A sober rockstar, not even a puff of cigarette
A man who's actually one
A cowboy making the sign of the cross before a rodeo show
A ******* singing songs of love
A murderer in an old church's confessional
A white guy in Manila who's actually here for work
A cool guy having hot flashes and constant fever
A deadbeat father writing poetry
A ped*phile making the sign of the cross out of habit
A hot guy having regular hypothermia
A politician smiling warmly
A poet
A poem
A poet and their poems.

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?

𝑨𝒚 𝒊𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒐,
𝒎𝒂𝒂𝒂𝒓𝒊 𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒄𝒄𝒆𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒐.
𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒂 𝒔𝒂 𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈,
𝒊𝒔𝒂 𝒊𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒂 𝒎𝒈𝒂 𝒎𝒆𝒋𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒔 𝒊𝒏𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒐𝒔!
¡𝑨𝒚! 𝑨𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒃𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒌𝒐...
𝑫𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒅𝒂𝒍𝒂 𝒌𝒐 𝒊𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒂 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒂,
𝒔𝒂 𝒎𝒈𝒂 𝒑𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒂, 𝒑𝒊𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒈...
𝑨𝒕 𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒂 𝒑𝒂𝒈-𝒂𝒂𝒍𝒔𝒂,
𝒔𝒂 𝒎𝒈𝒂 𝒑𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔, 𝒑𝒖𝒈𝒏𝒂𝒔...

𝑰𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒓𝒐 𝒔𝒂 𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒈𝒂 𝒅𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒈𝒂,
𝒌𝒖𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒂𝒂𝒏𝒐 𝒈𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏 𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒂𝒎𝒂
𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒃𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒌𝒐,
𝒄𝒐𝒏 𝒆𝒍 𝒅𝒆𝒃𝒊𝒅𝒐 𝒅𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒓𝒐...
𝑺𝒂 𝒑𝒂𝒈-𝒊𝒃𝒊𝒈, 𝒔𝒂 𝒑𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒊,
𝒄𝒖𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒐 𝒄𝒐𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒂,
𝒄𝒖𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒐 𝒆𝒔𝒕á 𝒆𝒏 𝒖𝒏𝒂 𝒄𝒊𝒕𝒂...
𝑼𝒏𝒂, 𝒌𝒖𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒚𝒂𝒘 𝒎𝒐 𝒔𝒂 𝒔𝒆ñ𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒐,
𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒂𝒈-𝒑𝒂𝒚𝒑𝒂𝒚.
𝑰𝒌𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒘𝒂, 𝒌𝒖𝒏𝒈 𝒈𝒖𝒔𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒐 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒆ñ𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒐,
𝒓á𝒑𝒊𝒅𝒐 𝒅𝒂𝒑𝒂𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒂𝒈-𝒑𝒂𝒚𝒑𝒂𝒚,
𝒉𝒂𝒃𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒂 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒂 𝒏𝒊𝒚𝒂'𝒚 𝒑𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒂𝒚-𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒂𝒚.
𝑰𝒌𝒂𝒕𝒍𝒐, 𝒅𝒆𝒋𝒂 𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒆𝒍 𝒂𝒃𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒄𝒐 𝒄𝒂𝒊𝒈𝒂 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒆 𝒂 é𝒍,
𝒊𝒕𝒐'𝒚 𝒌𝒖𝒌𝒖𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒏 𝒏𝒚𝒂 𝒚 𝒎í𝒓𝒂𝒍𝒐 𝒄𝒂𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒂𝒎𝒃𝒊é𝒏.
𝑷𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒐 𝒔𝒊𝒚𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒂𝒉𝒖𝒍𝒐𝒈 𝒔𝒂'𝒚𝒐.
𝑺𝒂 𝒎𝒈𝒂 𝒏𝒈𝒊𝒕𝒊 𝒎𝒐, 𝒔𝒂 𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒈 𝒎𝒐.
𝑫𝒖𝒅𝒂 𝒌𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒊 𝒔𝒊𝒚𝒂 𝒎𝒂𝒑𝒂𝒑𝒂𝒌𝒂𝒍𝒊 𝒔𝒂 𝒈𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒂 𝒎𝒐.
𝑷𝒆𝒓𝒐 𝒎í𝒓𝒂𝒍𝒐.
𝑴í𝒓𝒂𝒍𝒐 𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒆.
𝑴í𝒓𝒂𝒍𝒐 𝒔𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒊𝒃𝒓𝒆.
𝑲𝒖𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒌𝒐'𝒚 𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒊𝒏, 𝒊𝒕𝒐'𝒚 𝒊𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈.

