Defenseless they say
Small, unarmed. Ah they know not
That strength in numbers . . .

Drowned by roars and claps
Lost beneath jungled blankets
I found my mind free.

Tila namanhid na ang babahaang landas
walang patid ang agos ng luha, habang walang habas
ang malupit na lilik-panggamas -
patuloy ang tila nag-aamok na pagwasiwas.

Kahit mura pa ang uhay
ng nagbubuntis na palay
Namúti na ang katiwala ng mga bunso't panganay:
Walang sinanto ang pakay
ng aninong sumalakay.
Sinimot pati ipa. Ang imbakang burnay
tuyung-tuyô, tila balóng patáy.

Ubos na ang mga ninuno sa Purok
Ang mga inanak at inapo, tila mga but-o ng kapok
nangalat na sa malalayong pook
Hindi na tumalab ang mga erihiyang tampok
Ang lamping ibinalot, balót na ng usok.
Ang binalot na kapirasong pusod, bakas na lamang ng balok.

Karipas na ang binatilyong habol ang mutyang pailaya.
May baon pang pagkain, pagsasaluhan pag nagkita
Ngunit mabilis na napawi ang tanawing kasiya-siya
Ang natapong lomi, natabunan na ng aspalto’t palitada
kasama ng mga bakas nina Utoy at mga kabarkada
sa ilang dekadang araw-araw na pagbagtas, nakasipit at gura
mula sa Baryo Balintawak hanggang Lumang Baraka sa Lipa -
Di na makilala. Wangis ay mistisong pilipit. Ay! Pilpinas pala!

A friend I call Sister Shawie silently sobs
And all of her children’s hearts’ knobs
are plugged with mics noise-cancelling
and bluetooth earphones desensitizing.
Old mixed emos - can’t relate, how brute
- worse than real deaf or numb or mute.
Their sympathetic eye implants blue night
and smiling chrysanthemums yellow bright
selectively blind. Their once flawless derma
now pock-marked with socmed anesthesia.

Beneath the optical cables of glass sublime,
the umbilical cords are cremated in time
as the much sought wifi signals reach prime.

The cyber world defies ethics and all logic . . .
A mother’s milk is replaced just like magic.

More than a year,
More than one round
of the Earth around the Sun
No Sun whatsoever
No Likes or Hearts wherever
No posting of new Lines with fever

The verses are maimed
The screen just keeps on flashing:
"Confirm your email.
Like Hello Poetry?
Become a Supporter
Please confirm your email address
by clicking on the link we sent to . . .
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Resend confirmation email.

This makes me crazy.
I just edited the last poem I posted.
or is this even a poem?

You’re like a ghost, whatever that is, lurking behind
the dark bushes and blending with the unusually eerie
silence of a brook in one ancient forest.

The seemingly serene scene rolls
and in the refreshingly cool waters,
a harmless creature slithers on its way
to sip and hydrate itself after the tiring day
of foraging in the lush canopy.

Then from one corner near a thick bamboo clump
the king of serpents surprisingly strikes. The gentle slitherer
is maimed and swallowed whole from head to tail.

Yes, you’re like the mythical ghost
that constantly makes me too afraid to go back to sleep.
As I descend through the mental labyrinth,
you suddenly sound some siren at the back of my ears,
just like a firetruck that warns the crawling traffic
to get out of its way along the main thoroughfare.
By the dreaded time your paralysing whispers reach
my shoulders, I’m reduced to nothing but frozen meat -
no way out but to moan aloud as I grasp
at collapsing threads of the delicate rope of life.

I am the helpless, hopeless, hapless victim
desperately seeking priceless sleep elusive
and which you always ruin as soon as I catch
a rare one.

By stroke of Lady Luck, fate wakes me up
and I’m in the middle of a dark midnight
of nowhere. Tired, gasping for precious air,
I murmured the fifth of the Seven Last Words:
"I thirst." Water! Water!

Yes, you're like a ghost, the mythical ghost.
I'm not even sure - do you deserve
to be the inspiration of awakened verses?
And I'm not even sure either - is this really a poem?

Maybe. Maybe Life is but a dream
and Poetry helps me keep one thing
more precious - my Sanity.

Jose Rizal ating paksa
Naturalista nga kaya?
Sagot nati’y “Tunay! Sadya!”
Dangal ng Lahing Dakila

Mga aral na pamana
Ng bayaning ating bida
Kalikasa’t Baya’y t’wina
Mahalin at Laging Una

You left without a word - no goodbyes nor hints when you’d allow me again to savor that restful slumber with a thousand snores. When was that last time I slept so well? You just left. Nothing said. Nothing.

As hardly as you set off the ticking clock and made me wait for you to sniff the consciousness out of my head, while I count stars so bright or dolly sheep after sheep so white, so was the speed of your departure. I haven’t even had the luxury of precious minutes to ask whether the sheep I was counting had any wool and was there anything wrong with being black for a sheep, and I was too shy to ask the twinkling stars what they really are.

