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Kikodinho Edward Alexandros
31/M/Los Angeles, California.    Welcome unto my garden of flowers, beauteous flowers of sweet romantic poetry redolent of ethereal pulchritude—yet thrice effulgent than chalcedonic esplanades of Eden. From a …
kiko
iska
AKIKO
19/F/Philippines    Silince Is The Best Medicine For Akiko ->Incherah Asiao, Madale

Poems

solEmn oaSis Jan 2016
with a bit of "the significance of essence" (ang kabuluhan ng kakanyahan)

ako'y pinoy sa isip, sa puso't damdamin
at may paniwala sa sariling atin
gawaing pinoy maipagmamalaki
isigaw sa mundo at ipagsabi
na...
Dito sa Silangan ako ay isinilang
Kung saan nagmumula ang sikat ng araw
Ako ay may sariling kulay na kayumanggi
Ngunit hindi ko maipakita tunay na sarili
Kung ating hahanapin ay matatagpuan
Tayo'y may kakanyahan dapat na hangaan
Subalit nasaan ang sikat ng araw
Ba’t tayo ang humahanga doon sa Kanluran (Francis "kiko" Magalona)

(Gloc 9)
Bato bato sa langit
Ang tamaan’y wag magalit
Bawal ang nakasimangot
Baka lalo ka pumangit
Pero okay lang
Hindi naman kami mga suplado
Sumabay ka sa amin na parang naka eroplano
Sa tunog ng gitara
Kasama ng pinakamalupit na banda
Pati si "kiko"
Magaling-hindi parin kayang tapatan
Parang awit na lagi **** binabalik balikan
Stop-rewind i-play mo
Nakapakasaya na para bang birthday ko
Alam mo na siguro ang ibig kong sabihin
Hindi na kelangan pang paikutikutin
Baka lalong matagalan lang
Lumapit at makinig na para iyong maintindihan
Mga salitang sinulat na hindi ko papel
Pero pwede ilatag
Na parang banig na higaan
Kapag hinawakan ang mikropono parang nabubuwang
Eh kasi naman siguro
Ganyan lang kapag gumagawa kami ng bago
Medyo nabibilisan
Hindi mo naisip na pwedeng mangyari
Magkasamasama lahat ay kasali!

(solEmn oaSis)
minsan ko nang ipininta
aparisyon ng aking obra
doon,,, manipulasyon lamang ang kontra
pagkat ilusyon lang ang gamit kong tinta
o pareng makata
imulat ang mata
sa larawang likha ng madamdaming kataga
kung itutuon sa puso't isipan, titimo talaga
sa isang alagad ng sining
walang boses na matining
ang tulad nating mandirigma ay isinilang
upang ang kapayapaan ay isaalang-alang
bato-bato sa lawak ng langit
hinde tamaan wag magagalit
sa aking apat na sulok ng panitik
mensahe ko sa quadro ay hitik
ang lihim sa likod ng lalim
may gintong butil na di patitigil
lantaran man ang talinghaga
patagong kaway agwat ng kataga
sapagkat sa bawat pag-ani
ng parirala sa aking balarila
muli ngang sisibol itong binhi
at para sa kanya...ako ay nag-punla

(curse one)
bilang isang nilalang na sumumpang
mag hahatid ng mga musikang
kaylan man ay hindi maka-kalimutan
at inaalay kahit kanino man
patuloy lang susulat ng tulang
sumusugat-gumugulat ang kantang
nakaka-mulat ng mata. Anu mang
pag subok kayang kaya pag nag sama sama na
ang mga sundalo ng kalsada
“Habang iyang edukasyo’y nakaluklok sa dambana,
kabataa’y yumayabong nang mabilis at sagana,
nararating pati langit ng magiting niyang diwa;
sa siklab ng edukasyon kasamaa’y humihina,
alam niyang paamuin iyang bansang walang awa,
ang mabangis ay nagiging bayani ng kanyang lupa.” (Jose "pepe" Rizal)
The curse. Kiko had forgotten temporarily.  

Long ago, his family spoke of a curse.

From a lover's wound.
Some say she was born in the air.
Her parents were of the sky.
& unspoken infidelity led to her birth.
When she was born, she fell from her mother's womb tumbling down to the ground.
Her mother ripped life's cord from her belly, fighting her infant child as they fell.

The daughter found love & devoured it quickly.
A fury of passion & promises broke with secrets held.
Tinted with momentary happiness & dwellings of depression.
Everything love was supposed to be, she had. & everything the master told of her love she felt.

She ate her lover.
Devoured first his soul & ground his bones into powder.
Charred his handsome flesh & played with his muscles.
She pasted his muscles together with the soup of his bones.
His soul became her mask.
She loved her lover.
Guilt washed over for this new ******.
& thus born, with her carnage, a new identity.

She was void of Death. Death had not seen her born & was blind to her life.
Kiko
How pleasant to know Mr. Kiko
Whose nose is remarkably big—
Whose soul blazoned with a poetry freckle—
Whose black hair resembles a wig—
He who cometh from Uganda—
He who most of his poetry all to his lass—
Though some say, "such, such propaganda"—
But to Him as pure as green of grass.

How pleasant to know Mr. Kiko
Who sleepeth late in the dead of night
Gazing about ancient star's glow
That ever beam long and bright—
Bright—but not as his lass's limpid eyes
Bestowed never upon seraphim above—
Though some say—"such, such lies
Of a swain drownded in a pool of lurve."


©Kikodinho Edward Alexandros
Jumeirah, Dubai. 13th.Feb.2018.
Lines in the dead of night,
hope thou hast enjoyed 'em all.
To the west a good day, to the east a good night
till we meet again morrow.