle,
carefully tasting by drips,
and into the night we drink.

They said you cannot pour
from an empty cup,
So we threw a feast,
with only us two as guests,
until it's the dawn
and even then we still celebrate.

They said you cannot pour
from an empty cup,
yet we clink, drink and celebrate together,
finish one bottle after the other
because you know we have
a fair surplus of wine
down in our cellar

It's been a month since I've cut my hair short
And in another month, I'll cut it again,
and the next month, another inch,
and more inch, and more inch...
As it tries to grow longer, I'll stop it there.
I'll chop it, if it tries to go past my shoulder.
And by December, I'll have a hair and body you have never touched, ever.
And by January, I'll be a brand new person
yet someone you'll never forget forever.

My love, I will be here.
I will be here on nights that all you wanna do is cry and all I wanna do is watch you because I enjoy seeing you in pain.
If I could only take more pain possible and let it wreck you from the inside out every night, I would.
I will be with you on days that feels like weeks
and I will try to make the days feel like years instead.
If I could only shove the sun aside and bring forth darkness to your daylight, I would.
I will stay and sit with you through the dark
so I can make sure that you wouldn't find the switch before I do. The only light you'll ever need is the one you'll see in the end of my wrath's tunnel.
I will protect you until the end
from finding your happiness. You are safe enough inside the cage of my pain,
I will not let go of you,
where do you think you'll go other than here in our bed of daggers made from your remorse and my resentment?
I will hold you closer with the strongest grip of my now unable hand everytime.

There's nothing you can ever do to lose me,
as much as there's nothing I can ever do to love and trust you again.
Being with you, I knew I've brought this upon myself.
Messing with me, you never knew you're gonna see this coming, knocking you from your senses.

Through the gloom and in bloom,
for worse and for the worst,
for richer and for poorer
In sickness and in madness,
to hate and wait for you to perish
everyday we'll crush each other's hearts
I promise even death won't keep us apart.

💍

Tinawid ko ang karagatan,
binaybay din ang Kabisayaan.
Mula sa hilaga, sa Katagalugan,
mahanap ko lang ang katotohanan.
At makita ko lamang ang kasagutan,
malasap lang ang angkin nitong tabáng.
'Di lang karagatan ang handa kong tawirin,
mga ilog na may buwaya rin, aking giliw.
Makita ko lang sa'yong mata ang saliw
at dampi ng aking nadaramang sakit.
Babaybayin ang buong bayan at isla,
bibilangin ko ang bawat mga tala.
Lilibutin ko ang kabundukan,
lilituhin ating kapalaran.

I'm a simple girl,
I only want few ugly things out of
this equally ugly world.
Hot showers on summer afternoons,
frozen desserts on stormy evenings,
old, sad rock songs on christmas day
and scribbling depressing poems on my birthday.

I like the comfort that I get from sitting right beside the door of a moving vehicle,
that the possibility of it sliding open
while I'm leaning on it feels like
my favorite warm blanket from childhood.
The idea that I could be sitting upright one minute
then the next, my face will be parallel to my knees and ankle
feels like my cheat cigarette stick after months of "quitting", it's that good.

And I love thinking about the probability in the fact that I might not wake up after tonight,
that this might be my last poem written.
That if I pop a bit too many pills,
I can just end all of these.
It's like I got magic under my sleeves.
But who the hell needs magic?
Instead, I wish I had a beautifully tight noose to put me to eternal sleep

I would do it all over again:
Leave my safe space
Flee from my own sanctuary
Burn my body and face
Strut into an unknown territory
Fall down from grace
Give up my false sense of serenity

Trade my gold jewelries for pearls
Swap my diamonds for seashells
With the island air, I'd dance and twirl,
Along the ocean breeze, I'd twist and bend;
this bottled feeling is a message I won't send.

But I would do it all too:
Leave everything behind
if it's you I'll get to be with in the end
I would cut my own good hand,
go somewhere nobody can find
just for another day of me and you
in the island.

Alam ko namang ito ang magiging kamatayan ko.
Alam ko namang may hangganan din itong mayroon tayo.
Ang puso kong pasan-pasan ko,
at hila hila ko rin pati na ang sa'yo.
Ang pagkahulog ko ay akin lamang,
ang pagkakadapa ko'y sariling pagkakasala.
Ano ang sasabihin ng aking ina,
ang luha pag nakita ang duguang mukha?
Abutin mo ang aking kamay,
at tulungan mo akong tumayo sa aking paa.
At ang mukha ko'y punasan mo,
ang labi ko'y dampihan mo ng labi mo.
Ang aking ikalawang pagkakahulog,
alam kong wala nang sasaklolo.
At wag kang iiyak sa ngalan ko
ang luha mo'y para lamang sa'yo.
Ang ikatlong pagkakahulog,
ang iyong kapatawaran ay ibigay mo.
Aking kasuotan ay tanggalin mo,
aking kabayaran ay tanggapin mo.
Ang mga braso ko'y pigilan mo,
ang mga binti ko ay isunod.
Alisin mo ang paghihirap ko sinta,
ang paghinga ko'y wakasan na.
Alisin ang katawan ko't ilayo sa aking puso,
ang isip ko'y isunod mo pagkatapos.
At ipahinga mo ang bangkay ko sa tabi mo,
hanggang kamatayan sa'yo lang gagapos.
At hintayin mo aking muling pagbabalik, sapagkat ang aking ikalawang pagdating  ay ang paraisong di mo pa nararating.

I am known to have several hobbies,
as I also have significant prowess in each.
Because in anything that I do
and whatever I want to try,
I always do it naturally and good
just like a bird taking flight.

When it comes to new interests,
I am simply the best student.
I learn and plan carefully with method
and execute flawlessly with madness.
Calling and pulling down rain like a God,
I water my passions like lilies in the garden.

When it comes to new knowledge,
I am a servant yet the queen of this village.
A newcomer gangster who rules the streets,
I am feared in every turn and corner.
Yet an overqualified maiden on the sheets,
I am tenderly adored and kissed better.

When learning about new languages,
I dedicate it only for the arts and letters.
Speak foreign words like it's teenage love,
I've sworn this is only on paper, not my lips.
Sing fluently like my head with heels above,
I swallow my pride and swing my hips.

When talking about arbitraries and goals,
I am never not in the know from the get-go.
I am an angel who sets and builds the stage,
when I show up, nobody feels the breeze.
Yet I am the devil that gambles and trades,
in my refusal everybody finds their release.