Like a quick scene in this melancholic one-act play in this old stage in the silent theater of memory recalls or the soft fragrance of white lacunosa wax plants on moonlit nights, I hear a loving mother tell her young son to pause his game and take the afternoon siesta on the mat spread on the cool bamboo floor relaxing amidst the dry days of the Lenten season. He just feigned asleep, eyes closed and then open again. I must be dreaming. How I wish I could tell him to relish sleep. For now I want sleep, even without dreaming. Even without dreams. But sleep seems so hard to get.

Sleep has become an elusive dream.

Tila namanhid na ang babahaang landas
walang patid ang agos ng luha, habang walang habas
ang malupit na lilik-panggamas -
patuloy ang tila nag-aamok na pagwasiwas.

Kahit mura pa ang uhay
ng nagbubuntis na palay
Namúti na ang katiwala ng mga bunso't panganay:
Walang sinanto ang pakay
ng aninong sumalakay.
Sinimot pati ipa. Ang imbakang burnay
tuyung-tuyô, tila balóng patáy.

Ubos na ang mga ninuno sa Purok
Ang mga inanak at inapo, tila mga but-o ng kapok
nangalat na sa malalayong pook
Hindi na tumalab ang mga erihiyang tampok
Ang lamping ibinalot, balót na ng usok.
Ang binalot na kapirasong pusod, bakas na lamang ng balok.

Karipas na ang binatilyong habol ang mutyang pailaya.
May baon pang pagkain, pagsasaluhan pag nagkita
Ngunit mabilis na napawi ang tanawing kasiya-siya
Ang natapong lomi, natabunan na ng aspalto’t palitada
kasama ng mga bakas nina Utoy at mga kabarkada
sa ilang dekadang araw-araw na pagbagtas, nakasipit at gura
mula sa Baryo Balintawak hanggang Lumang Baraka.
Di na makilala. Wangis ay mistisong pilipit. Ay! Ay! Lipa!

Slowly,
             slowly,
                         slowly, like one
lonely white cloud in the wide blue
sky we thought was heaven watching
over humans - We never asked
as young children how a good god
could not be bored doing guard jobs,
day in, day out, and night shifts too.

The Inquisition comes out late
and ties us down like captured pigs
with aching backs, sore joints and chest -
maimed cries of those rusty machines
which we now call aging bodies –
but holy texts willed and thus said
Behold! - ‘the Temple of the Lord.’

It came to pass - imagine how
sacerdotal frustration great
that the high priest so self-righteous
in his deep-stained mental frock white
arrives here at scene of the crime -
The Sacred Temple covered in slime.

Hitherto, video clips appear
at the bottom of my sad cup,
and every time I finish one
shot after shot, of laughing friends
as once we were a team working
together when – Oh! When was when?

But wines may warm the frozen cold
that in the few moments we shared
mem’ries abound, like old pictures
in an album, we call, once, life.
Feelings muted.
                            Musings silenced.

Slowly,
             slowly,
                         away,
                                   away
Above the waves a bottle floats
the sealed message remains unread
The mind’s non-stop.
                                     The heart is deaf.
The soul is lost.
                            A story starts.
A piece of wood that stays adrift . . .
Slowly,
             slowly,
                         away,
                                   away . . .
Slowly,
             farther away,
                                   each day . . .

Somebody in the neighborhood
cut the red comb of Rooster Good,
and the overgrown wattle too;
whoever did, nobody knew.
What’s sure is that the spritely stance
is now lost in his courtship dance.
His dawn tenor arias so proud
now low pitched and hoarse but still loud.

Perhaps those hands that held the knife
Hated that ***** enjoy free life
or had eyes burned on seeing red
or pinkish plume on bloodied head
A rooster’s form must do conform
with all rules of cockfighting norm.
Humans dictate how chooks should look
I should have asked their Holy Book.

And so dear Old Rooster’s de-crowned
Has lighter head, a king dethroned
beard-like wattle, like rouge wisdom
swish swings no more like pendulum
The pride is gone like in folks’ tales
as more mates follow full-combed males
Now fewer hens his harem hosts
mean fewer eggs for breakfast toasts.

They slapped your face.
                                             And you said nothing.
          Crying in silence –
                                             That was your comforting friend.
     You seemed to implore –
                                             Humans are by nature, good.
But the flowers of cosmos
                                             that you plant each day say otherwise.
           And your kindness
                                             has not prepared you.  
Battles happen everyday.
                                             Sometimes you really have to fight
     even if you know that
                                             Love is the ultimate weapon.  
Defend the coast, the cause –
                                             You can, you should.
And I fervently wish
                                             that you win.
We win.

Malambot ang kalimbahin,
talulot ng bulaklak na rosas,
tamang-tama sa pagpapagaan
ng masakit na pakiramdam
ng puro pasâ at bugbog-saradong lila
ng sugatang puso ng isang bansa -
sinugatan ng mga taon ng panggagahasa
ng mga pulitiko, at panghahalay
sa ekonomiya at lipunan.
Nagpapagaling ang kalimbahin.

