Ilang dekada na ba ang lumipas
mula nang huling namúti
ng mga labong sa kawayanan
sa dulo ng kapirasong lupang
minana sa kanunuan ng angkan?

May bakas pa sa daanan ang dug-out
na tinabunan na ng mga naputol
na sanga at mga winalis na dahon,
naputol na sanga at bubot na bunga
ng mga chico, caimito at mangga,
na palaging inaakyat ng mga kuya
at nang-iinggit pa kunwari tuwina
at pagkababa’y mamimigay rin pala -
dug-out na tagapagligtas, taguan
noong panahong tila baga’y kani-kanina
lamang, sa mga mababangis na kempeitai,
sa malupit na pandaigdigang giyera.

Halos nalipol ang angkang bansag ay bisero,
umangat sa buhay dulot ng mga alagang kabayo
pagkatapos ng Liberation naging kaminero
mga kabayo’y kinatay ng mga bakero
na sila ring nambayoneta ng maraming tao
pagsaksak patulák sa balong igiban ng baryo
pati mga musmos at mga inang nagpapasuso
kulóng sa kamalig, sinunog nang buhay, at naabó.

Tila nakalimutan na ang madilim na nakaraan
at walang napulot na aral sa kasaysayan
ngunit natakpan man ng ningning ng mga ilaw-neon
at malawak na highway ang dating batalan at tuklong
Ang lansa ng dugong namuo sa balon sa sinturisan,
palaging nagpapaala-ala ng damdaming kinukuyom.

At ngayon,
wala nang mananakop na Hapon.
pero may pumapasok na bagong panginoon -
Handa nang himurin ang puwit ng mga Tsinong maton.

I thought I saw you smile
beneath the face mask of cottony clouds
hovering just below your scarred forehead.
The distance made your tall trees
dark green and miniature
but their caring crowns I'm sure
were waving hellos to me -
"Come and visit us beshie!"

Yes Best Friend! To go up and see you
has been a desire so ardent
It's been a long, long while . . .
To touch the earth, to be kissed by the sun,
to be blessed by drizzle or dew
or even the sweet *** of plant lice
they all are old friends, always good as new.

When cicadas serenade, as birds played their fiddles
and crickets chirp and little tree frogs tweet,
the butterflies do their pirouettes and pax de deus
some even skip or strut to chorus lines of blue,
and all skinks silently watch in awe.

The fallen leaves are now a thick carpet.
The tiger leeches miss their regular blood donors.
The big-jawed ants patrol the trails but see no intruders,
as termite workers and roaches do their routines
among the fallen logs. Life goes on there.

I wish I could bathe my spirit again
in your clean, virus-free air.

Daydreams neath your crown
There young Tarzan mimics swung
I struck my first gold.

Squabbles over scrabble,
Dictionary over google.
Gadgets settle,
Lovers quarrel.

Flying kisses,
        smiling glances,
        heartfelt wishes . . .
Little things,
        mountainous meanings.

Your elegance popped
right in the midst of nowhere
Awe's frozen me here.

Our story starts as the song began
to play, asking where should one begin,
astonished at how great a love can be.
‘Twas not as infectious as the Time of Cholera
not as romantic as Marquez’s novela clásica,
or perhaps it is, in its own right, our own right.

Those were the days of living dangerously
in these islands fair, an archipelagic country
our chains were shorter and barking was difficult
as it was the first time, postwar, we’ve gone to the dogs
and the fake war hero proclaimed himself emperor
edifices hid the emptying of coffers by the great robbers
in the guise of benevolence, murderers drew terrors.

We survived the winters of Canberra
judged as mild by the lands of auroras
and back in the humid slopes of the tropics
perspiring to survive the inhospitable heat
and when respite’s within reach, suddenly
Yolandas of all sorts would pass by
and humbled, but still composed
we stood our ground. It seems the force
was with us, whatever that means.
Natural selection favored us, or did it?

