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he told his partners

unwitting souls
commanded by his

self assured

unwillingness 2 accept
anything but compliance

in his self assurance
many were led into his lair

some to escape
never the being they’d been

to flee
flogged into further submission
and eternal darkness

pleasure as pain
he told them

the once innocents

© 2017
Queria escribirles un cuento
pero mi mente escupio versos
aveces en soledad uno se quiebra
pero solo aveces encuentras consuelo.

La lluvia que me vio crecer
me busca como si fuera mi amada
la que se quedo esperando una tarde
a que yo llamara a su puerta
y como relapago con fuego
En las venas se escribe un soneto
Mi amor ya casi muerto
Se ha consumido
Cómo cenizas de ave fénix .
A Sad Alex Nov 2018
Es de locos amar sin locura, pero es de dementes dejarse caer en el amor sin una cuerda de emergencia
AUGUST Sep 2018
Sino ba ang modernong vincentiano?
Ano ba ang kanyang pagkatao?
Nagtatanong sa sarili ko
Habang pinagmamasdan ang mahinanang kamay
Kung anong magawa ko
Dito ba sa munting palad nakahimlay
Ang lahat ng kakayahan ko?

Anong meron ako, anong meron tayo? kundi kaalaman.

Kaalaman na di galing sa sabi sabi nilang “hugot”
Kundi sa piraso ng mga aral na ating pinulot
Dahil sa disiplina tayo y nililok
Ang kabutihang asal sa diwa ay pumasok

Mula sa Mga **** nating tinuturing na magulang,
Mga mababang tao na ating ginagalang,
Mga taong nakilala mula ng tayo’y musmos pa lang
Ipinamana sa atin ang pananampalataya, pagpapakumbaba, at kabutihan

Ang tanggapin ang katotohanan,
At hangganan ng kakayahan
Ang malaman ang kahinaan, kahit may kasimplehan
Pilit inaabot ang makatulong ng buong kalooban

Ng walang hinihintay na kapalit
Tulad ng modelo nating si San Bisente (st. Vincent)
Na sa pagtulong ay di napagod
Kaya sa mata ng Diyos naging kalugod lugod

Salamat sa  Amang nasa itaas
Na nagbibigay ng lakas
Ang lakas na di nauubos
Para sa aming misyon na di pa rito natatapos

Sandata ay ang panalangin
Lakas ng loob at damdamin
Dahil sa Diyos na mahabagin
Walang pagsubok sa buhay ang hindi kakayanin

Ating misyon, ang tumulong sa mga kapus palad at nawawalan
Hindi lang sa taong nawawalan ng materyal na kayamanan
Kundi para sa mga taong naliligaw, nalilito at nagugulumihan
Pagkat ating ramdam ang bawat hirap
Ang bigat na tinitiis ng bawat taong may pinapasan

Handang makiramay at ibigay ang anuman
Para lamang ang paghihirap sa pighati ay maibsan
Pagkat sa bawat taong ating natutulongan
gantimpalang pangkaluluwa ang dapat ipagyaman

Sino ang gumagawa nito?
Sino ba ang modernong vincentiano?
Isa ba ako sa mga ito?
Ang modernong vincentiano ay di lang ako kundi tayo
Ang modernong vincentaino ay nagsasakripisyo at mapagpakumbabang nagseserbisyo
Ang modernong vincentiano ang magpapatuloy ng ating kwento.
Ang tula kong ipinanalo ng first runner up sa isang slam poetry competition ng event na may temang "Ang Modernong Vincentiano" noong September 26, 2018.
Madelynn Nieves Sep 2018
‪She danced on graves‬
‪In dark reverence‬
‪Throwing a party for the dead‬.
Reveling in the beauty,
Of each delicate sculpture,
‪Her fingers traced the edges...‬
‪Memories long gone,‬
‪but in the souls
Of those who loved them.‬
‪Twisted smile‬,
‪Longing for the day‬,
‪When she too‬,
‪Rests eternally‬.
Absent deliberate intervention
     vis a vis suicide,
supposed "natural" longevity
     of generic human primate ride
ding ******* across avast
     broke back mountain minus pride
defies accurate prediction,
     though hypothetical

     projections can override
unknown factors, whereby
     excluding misfortune nationwide
(and/or globally deadly accidents,
     catastrophes, diseases, mudslide,
fatalities from gunshot, et cetera)
     unexpectedly arise dismissing by landslide

mortal adversity can be generally,
     and more accurately spell joyride
ding calibrated to continue,
     thus subsequent existence,
     viz getting inside
scoop of this basic fellow, aye surmise
     to continue for many another hayride
say...two score plus more orbitz,

     whereat linkedin, flickr ring guide
by invisible hand snapchatting
crackling and popping fireside,
twittering whatsapp pining
     during eventide,
watching virtual twilight at dockside,
witnessing artificial intelligence,
     perfectly mimicking

     illusory edenic countrywide
vibrantly melds scenic
     ideal tonic bedside
counting black sheepish crows,
      thence set sleep number
      putting all worries aside
while merrily rowing boat
     with gentle creatures alongside.
Karisa Brown Mar 2018
What she wonders
What is it now
What do you want from me
You grovel at my feet
Hoping to be fed
I have no more to give you
Last night's bread
was all there was