Tamang timpla ang kalimbahin
ng matingkad na pulang dugo,
inialay ng mga bayani, nag-aalab sa banal
na pag-ibig, pagnanasang lumaban
para sa kalayaang tila napakailap
sa lahing puno ng kasawian
at ng dalisay na puting diwa
ng mga duminig sa tawag ng sambayanan
di alintana ang sarili, busilak tulad ng papel
na walang sulat, na sa ibabaw n’ya
ay mahihiyang maglapat ang isang makata
ng mga talatang sambay-bakod kumbaga.
Masaklaw ang kalimbahin.

Maliwanag ang kalimbahin
litaw na litaw sa tila itim
ng gabing pinakamadilim
sa ating sinalantang kapuluan,
at sa malabo, lalong kumukupas
na pangungunyapit ng bughaw-lilang kalangitan
subalit may sumisilip na’t nagpapalakas-loob
na sinag ng dilaw na araw muli, nababanaag
ang bagong Pag-asa ay binabasag
ang nakabalot na karimlan,
nagbabadya, ibinabaybay
ang ating kaligtasan
bilang isang bayan –
At kalimbahin ang kulay
ng bukang-liwayway.

Pink is soft
like rose petals
enough to soothe
the sore, the pains
of the black and blue -
a nation’s heart wounded
by years of political ****
and social and economic abuse.
Pink heals.

Pink is the right blend
of the crimson drops shed by heroes
and heroines, burning with sacred love
to fight for freedom, so elusive to a race forlorn,
and of the pure white spirit of those who heed
the people’s call to serve, selfless as a blank
sheet of paper, on whose face a meek verse
from a struggling poet is too shy to burst.
Pink transcends.

Pink is bright
against a backdrop of the now fading black
of the darkest nights in our ravaged islands,
and with faint, fainting faith of sky indigo
but encouraging tinge and peeping rays
of yellowish sun anew, we see a new day
breaking. Hope – a new day spells
our salvation as a people –
And pink is the color
of that dawn.

Maliwanag ang tanawin sa obrang larawan,
naging aking durungawan -
naroo’t buhay pa –
lumilipad nang matayog ang mga saranggola
ng libong mga Pepe at Pilar, tuloy-tuloy na abakada
ng kinalimutang kasaysayan. Sa likod ng paanyaya
ng luntiang bukirin, kung saan ang manunugtog ay tila
may alay na lumang paulit-ulit na harana,
pilit sumiksik sa tinataklubang ala-ala
ang mapait na wakas ng isang sa himig ay kasama,
sa panahon ng ating ngayon, wari ko ba’y kani-kanina.  

Sa isang sulok ng pinutol na puno
nakasilip – ang malungkot na kuwento
Ang gitara ng isang bilanggong lider-obrero:
          Tunay na marahas
          ang kanyang naging wakas.
          Pinaghinalaang droga isinuksok.
          Sa narinig na kaluskos sa loob
          ng iyong dibdib na kahoy, dinurog
          ang lahat ng ala-alang kinukupkop
          Labing-isang taon ka nang kanugnog,
          kakosa sa pagtulog
          sa isang iglap, daig pa ang binugbog
          Pantugtog ay tinokhang ng mga tanod.
          Sa ‘yong bagting na sumaliw sa koro
          Kahit nilagot ng karahasan at maling akala
          Lubos pa ring nagpapasalamat ang madla.

Ako’y nagsusumamo sa kudyapi ng malayang ninuno
Ang mga tula, awit at mga huni ng mga ibong katutubo,
sabay sa tudyuhan ng mga kulilis at palaka sa ilog at puno.
Ang ating kalikasan ay pamayanang may kalinangan
nawa'y manatiling singsigla ng tapis na tinalak sa parang.
May pangako ang mga bagong usbong sa pinutol na lauan.
Ang noon at ngayon ay tila magkatipan –
Sa tipang bagong tunog – na sa baybayin ay tinuran,
para sa kinabukasan ng bayan.

Halina’t kahit putulin ang kwerdas ng kalakarang malupit
At nakakulong ang mga ibong marikit
Kailanma’y hindi mapipigilan kahit saglit
Patuloy tayo sa malayang pagtula’t pag-awit
Hanggang Kalayaan ay ating makamit.

Hope was delivered quickly, mercifully,
as the aseptic needle silently, expertly
pierced the anxious skin of my upper arm
bared to its untattooed, obese reality
and scarred deeply with forgotten badges
from islands and mountains and forests
and caves, with souvenirs and tokens
from clingy rattans, unforgiving wasps,
solicitous leeches, and hyperactive biting midges.

Pushed by magmatic desperation, something
imposed by elected incompetence, fudged
as a destiny of an unfortunate nation,
I toed the line of the long queue, hiding
my rhinitis-ruled nostrils and mustached
mouth from the many dreaded arms
of SARS-CoV-2, uneasily shielding
my embarrassed face from sneezed aerosols.

