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?

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Sung epics from afar
Half-shouted prayers nearby
Cat's meows by the window
and familiar howls by my bedside
Jesus christ, won't you
hear my cries?
Shut all these noises,
hush all these voices.
I want none of these songs
for these won't pacify me.
I want none of the prayers
for these won't save me.
But please thank your father
for introducing Joy Division,
The Cure and Morrissey to me,
for me.
They're the best substitute to noose,
knives and pills.

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

Summer come, but already
her heart is dropping temperature
yet again,
already her hair is blasting across your shoulders down to your arms, your hesitation and your unhinged desperation of her heat.
Her bones scattered all over your
almost-said words and in the crevices of your proud, unfazed deceit.
The fine threads of her sanity tangles and knots up in every nooks, crannies and cul-de-sacs inside you.
In your bedcover, your clothes,
the chair.
She is drifting away.

But with him,
I can be the woman I wish I were,
the lover I doubt I could ever be
and the writer I wish I could take a pill to become
so after him,
after this romance,
    after he's gone,
        what do I become?

Your sweat dripping and mixing with mine
Your sudden ramblings and whine
The uneven summer sun tans
The reds and scratches on your back
All natural, and all I ever want
These are the things
I daydream on the daily.
These are the days
I imagine myself living.
Your absence,
the single worst lethal threat
Your face,
so close while catching our breaths
Our hands,
always there for each other to hold.
All these makes for the moments
that makes our love worthy of it all.

Oh I beg you to please annoy me.
Cause me all these inconveniences.
Come closer, stop being such a tease.
Make me the most vexed woman to exist.

I wait for you to wash over me,
pour your storms all onto me,
spoil me with heavy showers,
open my starry sky anew.

I watch you as my waterfalls are trickling,
my northern current ever swelling,
shower me with your marvelous monsoon
and kiss me calm with your ocean's blue.

I wait for you to water my greens,
watch my flora bloom and flee,
marvel over at the splendor
we've created and weaved.

I watch as you brave and surf my waves,
my shores waning with my impatient tides,
swim splendidly or battle through bad days,
tell me that your love is true and alive.

Start with my neck,
and then go around my nape...
While you hold me from behind,
your body's like an unsung hero's cape...
Trail your left hand down my chest,
as the right one anticipates on my waist...
While you kiss me in the neck,
where your hands lifted their weight...
Let your hands trail some more,
as your legs join my sides...
My body, you're most welcome to explore,
or even crucify ****** into the night...
Pin down my arms and hands,
stab me with an emotionless face...
And as you end with my feet,
wash them, then lock my knees in place...
And finally, yet again, end with my feet.

Start with my neck, next my nape,
take me from behind,
then hold me from my chest, next my waist,
a little more in the neck again,
take your hands all over,
next are my sides,
then my arms,
then my hands,
then my feet,
my locked knees,
and finally ending with my feet.
This is exactly how you'd **** me,
and at the same time rebirth me.

Half a year has passed
Love has been recalled
and lives have been lost
Hearts have been split in halves
Lessons learned, wages earned
More questions left unanswered
Am I getting older
or just getting used to it?
Am I growing wiser
or just getting my old self back?
But all the love I think I gave to people,
out to the bigger world,
I need a little bit of that back for myself.
Even just for a little while.
I need some kind of balance
or even an illusion thereof.
Am I becoming stronger
or getting more careless?
Am I getting smarter
or just getting sheer luck?
Yet all the lessons I thought I learned
from all the people I gave my love to,
I think I didn't really need them.
All I needed was to do it myself.
Like I always do.
Is the earth getting warmer
or is my skin growing thicker?
Are my dreams becoming closer
or I just couldn't care less any longer?
More questions will be asked
and will be left unanswered.

As I breathe the taint Manila air in,
I knew I was about to fall in love again.
Oh how I craved for the smoke belching out of the jeepneys, how badly did I want that signature smog to have me begging for fresh, precious air?

Ah, nothing would beat the musky, filthy smell from the streets and the constant fear of being pickpocketed that no feeling in the world would ever compare. The last time I felt my heart beat like a wild beast was when I was walking alone down Raon to fetch my first few vinyl records.

Commuting is a breeze. Except that breeze is in the apple of the eye of the storm that I would gladly, willingly look straight into. Quiapo is but an irony; the only place in the world where you would feel safe and protected by the church and the very same place you would feel fear of being mugged or robbed or both.

But the food, dear god, is incomparable. The blood enemy of my melancholy. I find peace in Binondo, a haven that makes me forget all the political dysphoria going on with our good old neighbor and ***** lover, China. Let's take a breather and bask on our shared heritage and cuisine instead, shall we?

Manila. Her chaos, her charm, her history and the dreams she holds for me...
these are what I will always come back here and battle death for.

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.

I write of love yet I don't believe in it anymore,
yet I still dream of love as it soothes me terrified.
I would give love if I could, but I have nothing more,
yet I still try to find it and scream it in songs at night.

I dream of love yet I fancy turning it into a nightmare,
yet men keep sleeping down their backs, anticipating for even just a passing vision of me.
I write of love only to spin it into a cautionary tale,
yet they're awake deep into the night, and I'm a book they're flipping, turning, eagerly reading.

I write of love, praise it yet I've already lost my faith,
yet I still pray for love as if it's my last salvation
I know now that love is all but a promise and bait,
yet I keep being hooked, like a tiny fish in the vast ocean.

I sing of love, write of it, dance for it, yet at the end of the day, it's all but a dying art,
yet I'm an artist starving to make it to the other side,
even make it out alive
I have learned now that love, with all its theories and truths, only breaks my heart,
but you're a new canvas I want to spill
all my letters, colors and lights.

Just seven will never be enough, nor
seventy or even seven hundred thousand.
It's an insult for how many words I want to say, how many are the grains of sand?

Just fourteen stops before I go?
Frankly, that's quite generous.
Twelve disciples?
All I need is you.
Just ten commandments by my father?
Honestly, for you I'd write them better.
Eight days until my rebirth and our reunion?
Painstakingly, that's quite a wait.
Just three falls going to my death?
Mercilessly, make it a hundred.
Just two nails to pin me down?
Respectfully, make it a thousand.
Just one cross?
Please, I demand millions.

Just one life will never be enough, nor
ten or even a millenia to hold your hand.
It's an offense, really, because how much rain do you think can the sea withstand?