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We live in the liminal of imagined dreams

                                           What if

We parked our shoes and dust our sleeves

The wounds are clean
                                                            What if

We mean what we spoke

And pinky swear and it’s still there

Feed the elephant of what it craved

Carcasses of threshold crossed

                           It’s you and me

Finally; what if

         I die every day loving you

And silently you do the same

          And our lungs are fresh air
I look at her and saw dainty hands gripping an    
  adult’s finger,
Her little mouth singing for the first time—world’s
  sign of life.
I chortle thinking we shared the same shrill cry of
Breath. Now her fingertips know by routine all the
  keys they would press
And her palms—soft and feminine (I buy the same
  hand cream she uses)—
Rarely fatigued in household chores, while my hands
  are burnt and wounded,
Hard and rough ‘round the edges. Our mouths the
  similar absent stories
On the dining table drinking instant noodles soup,
  I see

How her hair is pulled up above her shoulders; the
  afternoon sun,
The scent of soil on her skin, a chorale of
  friends, sneaky attempts to dance
On fiestas with her cousins. My universe is vast
  with book and TV characters
My mind a horizon of imaginative dimensions and situations
I wish happened. Swimming in paper-thin planets
was inherited from her;
My decision to suffer trying to fabricate one came from my dreams that could’ve been
Potential realities. But if I’m honest, the swamp between
us might’ve also contributed

Now it’s a river with such erratic currents, but always the tranquil movement that warns 'bout
Its doubtful deepness. I was led to reach the abyss
  each time
I forget the special way my mother loves me. When I
  was forced to pick up the shards
Of glass under the cooking stove and I bled the
  blood pulsing through her veins.
I found there the apologies. I only then understood
  how wrong it was
Because it blended so well with everything the kids
  and I perceived as right.
Just to grow a little taller interacting with others’ half-full glasses while we glue ours
Back together; so they look like they can be filled
  and can pour from one cup to another

Her fingers are wrinkled
as we resurface the waters. I’m also getting used to their
Caresses. I wouldn’t flinch for all that’s coming is gentle.
I also notice the thinning hair,
Speckle of silver streaks. And despite the seemingly
  ocean of a gap, on the seashore, we
Are connected in the umbilical. In her eyes the
Traces of her youth and how we love the same
Way we are mistreated

Andrei Corre Sep 23
Grant me witnessing all ‘round I go
Let me be uncomfortable
In my sadness
In my spite
In my veins our ancestors’ strife
Their oppression chiseled in depths
Of my subconscious—mayn’t I forget
In my every privileged sigh
In every nightmare’s death
And all of my trivial achievement
That their blood inks this gazette
That my soul echoes their last breath  
For justice—mayn’t I
Move idly and yield
To transient relief
To false gods
To defeatism
That my heart numbs
To the cries of my people
To the destruction of our homes
To the monarchy of traitors
Let me hear it everywhere I go
Let me be uncomfortable
49 years ago, the Philippines succumbed to Marcos' Martial Law.
Andrei Corre Sep 5
For the shards underneath my kitchen stove.
i run my fingers through moments thawed
clawing, catching, grasping—
drip, drip, dripping mercury gold
a rupture veiled with wisdom sought
like a Band-Aid on my pinky toe,
a mere stain ‘cross the tablecloth
when every gasp ***** holes anew
deep in bosoms pulsing violet blues

For the wrinkles i failed smoothing through.
paracosmic ashes from bridges burnt
decaying below my point of view, overdue
adieus stashed ‘tween your books and
pertinacious passion seeping through
my pillowcase i tucked in place
souvenirs of potential
framed laced pinkies sitting down
with my strewed syllables marooned and brown
a lynx vanishing with clementine eyes