𝑵𝒈𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒕 𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒓𝒐 𝒌𝒐 𝒔𝒂 𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒍𝒊
𝒌𝒖𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒂𝒂𝒏𝒐 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒈𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏
𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒃𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒌𝒐,
𝒔𝒊𝒏 𝒆𝒍 𝒅𝒆𝒃𝒊𝒅𝒐 𝒅𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒓𝒐...
𝑺𝒂 𝒑𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒌𝒊𝒑𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒂𝒃𝒂𝒏, 𝒔𝒂 𝒑𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒌𝒊𝒅𝒊𝒈𝒎𝒂,
𝒄𝒖𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒐 𝒃𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏 𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒅𝒂𝒔,
𝒄𝒖𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒐 𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒚 𝒆𝒏 𝒖𝒏𝒂 𝒃𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒂...
𝑼𝒏𝒂, 𝒌𝒖𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒚𝒂𝒘 𝒎𝒐 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒌𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒃𝒂𝒏 𝒏𝒂 𝒔𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒂𝒅𝒐,
𝒓á𝒑𝒊𝒅𝒐 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒂𝒈-𝒑𝒂𝒚𝒑𝒂𝒚 𝒏𝒈 𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒅𝒂.
𝑰𝒌𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒘𝒂, 𝒌𝒖𝒏𝒈 𝒈𝒖𝒔𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒐 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒊𝒕𝒐,
𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒐 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒂𝒈-𝒑𝒂𝒚𝒑𝒂𝒚 𝒂𝒕 𝒑𝒂𝒈𝒔𝒂𝒚𝒂𝒘,
𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒈𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒂 𝒔𝒊𝒚𝒂 𝒂𝒚 𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒚𝒂𝒘.
𝑰𝒌𝒂𝒕𝒍𝒐, 𝒅𝒆𝒋𝒂 𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒍𝒂 𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒅𝒂 𝒄𝒂𝒊𝒈𝒂 𝒔𝒐𝒃𝒓𝒆 𝒔𝒖 𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒉𝒐,
𝒊𝒕𝒐'𝒚 𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒈𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒏 𝒏𝒚𝒂, 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒐 𝒔ó𝒍𝒐 𝒎í𝒓𝒂𝒍𝒐.
¿𝑴í𝒓𝒂𝒍𝒐 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒓 𝒆𝒏 𝒆𝒍 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒐,
𝒑𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒓? ¿𝑷𝒐𝒓 𝑫𝒊𝒐𝒔?
𝑫𝒖𝒅𝒐 𝒒𝒖𝒆 é𝒍 𝒕𝒂𝒎𝒃𝒊é𝒏 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒊𝒆𝒓𝒂 𝒑𝒐𝒓 𝒒𝒖é 𝒎𝒖𝒓𝒊ó.
𝑷𝒆𝒓𝒐 𝒎í𝒓𝒂𝒍𝒐.
𝑴í𝒓𝒂𝒍𝒐 𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒆.
𝑴í𝒓𝒂𝒍𝒐 𝒔𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒊𝒃𝒓𝒆.
𝑺𝒊 𝒎𝒆 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒈𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒔, 𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒐 𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒆.
𝑬𝒏 𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒆 𝒅𝒆 𝒍𝒂 𝒂𝒃𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒄𝒐,
𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒃𝒓𝒂 𝒏𝒈 𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒅𝒂.

𝑭𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒕, 𝒂 𝑭𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒐 𝒔𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅
𝒊𝒔𝒏'𝒕 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒐𝒏𝒆;
𝒊𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒂 𝒕𝒐𝒐𝒍.
𝑨 𝒈𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒓𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐𝒐𝒍.
𝑨 𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒌𝒏𝒊𝒇𝒆 𝒖𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒖𝒕 𝒄𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒔,
𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒗𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒔.
𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒍𝒚, 𝒂 𝑭𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒐 𝒔𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒂 𝒘𝒆𝒂𝒑𝒐𝒏;
𝒊𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒂 𝒕𝒐𝒐𝒍 𝒖𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒑 𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒐𝒐𝒅,
𝒕𝒐 𝒏𝒖𝒓𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒂 𝒇𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒚,
𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝒂 𝒕𝒐𝒘𝒏.

