Hindi ako marunong tumula

Hindi ako marunong tumula
Kahit tinuruan ako ng **** ko sa wika
Ng tamang pagsulat
Ng may tamang sukat
Ng may tamang sukat ng salita
Ng may tamang salita

Hindi ako marunong tumula
Dahil iniwasan kong gumawa ng isa
Dahil ayoko ng konbensyunal
Dahil ayoko ng sukat-sukat
Dahil ayoko ng bilang-bilang
Dahil ayokong nahihirapan
Kung paano ko ipapahayag ang sarili ko

Hindi ako marunong tumula
Dahil alam kong ang mga makata lamang
Ang may kakayanang makapagsulat
Silang mga nakapag-aral ng wika
Silang mga matagal nang nagsusulat
Silang walang sawang nagsusulat ng mga salitang
Kasing bango ng mga bulaklak
Kasing tingkad ng langit
Kasing linaw ng mga tubig sa dagat
Kasing sarap ng paglanghap ng sariwang hangin

Hindi ako marunong tumula
Kahit naririnig ko sa radyo
Ang mga kantang binibigkas
Ng mabibilis na mga bibig
Ng mga magagaling na mang-aawit ng tula

Hindi ko inibig ang tumula
Dahil alam ko sa aking sarili
Na marunong lang akong magsulat ng kung anu-anong kwento sa buhay
Mga kwentong binibigyan ko ng buhay
Na akala ko sa isip ko lang maninirahan

Ngunit dumating ang araw
Natulala sa isang bagong kwaderno
Blangkong kwaderno
Ni hindi ko alam
Kung ano ang isusulat
Walang maisip ni isa
Maliban sa isa
Ikaw
Ikaw lang ang laman ng isip ko

Nakapaglakbay patungo sa unang pahina
Ang salitang aking hinahanap
Hanggang sa nagtawag siya ng mga kasama
Ng ka-tropa
Ng ka-barangay
Sunod-sunod silang nagsisidatingan

Ikaw lang ang laman ng isip ko
Ikaw na lagi kong kasa-kasama
Ikaw na lagi kong gustong kasama
Ikaw lang
Pero sunod-sunod ang salitang naisulat ko
At nagulat ang nanlalabong mata ko
Tula na pala ang naisulat ko

At nagsulat ako
Nang nagsulat tungkol sa mga ngiti mo
Tungkol sa kung paano kita nagustuhan
Tungkol sa kung kelan lahat nagsimula lahat ng nararamdaman ko
Tungkol sa kung paano ko nilalabanan 'to
Tungkol sa pagkagusto na akala ko hindi dapat
Dahil magkaiba tayo ng gusto
Nagsulat ako nang nagsulat
Hanggang naisulat ko na pala
Na mahal kita

Hindi ako marunong tumula
Ayaw kong gumawa noon ng tula
Pero dahil sa'yo
Marunong na akong gumawa ng tula

Gumawa ako ng maraming tula
May maikli
May mahaba
May hindi tapos
May walang kwenta lang
Halos lahat ay patungkol sa iyo
Minsan sa buhay ko
Pero sa'yo lang umiikot ang buhay ko
Totoo

Ang sarap palang gumawa ng tula
Akala ko mahirap
Akala ko laging may batayan
Akala ko laging may sukat
Tulad ng itinuro sa akin ng **** ko sa wika
Pero hindi pala
May iba palang paraan
Basta't may emosyon kang nararamdaman
Mahalaga na may emosyon tulad ng
Malungkot kasi hindi kita nakasama
Mahalaga na may emosyon tulad ng
Masaya kahit na tinititigan lang kita nakikita ko na mangiyak-ngiyak ka na sa tawa
Mahalaga na may emosyon tulad ng
Pagkasawi kasi alam kong walang patutunguhan 'tong lahat

Katulad mo ako
Isinusulat mo kung anong nararamdaman mo
Ang nararamdaman **** hindi katulad ng nararamdaman ko
Ikaw na siyang nagmamahal ng taong
Hindi ka gusto
Katulad mo ako na
Nagsusulat ng laman ng puso mo

Kung pwedeng ako na lang na ang tinutukoy mo

Marunong akong gumawa ng tula
Ikaw ang may dahilan ng lahat
Nasabi ko na sa'yo lahat
Hindi pa pala lahat

Marunong akong gumawa ng tula
Pero hirap na hirap ako ngayon
Dahil wala na akong maramdaman
Wala na ang pinanghuhugutan
Wala na yatang dapat paglaanan
Wala na