Until the chalice of chrysalis manifests.
come ‘morrow is an acquainted rue
when all but my love subdued
February 2021. Why is this still accurate?
Andrei Corre Aug 22

me long enough
that  I  could  no longer
strife and anger for myself. You
carried all these sins and melancholy
on your back, only letting me taste the
silver spoon in my mouth. You taught me
me to sit and behave, make no unappealing
sounds, but mother, your daughter belonged
to anger and strife for your mother, all her other
children, and for you whose only words breath that
of broken reassurance and empty pledges of safety. All
but a solace chant against reeking tyranny. My ears grew
to the cacophony
of revolt in between your lullabies.
The blood of the covenant assimilated
with the water of the womb. So mother,
I ask you to pony my hair now and forgive
me. Your children will dot all
thoroughfares and bellow 'no'
for you. So you do not have
to kneel to every friend, to
ev’ry conqueror, stroke their
*****, then cry yourself to sleep
Andrei Corre Aug 21
Hindi agad nagtama ang mga mata natin kaya naman
'Di ko akalaing magkukrus ang mga landas natin
Alam mo 'yong: 'makuha ka sa tingin'?
Ang ginawa mo'y hinablot mo 'ko sa kada titig na
Dadampi sa aking gawi—'di ko pinapansin
Ngunit nang magsimula na ang tugtog ay siyang kusang
Pagdidikit ng mga palad natin. Bawat hakbang,
Sabay ang galaw ng ating katawan
Ito siguro ang pakiramdam ng nalutang sa buwan

Binibigay ka ng mga ningning sa mga mata mo:
Ang mga lihim na nakayukom sa puso mo
At sa mapupula **** labi ko narinig ang
Sinabi ****: ganiyan din ang nararamdaman ko
Ang lakas ng tibok ng puso ko, nakakabingi
Kung alam mo lang na ito ang dalangin gabi-gabi
Kaya ang sabi ko, wala na akong pakialam pa
Kung sa balikat hahawak o sa bewang ba
O kahit pareho pa tayong nakapalda
Basta isasayaw kita hanggang sa ako'y
Maputulan ng hiniga

Ikaw ang kaharap ko, wala akong pag-aalala
Kahit pa ramdam ko ang mga mata nila sa'ting dalawa
At mas maingay pa ang bulungan
Kaysa awit ng banda
O kahit ilang tapak pa ang gawin mo sa aking paa
Hindi ko bibitawan ang kamay mo; hayaan mo
Mapapagod din sila

Basta ako, alam ko ang mahalaga: ikaw ang mahalaga
Ang pakiramdam ng hininga mo sa balat ko
Ito ang mahalaga, ang pagyapos mo sa'king kaluluwa
Habang inaangkin natin ang magdamag, ito ang mahalaga

Iyan ang mga sinabi ko noong gabi ng pagtatanghal
Pero huwag ka sanang mabibigla
Hindi ito madadaan sa isang sambitla o kahit
Maupo pa 'ko upang ilahad sa 'yo lahat
Hindi ko rin alam kung saa't kailan nagsimula
Ang alam ko lang, dito ako ipinadpad
Ng agos na pilit kong nilabanan
At sa tuwing maglalakbay, ang anino mo ang
Laging nadadatnang tumatakbo palayo sa kalawakan
Pero saglit lang, 'di ko alam kung ako ba'ng may kasalanan
Sa walang hanggan nating habulan
Na para bang tayo'y laging pinagtatagpo upang
Tunghayan ang sakit na dinudulot sa isa't isa

Pero teka muna, saglit lang, ako lang ba ang nagdaramdam?
May ngiti na sa 'yong mga mata kahit mga luha
Ang umaagos sa kanila; ang iyong tindig ay parang
Noong una nating sayaw— ngunit may nagbago sa 'yong galaw
Napaisip ako, 'di ko mapigilan, kung ikaw pa ba ang natatanaw
Ang dalaga noong una't huli kong sayaw
Na alam kong imposible nang balikan
Ang sa'kin lang ay sana'y alam mo na
Lahat ng 'yon ay tunay
At mahal kita, maniwala ka
Kahit ako pa ang unang bumitaw

2017 spoken poetry piece
Andrei Corre Aug 20
Maybe I looked too blue before
that he wanted so much to dig deep for yellow shades
beneath the color-corrected complexion

Maybe he looked so blue before
the familiarity was too comforting
that it felt so much like my dreams came true

Maybe we were not blue at all
the world just spun too fast there was
no other color but blue
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