𝑨 𝑭𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒐 𝒔𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒊𝒔𝒏'𝒕 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒐𝒏𝒆...
𝑼𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒍 𝒊𝒕 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒆.
𝑰𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂 𝒇𝒂𝒓𝒎 𝒕𝒐𝒐𝒍 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒚
𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒊𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒂 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒃𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒆𝒂𝒑𝒐𝒏.

𝑵𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒔,
𝒔𝒐 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒄𝒆𝒇𝒖𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒚,
𝒂 𝑭𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒐 𝒔𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒔 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒐𝒏𝒆;
𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒊𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒂 𝒘𝒆𝒂𝒑𝒐𝒏.
𝑨 𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒃𝒂𝒕 𝒐𝒏𝒆.
𝑵𝒐𝒘 𝒊𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒂 𝒌𝒏𝒊𝒇𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒘𝒊𝒆𝒍𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒌𝒊𝒍𝒍,
𝒕𝒐 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒘 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒘 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒆𝒔.
𝑼𝒍𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒚, 𝒂 𝑭𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒐 𝒔𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒂 𝒘𝒆𝒂𝒑𝒐𝒏;
𝑰𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒂 𝒕𝒐𝒐𝒍 𝒖𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅,
𝒕𝒐 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒚,
𝒔𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏.

𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒂 𝒑𝒆𝒏 𝒊𝒔𝒏'𝒕 𝒂 𝒔𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅...
𝑼𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒍 𝒊𝒕 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒂𝒔 𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒍.
𝑵𝒐𝒘 𝒂 𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒃𝒆 𝒌𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔,
𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒊𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒔𝒆𝒕 𝒂 𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒛𝒆 𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒍.

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.

𝑴𝒂𝒚𝒓𝒐𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒈𝒂 𝒃𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒚 𝒅𝒊𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒂 𝒎𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒐 𝒏𝒈 𝑫𝒊𝒚𝒐𝒔
𝒏𝒂 𝒕𝒖𝒍𝒂𝒅 𝒏𝒂 𝒍𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒏𝒈 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒈𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒍
𝒏𝒂 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒔 𝒏𝒊 𝑬𝒃𝒂 𝒎𝒖𝒍𝒂 𝒔𝒂 𝒑𝒖𝒏𝒐.
𝑴𝒈𝒂 𝒃𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒚 𝒏𝒂 𝒂𝒌𝒂𝒍𝒂 𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏 𝒂𝒚 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒂 𝒔𝒂 𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏,
𝒂𝒌𝒂𝒍𝒂 𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒖𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒚𝒂 𝒂𝒕 𝒏𝒂𝒌𝒂𝒃𝒖𝒃𝒖𝒕𝒊,
𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒕 𝒊𝒕𝒐 𝒑𝒂𝒍𝒂 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒅𝒂𝒅𝒂𝒍𝒂 𝒏𝒈 𝒖𝒏𝒐𝒔
𝒂𝒕 𝒏𝒈 𝒌𝒂𝒑𝒂𝒉𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒂𝒏 𝒔𝒂 𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏.
𝑴𝒈𝒂 𝒃𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒚 𝒏𝒂 𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒂 𝒃𝒂 𝒑𝒂𝒈𝒌𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒏𝒂𝒌𝒂𝒌𝒂𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒂,
𝒏𝒂 𝒂𝒌𝒂𝒍𝒂 𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏 𝒂𝒚 𝒊𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒂 𝒔𝒂 𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒂,
𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒕 𝒊𝒕𝒐 𝒑𝒂𝒍𝒂 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒂 𝒂𝒕𝒊'𝒚 𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒐𝒏
𝒂𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒊𝒚𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒌𝒊𝒌𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒍 𝒔𝒂 𝒃𝒖𝒉𝒂𝒚 𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏.
𝑲𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒍𝒂𝒅 𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒔 𝒏𝒂 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒏𝒊 𝑬𝒃𝒂.
𝑲𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒍𝒂𝒅 𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒂𝒎𝒃𝒊𝒃𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒓𝒖𝒆𝒃𝒂.
𝑲𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒍𝒂𝒅 𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒖𝒃𝒂𝒅.
𝑲𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒍𝒂𝒅 𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒂𝒈𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒔𝒂 𝒔𝒂 𝒎𝒂𝒚 𝒂𝒔𝒂𝒘𝒂.
𝑲𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒍𝒂𝒅 𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒂𝒈𝒉𝒂𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒂𝒅 𝒏𝒂 𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒊𝒃𝒓𝒆.
𝑲𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒍𝒂𝒅 𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒂𝒈-𝒊𝒃𝒊𝒈.
𝑴𝒈𝒂 𝒃𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒚 𝒏𝒂 𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒂 𝒃𝒂 𝒃𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒚𝒂𝒅, 𝒔𝒂𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒅𝒐, 𝒃𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒍,
𝒏𝒂 𝒂𝒌𝒂𝒍𝒂 𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏 𝒂𝒚 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒂𝒃𝒖𝒃𝒖𝒕𝒊 𝒔𝒂 𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏,
𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒕 𝒊𝒕𝒐 𝒑𝒂𝒍𝒂 𝒂𝒚 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒈
𝒂𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒊𝒚𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒂𝒑𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒚 𝒔𝒂 𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏.
𝑲𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒍𝒂𝒅 𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒐𝒏 𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒆.
𝒂𝒕 𝒌𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒍𝒂𝒅 𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒂 𝒏𝒈 𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒂.

