Marahan niyang pinitas ang
Huling gumamela sa hardin.
Kasama ang liham at lihim
Ng puso, inialay sa paralumang

Matagal-tagal ding itinangi,
Itinangis sa tadhana, ng walang
Hanggang paghilom at pag-asa.
Anuman ang mangyari, patuloy na

Idadako ang paningin sa pagtingin,
Hindi sa hapóng damdamin, hindi
Sa mga lamat ng puso, bagkus
Sa alamat ng bagong pagsuyo,

Paulit-ulit mang danasin ang guho.

Nasumpungan kitang nakabilad
Sa liwanag ng araw, isang imaheng
Nakalantad, huwad na anyo ng
Ritwal ng pagpupugay. Sa iyong

Anino'y nakasilong ang mga lantay
Na tayutay ng hungkag na lipunan.
Nariyan ang puta, pulubi, butas na lata,
Gago't ganid na pulitiko, librong limot,

Bendor ng droga, banal na aso...
Lahat sila ay mga ”sila" na minsan ****
Pinagtangkaang silaba't silain sa sulo ng
Mapagpalayang kamalayan.

Kamatayan.

Nasumpungan kitang nakabilad sa
Nakakabagabag na liwanag. Isang buhay
Na moog ng kalayaa't kasarinlan,
Kanlungan ng mga supremo ng rebolusyon

Ng paglikha't pagsilang sa kakanyahang
Iginapos sa lumang mundong lalang ng
Iyong panahon. Kami na mga gamo-gamo
Ng lumang simoy ay patuloy na isisiwalat

Yaong hindi masumpungan sa lambong
Ng liwanag na pinaningas ng iyong dugo.

Nawa'y matagpuan ka nila.

It is my dream
To be able to paint you naked
Using tears and clay that has formed
The enchanting decorations in my eyes

I shall draw the curves of your hips,
Like the waves, splashing, as if
Making love to the rocks on the shore...

I shall let your long hair fall
Until it becomes a lush veil
To shroud all your
Weaknesses.

I shall draw your whole body,
And I will be amazed
Like a child is,
To the mysterious Mariposa
Flying back and forth
Fluttering, over the alluring
Rose of the war.

Your eyes are stuck on the
Afterglow invading the
Horizon. You wipe your
Tears with a rugged piece

Of cloth dotted with stars
And stripes, in remembrance
Of a nation's power, and
Prowess of sons and daughters

Flirting with  anarchy and democracy.  
Until then the world stood still, devouring
Your flesh and fantasies of happiness
And freedom. Now, let these words

Rebuke your vices and folly:
*You are all too human to be holy.

Hinila ka ng hilahil
patungo sa di mawaring
liwanag, banaag na bumubulag,

unti-unting pumupunit sa iyong
balintataw at pananaw sa
kahulugan ng pagpapatianod

sa agos ng panahon. Pag-ahon
ito kung ituring ng sinumang
wala sa iyong perspektibo. Ngunit

ang iyong pag-iral ay hindi iniadya
ng panahon. Likas itong likha ng
buhay, kinatha ng kahulugan,

kataga, at pag-asa.

Eros* will never agree with
The way you ****** your *****
To this ******. Screams and
Scratches, moans and murmurs

Of pleasure and pain, devoid of
Reason, embellished with passion.
Seasons of lust and burn, slash
And turn, tides of libido that has
No way to subside. You worship

This body at the altar of pretensions.
Hoping that even the gods through
The oracles, will speak to you in the
Language of mortals, and will bring

You some cataclysmic eruptions of
Heaven and hell. Will is nothing to
You unless confronted by contentment,
And sealed with chastisement.

Hindi ang daan-daang kilometrong
lansangan at sanlaksang siklo ng oras
ang ating pagitan.

Hindi ang takot mula sa
pagkabihag ng mga uban
at oras, o ang pangarap na alapaap
ang ating pagitan.

Makailang ulit man tayong
igupo ng hapo at pagal
sa paglalakbay natin
patungo sa puso at pusod ng
ating mga kaluluwa,
wala tayong pagitan,

maliban sa pag-ibig natin sa isa't-isa.