These days are the times when little things
mean a whole lot more. Perhaps far more
than old friends and friends of Old
recount, Kitty Kallens of night shifts
and days of overtime work down under
in the land of gums and wattles
and jumping moms with their joeys.
Memories of the immense joys
that chancing upon an Aussie two-dollar coin brings
along the road to Civic – enough to buy veggies
to be mixed with instant Chinese noodles or some
fish and chips for a late brekkie. The grasses
on the friendly neighbors’ lawns are frozen
and could not be mowed and manicured
to yield ten dollars an hour. No weekend three hours.
And yet, and still, we lived. Had a life, our lives.

These days, indeed, little things
mean a whole lot more. Social distancing.
That’s the rule. And so we blow a kiss
from across the room. But tell me I’m nice
only after I’ve showered and changed my clothes
to decent office wear. We’re officially on work from home
so please don’t take a video of me sleeping on the couch
or singing a line or two on online videoke channel.
Can’t touch your hair, until I’ve washed my hands
with soap and water while singing ‘Happy Birthday’ twice
- no more alcohol nor sanitizer in the supermarkets -
nor pass near one’s chair. We’re on self-quarantine,
fearing unwanted previous exposure to the dreaded,
dreadful Wuhan virus, while shopping, and holding hands
while walking. The long-term asthmatic cough a suspect.
And we better be detained as no formal charge is possible
no trial could be done in a fair court, for we are the victims,
actual or potential, imagined or real, pauper or royal.

COVID19 is the villain in this so grandiose reality
of a horror booth show, and its molecules point to an ancestry
related to the bats or the pangolin or the engineering laboratory.
The plot is set with the sweet unraveling of our love – we need
not hoard this feeling, our hearts aren’t rolls of Oz tissue paper.  

Love has evolutionary history – the length of time’s an eon of we,
approaching senior years but still together, gracefully, lovingly
growing old in decades-long phylogeny – a novel, a love story
that will go beyond this Covidocene, this epoch, this age that’s crazy
and full of misery - brought to life human’s inhumanity.
But still no choice but to give another chance, patiently,
to the forever young Muse named Hope, shall we, shouldn’t we?
as the WHO preaches that ‘Solidarity is the Key.’

Could writing a poem
inspired by a disease
be or become a crime?
How absurd is it
to find inspiration
out of a dreaded virus?

The emperor rudely wears indecent robes
worse than the legendary one without clothes,
more distorted than a crippled plastic ware
deformed by immoral, pretentious heat.

Incoherent recitations of tongues,
chants but not the solemn Gregorian
Pretenses at smartness of the ignorant
And all worshippers continue to be blind
Defending their King as they the headless
chess pieces are pawned,
fiercely loyally they guard their golden calf,
and all protesting Moseses, the King's men
painted with the yellow mark of wrath.

This nation’s bound to decompose -
of mountains of unpaid and unpayable debts,
of liars who have made lies the accepted truth
of gospels preached that are none but rotten fruit
of thieves and shameless robbers who lead
of nation’s coffers they bleed
of blind beggars who follow
of multitudes numb with sorrow
of misfortunes often told and retold
And all our souls to the devil’s sold.

No Davids to rise and fight the Goliaths as told
The candle in this dimly lit room refuses to turn cold
The candle burns out soon, as history's last page does unfold.

Mali ang ginawa mo
Diumano . . .
Nambihag ka ng mga inosenteng tao
Hinusgahan ka agad na isang sanggano

Sa likod ng lahat ng ito
Ang nanunulak sa mga tao
sa sulok na laging talo
Ang mga abusadong amo
Ang sistemang malupit at lilo
Ang pagturing sa manggagawa'y abo
Ang mga kawani'y putik - di p'wedeng magreklamo

Ang totoong nambibihag ay abswelto
Ang taong nagsakripisyo
at ang sanlaksang biktima ng mapang-abuso
- kalakaran sa paggawa'y kalaboso

Ay! Ay! hanggang kailan magiging ganito?

Ikasampung lagok na
at higit pa
ng mainit **** ala-ala
subalit malapit man
wari kung aking tinitingnan
sa sulok ng napadpad na isipan
sa kabilang ibayo ng mga pananaw
sa malayong dalampasigan ng pagkatao,
hindi ko kayang abutin
ang pinutol kong pusod
na sa puting lampin ay ibinalot,
at ibiniting tila bituin sa mga alapaap.