He cruzado los mares,
mientras cargaba mi propia cruz pesada.
He escalado los valles,
mientras cargo mis propias montañas.
Todo esto y más,
dudo que puedas hacerlo por tu cuenta.
Y es por eso que tú y yo somos diferentes.
No puedes ganar una guerra,
sin ser tu propio paraíso e isla.
No se puede saborear la victoria
sin lamer los terrenos del Gólgota.
Todo esto y más,
seguro de que no lo sabrías si no te lo dijera.
Y es por eso que tú y yo no somos iguales.
He surcado mares de fuego,
mis dientes salieron más fuertes
que cien coronas.
He cavado mi propia tumba,
y regresé más poderosa
que mil mesías.
Y por eso soy reina, una eterna.
Y por qué eres sólo un hombre, un mortal.

Dear Reader,

If your winter becomes unbearably colder,
your summer a little less hot,
If your spring lacks flowers and colors,
and your next autumn full of drought,

remember that it's summer all year here,
yet my nights are colder since you left.
But I'll be waiting until you're back or near,
to go where or do what,
we'll just have to wonder and guess...

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.

If I cannot be with you
If I cannot see you again
I would still have you
and see you still.
I would see your eyes
in the oceans I would dive and swim in.
I would feel the heat of your skin
within the kiss of the golden summer sun.
And I would finally feel your kiss
everytime I feel kindness time and again.
I would feel your body's warmth,
in every care that will be bestowed on me.
You will be in every island I would go to.
You will be in every sunset I will witness,
that everyday I would look forward to.
You will be in every phase of the moon,
that every night I would look for
and look up to.
You will be in every star
that I would wish upon,
until the very last one
that I wished for you.
If I cannot be with you
If I cannot see you again
I would still feel you everywhere,
just as kindness and warmth
is everywhere, too.

I said,
"This is only gonna be a summer thing".
For six weeks, you can have me
as your shiny bling.
I would let myself get lost
in your ocean's blue,
but only until the first drop of rain in June.
I would let myself drown in joy,
be your new toy, but boy,
I never thought "summer"
would be our most favorite ploy.
"This is only gonna be a summer thing",
But then we live in far-flung distances,
stretching and bending from east to west.
Summer is here, spring is his,
when it's rainy where I am, he's at ease.
And when I'm feeling the summer breeze,
It's as if I could almost hear him sneeze.
And when summer comes where he is,
I am the one who's cold and about to freeze.
"This is only gonna be a summer thing",
but when my summer is over,
his summer is just beginning.
And when his summer is around the corner,
my summer is yet again just starting.
"This is only gonna be a summer thing",
says she who lives in the tropics,
where summer is all-year long.
"This is only gonna be a summer thing",
says he whose heart she has melted,
summer is forever and winter is long ago.

He softly touched her cheek
the same way cold touched
the first few mornings
of Februaryㅡfrigid but somehow fleeting.
Full of adoration
yet full of uncertainties.
And like the whispers of warmth
on some mornings,
he's almost always anticipating to leave.
With those cold hands of his,
he softly touched her cheek
and like the fury between
the cold and warm,
he kissed her
while whispering goodbye
at the same time.

