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Allyssa Bonita Aug 2018
There was no way to deny I heard a voice of an angel
A screech from a holy brabble
A voice from the holy bible
A melody you can’t deny
Sure, I might get too excited, maybe a little bit exaggerated, or maybe I overreacted
But it was his voice that I hear all the time in my ear, in my head
His sound waves trapped in my head
Yes, I might seem obsessed, a little bit out of sense, or maybe over the fence
But it was his voice that I memorized even before
Even before we met, the voice that’s been in my head
The voice I couldn’t forget, the voice in my dream, the voice of the man in my head
His voice was so familiar... but it can be just me, being head over heels, being delusional.

-END-
This is one of the poems in my His Collection, a collection of poems for the boy I used to like.
Allyssa Bonita Aug 2018
Anxious was I
Anxious when his eyes burrowed into mine,
Lodge into my soul until I wasn’t fine,
Until I wasn’t fine ‘cause I couldn’t breathe like he was ******* the oxygen out of me like I was his tree,
His reason to breathe
But anxious was I
As his stare barely left my eyes,
Was it only me that couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe?
How can he do this to me?
Our stares locked with heavy security
Like it couldn’t break, I couldn’t flee
I couldn’t flee ‘cause he held onto me through his eyes
But anxious was I
When he left my eyes
He left my eyes like it was nothing
Like it didn’t mean anything, or was it just me?

-END-
This is one of the poems in my His Collection, a collection of poems for the boy I used to like.
Allyssa Bonita Aug 2018
At first it was his eyes, his eyes when he smiles
His smile and his eyes, I was captivated
And I forgot what it’s like when I was
When I was... alone, ‘cause it was his smile that kept me on my toes
It was my toes that shivered when he goes, when he goes, I will go
I will go. Will. Go. Don’t!
Don’t you go, ‘cause I don’t think I’ll be able to forget
The butterflies when our arms carressed
The magic that we possessed... when we’re together
The magic that only I felt... when we’re together
When we’re together
When. We’re. Together. Together with other people
With other people ‘cause we’re never alone
‘Cause there was no reason for us to be alone
No reason ‘cause it was only his eyes that I know,
It was only my name, my face, that he knows.

-END-
This is one of the poems in my His Collection, a collection of poems for the boy I used to like.
Ammar Haziq Dec 2017
I woke up today, thinking 'bout my life,
And my past,
It runs up to me like a panther,
And I stutter,
Arranging the words that I have to say,
So that people won't ask questions and I don't have to mention,
How ****** up
I feel inside
I'll just put it aside

And let it collect duest
Trust - that I won't be okay but I'll say I am
And you'll believe me
That eventually I'll just become a memory
A past, a present that you'd slide in a conversation
No future
For me to participate in - I don't mind feeling like ****
It's something I'm used to I admit
I miss all of my friends but they're fine without me
And life is so funny
I feel like a joke that people keep missing the punchline
I'm in the line - queuing up for happiness
Instead what I got is the opposite
I'm sick and tired of all these misery
I feel like an old tree waiting to be cut down
And when I'm down

I lie there on the ground
Cupping my hands and say a prayer
Like a sailor I feel lost at sea
You see
I'm only 23 there's still so much for me to learn
Even though I yearn for some sort of serenity
I sling words on stage to keep my composure
Cuz I'm sure, that as I come of age
I need to learn from my mistakes
And make my scars the stepping Stones of new beginnings
And as I lie there on the ground feeling down
I gotta fill these empty cups

So I gotta get back up
And I gotta keep walking
And swim up when I feel like sinking
See I got two younger siblings
My brother he's only 20
There's still time for him to figure out who he's meant to be
And my sister she's only six I'm no example
Maybe an example for them to learn from
Even though I wanna be her Superman but man I'm just a man
Full of mistakes and flaws
I take that after the old man
But I'm not my dad
And I don't wanna be that

I'm just a man
Full of mistakes and flaws
That I gotta work on and move on
And I'll try to be a better man
****, man. I miss my grandma
I miss evenings with her watching Indonesian telly dramas
And my mama, she slaves herself away
She's always away to provide a meal on the table
And I wanna be able to make her proud
She thinks I will no doubt
And I will God's will
No matter how long it'll take me I'll keep hustlin'
Bustlin' through this mad city
You see
I'm only 23
Talking like I know ****
But I don't know ****
EtherealOmega Nov 2017
I've tailored so many suits,
Switching out mismatched buttons for shining brass,
And restoring fabric worn thin over years of well-loved use.