Napatag na ang hindi mapatag ng
Sanlaksang idelohiya't pananampalataya.
Panata ito ng kalawakan. Lilinisi't lilipulin
Yaong hindi umaayon sa itinakdang

Orden ng katutubong balanse ng ulan
At hangin, ng dagat at pagkamulat,
Ng  lupa at pagtatangka. Hindi sasapat
Ang libu-libong bangkay na nakahundasay

Sa mga lansanga't simbahan dahil malaon
Nang naagnas na bangkay ang ating
Kamalayan. Malaon nang umahon si
Kamatayan sa anyo ng kasakiman sa

Kayamanan, at tayo bilang mga kalakal
Na nagpapatiwakal sa ngalan ng kaligayahan
Sa anyo ng kasaganaan. Hindi sasapat ang
Mga pagtangis ng mga ama't ina, ng mga

Anak at kapatid, dahil matagal nang
Tumatangis ang Inang unang naghandog ng
Paraiso sa atin. Saan nga ba tayo patungo?
"Tayo'y mga punong matayog ang pangarap,

Ngunit sa lupa'y laging nakaugat..."

Hihilingin ko pa rin sa'yo
Na yakapin mo ako pagtila
Ng ulan. At muli akong aasa
Na ang bahaghari ay tangan

Mo pa rin sa'yong kamay, gaya
Ng krayolang hawak ng paslit,
Hulugway at sarikulay sa panahon
Ng pag-ibig at pamamaalam.

Hihilingin ko pa rin sa'yo
Ang unang halik ng katiyakan,
Sanlaksang pagluluksa man
Ang ika'y pumainlanlang, aangkinin

Ko pa rin ang mga tala.

At muli ay aawitan kita ng kundiman,
Kung hindi man ay iduduyan sa
Kalawakan, kung paanong sa
Pangako ay naging tapat, kung bakit

Ikaw ang lahat, kung bakit ikaw ay
Sapat.

Kulang ang haba ng magdamag at lalim ng
Himbing upang lubos nating maunawaan ang
Imortal na sandaling ito. Dahil alam natin na
Wala tayong anumang panlaban sa lumbay
At pangungulila, nagkakasya na lamang tayo sa
Isang pangako at pag-ako ng damdamin.

Tahan na mahal ko...
Umasa kang saan mang lupalop tayo tangayin ng
Buhay at paghihintay, ng siklo at pagpapasya,
Ako'y mananatiling nakapako sa hiwaga ng iyong
Langit na pagsinta. Kapos man ang sandaling
Ito upang maging sandalan natin sa saglit
Na paglayo, alalahanin **** hindi lahat
Ay humahantong sa wakas dahil
Likas sa atin ang manalig sa pagsintang wagas.

ikaw* ang salaming hinalikan ng silahis
ng araw, pagdaka'y nagsambulat ng
liwanag sa isang madilim,madumi, at
malihim na sulok ng munting silid. Parang

ako ang munting silid na sinambulatan ng
iyong liwanag; nabulag, nabagabag, at
nagmahal sa liwanag, hindi sa salaming
nababasag.

Usted es como un espejo besado
por los rayos del sol, luego se extendió
a la luz en el rincón oscuro, sucio y secreto
de una pequeña habitación.

Soy como la pequeña habitación iluminada
por su luz, ciega, preocupada, y se enamoró
de la luz, no el espejo frágil.

Quests for questions are endless
For answers have been here,
And for so long, here we are,
searching the right questions.

The universe is the answer, so
What is the question? Your existence
Is the answer, so what is the question?
Civilization is the answer, so what is the

Question? Humanity is the answer.
Here, we pose the greatest delusion.
Not even the idols of philosophizing
Solved the riddles of being, time, and

Oblivion. But a perpetually perturbed
Mind is the right question to a quest
For meaning and being. This is not
Philosophizing, this is philosophy.

Speak your mind
Mind your words
Words are enough
Enough is enigma

Enigma is light
Light is blindness
Blindness is truth
Truth is beauty

Beauty is madness
Madness is liberty
Liberty is prison
Prison is soul

Soul is a poet.

Panginoon mo ang
Panganorin. Bertud
Ka ng hubad na diwata.