(A tagalog poem)

ㅡ

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.

But times are different now.
You may still have a kingdom,
yet you're here in mine and yours is far away,
you're here looking for food, like some stray.
But the tides have turned now.
Your kind used to be stronger,
yet now I have you wrapped around my finger,
you're there looking for me, who's now bigger.
But this is a newer world now.
You are right here in my kingdom and land,
you're nowhere to be found
if not for the golden touch of my hand.
But this is my world now.
You are right here in my abundant islands
and under my crimson red skies.
You'll be all but buried down to the ground
if not for my songs, lies, jokes and fire.
You're reduced to ashes among the sand
if not for me coming right into your life.

Before despair takes my heart and scream "mine",

Before the flowers planted from pain rots away with time,

Before the birds faint and fall from the dark grey skies,

Before the music shuts through the angst of the chimes,

Before they tell us no, we weren't meant to be tomorrow and lie,

Before the daylight howls and before the sunset cries,

take me by the tip of your tongue and spill your sadness in me.

Take me in every corner of your room until I run out of fears to bleed.

Take me. Take me anywhere.

The band is where I need to be
When I buzz and splash
and when
I roll,
My weary soul's finally set free.
The moment I undressed
for the snare,
I knew
the last thing I ever wanted
to be is sane.
My tired limb pitched in for the bass,
I got afraid
my music is bound to be
an unsolved case.


Silence...

Then here they come again.

Then I shall be beating and playing again.

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?

I study and read about it
Sing songs in the glory of it
Carve it on your tongue
and lips
Tattoo, etch and kiss it
on my hips

Interpreter of dreams,
you see the future
once a cynic but it seems
with you I am sure.
So I kneel and crawl
slowly towards your temple,
I am a broken statue
that only you could reassamble.

I pray, please do not humble
yourself before any god,
for you know your words
are worth more than gold.
I praise and worship you
as my one and only king,
even your sins are the
absolute truth I'm praying.

For you I would blindlessly
find a new Babylon,
for in your holy name
I saw eternal salvation.
Darling, there is no more
unbearable exile
than being far away
from you in miles.

Still I exalt you and in you
I put all my faith,
for you are the beast
my demons see as bait.
Yet you call on me
like an angel from your dream,
my songs are whisper,
while my poems are screams.

I found you one fateful,
raging night in the lion's den
we ran away with the wolves,
never returned again.
My religion is loving you
and blessing your name.
One touch and forgetting you
is a losing game.

In your quiet I found my
passing repentance,
yet our love is a loud,
deafening covenant.
On my knees,
I cast away your burdens,
in your name
I can move mountains.

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

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.

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.

How sweet it is to relive the years of young over and over!

How lovely it is to recall the good old days and remember!

The candies, the soft songs, the bliss of innocence, the tinge of rainbow at every sight!
Oh, bring me back to my childhood!

…but this is their story.

my childhood had been what life is to me all along and now;

Everything and everyone comes and then goes.

There are but few things that haven't changed from when I was four;

the longing I can never outgrow.

the house I can never really call home.

the constant nightmares, cries and screams.

nothing a child would ever imagine nor dream.

The scars, the beaten-down rhymes, the blame beneath the chastise, the fading of every color from the light.
Oh, I am finally kissing my childhood goodbye!

*...and this is mine.

What of languages, if you only need a few words to ask how a friend is today?

What of learning dialects, if you only need a single sentence to ask a vendor how much their goods are?

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, if you only speak to me when I do? What good is it, if I were to become mute?

So what of languages, if you can't use them to ask me how I am today?

So what of your dialects, if I couldn't ask you how much your attention is,
or if I could even buy it?

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 what we feel?

What about the new language you taught me? Do we let it die or make new jokes?
How good it will be, if they become true?

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?

What of languages, if you only need one or two words to say you're sorry?

What of learning dialects, if you only need a single sentence to tell me why you think I deserved whatever **** you've put me in?

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

What about the new language you taught me, is it even ours to begin with?
What good is it, if I'm now gagged, silenced and mute?

So what of languages, if you are to be exiled soon, with your tongue tied too?

So what of my dialects, if I couldn't even ask myself to forgive and forget, to let it go and give it a rest?