But I cannot tailor this traitorous skin to fit me right.
In some placed it's too lose,
In others too tight…
I cannot switch out the pieces of me I'd rather live without
For new pieces shining with pride.
There is no way to restore a body to what it should have been,
Or even to the simple majesty of what it once was.

Young and ignorant of its uneven seams.

I've hemmed ladies' skirts to the perfect lengths
So they no longer need to worry about tripping over the excess.
Hemmed them to show just the right amount of ankle
Or perhaps none at all..

But I cannot hem myself..

This excess emotion staining my voice denoted me as "she."
And I trip over my own voice that no longer fits in my mouth..
While gorgeous girls in gowns show off thin strips of themselves,
I am left trying to hide every piece of my skin.

This is why I have risked sunstroke in the dead of summer
Wearing a hoodie and jeans to keep me safe.
This is why swimming pools are often synonymous with nightmare.

I no longer know how to wear this body with pride.

So when they ask me when I knew I wasn't a girl…
I have to restrain my urge to laugh and cry all at once.
Because when do we know that something is not as perfect as we once thought..
Only once it has been shown to us and we've been told to fix it.

I wish I could go back to being ignorant of my uneven seams.
These uneven seams that I cannot rip out unless I want to bleed out.
These uneven seams that I will never be able to fix to perfection.

But maybe…
Slowly,
Ever so slowly,
We might be able to stretch the seams of this world.
So that no child has to learn to hate or fear
Their jagged edges
Their unhemmable spaces…






But I cannot be one of those children..
So I will use chemicals to hem my voice..
Readjust my buttons…
Stretch my seams…
I will find a seamster more experienced then I
To rip out these traitorous strings
And rearrange the fabric to a more seemly drape.

I will use new fabric to cover up the patterns I am no longer proud of…
The patterns that cloud my days…
I will mend my ways
Learning to live in a patchwork maze
Until my spirit can return to where it truly belongs
In a beautiful blaze.
- EPL 11/6/2017
Ammar Haziq Sep 2017
I remember the first time we met.

It was a festival. We were crowded
out by breathless bodies bouncing but we rocked the night away.  And I like how your eyes caught me amidst all those blank stares.

It actually started in the train - the
sharp curves of your smile pierced
through the naivety blanketing my
soul. I never breathed so sharply
before. But I didn't mind it.

We were seventeen and all we cared about were loud music and growing up.

Not realising that growing apart is
a part of that - taking up more space
around us as we add more days into
our life till the line between distance
and time becomes blurry. And we
find a home for each other in our
memories.

Naivety got the best of me. I chased
the seasons on southern winds while you
marched on with your soldier heart
searching your true north, saving us
from a civil war. And we parted.

Only to meet again.

And I am glad that we met again because my heart never understood the meaning of pain until I spoke your name.

It took some time for me to realise
that I was in love with you. It wasn't
hesitation. It wasn't fear and it certainly
wasn't doubt.

I couldn't tell the difference between
distance and time. I forgot the time
I made a home for you and I didn't know
time made a home for you while I was
there looking, for you. At you. Looking
into you. I am into you.

I am into you so deep your eyes become
the kiddie pool where I forgot I used
to play. The pool where I learned how
to breathe underwater. Talking to you
is like breathing underwater - I hold my
breath for every word you say. That's
how deep I am into you. That's how I
feel inside every time I'm with you -
Like a kid having the time of his life drifting around in his favourite kiddie pool.

Every girl I have met was a passing
season. I was always caught in the
crosswinds. Love never stayed and
they always came in second. And
I just realized that even after all these years you still came first. Number
one

two

three words that I realized I had always
wanted to say. Words that that we both
knew but I never realized. But you knew.
You always knew. And that realization hit me like a sharp breath. Like how it did back then.

The festival. You are a festival.

Truth be told, I am still deep in the pool of your eyes.

