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Napa-ibig ako sa aking kinakaibigan.
Sa una siguro’y ang pakiramdam ay magaan.
Nagkakilala ng basta-basta, walang dahilan.
Siguro dahil na rin sa  mabuting kapalaran.

Isang araw’y nalaman ko,
Magkapit-bahay lang pala kami.
Lalong nagkalapit ang puso’t damdamin.
Makalipas ang isang taon ng pagkikilala,
Sa dami ng tambay, kain, at gala,
Sa problema ng tropa o kaya’t sa pamilya,
Sa ngiti at ngisi sa bawa’t asaran,
Sa halip na ika’y may pagkasira,
Sa iyong puso na palaging hinihiwa,

Naroon ako sa iyong tabi,
Unti-unting napapangiti,
Napapamahal,
Nahuhulog ang dibdib,
Sa iyong pagkatao’t diwa.

Naaalala ko pa noong ika-siyam ng Mayo,
Bago matapos ang taon ng pag-aaral,
Sa isang buwan magkakahiwalayan na,
Magkokolehiyo na’t iiwan ang mga pinagdaanan.
Umiyak ka sakin habang nakain pa ng pakwan.
Na natatakot lang magsimula ulit,
Na makaranas ng bagong landas,
Na magbago, at maging kung sino man.
Na mahal mo ang iyong mga kaibigan,
Na ayaw mo silang iwanan.

Sinabi ko sayo,
Ika’y minamahal,
Ika’y itinatangi.
Ngunit hindi ko masabi,
Na ako ang magmamahal,
Ako ang magtatangi sa’yo.
Kaya ako’y gumawa ng katwiran,
Na kaming mga kaibigan mo,
Ay naririto lamang.

Ang pag-ibig ay parang nota,
Sa musika ng tadhana,
Sa teatro ng buhay.
Ito’y maligaya,
Upang hikayatin,
Ang ating puso na makinig.
Ngunit hindi kang saya ang ipinaparating.
Kundi’ hirap, lungkot, at paghihinagpis.

Parang emosyonal na gitara,
Na minsan nasisira,
Napuputol ang kwerdas,
Nasasaktan ang kamay,
Nalulumbay sa tono,
Habang humihiyaw,
Kumakanta ng buong puso,
Para sa ating mga sinta.

Dumating ang Agosto,
Miyerkules ng unang linggo,
Sa ika-beintidos ko nalaman,
Na galing pa sa iyong dila,
Na ako’y huli na sa paligsahan,
Na mayroon ng nanalo sa laban.
Ang puso mo’y nasagip na ng iba,
Ika’y nagkwento ng matagal-tagal.
Ang ningning sa iyong mata’y,
Parang ilaw sa entablado,
Nakikita ko ang mga sumasayaw,
Ligaya ang aking nararamdaman,
Habang ang aktor ay ako,
Na iyong tinitigan ng husto.
Pinipilit makinig nang maigi,
Sa kwentong busilak ng pag-ibig.

Ngunit pagkatapos ng kwento,
Naiwan akong mag-isa.
Sumigaw ng wala sa tono,
Sa kanta na puro hiyaw.
Hindi ko inakala,
Na ang kanta ko’y ganito,
Naisulat na ang mga nota,
Ngunit bakit masakit sa tenga?
Sa simula ng ika’y makita,
Nagsimula na ang tugtog.
Ngunit hindi ikaw ang aking kasayaw,
Hindi rin naiwasang mahulog.
Kahit pigilan ko man ang sarili,
Ako’y nahatak ng iyong tunog.
Magaling ka sumagaw,
Kwento mo’y ako’y napaikot.

Napapaisip ako,
Anong nangyari,
Bakit natapos,
Ang ating kanta.
Ng wala man lang paalam.
Ika’y bumula.
Nawala sa aking buhay.
Na para bang multo.
Hindi ko malapitan,
Mahawakan,
Matawag,
Ni mabanggit ang iyong pangalan.
Nawala ang ating teatro,
Nagkahiwalagan ang magkaibigan,
Ang direktor ay lumisan,
Upang maiwasan ang drama.

Napapaisip ako ngayon,
Bakit ikaw pa rin sa ngayon!
Ikaw na multo ng nakaraan,
Ang aking minamahal hanggang ngayon.
A Filipino poem about this girl I became close friends with. Originally a spoken word poetry for other purposes. I decided to post it here because, why not. I’m still in love with her up to this day. Well, it’s only been six months so this will be a long painful process.
pearl corpse Dec 2018
it's weird.
i don't need to write anything about him.
will it ruin what we have?

he's weird.
and yes, it's a he.
and yes, i'm doing just fine.

i hope to get in.
i probably won't.
i'm not a first choice.
i'm a tenth choice.

but even if i don't
i'll always have him
and i can be his first choice
and i can't be this favorite
or that favorite
but i can be his

and that's quite alright.
i cried about fest and my boyfriend was so supportive and i love him sm
Arianna Nov 2018
Heart drops with the beat,
Racing in A, as the orchestra tunes.

You are very kind, Stranger,
Offering to switch places;

Didn't have to,
But I appreciate it.