Aging paranoias of undignifiedly drowning
in one’s own phlegm unconsciously fuel
the tired and greying servant. Respite is not
as appeals for help to ease the burdens
of mountains of debt, and so sadly, yet
the beloved, alone, succumbs to death.

We’re all hostages - and the ransoms demanded
by this protein-coated tyrant are costly,
unjustly. Incarcerated by our fears of being
caught within the nets of this pirate at the sea
of our existence, we are, I am, grasping at all
but the last strands of a rotting rope – hope,
diminishing, flickering hope of salvation
from pathogenic damnation. Come messiah!

Likened to Christmas Stars shining bright,
the sages of Science illuminated our dark night
And through the ***** of a hypodermic needle,
Hope was delivered quickly,
mercifully,
compassionately . . .

Like twinkling drops of hallowed lambanog
that you later called miraculous coco *****,
they remained in the night sky of your shot glass
after you tried to drown the sorrowful mysteries
in countless gulps of your comforting best friend,
anaesthetizing every pain in your fatigued heart.
There your imagined liquor-incarnate compadre
of one comforter spirit friend and brother beside
sitting, hugging your shoulders, in whispers telling
you, you’re not alone, just cry if you need to, crying
as no Jesus or Mary could save your unfortunate soul
sentenced and punished without trial, by sheer strike
of Luck or lack of it. Keeping the faith despite the fate.

Not even a single teasing demon to offer you to pawn
your one forsaken spirit. Gods are deaf. Salve Regina!
yelling to high heavens, growling to the deepest hells
"Eli, Eli, Lama, Sabachthani?” - viral pneumonia spells
the names of maimed friends and silenced co-workers
“in no particular order!” as if finalists in that pageantry,
we call pandemic - worldwide but never world class
- and only the coronavirus wears the crown and reigns.

The roll call of the departed has become as endless
as the river of tears and sent messages of sympathies
and ocean deep condolences and sincerest wishes of
peaceful rests, soul or no soul, expressed. Covid or not,
all the dead are suspected zombies and swabbed; a stick
up one’s nose has taken new meanings. And thinking
positive is suddenly not on, not in, but off – it’s feared.

Life is like the alcohol with which we wash our hands.
It easily evaporates, leaving our skin feeling cold. Like
when Sepsis claimed a dear sister on New Year’s Day –
Anxiety is a real, a dangerous reality. Then colleagues,
mentors, friends, relatives, acquaintances, mother of one
pal, a health worker, front liners, a driver, a poor child,
a teacher, a student, a jobless man, a millionaire, an idol
An aunt passes away, on one unhappy day. Grim Reaper
blindly, swiftly, sweeps the shining sickle, the scythe . . .
and the life that began at daybreak is gone, gone, so quick.
All grains harvested in just a day.
Life. Just one short day.
One day.

Pilit hinahabol ng gunting-pamugot
ang tanging dugsong na duguang pusod,
huminto’t tumigil, piniringang may-takot
ang pangalan ng saksi sa mga sagot -
pusod, di-makita, hila ng sanggol na supót,
nag-anyong kabayo, takbo nang takbo
ngunit di abutan, kawatang kangkarot,
akmang tatakas sa malupit na bangungot  
mabuti’t nag-iwan ng aklat, Gat Patnugot,
at tila ebanghelyong liwanag ang dulot -
kapag namulat ka’y mahahawi ang ulap at ulop
Kay sarap lumayang tila tsokolateng malambot.

You wanted to catch a bus for home –
You rode a chariot to Heaven, a ray of light?
You crossed the busy Northbourne –
You reached the other bank to River Life.

A mother leaves behind her children
their journeys to go on
A loving daughter of The Father
joins Him where tears are none.

Go! The traffic sign said – they say
Go – you did to the green pastures, your spirit’s hay.
Go – to the Shepherd’s bay
Go – rest from this tiring day.

So long, friend.

Hindi mo na maririnig, tugtog ng lumang gitara,
awit ng batang kwerdas na kinulbit pag bagot na
ang mga talata’t salita, hindi mo na mababasa
sa tagtuyot na darating, tila mga dahong nalanta,
malalaglag, maiiwan lamang ay kupas na ala-ala

Di na matutupad, muling pagkikitang pinangarap,
sa mundong ibabaw, panahong tangi’y sasang-iglap
buhay na wari’y walang wakas, maglalahong ganap

Ganunpaman, hayaang lumipad ang aking paghikbi
'ka'y naging bahagi, kaputol ng pusod sa aking wari
Magpahinga ka na’t napagod kang anong tindi
Aalalahanin ka tuwina, kapatid na alalay ang ngiti.

The tears that dropped just yesterday
have not yet dried up, lawn's still wet.
One glance, your candle's lit, struggling.
The next, you're gone, the winds have won.
Hijacked in the midst of this storm  
that silently kills, we're helpless
as flame after dear flame flickers
and covid sweeps all who we love
and yes, everything that matters.
Suddenly, life is but a dream.