And I am in love with you. And with
great faith, I hope you are too.
Ocean Eyes Apr 2017
School is not in session today.
One girl sits in her room
she does not move.
she is in the mountains
snow falls rivers freeze over
people are skiing outside
everything is silent
her phone her family
silent
Accept for the silver watch on her wrist
that ticks like a metal pulse against her arm
she does not hear it.
She dreams about the
happy girl at the beach
the sand and the ocean breeze
she grabs her pillow like the sail of a ship
she opens her eyes once, and she thinks to herself.
The beach would be the best vacation, ever.
AL Marasigan Apr 2017
Una, napakaganda ng mga simula, ng mga umagang puno ng kaba, hinahanda ang sarili sa mga posibleng pagpapakilala. Hinahasa ang mga ngiti, ang mga galaw, ang mga paglakad sa harapan ng iyong mga kaklase. Tinatanggap ang mga matatalim na tingin habang naghihintay sa bawat salitang lalabas sa kaluluwa **** malapit nang sumabog, mga taingang naghihintay, naghahandang makinig…

Pangalawa, magiging kampante’t komportable ka, iisipin na ang buhay ay ganun lang kadali, na ang bawat simula’y pagpapakilala lang ng sarili na pagkatapos **** magpakilala ay makikinig ka nalang. Iniisip na ang kaginhawaan, galak at takot sa simula ay mananatiling sa’yo.

Pangatlo, mapapagod ka. Na ikaw ay gigising ng mas maaga, papalitan ang dugo ng iba’t-ibang uri ng likido, sa pagbabasakaling ang simula ay mananatili hanggang sa dulo. Ikaw ay unti-unting susuko.

Pero pang-apat, ang daan tungo sa tagumpay ay di dapat kalimutan at sukuan di’ba?

Subalit panglima, ang tagumpay ay di palaging may sementadong daanan, na ang lahat ng bagay ay di perpekto. Na ang langit na narasanan mo nung simula ay di mananatiling ganoon hanggang sa dulo na ito’y posibleng maging blankong espasyo na lamang. Matatakot kang punuin ito ulit.

Pang-anim, maghanda ka sa paglipad. Unti-unting buuin ang mga pakpak gamit ang mga balahibong parte ng iyong mga simula.

Pangpito, lisanin ang lumbay, ang galit, gamutin ang mga sugat sa’yong mga pakpak. Unti-unting abutin ang araw kahit na ito’y iiwanan kang abo, susubukang pabagsakin.

Ito ang pangwalo, maghanda kang bumagsak, mahulog, masaktan.

Pangsiyam, masakit ang mahulog, bumagsak, umasa. Ngunit gawin mo itong lakas, lagyan mo ng pwersa ang bawat pagaspas ng mga pakpak ng iyong simula. Oo, di tayo handa na mahulog, bumagsak, umasa, at walang kahandaan sa mga ganitong bagay.

Pero pangsampu, huwag kang susuko, magaling na ang iyong mga pakpak, tapos na ang paghahanda. Subukan mo nang lumipad muli sa langit na dati’y pinuno mo ng mga unang beses at mga unang bagay bumuo sa’yong pagkatao. Liparin mo ulit ang blankong espasyo, lagyan ng mga bagong simula, buksan ang mga nakakandong daanan, abutin ulit ang tagumpay, subukan muling lumipad, at pag ika’y muling nahulog, abutin ulit ang langit, lipad lang.
Inspired by Juan Miguel Severo's  "Sampung Bagay na Natutunan ko sa mga Umiibig"
Writing has always been a passion of mine. You see, I’m not the most talented person out there, but i guess my tongue is good with rhymes… And letters, sentences and paragraphs. In fact, I have the urge to write like all the time, but when people ask me why, suddenly, thoughts fill up inside and I become tongue-tied. I used to answer with a statement, “I write to forget.” But no. Now I know.

Now I’ve come to realize that my answer was a lie for experience have unfolded itself between my eyes, and I became well acquainted with life.

Writing doesn’t make us forget; writing is to remember.
Writing is not a delete button for that time you were crying in December. Writing is not a trash bin for all the times you’ve cried on your way home, cold and shivered.

Writing doesn’t make us forget; writing makes permanent.
Writing is putting down life into paper, trapping your monsters inside so you’ll feel safer. Writing is locking your demons between the spaces of stringed letters, drowning them into thick ink.

Writing doesn’t make us forget; writing is building.
Writing is making your own utopia with the memories you’d like to keep, even sometimes the ones that made you weep. Writing is designing a structure, sometimes monuments that hold your best victories, sometimes tombstones that hold your worst tragedies.

But most of all, writing is individuality.
Writing is knowing you have the power to make your own reality, to empower that long-dreamed fantasy. Writing is beautiful because it considers you. It gives you a scepter in a form of a pen, and for once in your life, you have the power.
A spoken word poem I made because writing is life. lol
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