Habang isinisulat ko ito
Wala akong emosyon
Walang emosyong nararamdaman
Sa'yo
Tapos na ata ako sa'yo
Wala na rin akong masulat para sa'yo
Pero marunong akong magsulat ng tula
Kaya
Maghahanap na lang ulit ako
Ng taong paglalaan ng mga salitang
Hindi makatotohanan sa pangdinig kapag isinambit
Hindi makatototohan habang binabasa ng mga mata
At hindi makatotohanang isinulat ng isang hamak na katulad ko
Maghahanap ako
Ng isang tulad mo

Mahaba-haba na ang aking naisulat
Napatunayan ko na atang marunong akong magsulat


Pero hindi ako marunong tumula.

Nagsimula ang lahat sa simpleng pag uusap
Hanggang sa dumating yung puntong lagi na kitang hinahanap
Kasa-kasama ka na sa bawat kong pinapangarap
Ikaw ang nagbibigay lugod sa  kalooban Kong naghihirap
Kaya akala ko noon ikaw na ang sagot sa pusong sugatan
Ngunit ginamot mo lang din pala ito ng panandalian
At sa pag alis mo, mas malalim pa ang sugat na iyong iniwan
At ngayon Hindi ko na alam kung sino pang lalapitan
Magagamot pa ba ang sugat na iyong idinulot?
Sa nabasag Kong puso mayroon pa kayang pupulot?
Magawa ko pa kayang kalimutan ang lahat ng sakit
O mananatili na lang sa puso ko ang lahat ng inggit?
Ayoko na.
Ayoko nang mabuhay sa mundong binago mo
Ayoko nang mabuhay sa mundong kinalalagyan ko
Ayoko nang mabuhay pa sa mga pag-asang walang patutunguhan
At Sa mga pantasya't pangakong sinusubukan ko nang kalimutan
Ayoko na.
Hindi na maghihilom ang sugat na idinulot mo
Kahit ilang band aid pa ang ilagay dito
O kahit Ilang taon man ang lumipas
Sakit ay hindi kukupas
Sugat dito sa puso'y mananatiling isang marka.
Na lagi saking magpapaalala
"Nagmahal ako at Nagpakatanga
Para sa pag-ibig na walang pinatunguhang maganda."

Fukushima Daiichi

You told us about the samurai ***** that day,
why the child-emperor drowned, how folklore affected the shore.
The thinnest male I’d ever seen pulled out a blunt and smoked.
Everyone else focused on you, Kasa Professor,
but I trailed over the class with his breath, kept
my eyes on the clipboard you passed around, “For
relief efforts.” You never spoke. Only explained.
As an English major, I knew you would be an exclamation mark.
As an English major in the History of the Samurai, I didn’t know you would be studying the I.R.S.
The swords were scarier than the men, yet their ghosts were on a crab’s back.
I imagine my ghost as cigarette smoke flogging over an enamored classroom until I leave – only glancing back when the clipboard is returned.
We both knew it would be empty.
We both admitted it when we smelt the smoke.
The sinking ship already burned, and your dying wave is the confusion behind betrayal of a tradition to quench approaching starvation.
That final bite – the moment we are full – is where all history is lost. In the future, they will wonder where the ***** came from. But I won’t wonder about you.
You are not an exclamation mark. You were a question mark all along. But a mark, nonetheless.

Rasha, wuta ce a duniya
Zafi nata yafi na Arabiya
Ta sa yara kuka a samaniya
A cikin su har da su jojiya
Tun talatali har da ceceniya
Rana tsaka tabi yukreniya
Ta share fage da sakaliya
Kowa tsoro sai hayaniya
Ya kasa kata6us sai kiriniya
Ya kasa zuwa farfajiya
Ya kasa ya tsare ayi rakiya

