Mula sa higanteng alpombrang balot
Bumuhos ang walong henerasyon halos
Ng karit, palay, tagtuyot, unos
Martilyo, pako, pagpapakaputa sa utos!
Aba, hindi pangako ng sistema ang presensya ni Hesus!

Sa madilim na purgatoryo ng impiyerno at kalangitan,
Sa mahiwagang pagitan ng lunsuran at lansangan
Nagka-prusisyon ang dibinong Toledong bayan
‘Pagkat naipasalangit na
Ang Multo/Kapre/Bal-bal/Berberoka/
Aswang/Mangkukulam/Agta/Santelmo/
Batibat/Berbalang/Bungisngis/Diwata
Na sumiil sa banal na pook ng Toledo.

Pitu-pituhan ang naging palitan
Sa pagbuhat sa bangkay ni Rodiano Abduhan.
“Dito ako sa ulo.” “Pasmado ka ba? Larga na!”
Padulas-dulas ang kapit, sumisilip na ang paa
At sa bawat yapak, bumuhos ang patak
Ng dugong pesante sa sagradong Toledong lupa.

Rodiano Abduhan, mas kilala bilang Tatay Godong
Manggagamot, tagalunas ng salot, kampon ng Diyos,
Ika ng iilang nagpatingin sa mahiwagang tatang,
Pero manyak, magnanakaw, aswang, mangkukulam
Kamo ng nagmula sa abang Toledong bayan.
‘Pagkat ang pugad niya’y sa kanayunan, sa kalaliman, sa kaibuturan,
Ng mailap na lansangang ng Diyos tinalikuran.

Kaya nang ang taumbaya’y nakabatid
Na lumubha ang sakit ng pamangking si Adring,
At na natagpuang bukbukin ang bangkay ni Celine,
Kaniya-kaniyang satsat, sitsit, at hirit
Ang kumapal sa amihan ng Toledong hangin.

“Mangkukulam! Heto yung bumati sa Adring kong pamangkin!”
Kaya ng taumbaya’y binatikos at siniraan sa lihim
Sa walwal o gimik, pagkalaklak ng gin.

“Berbalang! ‘Di ka umawat hanggang naubos ang dugo!”
Kaya’t nang-imprinta ang madla ng mga galos abot sa buto
Tatak Cebu! Tatak lungsod ng Toledo!

“Aswang! Luwal ng putang nakunan!”
Kung kaya’t naisama rin ang anak ni Abduhan
Sa kawawang listahan ng mapapaslang.

Biro mo! Ang manggagawa ng himala
Natamaan ng sumbi ng masaklap na realidad!
Ay, hindi makaliligtas ang dukha
Sa kamandag ng pader ng matayog na siyudad!

Pero nang maabot ang mapanglaw na kremahan,
Ang mailap na lubid ng buhay at kamatayan
Ni Rodiano Abduhan, aswang at mangkukulam,
Ng dugong maliliwat ay tuluyan siyang naubusan.
Maputla niyang balat, sa abong langit ay umagpang.
Inaakit ng lagay na hamak na sa wakas ay tumahan.
Pero nang maunawaan niya na sa kaniyang kamatayan
Mapupuksa ang kasarinlan at kalayaan,
‘Pagkat siya ang sisidlan ng dugong maglilinang,
Kampeon ng kanayunan, hari ng himagsikan,

Nasapian ni Lazaro.
Nabuhay.
Natauhan.

Magsasaka, mangingisda, labandera, gerilya.
Artista, mayora, tindera, tsismosa.
Karpintero, ****, kutsero, kaminero.
Abugado, inhinyero, piloto, maestro.
Ninais ng lungsod ang pagsapit ng mundo
Sa mahinhing mundo ng mga diwata’t engkanto.
Oo lang nang oo, bawal mangontrabida,
Kaya kung gusto nila ng Multo/Kapre/Bal-bal/Berberoka
Ano pang magagawa kundi patabain ang mataba?

So natunaw ang pintura
Ng nagbabalat na ngang dingding
Nabawian ng Sol at Luna
Ang kalangitang sadya nang makulimlim
Ang basang semento ay nauhaw
At naging nagbabantang lamig.

Mula sa naagnas na kabaong sa hukay lumaya
Ang mga magsasaka, mangingisda, labandera, gerilya
Ang mga Batibat/Berbalang/Bungisngis/Diwata.
Mula sa abo sa loob ng saro nagka-anyo
Ang mga karpintero, ****, kutsero, kaminero
Ang mga Aswang/Mangkukulam/Agta/Santelmo.