Likhang-isip, halukipkip
Ng wika, pedestal ng
Luha, ikaw itong kalahatan

Ng kasalatan ng unawa't
Awa ng hangal na madla.
Samut-saring anyo't samyo

Ng opyong bumabawi ng
Bait at hinanakit sa buhay
Ngunit masugid na patrong

Naghahasik ng biyaya
Sa anyo ng

bote
pakete
lata
spaghetti
langaw
lumot
bangaw
ipis
lotion
co­ndom
burak
darak
barya
kariton
prosti
sutana
artista
politiko
pul­is
tsismis

                       atbp.

Shatter the myth of life,
Laugh insanely for there
Is no soul except what
You have placed deep
Down your thoughts.

Shatter the cosmologies
Of western world, for
Your world in itself is the
Constellation of your
Reality, and the wilderness of

Your weird universe.

You shelter
The mystery and meaning
Of a thought, looking through
The incomparable charm
Of a muse
Cherished by enchantment...

You may subside...
Still, it would seem, the storm that
You hold
Stands to be an encumbrance,
Borne
By doubt and memory...

The clouds may leave
The rainbow may shroud
The apprehension that looms...
Yet, upon your coming...
Sadness and happiness
In my heart
Would be instilled...

The sun's ray creeps on the
Face of an old young beggar
As he worships the doorsteps
Of a young old billionaire. He is
Waiting for crumbs to kiss the
Soil for his aching stomach.

In the airwaves, a political leader
Assures the numb polity that "wealth is as
Equitable as salvation." A communist
Hears otherwise: "Wealth is as equitable
As damnation!" There is  cognitive dissonance
Within and between glittering generalities.

It was believed by the founders
that the edifice would suffice to
house their dreams and demons.
Until the blood of new generation,

younger, bolder, tainted the papers,
muted the words, mutilated the bodies
of gods. Thick clouds swathed

the conflicted souls, confused crime
from cries for freedom and happiness.

Then there were ruins: us.

Gaano man kamahal ang suot **** bestida
Mahal, lalapag at lalapag pa rin 'yan sa sahig,
Bilang tanda ng pagpapaubaya sa hapag ng

Paglikha.

Aakuin mo ang lambong ng kahubaran, lilisaning
Tiyak ang kamusmusan. Lilimutin ang dasal ng
Mga ninuno, sasambahin ang buwan bilang lantay

Na liwanag ng buhay.

Ibibilang mo ang mga patak ng pawis sa kumpas
Ng paghinga, habang ang indayog ng papag
Ay paulit-ulit **** iaakma sa ritmo ng bisig,

Sa pintig ng Puso,
Sa init ng titig, kahulugan at pag-ibig.

The night you left,
You left a part of our
Youth, apart from

What we used to be.
We used to be the
Sunshine seeking

To warm the coldness
Of scars caused by
The boldness of

Summertime.

When the seasons of
Our fate fell from the
Trappings of time,

We once tried to count
The scattered leaves
Left by autumn, and hoped

That these were the lost
Anthems of  our hearts, the
Last hymns of our paradise.

Paradox it was.

But still, we never
Ceased from braving the
Numbing frosts of winter,

Believing in our souls'
Springtime where
Flowers bloom, where

Forever looms.

So we hold the camera,
Face the lens, and give
Our sweetest smiles.

Knowing that time and
Youthfulness fly together.
Leaving the unchanged

Beings in us, and longing
For the changed moments
For us. Nothing in this world

Endures.

But we both know that it is
Never the years that count.
Counting on each other

Is what really counts.
No matter what.
It does not even matter.

Jarring heartbeats disturb the
Infinite flow of ecstasy. It has
Nothing to do with the immanent
Kaleidoscope of life or love. It is a
Yearning of spirit blighted by wounds.

This day marks a beginning of
Ultimate reinvention of a heart
Birthing anew---leaving the old;
A dawn transmogrified into purpose; a
Lingering thought of living
In search for my being,
Not for the sake of having, but
Against the conventional meaning of
Love, this day marks the beginning.

May mga kurabkutab sa daghan na minaulang sa
Bulos kan daing sagkod na siram. Mayo ining kinaaram sa natural
Na pagruso kan mga kolor sa buhay o pagkamoot.
Saro ining kamawotan kan langkag na kalag na taros ning lugad.