We've both arrived solo and,
Though we exchange no other words,

Sitting side-by-side
Surrounded by empty seats

I am grateful for your company.
Been going for years, but my blood still runs a good kind of cold when the orchestra tunes itself. :D Last time I went, I encountered a very polite person sitting in my seat; they offered to switch places, and we sat directly next to one another for the entire three-odd hours of the performance even though no one occupied the places on either side of us. Didn't exchange any other words. Just a mundane, meaningless encounter, but it was nice to sort of have someone to go with for once. :-)
Logan Seamus Nov 2018
#1
Pressure builds up
We can feel it as it engulfs the atmosphere
Warnings as we walk up and lights click
People watching, criticizing, weary
They know nothing what they talk about, but it still hurts
All the effort gone to waste on something you experienced and worked on
It’s a first time for everyone, but a last time for some.
Dante Algheri Nov 2018
We are all racing birds;
we win just to be caged.
I don't know if you've heard,
but all the world's a stage.

I tread the rigid boards
and bend myself instead.
Another curtain call;
another ego fed.

The limelight comes and fades;
the sweat falls from my brow
now everybody cheers,
another perfect show.

You will never make it,
you know that this is true.
The flowers on this stage
will die along with you.
Oscar Oct 2018
the curtains come up, lights blaring; audience watches as you spit your lines to the world. composed of those we know, the rows of seats are full of people who judge and deceit and it's more of a trial than a show. it's a script, each word careful to convey emotions that aren't real. you're not real. we're not real. this isn't real. you're acting, tears hidden behind a mask crafted through years and years of work, you don't want to give to give in yet. by act two you're tired, exhausted and ready to pack in. you stray from your lines, the director staring at you from backstage. you're not supposed to do that. you're supposed to spew the words from the page and bite back arguments. you're a puppet. feelings? not real. teardrops fall on your script, but they could be drops of liquor because you're drunk in the thought that you can escape. you can't. you're trapped. love holds you down, nails your heart to the stage. crucifixion before your very peers and they don't know your pain because it's just an act and you are an actor, acting out the things you've been told to say. the directions you are forced to follow. it's not real and neither are you, you repeat that as you fall asleep and it's on your tongue when you wake up. you wash your fash, using water to splash away the memories of what once was and what will never be again. when your teacher asks if you're religious you bite your tongue, holding back curses that god left us. we're alone and we're gone and we're sheep being hurled into a pen that was designed for convicts. we're criminals against mother nature, poisoning and polluting and killing life's lungs with our dreams that should have died long ago. when she asks, "are you happy?" i smile and i grit my teeth, forcing out words from a script i revised in my head. i'm happy and i'm fine and i'm real. the blood in my veins pumps faster and faster, emotions rising and falling with the beat of death's drums. are we alone? we're abandoned, a ship sailing the seas of uncertainty. we craft swords out of lies, anger, and betrayal and in the end, we plunge it through our own hearts. the curtain closes, end scene.
this was going to be a short and sweet poem, with a metaphor but then i got angry. im not editing it because it's pretty raw.
rebecca Oct 2018
My life was quite dark
but then the golden curtains opened and Act Two began
with it's first remark
pearl corpse Sep 2018
waiting

waiting waiting waiting

w a i t i n g

how many times have i waited for something to get nothing at all

my heart races. i do laps around my room.

it’s cold but i have to wear a tank top to bed because i’m sweating so much

my mind thinking of 1000 thoughts in 1 second

whenever another friend tells me that they’ve gotten their email my stomach drops

i’m so proud of them and at the same time so worried for myself

i refresh the page every half a minute to no avail

i should just keep reading my english book and do my history project

but nothing can take my mind of of this

this one role in one show that will only be a distant memory when i grow old

it doesnt matter

does it matter

will it matter

i keep waiting
i’m waiting for a cast list rn and i might get a good role but i’m still like “no talent lol” so i’m just like freaking it
Jay Kay Sep 2018
I don’t have time
For this young man’s disease
They told me it was Type II, at first.
“The good one.”
The “one for fat people.”
Medical jargon.

Not even three months later.
“Your body is tearing itself apart.”

Type 1.
A1c.
Glucose monitor.
Metformin.
Spironolactone.
Crying.
Writing down numbers.
Going to doctors.
And a ***** on the finger
Two times a day.

And if that ***** is a little high, a little low, and not juuuuust right,
I take a pill.
And I turn a dial.
And I stick a needle in the part of my body I never want to pay attention to:
The fatty part.
And my mom calls me worried every day.


Counting carbs instead of calories
And trying to wake up early to do a half hour of yoga before life keeps spinning and spinning.
Trying to “meal prep.”
I rarely succeed.

I don’t usually tell the truth….
I’m doing better.
But Sometimes I forget on purpose.
Because it’s annoying.
And I’m tired.
And then I’m shaking
And then I’m hungry
And then I eat too much
And then I feel like ****
And then I have to walk
And then I run out of time
And then
And then
And then
And then
And if I could go back
And do it again
I’d probably eat all those fries

I’d like to tell future me that their success was a long time coming.

I’d like to tell past me to chill the **** out for a moment.

I’d like to tell now me that this wasn’t my fault.
Even if I don’t know if I believe that.
Written for a piece about what is below us and what we keep hidden for the 2018 Philly Fringe Festival.
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