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? I wanna write these words in scripts, only to light them in a fire.
How good will it be, if I were to be the bad guy this time?

Five summers, four lovers
and three checkbooks ago,
I've been here, as I am today.
Same corner, same shade of gloomy day,
and about the same volume of falling rain,
still a one-call-away favorite friend of pain.
Only now I am much more
clever and conniving,
more calculating
and dare I say,
more frightening.
My approaching steps are the pitter-patter
of the storm starting,
the thundering warning of my arrival
is Manila's hour rushing.
Words from my lips
are news you'd rather miss,
however I can't say the same
about my infamous kiss.
I am older, and longer are my to-do lists.
My patience is longer,
but my heart no longer sighs or beats.

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

Rain was pouring hard
when my cheap fastfood coffee was full,
my cold sweat does the same
as soon as I finished the cup.
Bringing an umbrella in Dapitan
is not necessary.
At least that's what I said
before I was all soaked and in dread.

My heart has had enough
My mind had its final run
But my body
Oh god, my body,
My poor body...
It remains unsullied, untouched

Years have passed
and the past have yearned,
spells were cast
and lessons are learned.
Still, my body remains hungry
It remains still, and it's still at rest
Still, it's been at rest painfully
I remain unfed, receiving only less
And it wants to run, climb and fly
it wants to bleed, shed and cry

My body;
not only does it ask me for more,
but it demands the most.
It asks me to tour down the earth's core,
commands me to find what's lost.

The exhaustion
The falling
The soreness
The failing
The bouts of pain
The flying...

Everything my heart has fought with,
everything my mind has battled with,
my body wants every taste,
craves every punch and hit.
It craves some kind of feigned balance,
it craves a round of some dangerous dance

Yet I wait
I wait for nature to grant me the green light.
I wait for the stars to lull me into the night.
I wait for the trees to give me some reason.
I wait for the moon to pull me into seasons.

Oh it's for sure a delicate time.

For me and you both.

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 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.

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

They say you must suffer
before you become free
You must be a prisoner
before you can flee

But I beg to differ...
Before you came I didn't know glee.
I was held captive by land and earth
before I became as wild as the sea

And you wouldn't agree either...
Before me, you've never known grace.
You were trapped by the fear of danger
until you're blessed by the sight of my face

You could try but you won't find better...
After me, everyone else is just a phase.
I was chained by the fear of another lover
but you blessed me with hope I can't erase

Now we are swinging like olive branches,
dancing and swaying like palm trees,
I don't want to take any chances
but with you I'd take a thousand risks.

Now we are singing like lovebirds
flying across a meadow in a summer light,
I don't want to fall in love again
but for you I'd jump headfirst and deep dive.

But even during my rest, I'm still the best.
Even in my quiet and peace,
I'm a sought-after piece.
Even during my downtime, I'm still sublime.
Even in my state of dehydration,
I'm the object of desperation.
And even in my lack of desperation,
I am still everybody's temptation.
Even in my frigid solitude,
I am still the prized produce.
And even if they tried to cut me,
I only came out sweeter.
Even in my self-preservation,
I am still a sinful sensation.
And even if they tried to dry me,
I only came out juicier.
And even though it's not my season,
I still make mouths drool on and on.
And even though right now I may look dry,
I'd still take you to summer in just one bite.

No lo piénses dos veces,
solo dame cien besos.
Traicióname una y otra vez,
fallame con los ojos cerrados.

Adelante, que me lleven.
Solo siéntate ahí y escucha mis gritos.

No des un paso atrás,
o te arrepentirás.
Engañarme una y otra vez,
prométeme nada más.

Adelante, que me arrastren.
Sólo mira cómo crucifican mi cuerpo.

No me hagas daño solo por diez veces,
solo hazlo por cien o millones.
Dececpcionarme una y otra vez,
miénteme y dime que todo está bien.

Adelante, que me maten.
Sólo prométeme que esperarás junto a mi sepulcro.

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...

On my own,
I would probably *****
and gallop around
like an untrained horse,
just doing whatever I please.
But with himㅡmy master, my rider,
I became a tamed, seasoned
and trained champion.
When he's on top of me,
he trots with glee,
when we jump
and into the air we flee;
I feel like I would be sold
with a worth far more than
a brand new Ferrari.
On my own, I am but a restless beast;
But when we canter together,
we grace the lands
and weather the storm,
we ride with such majesty
and with much ease and joy.