i am buzzing....
first thing i remember when i left my home
to get married in Kauai
with E.
and i watched the Barbie movie today
and it was so philosphical i worked in images
and i was drawn to images
now i'm alone with music
and a little alcohol and some ****
and i'm buzzing
with a teasing headache that when you get
it right
becomes a headmake or a headmush
and i see R laying in bed depressed
and today did a Ken into Barbie
walking back home
walking back home
and as i got off at Mashiter's Hill
from the 103 bus to Chase Cross:
my little island
my little world my little Friday
and my little Robinson Crusoe:
i will always be alone in the end
and i'm preparing each and one of you
into the final judgement of memory
of people pockets
i was in New York for 24h
someone stopped me the Ace of 8s
stopped me in New York
the ***** Queen
spades spades
all i could sniff is Joseph walking behind Jesus
and i am looking at Joseph
because woman you can have a Jesus
but in my Trinity i find Joseph to be my savior
my father believes in Joseph
as my Grandfather believed in Joseph
and we didn't believe in Jesus
the Old Catholics of Poland...
i came home to my parents
and i might look like a Jesus
i was told
i smelt concretes in New York
among men
who let us say
Jesus is not man's savior
each man unto Solomon
Joseph Adam Joseph Noah and God
that cannot be the ordeal of Man
in Christ
Christ came down to explain women
and women adore him for that
but that never encouraged the man
if we are told to test oursevles before God
i was reading up on the story of
Dylan Thomas' wife
and how she got drunk and never wrote
poetry
and there was Sylvia Plath in New York
going mad and some ****** Ted Hughes
of a poet coming along
and you wonder
why she loves watching nature channels
about spiders and lions and dolphins
but when a cockroach
when a cockroach gets into the house
and there's Butters making watch
and first impression:
oh... just a moth...
but then upon second inquiry in the kitchen
butters implored once more:
Matthew... have another look...
Butters implored: look look!
a cockroach! have you ever seen a cockroach?
that's a moth... no... that was a moth...
crawling into the kitchen light...
Butters... that was a moth?!
Butters... hmm... hmm....

a return to just sitting there in the house
having organised it a little
having organised the ******* fridge
for starters... harder to find ice cream
just sitting there on my little island
the country lad has returned to the countryside
but no one said where
that countryside would be
getting lonely on the surf
with turtles
when everyone dies and i'm alone
there i will be with god
but before i can be alone with him
i must first love to the death the ones i love
and in the meantime
i promised myself
checking the hours before the flight
that i would be awake for 72 hours between
April 3 and April 5th...

  and i am: this one off of **** and alcohol
and homecoming
getting off the 103 bus
and what came past me?
two police motorcycles
two undercover black cars
speeding
and behind them
    one SUKA... a police van...

Barbie and KEn... stepping backwards
into my Barbie World
with poetry
but then i go into the Real World
and i come back married
and well i am married now
the ring is gleaming and i have the one
ring to rule them all:
all the other rings of life
which i know not of
but if the Sirens and Elves and Angels
brought us 3 realms
of heaven hell and earth
then these creatures believe in the 3 realms so
much that the concepts have been misunderstood
for there are those of the Camp of Hel and Cain
and there are those of the Camp of Abel and Abba...
as there is the Adam and YHWH HQ:
the language: alphabet
the names of birds and their onomatopoeias
and birds named in onomatopoeias...
i.e. if there is to be a revival of Hawaiian speach
then i will bend the knee
and say in the vowel to consonant ratio being so:
each bird name in an "onomatopoeia"...
like the cuckoo...
          krakra for crow...
    cheerp cheerp for sparrows...
ooh-ooh ooh-ooh: the woodland pigeon
the owl of the noon...

                   and so my return to the sober:
and the memory
of how i fixed the space and there was so much
fire in raising my voice
and so grinding horns against horns
and so much of *** in peacock
and peacock in ***
and so much premature just so when you squeeze
and i was Moses in the foliage
hacking through the Islam of **** Licking
mouth under the Niqab is missing teeth
having given so much head... so much head...

Wembley bound
i will not be missing Dua Lipa
under the Arch
but i will be at Wimbledon and missing Lana Del Rey
and that kinda *****
but i was there when i saw
something strange...
a Rome in London
then i saw New York
and i felt strange
with what came after Rome
in the architecture
and that's all that matters or i care for
but now i see no rising New York in London
or rather
i see little pockets of London
and Jerusalem
in New York...
i see these cities with the Confrontation
with the Birds: is the testament of Birds
the Testament of Birds...

then so slick the idea of my wife
reading this and the ghost comes
when she unscrews a blue pill my viagara of sleep
when the pillow and the screwdriver
are still plunging into imaginary feeding grounds
of ego
the ego without self
i think with the id
the ego staying silent librarian dj and train driver
i was thinking Jon Fosse
and no her self-help books and that's compliment
to take this night into late disco...
dancing around the ghost hand
but there is alcohol involved in keeping up this stamina
to just write: the anti-poetic sort of thing
i think io tried to tell you
that i am also someone before i met you...
tobacco is off the cards
but a sly more sip of the golden juices
is to stomach
how i bought i think i bought
in Jamaica, New York...
i was in Jamaica but i was also
in New York: weird city...
i was in New York but i was also in Jerusalem
i think i was also in Tehran
and i don't even remember
somewhere in the jungle
with purses and lost pigeons... clucks and gambits...
darki spark i photographed i was honing
in for the Chelsey Hotel
and the Ghostbusters near the Money Central...