You sneezed your disapproval away
and the phlegm of your mind came
raining down.
                                    I didn’t move a finger.
                                    I had my mask on.

The insignia of the emperor, I don’t have,
for the sun that guides my path is bright
but not blood-colored. Your gang judged,
anointed not - I don’t belong, we don’t.
Still I wasn’t moved.  
                                     I have my mask on.

There at the throne, the jolly Governor
sat, flanked by the nobles of Royal Court –
all smiling, like full-grained opaque
white corn, where within the holding cobs
the worms had spread the contagion,
boring the core to pitiful emptiness. But
I wasn’t moved. I won’t move.
I know too well.
                                    They have their masks on.

The fountain of nectar still flows along the river
of wisdom, way, way beyond when coconut florets
have fallen. We dipped our cups and your words
have yielded the wines you brewed, mellowed
by the years you served head up high, but feet
always on the ground, forever resolved, pursued
the dreams. Strong in will, but still soft on sides
right of your heart. The few defeats only inspired
the lady knight in you to fight the battles in life.
The armor of the soul shines but you still kept
that motherly crown for all of those you cared
and loved dearly. Proudly, I met and knew and
served and was once a friend of that singular,
unforgettable Queen. Our wellspring of thanks
will never dry up for all your support and love.

Lasaping mabuti bawat lagok, paulit-ulit
Namnamin ang pampagising na pait
Habang ang likas na tamis, nilalasang pilit
Sa ‘yong lalamunang sabik, ang init guguhit.
Tulad ng bawat pagtatanghal, sa isip di mawaglit
Todo-bigay ang birit, tila laging huling hirit.

Araw-araw mang nakikita ang Bundok Malarayat
Hindi nagsasawang sulyapan ang Silangan pagmulat
Bawat araw na tayo'y buhay, may dalang sigla’t galak.

Hwag nang ipitin ang kwadrong alas o otso
Di na magiging mahalaga kung sino nga ba’ng nanalo
Kapag ang mga kalaro sa pusoy ay wala na ni anino.

Hagkan si Habagat at yakapin si Amihan,
Daluyong ma’y ihatid, sa kabila’y walang ganyan
Di-pinansing hininga’y aapuhapin sa paglisan

Ang lupang hinamak, tinapak-tapakan
Ang lupa ring naghandog ng susing kabuhayan
Ang lupa ring hihimlayan sa huling hantungan.

Lasaping mabuti bawat lagok, paulit-ulit
Kapeng barako’y masarap habang mainit
Ngunit wala nang bisa sa huling pagpatak ng saglit

Lasaping mabuti bawat lagok, bango’y langhapin
Kapeng barako’y larawan ng pagbangon at paggising
Ng bawat araw, biyayang pasasalamata’t tatanggapin.

Ang Lipa ng aking kabataan, tila kumakatawan,
sumasalamin sa mahal nating Inang Bayan

Ilang tampalasan na ang dumaan
Kolera eltor, malaria, pesteng balang
Mga sundalong Hapon, mga sakang
Malulupit na kampon ni Kamatayan
Dumaan pa ang sakit na kalawang
sa dahon ng kapeng inaalagaan
At bukbok sa bungang manibalang,
nanlalaglag, di na pakikinabangan.

Ngunit ibang klase itong ngayo’y salot
Bala ay di nakikita, mala-bola daw ang balot
at tila may mumunting galamay na nakakakilabot
at masusundan ka, sa’n ka man sumuot.

Binago ng COVID ang ating kapalaran,
pananaw, pagkilos, pati kabuhayan
Nakita kung alin at sino ang dapat pahalagahan
at kung sino ang tunay na karamay at kaibigan.

Kung sa nilagang kape pa ang pagtutularan
kitang-kita kung alin ang latak at alin ang matapang.
Nawa’y may masalok na pag-asa sa Silangan,
Nawa’y may malagok tayong kaligtasan.

My dear friend is a frontliner
Serving, without break, no breather
Battling COVID, this war's unfair
Friend's hero, I'm a follower.

Frontliner ang kaybigan ko
Naglilingkod walang preno
Kontra bayrus ang g’yerang ‘to
S’ya’y bayani at idol ko.

The saints would want me to forgive. That I have
done. Uphill trek, great effort, conquered the summit.
But then the witch doctors have asked me also to forget,
just forget, like nothing happened. The gray amnesia
intensely urged by incessant chants of choral animé
of aging cherubims would make it difficult, quite
difficult, to explain myself, to myself, with all honesty,
how I got the scars that run deep to the core of my unholy,
(Why not just say sinful? But what is a sin, anyway?),
heart. Unreal these demands. Abnormal? Unnatural.
Unnatural such reactions. Like a Shylock, I would have
yelled, nay, sworn (did he swear?) - a Jew also feels
pain, and bleeds - red blood, not green, not yellow –
when pricked, wounded, ******, slashed, crucified.
But I am not a Jew. Neither a Christian. Nor a Muslim.
Not a saint. Just a human.

