#ejk - Hello Poetry

Batong niluluto, tinutunaw, tinuturok Dahong sinisinghot, hinihithit, pinapausok Dukhang nahuhumaling, hinuhuli, pinapatay Mayamang sinungaling, tumatakas, kumakampay #ChangeIsComing ngunit wala namang binago Ang mahirap ay tumba, ang mayaman ay nagtago Inosenteng nadadamay, diniktan ng karatula Bangkay na nakahandusay, hindi na bibigyang hustisya. Halina, doon sa bago kong tahanan Ang tawag ay kulungan ngunit marami do'ng libangan. Pinuno, leader ako ng sindikato Kung tawagi'y bilanggo ngunit sinusunod ang luho. Mga alipin ko'y parak Mg bataan ko ay trapo Pamilya'y bilyonaryo Ang negosyo'y protektado. Unlimited supply—'yan ang tunay kong pangako Subok kong mga suki, wala pa rin namang nagbago Tuloy lang ang bentahan, dito tayo sa taas Ngunit tatandaan: kikitilin lahat ng Hudas. Ako'y panginoon at walang katalo-talo Agimat ko ay tsapa, baril ang gamit kong rosaryo Ako ang humuhuli sa sarili kong buntot Ang mahina **** kokote ay aking pinapaikot.

0

Aug 10, 2017

Aug 10, 2017 at 1:57 PM UTC

KRRW

Tugisin Ang Mga Adranika

Batong niluluto, tinutunaw, tinuturok Dahong sinisinghot, hinihithit, pinapausok Dukhang nahuhumaling, hinuhuli, pinapatay Mayamang sinungaling, tumatakas, kumakampay #ChangeIsComing ngunit wala namang binago Ang mahirap ay tumba, ang mayaman ay nagtago Inosenteng nadadamay, diniktan ng karatula Bangkay na nakahandusay, hindi na bibigyang hustisya. Halina, doon sa bago kong tahanan Ang tawag ay kulungan ngunit marami do'ng libangan. Pinuno, leader ako ng sindikato Kung tawagi'y bilanggo ngunit sinusunod ang luho. Mga alipin ko'y parak Mg bataan ko ay trapo Pamilya'y bilyonaryo Ang negosyo'y protektado. Unlimited supply—'yan ang tunay kong pangako Subok kong mga suki, wala pa rin namang nagbago Tuloy lang ang bentahan, dito tayo sa taas Ngunit tatandaan: kikitilin lahat ng Hudas. Ako'y panginoon at walang katalo-talo Agimat ko ay tsapa, baril ang gamit kong rosaryo Ako ang humuhuli sa sarili kong buntot Ang mahina **** kokote ay aking pinapaikot.

28

In the darkest of night Just at the same corner Hours after, Along the gutter Camera shutters In the darkest of night At the same corner A body rests at the arms of his mother In the darkest of night Records in the daily newspaper Death sentenced by the accuser We will remember

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May 27, 2017

May 27, 2017 at 6:43 AM UTC

alanis-manantan

Night Crawlers

In the darkest of night Just at the same corner Hours after, Along the gutter Camera shutters In the darkest of night At the same corner A body rests at the arms of his mother In the darkest of night Records in the daily newspaper Death sentenced by the accuser We will remember

12

to every family that has lost someone to the war on drugs, i offer you a piece of my heart. take it and make it yours. when the other children ask if i miss you, i answer no. how can i miss someone who has not even left? you are still alive, i feel it; i know it to be true. you live in the paper thin walls of our home, a ghost lingering on the dining table. (i'm sorry there's hardly any food laid out. sometimes mother forgets to buy any or her hands shake too much for her to cook -- i don't know if it's from the cigarettes or the lambanog. brother is always out nowadays, trying to make money. he leaves before the sun is up and comes home long after mother has gone to bed. i think they're like this because they can hardly bear to look at your seat without dying a little more.) grandmother tells me to talk some sense into mother. "just because he died doesn't mean she can let her children die too. she is just sad. she needs someone to talk to." what she means is: comfort her. but i wonder. what comfort can you offer a dead man walking? sometimes i stare at the sky from the hole on my ceiling, and i wonder which star is you. is it the bright one that is always at the center of my vision? the one a little ways to the left? on better days, brother joins me and takes my hand in his. i swear it's almost like you're back, laying beside me. it's hard without you here. we miss you. when i see the other children and their fathers -- whole, unhurt, alive -- i feel a pang of pain. it's like hearing the gunshot all over again. i don't know if you were still alive then, but i was the one who called for help. i screamed until my lungs gave way to the torrent of pain that filled even the spaces between my bones. i don't know (nor do i wish to) if you were still alive or if you had already had a taste of sunset. it's a little funny. you had promised me we'd go to the lake that day. just you and i. you had gotten a job the week before and you wanted to celebrate with your favorite daughter. (i didn't have the heart to remind you i was your only daughter.) and i want you to know i am holding you to that promise. when we meet again. in space. heaven. eternity. in whatever version of the afterlife we end up in. we'll go to the lake. just you and i.

0

Dec 31, 2016

Dec 31, 2016 at 7:20 AM UTC

rhapsody

a taste of sunset

to every family that has lost someone to the war on drugs, i offer you a piece of my heart. take it and make it yours. when the other children ask if i miss you, i answer no. how can i miss someone who has not even left? you are still alive, i feel it; i know it to be true. you live in the paper thin walls of our home, a ghost lingering on the dining table. (i'm sorry there's hardly any food laid out. sometimes mother forgets to buy any or her hands shake too much for her to cook -- i don't know if it's from the cigarettes or the lambanog. brother is always out nowadays, trying to make money. he leaves before the sun is up and comes home long after mother has gone to bed. i think they're like this because they can hardly bear to look at your seat without dying a little more.) grandmother tells me to talk some sense into mother. "just because he died doesn't mean she can let her children die too. she is just sad. she needs someone to talk to." what she means is: comfort her. but i wonder. what comfort can you offer a dead man walking? sometimes i stare at the sky from the hole on my ceiling, and i wonder which star is you. is it the bright one that is always at the center of my vision? the one a little ways to the left? on better days, brother joins me and takes my hand in his. i swear it's almost like you're back, laying beside me. it's hard without you here. we miss you. when i see the other children and their fathers -- whole, unhurt, alive -- i feel a pang of pain. it's like hearing the gunshot all over again. i don't know if you were still alive then, but i was the one who called for help. i screamed until my lungs gave way to the torrent of pain that filled even the spaces between my bones. i don't know (nor do i wish to) if you were still alive or if you had already had a taste of sunset. it's a little funny. you had promised me we'd go to the lake that day. just you and i. you had gotten a job the week before and you wanted to celebrate with your favorite daughter. (i didn't have the heart to remind you i was your only daughter.) and i want you to know i am holding you to that promise. when we meet again. in space. heaven. eternity. in whatever version of the afterlife we end up in. we'll go to the lake. just you and i.

10