Maghapon ko mang lakarin
mula sa aking pusong pinabango
ng galapong na bagong giling,
na kung saa’y tiniis ang init ng kahirapan
habang isinasangag ang bawat butil
ng sanlibo’t sandaang ari-muhunan
mula sa masuyong pinagsikapan,
pinagtiyagaang alagaan -
puno ng liberikang kape
ng lupang sinilangan.

Malayo, malayo na ang Lipa
madaling lakbayin sa malawak na kalsada
na dumaraan na ngayon sa kabundukan
ng Malarayat
na noong musmos pa’y
malayo, malayo, malayo . . .
tanging nakakarating lamang ay mga uwak
at sabay-sabay na lumilipad na tagak
sa takip-silim nama’y mga nagsasalimbayang kabag.
Noo’y maliliit pa ang puno ng sintunis
Ngayo’y natabunan na ng palitadang makinis
Hinahanap ko ang lungga ng dagang bulilit
At puno ng bitungol sa unahan ng lumang bahay
na inaakyat ng mga paslit
napawi na rin ang matayog na tahanan
tila binura ng kapalaran
at mistulang iginuhit ng chalk lamang
sa pisara’y kumupas na larawan.

Natabunan na ng bundok
ng mga alikabok ng ala-ala,
wala na tahanan, o ang lumang pisara
tila nawaglit ang apat na dekada

Malayo na ang lumang Lipa
at katulad ng dahong alamat ng ngalan nya
makating-masakit at di makakalimutan
ang mga karanasan at mga aral na dala

Kung wala na ang bigas na kinanda
magtitiis ako sa samyo ng binlid at ipa
Kung wala na ang pinipig at nilupak sa baraka
kahit budbod at lumang latik ay yayamanin na
Lalakbayin ko’y lubhang malayo pa
Ngunit sinisinta
ika’y makakaasa:
     Ang pinanggalingan,
          ang pinagmulan,
               lilingunin tuwina.

Seabeds prop Old Rocks.
Plants are shawls of Ancient Walls.
Spell serenity.

If love is poison . . .
I guess
You are
my antidote . . .

Tinuruan po ninyo kami
kung paano magsalita at sumulat nang taas-noó
sa isang wikang inampon,
na hindi naman namin Ina.
Ang balumbon ng panuntunan
at talaan ng mga tanggap na kataliwasan
kabisadung-kabisado po ninyo
at ipinagpakasanay po ninyo sa amin,
buung-tiyagang inalagaan
ang mahiyaing mga buko
masikap na hinamon kami
araw-araw, at ang iyong tinig
hanggang ngayon sa diwa’y naririnig –
“Correct practice makes perfect!”
Higit pa sa mga tugmaan ng simuno at panaguri
Ang inyo pong mga aralin sa balarila, na tila gintong may-uri
Ay tinuruan ang mga batang puso, bata sa puso,
Ang mga malambot pang isip:
the malleable minds:
Bawat lalaki o bawat babae ay – “Every man or every woman is”
Pero
Lahat ng lalaki at lahat ng babae ay – “Men or women are”
Anuman – “regardless or irrespective”
Ng pinagmulan – “of beginnings”
Ay kailangang malaman:
1. May mga panuntunang dapat sundin.
          - at isinabuhay namin ang bawat sinabi mo,
          At hindi lang sa aming mga saknong at pangungusap
2. May mga taliwas o eksepsyon na dapat isa-alang-alang.
          - di-tuwirang tinuruan po ninyo kami,
          Kilalanin ang mga pagkakaiba-iba
          At ang mga hirap sa pag-aaral at pagsasalita ng Ingles
          Ay katulad lamang ng mga kahinaan ng mga tao
          At mga katangi-tanging pag-uugali ng aming mga kaibigan
3. Mabuting magpakadalubhasa sa balarila
          - Pero katapatan sa sarili at sa kapwa ang pinakadakila!