Just a human. Not an Avenger or any superhero.
Can’t fly. No imaginary avian wings like those
of Caucasian angels. Not bat wings like those
of soot- or ember-colored devils. Outside an airplane
only my thoughts soar across the blue skies
and above the numerous species and varieties
of clouds. No cloudy mind.

Just a human. Blindfolded Science, not blind nor blinded,
called the species I belong to, just one, **** sapiens.
Wise human. Subspecies **** sapiens sapiens.
Wise, wise human. Made up of matter. That matters.
A lot. Matter not essence. Matter of fact. A living thing.
Not a germ nor a microbe nor a god but surely omnipresent.
Not a plant but may be green-minded. Needs plants.
Not a fungus but may be fungus-faced. Occasionally
attacked by the whitening, not by the illusion of being white,
but by blotching, thanks but no thanks to Tinea versicolor
Not a protist. I just protest. And protest I must.

Just a human. Classified as a hominid. A mammal. Highest
Form? Who said so? Aristotle? Highest? No! Form? Yes -
an animal. Not a microbe. Not a plant. Not a fungus.
Not a protist. I just protest. And protest, protest, I must.
Not a virus. Not white, not black, an Asian, a Filipino.
Not your virus. But like all humans, afraid, very much,
of the new coronavirus. But I am
Not the virus.

Afraid of coronaviruses, and all other deadly viruses,
because I am. Just a human.

Naampat na ang dugô,
patay na ang mga bayanì
Pipi’t ampaw nakatayo
ang katahimikang naghahari
Tulog ang diyos, Impô,
mga aswang nakangiti
Matatapos na ang “Aba po!”
lasing pa rin ang kudyapi

Kahit matapang ang kape
Di mahulasan ang kapre.

Ginayumang mamamayan
Tila bulag, tanga’t mangmang

Kapag may nagugulantang
Lalayas na rin, ‘kita’y iniiwan.

Ito
ang alamat
ng taumbayang niloloko
at patuloy na nagpapaloko;
ng bayang pinagsamantalahan,
ng bayang pinabayaan.

Binabaran ng mainit
na kapeng barako
ang naiwang tutóng
sa lumang kaldero,
walang panamà
ang kaning binudburan
ng niyadyad na tabliya
sa panlasa ng até at bunso
magkasamang nagmimiryenda
- matamis na bukayo
matamis na ala-ala . . .

Tanyag ang tamis ng sintunis
singkom man o lado
limot na ang hagupit
ng mga Hapones na malulupit
ng kahapong ayaw umidlip.
Nag-aanyaya ng pag-akyat
ang puno ng bitungol, halikayo
manibalang pa ang iba
ngunit tamang-hinog na pangkulunggo
sa mga isipang nahihilo’t nalilito.

Maghapon lamang ang kabataan -
mabilis, mabilis na dumaan
Orasyon na ngayon, wika ng impô
Huwag magpapaabot ng sireno
Pag di’y sip-on ang aanihin n'yo!

Opo, opo,
Dala-dalang buslô
Taglay ang naiwang litrato
sa sulok ng isipan, ng balintata-o.
Sa lahing hindi sumuko,
magkakasama tayo.

Pardon us, reckless,
Frightened you, forest warrior
Come back, hatch your troop.

Ang bayrus ng COVID ay tila makasalanan.
Katulad s’ya ng isang halimaw sa katahimikan,
o isang ministrong mataas ang katungkulan
na aliping tagasunod ng kanyang among si Kamatayan.
Kahit anino pa lamang n’ya’y dulot
ay lubos na takot, katulad ng pinakamadilim
sa mga gabi, o sulok ng guwang
o pinakailaliman ng karagatan.
Kumakatha sa isipan
ng mga kakila-kilabot na nilalang
at pinagagalaw sila ng sabay-sabay
nakaambang silain, lamunin
ang bawat kaluluwa, ang mga dibdib binabaklas
upang nakawin ang mga pusong malinis at wagas -
hinihigop ang lahat ng dugo, bawat patak
sinasaid ang bawat pintig ng natitirang lakas..

Malupit itong coronavirus,
isang haring espada ang batas, ang utos.
May kumakalat na ulop, ang madla’y binabalot;
walang kamalay-malay nilang nasisinghot,
orasyong buhay ka pa’y loob mabubulok.
Sa pintuan, naririnig ang katok:
isang panauhing di-kanais-nais ay gustong pumasok,
isa na namang payapang tahanan,
ang kanyang natuklasan.
Wari’y may samurai na iwinawasiwas
doon, dito, nananabas, walang habas
kapagdaka, lahat ng tila nasugatan, mga biktima
lupaypay, bagsak ay sa ospital, lugmok sa kalungkutan,
kinakapos ng hininga, unti-unting nalulunod mistula,
ng sa baga at lalamunan, ay naiipong sariling plema.