Ngonian liwat minapoon an paghiro kan puso na
Danay nang daing untok.
Liwat na pagkabuhay---liningwan an nakaagi;
Nakahuyom na liwanag sa imaaga na ladawan ning pagmawot;
Sarong hararom na hurop-hurop sa pagsusod kan pagkatawo,
Bako sa tuyong magkaigwa, kundi
Tumang sa kinatudan na paghiling sa
Pagkamoot, ngonian minakmukna nin kinapunan.

A rose stares at me
At the bedside table.
Reposed and still, it is
Withered by time,

Drizzled with tears and
Years of waiting and
Wanting for love's
Redemption.

For a moment, it recites
A poignant Villanele
Inscribed on a faded
Photograph of young

Lovers. There was a
Promise of forever,
But forever is a word
That belongs to fairy tales.

There is no fairy, only a
Tale of fair reality that even
The Sun sets in paradise...
Another rose stares at me

At the bedside table, she is
Reposed and still. Nightfall
Comes, as she leaves our
Room, darkness invades the

Horizon. The rose has ceased to
Bloom.

So it dawned on me. Your shadow
Is a dawn that drowns me in a
Dream of madness. Isn't it we are

Here to spend the midnight of
Summertime at the ***** of our
Nothingness? Nothing has been

Buried beneath us, has ever been
Here, beyond our heart's folly.
After all, all is a myth, making us

Believe to give what we have
Never been. Except for a piece of
Ourselves in each other's longing

For another night. I stay.

Hayun ang duyan ng paulit-ulit na ikot ng mga salot
Pumapaimbulog sa tatsulok na moog;
Hinubog ng gilingang kasaysayan
Bayan ng kabalintunaan.

Matagal nang yumao ang ating mga anak
Nariyan parin ang mga tabak at alingawngaw ng Balintawak;
Kanlungan ng mga supremong baguntao
Sumisigaw ng pagbabago habang iwinawasiwas
Ang watawat ng mga ismo —komunismo, sosyalismo
Sa rebolusyon ng mga sikmura at makina.

Hayun ang duyan ng nagpapatuloy na kasaysayan
Patuloy na kumakanlong sa nakaraan;
Sa mga dayuhang minsang yumurak at nagwasak
Sa kultura at kakayahan.

Kalimutan natin ang pangakong paraiso
Ang tinatangkilik ng bawat tao,
Ang kasakiman ng lumang simoy
Halika, umahon tayo sa kumunoy

Mga minamahal ito ang kapiraso kong entablado:
Walang ibang daan kundi tayo

I must have compared you
To the dawning glow of June.
For the  glitters of glow
Blown across the horizon

Are reasons to celebrate
The silence sunken deep
Within our oceans of memories.
I must have compared you

To the glowing dawn of June.
For you are the bride of this
Life's  fate and faith to the
Galaxies of hearts, of a

Universe inside.

Makailang ulit kong
Tinahak ang lansangang ito
Patungo sa layo at lapit
Ng ating pag-ibig.

Sa himig at pintig,
Puso't isip nati'y
Kapwa nananalig. Dinadaig
Ang siklo ng pagpaparoo't parito

Ng mga gulong na
Libong ulit man akong
Tangayin palayo at palapit sa'yo,
Ang lansangang ito ay
Mananatiling lantay na lansangan

Sapagkat ikaw ang daan.

The drizzles, upon our skin, akin to
Crystalline dews streaming down
The window pane. Plane as it is,
Except for some stories told over

A cup of coffee, we remained strangers
In a strange midnight, nameless,
Faceless crowd of aloness. But the
Stolen gaze is a thousand words,

Unspoken yet understood, unheard
Humming in solitude. So we stood in
Silence for there is no better name
For all there is in this moment but

Midnight sun.

Just lend me another cup of creamer
And caffeine, for I have forgotten the
Art of remembering, for all there is has
Become a poetry of your presence.

When I'm gone,
With the wind of
Time, I'll see you

In a dream of
Thousand dreams.
I'll whisper the words

Taken from us by
The hurts our hearts
Have had, over the years

Of longing for our old
Selves, like the first
Time we looked

Into each other's eyes.
Someday, when I'm gone
With the wind of time

I'll soar above the
Horizon of your memory,
Beyond our lives and love's

Greatest irony.