Tsaka humayo’t bumulong kay Abduhan
Nang siya’y mailatag sa loob ng makinarya.
Tsaka niya nagunita ang anak at asawa
Nombrado na atang manananggal at tiyanak.
At ang bawat katiting na patak ng dugo
Na hinayaan niyang umagos, bumuhos, tumulo
Sa lupang Toledo, lupa ng berdugo’t demonyo.
Doon niya nabatid kung saan totoong nagmula
Ang mga Multo/Kapre/Bal-bal/Berberoka,
Aswang/Mangkukulam/Agta/Santelmo,
Batibat/Berbalang/Bungisngis/Diwata.

At doon nabuhay ang Santelmo ng Toledo;
Nang umalpas mula sa crematorium si Rodiano Abduhan,
‘Di na mas hahaba ang buhok, at nakatatak ang pangalan
Sa kaniyang mga galos at sugat, habang
Noo’y banig ang balot, ngayo’y apoy na bagong silang.
At nang nadaanan niya ang mga balintataw
Ng mayayamang poong siya mismo ang nakapukaw,
Nabatid niya kung bakit kailangan ng Toledo ng isang halimaw.

THE NEXT TIME YOU FEEL LIKE DYING
I WANT YOU TO SIT DOWN
AND COOK UP EVERY POSSIBLE WAY OF DYING YOUR SILLY LITTLE MIND CAN BREW UP
AND IF JUST ONE OF THEM FEELS LIKE SOMETHING
YOU WOULDNT DARE TRY
THEN YOU ARENT READY TO DIE



*****

i will create something
even from my blood and skin

and ill toil and ill toil till i can title it my own name

naaawa sa mga panget
galit sa gwapo

at night i retire, still bound in the deceptively inoccuous shackles of sentience, of knowledge, and of the existence of the truth. through the shy aperture, that fault in the conception of the walls, the layers of thing, of matter, and of idea concretized by that higher presence, that seeks so fervently to contain me, i am able to glimpse the moon.

and i intertwine with the moon that glimmers, taunting me with its promise of the sun, i witness its freckles move, take shape, and wrangle with and in itself yet maintain what a celestial dance, a dance that fools none since it seeks to fool none. it lingers about, no foot stepping on rock yet moping effortlessly through the lunar welkin. he was formless yet whole, like it were in the safe, warm flesh of its mothers insides that mimic a loving *****. its every move sends a sonic signal. i saw myself in such a celestial animation. before i was in air, i was in the moon sometime. before i was born, i was a moon thing just like him. before i knew, before i saw, before i spoke, i was the moon. before i was under this deception of life, and this promise of death, i was beautiful nothing, just like him

i stepped out of her pink, fleshy vessel and stepped on rudimentary rock polished by that primordial air here long before the land and water. i was born INTO the promise of death. all of us are

i play in the stomach of the demons, the presence of who begun and can thus cease; i wade against what seemed to be nothingness, yet i still feel my size, my shape, my skin, causated by the presence or the very prospect of that elusive matter. i revel, ignorant, the unwitting fugitive of eden. unknowing was i that every swing of my arm seeked to free me from the hold of this god, this thing, this being

after that silent night, and that perilous walk
back to the door of your room,
not a foot on the tile, a tiptoeing file
we worked as one, trust in each others hands

but when you cared about silence, i cared about life
and the prospect of your disappearance
and a life without you
and you left me with a kiss though just on the forehead
and every single future that i had concocted laid dumbfounded

please the silenced
since you fight for no one

i. i will no longer see people for how they may benefit me

ii. i will no longer go out of my way to destroy the relationships that i cherish
a. for the exclusive purpose of revitalizing my opinion on another relationship far beyond repair

iii. i will no longer treat my old friends like ****

iv. i will no longer watch my grandmother wade through electric bills

v. i will slap myself, berate myself, render separate from myself my knuckles and wrist, anything so i can come to my senses and realize my current being
a. i will no longer "feel detached" or "depersonalized"
- i will no longer make excuses that i thus live off of

vi. i will no longer live through another person

vii. i will no longer seek to cut the horns ive grown since birth

I CAME FOR SOME NETFLIX
HE CAME FOR THE NECK *****

your mother sees only the sun, blind to the coming of the moon, the night, and the hunt
and thinks she does a good job
accepting death yet breathing life to your brothers,
her two favorite imps, devilish and diabolical
that thrash and wreak, lash and leap,
and thus feed off of your father, who remains bare chested and spread eagle
on the palisades that protect your land regal
arraigned by the debts wrought by your thrills
and his past that peeks yonder oer the hills
punished to see in fastened stills
as at noon everyday the ruthless harpy
perches on his body, a hearty feast on a body hardly
as he embraces closer the day he can holster
his triple fanged blade of pure gold bolster
with your mother your brothers and your whole kin
engraved on it.
for he can no longer call himself
a man