Ang pandemyang ito’y isang salaan
salamin ng lipunan,
isang digmaan, kung saan
mailap ang tagumpay at katapusan
at bawat laban, laging anong sakit, talunan.
Lahat ng uri at sinsin ng pangsala ay taglay:
pusong may kabaitan, sa walang puso’y inihihiwalay
maayos na pag-iisip, ibinubukod sa mga lutang at walwal
matatapat, angat sa mga kurakot sa mga larangan
prinsipe’t pulubi, pilosopong tunay
at mga tagasunod, makata’t mga mang-aawit.
Salaan
ng mga malubhang pagkakamali
ng nakaalpas na pagkakataon
ng mga leksyong dapat pang matutunan
ng mga landas na hindi nakita, at maling tinahak
ng daan tungo sa kaligtasan, anuman ang kanyang kahulugan,
anuman ang halagang kabayaran.

Ang pagkakaliit na bolang ito ay mamamatay na payaso
mapanghati, katulad ng isang salaming nanlalansi, nanloloko
pinag-aaway:
Hilaga laban sa Timog
Silangan laban sa Kanluran
pinakamahihirap sa mga mahihirap
itatapat sa angkan ng kamahalan
at ng mga bago’t biglang-yaman
at ang nasa gitna: Aba! Aba! Isang iglap ay sigaw
“Saan ang Hustisya?”
at hindi naambuhan ng ayuda
kayamanang munti sa panahon ng taghirap
na nang panahon ng sagana’y inismiran, sabay irap
sila umanong nagbubuwis,
bakit ngayon ay nagtitiis?
Parang sina Cain at Abel naghinagpis
Nahihiya ako. Nahihiyang labis.

Ito ang krisis. Takot ay inihahasik.
pinagsasama-sama sa iisang inayawang bayong
ang tila abuloy na pamatid-gutom
na nakamaskara bilang rilip na tulong,
lahat ng kinatatakutan -
pagkawalay,
                         pag-iisa,
kapanglawan,
                                          ­        diskriminasyon,
matinding kalungkutan,
                         pagkakasakit,
                         kamatayan . . .

Labis akong nag-aalala.
Labis akong natatakot.

Alpas sa gabing lumukob
Dulo’t dulo’y itim pulos
Salamat anuman yung d’yos
Kalul’wa kong di pasakop

Sa pagkakataong malma
Di sumuko ni lumuha
Binugbog man ng tadhana
Ulong dug’ua’y tunghay-laya

Lampas ditong hagpis-luha
Tanging lilim lang ang banta
Datnan man dantaong sumpa
N’ia ‘nong takot, ako’y wala

Makipot man ang lagusan
Bale-wala’ng parusahan
Ang palad ko’y aking tangan
Ako’y ako ang Kapitan.

Whoever told you I am
          invincible must
                    be dreaming. Dreams
aren’t real. Reality, realities.
          Invincibility is an illusion.
Knights in armors live
          nowhere but in fairy tales. Behind
                    the shining shields, little child
                    warriors shiver in fear,
                    aching for a mother’s hugs
                    and a father’s cheer.
The crowds don’t see tears streaming,
          only true friends comfort the weeping
                    each nursing each other's wounds
                    together toward healing.
Survivors are butterflies
          emerging from hiding chrysalises
                    themselves survivors
                              from embattled caterpillars.
Invictus -
                    still the victor recites
                    favorite lines.

In the darkest of nights even Moon
- it’s face reduced to the narrowest
crescent - hides behind thick
clouds of reluctant silence, a miser
failing to part with one droplet
of encouraging smile. Lonely
apathy rules supreme, solitary,
in the nocturnal palace
of insensitivity, indifference,
heartlessness. Silent night. Unholy night.
Sleepless night. Seeing Ursa Major –
I imagine that Big Bear waving.
And I remain one Little Bear. There
above Polaris I see her Holy Ghost –
the nurturing glance pulsates
to this hour. Six decades of life
humming her lullabies have kept
that young boy captive by caring
offers of coffee sips expertly brewed
in the calming warmth of tight hugs.

The love and compassion that you
planted still grows, still blooms.

And yes, a mother is eternally missed.

How do you tell
one heart that’s in fervent
prayer, asking the gods
and all the saints sentient
and all the kith and kin
with good thoughts sent
and sympathetic hearts
that at this darkest moment,
there’s the shining painful truth
that after all the best efforts spent,
the little candle’s burned out and
there’s nothing more that’s meant
to hope for?

They say love doesn’t give up,
that ‘love is patient, love is kind’
and life is love and love is life
but when the time has come
that life depends on ticks and beeps
and flashing tiny red bulbs and screen
monitors, does love live in them –
lifeless machines energized
by amperes and microvolts?  