Kung kaya, ang mga aralin **** pinakamahalaga
higit pa sa maayos at pusturang pananamit at sapin sa paa
at mga ebanghelyo ng tamang paggamit ng mga salita, syntax,
at ibang hiyas lingguwistika
ay naghatid ng mabuting pagkamamamayan
at butil ng paano maging mabuting kaibigan
Ang mahusay ng pag-i-Ingles na aming natutunan
ay mga aral ng araw-araw na pamumuhay
Mga kayamanang walang katapat na perang kabayaran.

It’s the last day of the year.
And like all yearends
of the past awakened decades,
an intricate web of discordant feelings
and inharmonious thoughts
flood the bludgeoned heart
and the superheated mind,
dehydrating whatever little piece
of limbo-bound soul or spirit dwells
in the foggy shadows
and misty corners
of poetic ethos.

I bid the painful memories
the bitter goodbyes they deserve
as I keep mementoes
of triumphs of good against evil
- whatever they are, whichever way
the social judges pronounced them to be -
or enshrine the make-believe trophies
of the victories over obstacles,
of conquests of one’s closeted fears.

Tomorrow the New Year promises
another basket of promises . . .
Against a backdrop of darkness
of 12th hour – the midnight of the past year,
the 0th of the coming one – a small candle
persists with its flickering light -
the eternal oratio imperata of hoping
against hope, the soldier of caring and loving,
defenseless but still fighting
- heroes dying “without seeing the dawn” -
May the flame rage, or if it can’t
May it last long enough till sunrise.

Hayaan n’yong lumuha ang aking puso.
Malungkot na tanawin ang ganitong tagpo:
          Hinihiwa mo ang balat ng iyong kinabukasan
          at duguan na ang angking kasalukuyan
          gayong hindi pa nga naghihilom man lang
          ang mga sugat ng mapait nating nakaraan.

Subalit masahol ka pa sa putang bayaran
na katawan ang puhunan, kapalit ng panghapunan
at pagkain sa kinabukasan.
Ikaw - dalawa, tatlo, limang daan,
kapalit di lang ng iyong karangalan.
Idinamay mo pa ang kapakanan ng bayan.

Hindi na maaasahan ang dati’y sagradong balota.
Karaniwang papel na lamang ito na may mga nakalista
At tila tiyan **** nag-alboroto ang diniktahang makina,
na kung ano’ng isinubo, siya ring isusuka.
Pagkatapos kukulapulan ang daliri ng panandang tinta.
Nang humiga ka sa tae, nagmamalaki ka pa:
          Sapagkat ang makinang tila kumpisalan,
          may kapirasong tari ng makabagong sabungan
          na kahit na alin pang mga tandang ang maglaban,
          tukoy na ng kristo ang panalo sa pustahan.

Tapos na ang kwento’t hindi na totoo
ang sinabi ng bayaning ang Pilipino
ay karapat-dapat sa buhay na nasasakripisyo.
Hindi na. Hindi sa salinlahing ito.
Sa darating pang mga kabataan, siguro,
sa kanila, magbabaka-sakali ako.

Tonight's our longest
And patiently we're waiting.
Tomorrow's Sun peeps.

Huh!?
Come again!?
What were you
asking me?
Ahh . . .
ummm . . .

Ha?!
Ano nga uli
'yong tanong mo?
Pakiulit . . .
Ahh . . .
ummm . . .

Noong musmos pa’y sabaw
sa isang malukong na pinggan
puno ng kaning may kaunting tutong
pagkaliban ko ng bakod, ika’y nakasalubong
kalooban ko’y kimi, dila ko noo’y urong

wala sa aking hinuhà,
walang sinangguning manghuhulà
sino ba’ng mag-aakalà
marmol **** bantayog
gatô palang kahoy ang loob
nang katotohana’y nabantog
sa kaunting yanig, gumuho ang moog

huwag daw sasamba sa mga d’yos-d’yosan
ngunit tila larawan ka ng may-kabanalan
haliging inasam na masasandalan
sa ilaw ko pala’y naging tampalasan

imaheng nadurog ay dagok sa aking likod,
at tila balisong na sa puso’y kumadyot
kulang ba ang hikbi ng pusang malambot?
labis bang nagmahal ang asong malikot?