Journey reclaimed, two souls
In summer haze. Beyond
Nightfall and blues, ballads of
Kindred youth. Yes,
You came with a melody

Touching my fantasy.
Ultramarine skies, beyond the
Blossoming night.
Again and again under this
Light and sight, we built the
Immortal memories of the
Nightfall with might.
All is said, all is done. Now
Loneliness haunts us, all is gone.

The Sphinx was alive when
The blackhole emerged
Somewhere in the galaxy of

My dream.

It was an ode to immortality,
I presumed, built to mystify
The mind of Hawking, winding

The roads

Of everything left to us by chance
Or rebirth. We knew it by now.
We, too, are stardusts.

The dusk has set in her eyes
Before the Nightingale sings
The melancholic melody of
Madness.

I hear it like a lullaby, she hears
It as our last goodbye, as if the
First rain in February is the
Last rain of May.

Nothing in this nothingness
Invades my soul, not unlike
The likehood of a candle left
In the rain.

Nothing reigns in my mind
Like a childhood remembered
With pain.

The twilight speaks of greater
Greatness, for your spirit soars
Across the horizons of life and
The living--- leaving an era of

Idealized legacy of redeemed
Human equality and possibility.
The indomitable soul you once
Wore under your colored skin

Fuels our aspirations for a better
World of kaleidoscope of faces,
Races, and happiness. Nelson,
Now that you have entered

The narrow door of immortality,
Let our tears be a vindication to
Your ideals of freedom and
Democracy. Rest in His peace

Our dear old man. For the world
You toiled to change is now our burden
Just as how we are burdened with
Your humility and humanity.

Sinubukan kong bihisan ng titik at tugma
Ang ilang mga bagay-bagay na iiwan ko
Sa'yo sa oras na pumailanlang na ang diwa
Ng aking mga tula. Ngunit gaya ng dati,

Unos na dumatal ang aking luha, linunod
Nito ang mga kataga, muling nabalot ng
Hiwaga ang bawat saknong  na dapat sana'y
Malaon nang yumabong sa iyong pang-unawa.

Gayun pa man, manatili kang manampalataya
Sa kahulugan ng kawalang kahulugan ng daigdig
Na ito. At nawa, sa pagpagpag mo sa tarangkahan ng
Kahapon, buong pagpupugay **** idambana

Ang paulit-ulit ng siklo at sigwa ng ating pag-ibig.

Hindi ang dalawang katawang lupa ang
Nagniniig, nagsasanib ngayong gabi. Tangay ng
Daluyong na pumapaindayog sa bawat
Paghagod, pagkumpas sa ritmo at ritwal

Ng pagsamba sa dambana ng laman,
Katas at dahas ng magdamag, sabay
Tayong lumalaya sa hangganan ng
Pag-ibig ng mortal nating katawan.

Hindi ang pag-ungol o ang malalim
Na pagbaon ng mga kuko sa talim
Ng bawat lihim ng silid na ito ang
Hahadlang sa atin patungo sa wagas na

Pag-ibig. Pakatandaan mo, lilipas ang
Alindog at handog na kagandahan ng
Katawang lupang kusang bumabalik,
Humahalik sa paanan ni Kamatayan,

Ngunit hindi kailanman ang wagas
Na katotohanang sa gabing ito, hindi
Ang dalawang katawang lupa ang
Nagniniig, nagsasanib, kundi tayo,

Bilang mga kaluluwa.

Sapat nang bendisyon
Ang luha sa'yong  mga
Mata upang maging

Karapat-dapat ang mga
Tuyong talulot ng rosas
Na matagal **** ikinubli

Sa aklat niya ng mga tula.
Marahil, lumipas na nga
Ang inyong panahon.

Ngunit ang bawat kataga
Na minsan niyang inialay
Sa'yo ay hiwagang lalang

Ng puso, may ritmo ng
Pagsuyo, may samyo ng
Bagong pangako. Ipako

Man ng oras ang ala-ala't
Alat ng luha na dumadaloy
Sa'yong magkabilang pisngi,

Ang mga talulot na ito'y
Patuloy na magbibihis ng
Bagong pag-asa, lalaya mula sa

Siniphayong ligaya, mananahan
Sa bawat pahina.

