like so many before
looking at what we have become
nothing more than before

Someday we will be old
like so many before
looking at what we have done
*** help us to be more

Some day we may be
but not today
As a young man in love,
I was selfish.
I walked with you,
I shared food,
I slept with you,
It was my insatiable thirst;
Desire, and
I needed to gulp it,
At any cost,
For survival.
Perhaps you felt likewise.
I didn't know.

Now, being older,
Which I do
Out of love,
I do for you.

In some places,
monsoon season has long ended,
in other places, some freeze, some quiver,
bending their bodies, to warm their guts...
the head swells, wanting
to spew, to set loose some things
as nature speaks....murmuring
its restiveness, through gusts of wind,
the impatient
its holder now alert, feeling sentient
but, unswerving...sounds are clear
hurrying footsteps  do not matter
hand stretches...grasps a sign
fireworks have come and now blind unprecedented high
an untold moment becomes nigh
an energy rares to be...needs to be
......and is now ready to be
already atilt
snug within the palm, its hilt
sword has yet
to pursue, to capture...but is now set
...and when she began to write,

she did it with such elan!
mind, hand and sword, worked as one
catching bright, newly born ideas
writing them down, as quickly as
they came to mind...she started swinging
dashing...circling and criss-crossing,
black blood flowed from the tip of her sword
created lines, with defined letters and words,
captured thoughts......filled blank pages
with scenes of action, without traces of rage

in moments of restless silence
............her poem was born....


© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
    July 1, 2018
the job of the artist
is to be
luminous and dangerous

luminous to others
by being
dangerous to themselves

when the words are ripped from the chest,
atmosphere disbursed by the body’s projectile messes,
starburst fireworks,
luminous and dangerous,
luminating the shared night,
laminating your truths,
in poems disguised

and so the job,
our work,
  Dec 3 Sally A Bayan
Scrolling and scrolling
the scripts slipping in
seduction of the scene
seen or unseen

not to mention reflection
mirrors don't always appear
to be or not to be

drastic times call for drastic measures
an ideal idiom of sorts
depending on who's cause
effects the cohorts

a false dichotomy on decline
no one gets to run or hide
even they can't pick a side

I digress as I undress the distress
and distraugt being taught
but is any of this right
why is there always a fight

I'd rather spread peace
and love
not push, not shove

so in the shadow of hate
I simply wait
stripped down and ****
join me, would you?
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