Mahabang panahon ginugol, dumaan
Ang kapeng mainit lumamig,
Napanis na’t nakalimutan

Sa paglalakad, dinampot, hinimay
ang duming iniwan ng mga alamid
matiyagang pinagyaman
Isinangag ng paulit-ulit sa nagmumuning isipan
Giniling sa puso tumanaw sa pinagmulan
Tinimplahan ng matam-is na kapatawaran
Paglagok ng mainit, aking naramdaman
Tiwasay ang dibdib, may kapayapaan.

Butterflies are guides
Where trees cheer and air is fresh.
Our navels point there.

Simplicity bloomed
Silent scents lured fly fairies
Where ground orchids rule.

I know this.
I knew this.
I’ve always known this -
that life
no matter how precious
could be snatched away
in the wink of an eye . . .
or even less . . .
even quicker.

Another tree
with so much promise,
cut in the careless gust
of a passing wind;
Another soul
who cared much
for this one and only Earth
had gone too soon.

I know this.
We know parting
but whenever parting comes
the sadness is never familiar.
We’re shocked
and need to be consoled:
This loving planet
never forgets its carers -
trees, butterflies, birds
and all it breathed to life
and all it nursed.

And when big trees go
the wildlings and saplings
the seeds you’ve sown will grow
in your steps, in your shadow
they’ll follow

the forest of our dreams lives
and that, as you rest in solemn space
you’d be happy to know
It would comfort us
who you’ve known , , ,
I know this . . .

bukal na buhay, dalisay, malamig
agos ng pag-ibig
ni Mariang Makiling
mula sa kanyang dibdib

duyan ni Rana
nagpapatulog kay Troides
ipinaghehele si Buot
sa harana nina Balikasyaw at Tariktik
pook-sayawan ng mga bayawak
tuwing konsiyerto ng mga paagang
at mga kuliglig

ninuno ng Lawa
ina ng kapa-kapa
ama ni Strongylodon
kapatid ng tibig at lipa
among tunay ng kawayang-tinik
uway, gugo, saging na pula
Aristolochia

Kagalang-galang kay El Niño
kinakanti-kanti ni La Niña
paliguan ng mamang hubo
labahan ng aling maganda

naglalaro
ang batang takot sa engkanto –
bingwit, tampisaw, lukso
sa mga bato

subalit
ang polusyon –
tahimik na namamaybay
isang almuranin –
mabalasik
ang kamandag
nakalalason, nakamamatay
sapagkat
mga tao’y nagbubulag-bulagan,
bulag.

Kung dumating ang panahon
Ulap na lang, aking dahon
Kung sakaling may magtanong
Pag-ibig ang s’yang tutugon.

On her lap still warm
Hugging dear life and her man
Judged by social gun.

[isang pagsasalin sa Tagalog, batay sa orihinal na
"When tomorrow starts without me" ni David Romano]

Kapag nagsimula ang bukas na di ako kasama,
at ako’y wala roon upang makita;
Kung sisilayan ng araw ang iyong mga mata,
na puno ng luhang para sa akin, Sinta;
Labis kong nais na hindi ka lumuha,
katulad ng sa araw na ito’y iyong ginawa,
habang inaalala ang maraming bagay at salita,
na hindi nasabi o hindi nawika.

Batid ko kung gaanong kamahal mo ako,
kasingsidhi ng pag-ibig kong tanging sa iyo,
at sa tuwinang ako’y iisipin mo,
Alam kong hahanap-hanapin mo ako;
Subalit kung ang bukas ay magsimulang wala ako,
nawa'y pakaunawain mo,
na isang sugo ang dumating at tinawag ang aking ngalan,
at ang kamay ko’y kanyang hinawakan,
at wika’y handa na ang aking paglulugaran,
sa malayo’t mataas na kalangitan,
at kailangang lumisa’t talikdan,
tanang sa aki’y mahal, lahat ay iiwan.