Fluctuations rule the end of days
when flames of blood lines rise up
and ashes of signed paper go down.
When graphs fluctuate no more,
the final long flat line beeps us farewell.
As grieving tears flood the valleys
of our faces, there’s no recourse
nor dikes to stop the flow. And we
who survive could just call hope
that pains cease and endless worries
end. The distance widens. Hoping
for hope, hoping against hope.
Perhaps a reunion somehow,
somewhere in time . . .

King and Queen Eagles
On palace trees feed their heir
Our hopes flying proud.

Umaalingawngaw pa rin ang mga putok
tila tatlong tilaok ng tandang sa madilim na sulok
Ilang supot ng pilak kaya ang kapalit
May pagbati pa ang mga Hudas, tila pataksil na halik.

Magdamag na at maghapong pumapatak
ang mga butil ng dalamhati mula sa mga ulap
kasabay ng daloy ng aming
walang katapusang pag-usal
ng “Bakit?          Bakit?
                 Bakit?          Bakit?          Bakit?”
at impit na buhos ng mga luha
mula sa mga dinurog na puso.

Kahit si Mariang Makiling ay nakatalukbong
ng malungkot, makapal na ulap –
mistulang tinabunan ang mga pangarap
wala ni pipíng kasagutang maapuhap.

Wala, wala, wala . . .
Wala akong mahagilap na sagot
Tumitibay lamang ang aming paniwala
ang bayan ay patuloy ang pagkapariwara
ang daluyong ay nasa laot, lumulubog ang bangka

Katarungan ay mailap
Hinipan man ang kandila
Naroon pa rin ang iyong liwanag
Madilim man ngayong gabi
Gagabay ka sa aming paglalayag

Kami na rin ang lumikha ng sagot
At iisa lang ang aming alam
Pagmamahal mo sa ating bayan
kailan man ay hindi malilimutan
Lagi at lagi kang pasasalamatan
At ang lahat ng iyong marami
at magagandang sinimulan
Ipagpapatuloy para sa kinabukasan.

Small bites penetrate.
Large blisters declare the war.
Human invaders . . .

Bumalikwas ang madaling araw
Mapula ang sinag ng malamlam na ilaw
Mula sa pagkagupiling ng iniwang gabi
Isang paos na tilaok pinilit magsabi
Tila inutil na tuod ang unan at papag
Walang tugon ni tikhim man lang
para sa likod at ulong lumapat

Mapagkunwari ang kulambo
Lamok pala’y kalaguyo
Akala ng balana’y karamay
Sa magdamag na paglalamay
Batang ipinaglihi sa Sto Niño
Ibebenta pala sa demonyo

Naglaga ng kape ang among kapre
Butil daw ay hinirang ng musang na tumae
Galapong pala’y napanis na sapal
Nilagyan ng dagta ng nilinlang na bangkal
Bang-aw na ang panatikong tagasunod
Lublob na sa pusali, puwit pa rin ang hinihimod:

          Sayang ang kita, mamaya’y bayaran na!
          Copy-paste-post - sige pa!
          Ang perang kikitain ay mas mahalaga
          May paburger pa sina konsi at mayora
          O e 'no kung nasa poso ***** tanang kaluluwa?

Bayaning tangan ay tabak, tila nakanganga
Kinain na ng anay ang papel at pluma.

Loud gush or chilled chimes
Hornbills’ chants accent your flows
Sounds bring inner peace.

Sulfur mists rising.
The goddess boils her thick soup.
I am enchanted.

Clear waters running
Playing notes, percussion stones
Nature’s symphonies.

When all trees cease breath
and all rivers smell of death
Money means worthless.

You huffed and you puffed
Howling, blowing all night long.
We’re but poor li’l pigs.

See clouds through branches  
No leaves block the clear blue sky
Once there loved a tree.

Crawled from ‘Coal-bearing’
Outlived T-rex tyrant king
The Humble survives.

Walong b’wan na, saan na ba?
Susulong daw, atras pala!
Ay may patutunguhan ba?
Agay! Porbida Covida!

Takot pag naalala ko
Dating mga "R" na bagyo
Lakas walang sinasanto
Ruping, Rosing, Reming, 'nay ko!

They came first for the Communists
And I did not speak out
Because I am not a Communist

Then they came for the immigrants
And I did not speak out
Because I am not an immigrant

Then they came for the feminists, and gays, and lesbians
And I did not speak out, never shouting out that Love is love
Because I was not a woman, neither a gay, lesbian, nor a feminist

Then they killed the blacks
And I did not speak out
Because I am colored, but not black.

Then they persecuted scientists just like in Bolshevik Russia, Chinese Cultural Revolution, and ignored, defunded them just like in present-day strongman regimes
And I did not speak out, never shouting out that Science is real
Because I live in a democratic state, with advanced science and technology.

Then they killed botanists like Leonard Co and companions
While doing fieldwork in the Philippines
And I did not speak
Because I am not a botanist, and I don’t go on fieldwork in those places.

Then they killed Lumads, and burned Lumad schools
And I did not speak,
Because I am not a Lumad, and I went to a prestigious university.

Then one day, they came for me
And there was no one left
To speak out for me.