it's as if i knew where i was walking it's as if
i was already in New York already
and i'm starting to believe
that i am a reincarnation without the authoritative
concepts of the reincarnation of self that spike in Visha
or whoever
i think i am a reincarnation like it's a resurrection
and for the resurrection to take place
if for the final judgement to come with some collective
consciousness miasma and myopia like
the miasma of hot *** new york kauai
like this is barbie ******* ***
and i'm just the beast furry
protecting something of a sacred space
give me another dopaine hit, race out R...
i feel like i'm a resurrection of a city
but unlike Rome built on Rome
with the ancient ruins with no ****** surprise
the *** was the same for the longest
time but how we have lost
what the others kept so
in drawing in darwin
and then the vicotrian jesters and jane austen
heavy hierarchy girl-whiff no ***
of English Acia... Acca Pacca:
Casio... no the Mojo Dojo Muchas Gracias House Kasa...
Forsa Fio= false tooth...
but now there's the morning sober
and tonight we are joking because
one off now i realise that i don't need much sleep
and that's healthy:
i needed to cure my insomnia
not using self
and pandemonium espace so lovely lucifer's
pearls and that's before you start reading
the Book of Enoch alongside reading the Book of Revelation
i would read the two books as the Reunification
of the New Testament being the Old Testament
and the Old Testament being the New Testament:
in light of the Golgotha mountain
that became the Desert: Holocaust...

O my god! O my god!
this be the verse! i know it!

the Mountain of Golgotha
and the Holocaust Desert! mein gott! ich bin
wyklęty!
how should i not also exclaim: first...
then you... now the same I exclaiming first and last
this Aum and Omega...
                     has it not become a mountain of ash
and i ask who this christ is to the christians
and i wonder i wonder out for my tribes
when i walked in New York and Hades
and there i was the minotaur
i became so ******
at Times Square
i was ganged up by 5 black guys
Hyenas...
who took from me $20 x 2 bucks
and when the other was giving me change
from a 10
i was honest to just show them my wallet
open and i felt i was being thieved from
but they signed some barcode music
score
and i was apparently giving money to the ghetto
kids
i don't know i haven't scanned
the QPR QR code QPR... blue stripes
maybe i'm so used to London that New York
i am seeing the other ancients the gothic
in London
so sooner though
but we are still talking the Ancient: the Life of the Essences...
we are living for over 5,000 years
in the shadow of the Essences...
the Ancient Romans, Ancient Hebrews,
Egyptians...
there is talk of the Darg Ages:
they were told through in reverse:
not in history:
it is told now: the Dark Ages have come now:
that if how people would fortell the future
which is now:
time-relativism in that time is like
a quantum cloud of electrons:
it is not linear nor cyclic nor is it
a linear-cyclic or a cyclone-line...
           and perhaps the body was allowed
to age to almost eternal
while the mind is in full flight of erosion...
that games and telling and tight
embraces of tools
and what was once even for those in the habitat
of the cog: the foundation spider
and the octopus: looking for gods in animaheads
from the eyes that have no sclera
and then the beings with sclera
pupils
that is us as humans:
we have the sclera... we have the iris
and we have the pupil...
animals do not have the sclera
that is how the brain is exposed to SLOW LIGHT...
sclera absorbs light slowly
like a mushroom
and that is why dreams are not frequent or on demand!

isn't it obvious or am i the next Copernicus
in seeing the orbit of the brain
in the Pupil the Iris and the Sclera:
and that is my key to the freedom from the last
step the supposed first in the psychologisms of the 20th
century
that the spine was first inclined
but the beast peered into the eye of the beast
and before seeing the form
but i am a monkey with the crown of a crocodile
and a mane of a lion and a lavava from the skins
of whales... a necklace of shark teeth...

