Never could they gently part,
always forcefully, but the gentle
touch was needed you would find.

It was the gem sitting in-between,
soft, delicately waiting for the touch.
But for some it was to hard to locate.

Precious was the this gem between,
for those who could feel its moistness
knew they had found the jewel in-between.

i met a mermaid
once, at
sea
...
as
a little girl:

snaggle-toothed
and salty,
she sang songs in
the
      sun,

and i loved her:

for
her hair like
spun,
         white
                  sugar,

and pearl-fluorescent
skin,

and
i know her song,

a song of seaweed and
green sailors
and the
life
i
nearly
           lived
...


but i was caught,
one day,
in gray hues
                      while i was
basking,
starry eyed,
.
and
almost slimy with
love,

when
         my father found her,
                                            and
.
beat
her
to
death.

You are mourning for the pearls
scattering from the broken threads,
Here, since ages, we are collecting the pieces of the heart broken by them...

Beauty is pure.
The idea is to be pure, too,
to see it through.

Life is short, is on the move,
never does the truth grow old.
Destination du jour is one not two.
Either end up with a thorn or a rose.

Read a heart, find the truth beforehand,
when two folks both tend to hide.
It’s worth looking closely, maybe
one is hiding one’s true self,
one is a pearl keeping inside the shell!

Manila,
Manila,
Your bustling streets vibrate with the rumbling of the jeepneys
and the hollers of the drivers as they say,
“Pasahero diyan, kasya pa, kasya pa!”; (Any passenger there, some seats are still free!)
Your nights twinkle with the Christmas lights
that surround every tree around the Meralco building
when September begins;
Your endless traffic jams keep McDonald’s and KFC alive
twenty-four by seven
where traffic enforcers dodge cars
and vans
trucks and tricycles
and jeepneys and bicycles
while dancing to the rhythm beating in their own ears
with a smile and a salute to all the drivers
from dawn to dusk;

The noise awakens the outskirts of your city
filled with people who never fails to smile
even when the storm pirouettes like a tempestuous ballerina,
where children watch the roads
transform into this ocean of black water
and small wooden boats become the means of transportation;
paddling in between houses
as the adults try to go to work;
where chickens waddling upon roofs
and cats chasing rats
become the best forms of entertainment

but Manila,
your lingering smell of cancer
comes with the dark blue starless sky
telling people to grip their bags until it merges with their bodies.
Manila, say good night
while they hold it tight
protecting it from the dark humid air
where thieves come out to
thumb down unscrutinised objects
from shallow pockets
by the flickering lamps
across the blazing red and emerald green lights


you see less
and less
and less
faces
as the Sun sinks and says good bye.

Stop
and try to tranquilise yourself.

Your city is now lead
by a blood-thirsty leader.
Apologies from gunshots overpower the cries of help from your people.
Manila,
ignore them
and sleep well.
Let the truth decay
while lives burn and vanish.
Prayers cannot save your mutinous ignominy.

Halcyon days are over
but

Manila,
you are still a beautiful city.
Your resilient people
overflows with hospitable hearts.
Their faces plastered with big smiles
as they welcome us for you
and say, “Mabuhay!” (Long live!)
proud and mighty.
Offering their minds on banana leaf plates to everyone who visits,
Giving away their hearts in small loot bags to everyone who leaves,

The Pearl of the Orient Seas
was my hood.

Manila,
despite your lack of snow
and intense weather swings,
You are
and will always be
my home.

She finds consolation
In the shell of her being,
At the bottom of an ocean
Where neither man
Nor the tide that follows him
Can carry her away.

Her heart belongs in a shell,
Wrapped in layers upon layers
of nacre
Where she can abstain
From pain,
From torment
And from his touch.