Subalit pagtalikod kong palayo,
Isang patak ng luha ko’y tumulo,
pagkat buong buhay, lagi kong kinukuro,
Ayokong mamatay.
Maraming dahilan para ako’y mabuhay,
maraming gagawin pang mga bagay,
Tila imposible, hindi kailanman,
na ikaw mahal ko’y iiwan.

Bumalik sa ala-ala ko ang mga araw na nagdaan,
ang masasaya’t ang mga kalungkutan,
Pumuno sa isip ang pag-ibig nating pinagsaluhan,
at lahat ng ating galak at kaligayahan.

Kung sa kahapo’y mabubuhay akong muli,
kahit man lamang kaunting sandali,
Magpapaalam ako’t hahagkan ka
at marahil, makikita kong ngingiti ka.

Ngunit lubos kong napagtanto,
na hindi na kailanman mangyayari ito,
sapagkat pagkawala’t mga ala-ala na lamang,
ang sa aki’y papalit at maiiwan.

At nang maalala ko ang sa mundo’y mga kasayahan,
na bukas ay di ko na matitikman,
ikaw ang naging laman ng isipan,
at puso ko’y napuno ng kalungkutan.

Ngunit pagpasok ko sa pinto ng kalangitan,
Ramdam ko’y ako’y nakauwi sa tahanan.
Pagdungaw ng Bathala’t ako’y nginitian,
mula sa kanyang gintong luklukan,

Wika’y “Ito ang Walang Hanggan,
at lahat ng pangakong sa ‘yo’y inilaan".
Sa araw na ito, natapos ang buhay sa lupa,
ngunit dito ngayon ang simula.
Di ko ipapangako ang kinabukasan,
ngunit ang ngayon ay magpakaylanman,
at dahil bawat araw ay pareho lamang,
ang nakaraa’y hindi na kasasabikan.

Ngunit ikaw ay naging matapat at naniwala,
tunay at totoo, lubos na nagtiwala.
Kahit may panahong may mga hindi tama,
na alam **** hindi dapat ginawa.

Ngunit ikaw ay pinatawad na
at ngayon sa wakas ay malaya na.
Kaya’t kamay ko ba’y hindi mo hahawakan
at sa buhay ko, ako’y sasamahan?

Kaya pag sumulong na ang bukas at wala na ako,
huwag **** iisiping nagkalayo tayo,
dahil sa tuwinang iisipin mo ako,
Nandito lang ako, diyan sa puso mo.

(To Dr. Adelina A. Barrion,
September 9, 1954-July 10, 2010)

You expertly explained to me
sources of variation,
and the role of mutation,
much of the raw material
for the mighty driver - selection
and along the way
I also learned acceptance.
Everything, everyone
can be the same and unique
at the same time
And it’s perfectly alright
to be different.

You demonstrated
how encoded messages
for passing on traits
within populations
change in frequencies
and distributions,
how nature makes blind choices
how the fittest survives
and I learned deeper
my evolution.

Unconsciously, you made
aspiring for genuine honor
and excellence
more deeply rooted
in the loci of the heart
and the helices of the mind.

You taught me genetics
but you made me learn
Life is to be enjoyed,
much, much greater
than its four letters.

You proved -
great teachers never die,
they always live
in the lessons they give.

Tiny springtails jump
As mites haste, return the keys
Where all life begins.

Go, leave it behind.
Cast away painful mem’ries.
Hope springs eternal.

Our world’s much disturbed.
All that’s left hangs by a thread.
A view of sadness.

Lulubog ang araw upang magpahinga.
Anuman ang nangyari’y may aral na bunga
Bukas sa pagsikat babantayan ko s’ya
Magpapasalamat na kasama kita.

The leaf-nosed bats are in a hurry
All’s set for the nightly party
Today the feast starts at six thirty
Come as you are, no need for jewelry
Fresh mossies for dinner are ready
Sprinkles of midges, aren’t they yummy?
With swings and swoops, feeding in frenzy.

Bigger bats and flying foxes are also busy
As nectar and fruits are not quite many
Were it not for figs they’ll sure go hungry
For they can’t gate crash for the mushi sushi
In their upside down world, there is mutuality
Respect for each niche and common territory
Services are coincident, not obligatory.