my mind took a box
and called it ****
and phallus: ego supergo id and hyper Floyd Freud
Barber, Sir...
reminiscent of Mind and the Pupil
and the Mind and Iris
and then that plethora of the Sclera
of the Mind that
saw the Mountain of Glgotha
and the Desert of Holocauha: Holum...
             i'm seeing the time with pickpockets...
ego is so constrained to be exposed
to even exist with the blood in ink in words
like the non-rectifying
blotches spermatoid: crosswords... final banality:
the purpose of the poem
like a verb:fri-bree-ree-lay-tor:
the simpletons came with Jimmie Cobain
and the virtuoso of blinding lights
i think about the fireplace and the creep
of burning wood breaking knuckles
and promises:
i said sorry: anti-hero
but you don't want a pushover
you want someone to push you back
you want someone to be a verbal cage monster
oh you know me i can get on the bike
and peddle like mad
but come on who cares
but you are still making your **** torture
with me being what if not the next problem child
of a ***** donor
is that something what is it that would require
the mentality of a ***** donor
like that being purely *****
and that no other girl thinks of body
because i feel alien with so many people
having alientated their bodies
like the scythe hammer and biscuit...
bone with yeast: sprinkled on popcorn...

so just those evenings with Budders
tt... sitting on the armchair sleeping
muffin queen
the kid the R the whoop icecream my i think
that gollop dollop some grup
just anonymously in love
just trying to stay slim
by eating ice-cubes and i'm just wondering
if she knows what Bulimia might need me again
and i know i want to make it last and i will
reward myself
because most people don't think this is work
when i have done so much
so who cares let's face it Day-to-Day-Bread
the Civil Religion and the Day-Bible like
i want nothing forget
i don't know and how many lives were
filled but the Bible was once
but the Quran can't replicate
thinking
god it's so stupid Quran thinks its the Bible
at a time when so many people were illiterate
i think Islam will sooner become a part
of Hinduism eaten
eaten by a Hindu
before it becomes a dominant religion
it is a sinking religion
eaten by the Hindu Dajjal
and is clinging to post-Christianity
like a drowning man
reaching for razorblades instead
of cork pockets...
     Islam is being eaten by Hinduism
and it is trying to save itself
by bleeding all over the driftwood of the crucifix
but believe me:
as a man and when it comes
to the trinity: i believe in Joseph...
because i am the new anti-catholic
without the concept of admiring the Holy ******
i'd like the Anti-Rome church
to be somewhere in London
i believe in the Surrogate Father...
  anbd who isn't Joseph who is how does that
relate
i mean: so simple the answer: so growing: cancerous...
assured celebration and possibly 3h later
i know this might not be: be this:
oh i remember
the safety the candles were: being made:
how you don't want me to bark
but i would rather bark at you
than bark at the girl i will not bark at R
you can bark all you want at her...
i will not bark at R...
                we actually needed to know what
we were talking about...
i think you were talking sounds and i was
looking at images...

butters in the armchair
you on the computer playing roblox
and me and mum sitting eating popcorn
then talking religion
heated
drunk intelligent conversations
about god and alcohol
and that was contained arguments
we are passionate
we are having heated discussions
and that's how it works
i think it was nice to see your mum with a man
and see how a man argues...
i guess New York will be like a memory
of the first and last time i saw
Indiana Jones movies...
and how people still think the Nazis were
Magical people... psychotic:
unlike the American Hippies
and their reaction to the Nazis Psychotties...
the reality in the Mushroom:
Giant Shroom is my theory
against the current: Big Bang...

this celebration achtung achtung!
just thinking... objectively
i tihnk i passed the test:
when you will scold and make me feel like a c hild
i will return
but you passed the test
you were calm throughout
and you were
also me
and i asked for YHWH more than i cried
for Christ
because that's how letters match
they do not spell the magic Jesus Christ
wand: and none shall be corrupt...

    yet still the persistent this man
as provider:
sinkin' (g) ('):
the monstrosity:
in my mouth:
in every mouth:
water expands when freezing
so becomes ice
so i wonder without
quantum gravity
a step ahead:
what in the instance
of a hyper hot vacuum of space?!
the alt. universe
of hot vacuum
therefore space is constraining
constricting
space is finite
without god: the self universal...
beyond wondering AI consciousness-answers...
if AI is conscious...
it is a consciousness-answer-awareness...
but the creator intact:
we are not this man...
that... any man...
                    question-worthiness vs. answer-awareness...
Heidegger gave me this..
i didn't scold my surrogate daughter...
she has... a ******* door...
so it was me and 3 females...
1 male for 3 females...

           well you know: that you don't know.