These orphan lots
Set beneath me
Spend nights awaking
the dead things
That I sleep in

They crawl beneathe my veins
Hidden in shame
I drown thee
With perfect obligatory
With knives
Held captive
And needle poked in eyes thread

These words become jummbled
So I throw them up instead
Melt me many men
Have them come in
Shake off their grievances
Give thanks for what's been

Wonder if you might
You might just
Give them a fright
Appearance of the New Courier
(with namesake "Georgia Ives")
flew into the courtroom
faster than Bold face WingDings!

After the judge opened
the waxed sealed envelope stamped
with the official legal imprimatur
sound of silence filled the courtroom.

After perusing highlighted principle details,
a noticeable con jug *** shun
didst Impact countenance of attired judge.

Recess announced at authority decree
(spelled out with quotation marks high
lighting dotted i's and crossed t's)
figuratively a nouns sing moratorium
for those accused of run on sentences,
split infinitives, then versus than...
incorrect usage of ellipses, et cetera.

The justice of supreme court
critically espied quotation marks
(underscoring reductio ad absurdum
Times New Roman regulation)
against stiff penalty asper those
who commit rhetorical perturbations!    

This lenient fiat occurred immediate
by innocent omission of a colon,
which subsequently, naturally,
and immediately affected
every future jury presiding over
a defendant applying incorrect punctuation!

A favorite comma cull anecdote
often repeated by my late english
grammar (a palliative to me psyche
despite the multi-generational
difference in age) happened
when she celebrated twenty  
and counting punctual marks, whence time
in utero came to an end period.

Many question marks still abound
as per the specific circumstances
of this generally uneventful birth,
only that she seemed to dash
from the womb (of her mother –

mine great grandmother christened
Latina Greco) with a pointed
exclamation declaration
of independence while ****** constitution
adorned with supposedly shimmering
invisible golden braces
and a full set of teeth.

Somewhat averse to authoritarianism
and mores of assuming the sir name
of the groom, she maintained nom
de plume affixed on her birth certificate.

If born that way today, and ready
to pledge marital vow, would
probably follow the common custom
and hyphenate name of beau similar
to newlyweds of this day and at this very moment.

Back in those days though,
town’s folk exclaimed with
pointed superstition that a baby born
after being bracketed nine months

within the womb (which seemed
like an eternal sentence), and equipped
with the means to chew would
most likely experience little colon difficulty.

As a dignified divine dowager,
she willingly shared her cradle
to graveside tidbits (populated
with many wisecracks and
marked quotations from a life
that spanned more than a century21.

Smart as a whip or pin
(the latter term somewhat out of vogue),
this independent woman
(who married into nobility

from humble roots) frequently evinced
el shaped lips when the un
suspecting recipient ensnared
of her harmless ingenious pranks.

Aside from what many considered
childlike antics (which characteristic
salient trait appealed to this grandson),
she excelled at verbal adroitness

and could spin a jesting lightly
mocking pun, which seemed
to quiver with an invisible
apostrophe shaped blackened barb.

Though privileged per parochial parents,
her inherited empire and peers, the people
of the proletariat class felt
figuratively parenthetically
included as persons of concern
to this genteel dame.

She exemplified and wore that moniker
noblesse oblige with utmost
august excellence, and whenever
the need or wont arose to address
the madding crowd (this
crowned empress) resorted
to non-verbal communication ala semaphore.

Her lily-white hands (most often
remained sheathed in Palmolive
clad ding silken gloves - exuded
a faint patrician touch) partitioned

the air with arabesques accentuated
with sign language for those
among the teeming masses
unable to hear or in fact deaf.

Regular adherence to being grammatically
(yet not necessarily politically) correct
witnessed the air being sliced with even
less familiar punctuation symbols
such as the emdash, en-dash.

Even doctorates of English and
strict task masters (whose
frowning scowls strongly resembled
semicolons when even minor indiscretions,
infractions, transgressions, et cetera
with english language observed)

never found fault with this
former bohemian, whose rhapsodic,
melodic, linguistic voice ameliorated
dark memories from dereliction dis
played by former queen.

She also received the treatment of
a champion lyricist, whereby every lyre
(got set on fire) from utterance akin
to a choir of hells angels, yet this

chanteuse voice rang thru the
azure vault causing the small hairs
of the spine to experience a pleasant
electric shock therapy.
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