Life is like a rollercoaster
You're in for one heck of a ride
At times you can get nervous
Butterflies inside

Fear can strike your very core
As you observe its height
But as you see it more and more
Anticipation rides

Down and up
Up and down
The worst parts followed by the best
And when you reach the highest top
Your fear is put to rest

As the ride comes to a stop
You can look back and observe
That you accomplished a life so great
Every twist
Every turn
Every curve

So don't you worry about being alone
There are people in the seats by your side
Enjoy life, the rollercoaster
You're in for one heck of a ride

Perhaps you aren’t as faceless
as you think you are:

your skin not green,
your face not plastered
with wide-eared grins,
your house neither yellow nor
full of garish trampolines, trapdoors and springs.

This static,
this stillness,
this is you:

Quiet, loud, alone in your room
screaming in whatever tongue you
speak best at, staring back
at reflections in mirrors
that don’t recognise you.

You smile,
measure the gaps between your
teeth and find that they
are a little bit smaller,
check their slant and find
that they lean a little more
to the left,

feel your skin and find
that the green tinge
comes off with a light scratch
of a nail,

and that beneath the coverings,
you still
are flesh and blood.

Never fall in love with a poet.

Her familiarity with words
How she can gather and pick the best of consonants and syllables from the white picket fenced field that has a sign near the entrance labeled  "alphabet"
and with this she may offer you a bouquet of sentences carefully articulated and placed in a specific manner to look effortlessly marvelous

How she will always fall asleep with a thought
And turn them into thought infused dreams
And then churn this mixture in the mechanisms within her
Bring forth a lovely array of vocabulary that sounds like rhythmic melodies to your ears

Never fall in love with a poet.

She will know your words all too well
Because she knows words all too well
She knows that they aren't always what they seem
And no matter how many words you offer back to her in return
A lesson is engraved within her heart which solely believes
that words can not be given alone

The beauty of words must be matched with the strength of actions
Less your beautiful words will be nothing but a distraction
Without the fibers of action to hold your words together, to wrap her up in a cloth of security and warmth
Everything you will say and have said before is just
sweet poetry

And she, my dear, is a poet
Who has too many a poem tucked away in the deepest corners of her heart
What good will just your poem do?

Your children roam the gridlocked streets
hand-in-cardboard, feet firmly on uneven ground,
eyes heavy with the rubble of their foreclosed homes.
They live in grocery carts.

Forget Fifth Avenue, or the Villages,
or the cobblestone streets of young and old,
or the unseen gates of Striver’s Row.
Your heart lies by the subway stations
that ring with the songs of a lonely old man,
his teeth yellowed, but voice golden,
asking not for introductions nor coin,
but for a listener.

New York, they cry for you to hear them.
(Your poor, your tired, and your weary)

Bowery, 6.13.15.

naririnig mo ba?
ang bell ni manong na nagtitinda ng ice cream.
ang mga huni ng iba't ibang klase ng ibon.
ang mga harurot ng mga ikot jeep.
naririnig mo ba?
ang mga tawanan ng mga magkakaibigan
mga kuwentuhan, mga tanong at makabuluhang talakayan.
naririnig mo ba?
ang mga lapis at bolpen ng mga estudyante
na kumakayod sa mga papel:
husay
sa bawat ukit.
naririnig mo ba?
ang mga yapak ng mga iba't ibang klase ng Pilipino at talino
sa kalyeng binudburan ng mga dahong acacia
dangal
sa bawat apak at kumpas ng kamay,
sa bawat hinga.

naririnig mo ba?
ang mga salitang mapanlinlang, mapang-alipusta
ang mga sigaw sa sakit,
hiyaw sa hapdi, dahil sa
mga hampas at palo
ang mga tama ng mga kamao
naririnig mo ba?
ang mga iyak
ang mga hikbi ng mga kaibigan
para sa mga kapatid nilang nasaktan.
ang mga hagulgol ng mga magulang
na nawalan ng anak:
mga puso, mga pamilyang
hindi na buo.
wasak,
nasira na.

naririnig mo ba?
ang mga boses na nananawagan na
"tama na"
"utang na loob, itigil niyo na"
kasi
hanggang kailan pa
tutugtog ang ng paulit-ulit-ulit
ang sirang plaka ng karahasan
na patuloy na naririnig sa panahong ito
mula pa sa mga nagdaang dekada?

nakakalungkot, hindi, nakakasuklam
ang mga mapaminsalang kaganapan na nangyayari
sa ating mahal na pamantasan.
ang tawag sa atin ay mga
iskolar ng bayan,
para sa
bayan
pero paano tayo mabubuhay nang para sa iba
kung paminsan hindi nga makita ang
pagmamahal at respeto sa atin mismo,
mga kapwang magkaeskwela.

hahayaan na lang ba natin ang ating mga sarili
na magpadala sa indak ng
karumaldumal na kanta ng kalupitan?
hahayaan na lang ba ang mga isipan na matulog.
hahayaan na lang ba ang mga puso na magmanhid.
kailan pa?
tama na!
nabibingi na ang ating mga tenga.
nandiri. nagsasawa.
oras na para itigil ang pagtugtog ng mga nota.
oras na para tapusin ang karahasan.
oras na para talunin ang apatya at walang pagkabahala.
oras na para sa hustisya.
oras na para sa ating lahat,
estudyante man o hindi, may organisasyon man o wala
na tumayo, makilahok at umaksyon
para pahilumin ang sakit,
para itama ang mali.
oras na para sindihan ang liwanag dito sa diliman.
oras na para mabuhay ang pag-asa ng bayan.