Poets                                                          
Are
Not
Poets

By
Poems.
They
Must

Embrace
Humanity.

                        ­      La Poesía Día Muere

                                 Los
                                 Poetas
                                 No
                                 Son
                                 Poetas

                                 De  
                                 Poemas.
                                 Deben
                                 Abrazar

                                  A la
                                  Humanidad.


La Poésie de Jour Meurt

Les
poètes
sont
pas
des
poètes

de
poèmes.
Ils
doivent
embrasser

*l'humanité.

The last drop of morning
dew has kissed the ground.
Scattered leaves remind the spring

of rites in changing the
seasons of life and beginning—
in Heaney's words, "begin again."

We begin to gain white
hairs in the cycle of
hours; ours not even enough

to live the gain. But
again, we begin. Why are
we here?  People change

because changes change people.

She eats with bare hands;
A handful of garbage,
A mouthful of life. A day's
Survival and revival,

And healing  of a frail
Body failed by a society
Of affluence, by a faith
Preaching benevolence.

She is an anathema to the
Conscience shaped by a
Consciousness that defines
Being as having. Having

Her before our very eyes
Is itself a sin to our very
Selves, if not to a God who
Sees our humanity as frail

As this child's body.

                           "How is it, that every
                           Execution offends us more
                           Than a ******? It is the
                           Coldness of judges, the painful

                            Preparation that a child is
                            Here being used as a means to
                            Deter reality. For guilt is not
                            Being punished , even if there

                            Were guilt; guilt lies in the
                            Educators, the parents, the
                            Environment, in us, not in her
                            Innocence.**"

There you are, still; untouched
By the wind, waiting for somebody
To save you from oblivion.  Your
Solitude  in time and space

Perpetuates memories of childhood,
Enough to engulf the eyes with tears
And the heart with hopes. In many
Times, the wandering whims of mind

Return to you like a tired traveler
Longing for rest and renewal. Because
Your presence is a poignant portrait of
Possibility and providential.

I breath but I don't bleed in
Her world. Time ceases to
Unify my senses, seasons
Change according to purpose.

Once the reason for being
Has been consumed, the being
Dies and a new beginning
Lies above the character.

That is the first world.
A word in the creator's mind
Is reality in hibernation.
And it is always beyond good

And evil, for even the process
Of beginning is a function of
Pursuing happiness, of pursuing
Rebirth amidst the oceans of

Variables, of chances.

Changing planes of plain existence
Is all but question of reason of Being,
For being here, for being there in my
Version of truth and reality, in her

Vision of love and eternity.

the vastness of everything                                        
imprisoned one's mind inside
the vastness of everything
chained freedom at
the vastness of everything
we are condemned to obey
the vastness of everything
a tyranny of choice exists at
the vastness of everything

The long hours of the night, and
Our unperturbed slumber
Would not suffice to fully understand this
Immortal moment; because we know
We could never fight grief and loneliness
We take comfort in one's promise
And acceptance of one's feelings.

Hush now, my darling.
Wherever this life of ours lead us,
This life painted with endless waiting,
Endless incarnations, and decisions to be made,
Trust that I would remain bound to the mystery
Of your love and devotion
This moment, now, may be too soon, too early
As yet to stand as a stronghold, a wall to support us
To prop us up while we are apart.
But always remember,
Not everything comes to an end,
For it is in our nature to believe
To have faith in the promise of pure love...

I sit on a cliff to watch the
Sun as it rests at the vastness
Of ocean. Here, I found

A self chained by the oppressive
Landscapes of memories—measuring
The distance of a life lived in the

Folly of youth from the life
Lived in the youthful folly of life.
Life is a circular argument.

                A strange voice from the
 Wilderness utters the words of the
               World. I am compelled to

                                              Listen
        ­                                       Obey
                          Drift from my self.

I lived a life not of my own. Blown
By the wind. Riddled by doctrines
Of truths in multiple versions and

Renditions of power. Powerless I
Have become. Becoming, thus, is
Defined and defied by truths

Relative to utility. Living is an
Attempt in futility unless the myth
Of becoming is braved by believing

In oneness with one's self.
I sit on a cliff to watch the sun as it
Rises from the vastness of ocean.

Here, I find myself.