Estás a mi merced.
Hasta que yo lo diga,
nunca serás libre.
Yo no ruego
pero tu eres el que esta rogando.
Soy la reina de la isla del fuego,
este es mi juego y tu solo estas jugando.
Eres mi esclavo ahora.
hasta que escribo
Mi peor y último poema.

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'm never one to feel the right things,
to feel what I should be feeling
or what they say I should feel.
I'm never one to say the proper words,
to say what I should to cut the cords
or what they say I should pray to the Lord.
But why do I feel like I'm not welcome here?
Why do I feel like a stranger since I'm near?
I'm not one to do what a lady should do,
to do things for what and act to please who
or go wherever they want her to go to.
I'm never one to mindlessly nod and obey,
to follow the mild current and go against bay
or have a routine like I do from night to day.
But why do I feel like doing what they say?
Why do I feel like I need to go anyway?

This is a sweet poem of relinquished gratitude

For a man who has done nothing but dig a hole that goes through the core

Like a worn-out book binded by threads of thirst that doesn't wish to be quenched,

A daughter who can only whisper prayers of solitude for a man who traded a jade for his *****.

Now that jade he's turned his back away from is not so precious anymore.

Rather a daisy all rotten, vines growing around the cage with which despair has clenched.

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

You were my own brand of summer and your love is the sunburn that will never soothe and heal.
Your kiss can pull the clouds away from the sun, keep the boats anchored down despite strong currents and bring the solstice in the middle of the monsoon.
Your view from the shore while you were testing the waters will forever be etched in the remaining islets of my heart so it will never be washed away.
The sun blazing at our final hours in the beach is a manifestation that I should wait for something I really want;
I wanted the burn and the blaze but enough is enough.
My skin, my eyes and my bones can only take in so much.
The pain comes in waves and I already forgot how to swim.
The memories are twelve feet,
I'm just about five and I can't even float.
After you left, I felt the coldness of all the final months of the year take me into their embrace all at once.
This is what winter must feel like.
It was the worst of all tortures, I only felt summer hours ago.
I was aching for your arms around me, you can't even begin to imagine.
You took that summer heat with you but I shall find it again, but not from you.
But how? Everytime I remember summer, I only remember you.
You are my summer.

I can't wait to call all these a memory—at least one I do not intend to keep.

From your Roman Empire,
to my Ancient Egypt...
from your eyes and their cool fire,
to the curses falling down my lips

Up from your northern skies,
out of my vast desert's hottest sand
In from your colosseum's light,
down to my catacombs' earth and land

Their cowardly call for battles and war
is our romance's answer to serenity
They only dare to fight us from afar,
my name haunts them for all eternity

Let them come if they wish and dare
As we inspire the world's greatest love stories
I'll let my kingdom come, all rich and bare
But they will never go down in history

Gayuma
ang titig ng iyong mata
ang mga kulay nitong kakaiba,
pati ang labi **** nakakahalina

Nakakahalina
ang pangarapin ka
alalahanin ang iyong amoy sa tuwina,
ating mga alaalang tila ba milagro at mahika

Mahika
ang muli kang makasama
at marinig muli ang iyong mga tawa,
mawala kung saan mang sulok kasama ka

Ang makasama ka
ang pinakamabisang gayuma,
ang pinakanakakahalinang mahika,
at ang aking pinapangarap na sumpa.

I have been walking in a dark cave
for quite a long time,
Never felt more caged and jailed,
as if I've committed a heinous crime.
Defeated and bruised
from the gold rush,
I heard songs of victory
in your calm and hush.
Little did I know,
I was just passing through,
forgetting all the woes and blues,
I walk towards my gold mine,
Threw all of my lights on the line,
Left my knives by the door, risking my life.
And little did you know,
you wouldn't just walk with me
through the dark,
but would even dance with me
right on my mark.
When I felt like I was
in an eternal night,
you came marching along,
my valiant knight.
Now we walk hand-in-hand,
I can see the light from our land.
Waiting for us there is our *** of gold.
I have all the riches in the world
from your kisses and by your hold.

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.

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.

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.

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.