The lives of bats are quite simple but happy
Much maligned, as humans look only
At whitish images, icons of perceived angelicity
But if we learn to look at the larger picture, we’ll see
A great range of diversity, earth’s own art gallery
And regardless of biased values, there is beauty
For Nature selects and I tell you, no bats, no glory.

Cicadas sing love
Chants of Gregorian tenors.  
Nature’s selections.

[Para kay Emerson David V. Jacinto, February 16, 1962 - May 02, 2011)

Mula paglilihi sa ningas ng ilawang gasera
sa sulok ng angking dunong, kaisipa’y namunga,
hanggang sa pagluwal, kasaliw ang palakpak ng sigla,
ulilang panaghoy at sigaw ng malayong pag-asa
- sa panawaga’t tinig ng Inang Bayan, tumugon ka.

Kusang-loob, inihandog, buhay at panahon
Walang alinlangan, payak na pamumuhay ay tugon
Sa lamig ng gabing kamao’y nagkuyom
Kumot mo’y pusong malasakit ang nilikom
- Unan ay konsyensyang malinis at tapat sa layon.

Mapait na dagta ang sa damdami’y nanalaytay
tila ipinahid ng mahabang paghihintay
sa mayamang dibdib ng ating kinagisnang Inay
- ang Inang Kalikasan. Doon ka humimlay,
- Makabuluhang buhay ang iyong tagumpay

I can’t always offer my other cheek
for you to have some sad surface to slap
I don’t have to.
                            Maybe because I’m not
your holy friend, and I don’t have to be
what people set -
                                someone or somebody
in this planet where paper roses bloom
inside plastic boxes.

I don’t think that I’ll throw away to you
a piece of bread, a slice of precious loaf
in return for that hard stone you did cast.
I don’t have to.
                             Maybe because I’m not
your haloed friend, and I don’t have to be
what people set -
                                standards, morals decreed.
Rigid squares, straight lines drawn.
                                                                Old World pretends
to be modern.
                          And . . . . . accommodating.

Oh no! It’s not. It’s not!
                                           The limits, too narrow,
define the soul,
                            poison minds,
                                                      choke the heart.

Life’s lessons
                         safeguard
                                            the survivor . . .

The journey’s still long
                                          along this
                                                             lonely road.

Earth makes silken webs.
Break one strand, you break the rest.
Humans’ fate is sealed.

Trees win life’s struggles
Bats feeding, fireflies swarming.
Humans find meanings.

Tagbulaklak uli ngayon
Sa manggahang nililingon
Na sa nagdaang panahon
Saksi sa ating maghapon.

Mula Lunes laro’t aral
Hanggang B’yernes, walang tumal
Puti’t asul di nagtubal
Buhok hippie sadyang bawal.

Kabataan no’ng nangarap
Maabot ang alapaap
Ngayong layo’y lubos-ganap
‘Igan pa ring nakaharap.

Kaibiga’y nasusukat
Di sa yaman ni sa agwat
Tunay yaong di napuknat
Mula musmos ay matapat.

Si Mabini nagwika rin
Katapatan ang habilin
Kapatid ang sadyang turing
Noon, ngayon at bukas din.

Pook na may kalayuan
Di madali kung puntahan
Kubli’t payapang kanlungan,
Malayo sa kaguluhan.

Minsan kita’y papasyalan
Pag isip may katanungan
Doon ko matatagpuan
Puso mo ang kasagutan.

Home of ghosts, folks fear
But I find flies, wasps, bugs dear.
Diversity’s here.

Uninvited one . . .
You stayed, rooted, hugged so tight.
Strangled life gave life.

Woody vine’s poor friend
Gave all up for Beauteous end.
Nature’s investment.

Hindi yaman ang sukatan
Ng matapat na kaybigan
Kundi subók nang samahan
Tapat at walang iwanan

Hinahanap kita, Kaibigan . . .
Tinatawagan kita, Kapatid . . .
Sabay tayong nanghiram ng aklat,
sa Aklatan ng Pag-asa,
Kaya’t sakdal-pait nang nabalitaan ko
ang talaan ng buhay mo’y binawi na
Pilit pinapawi
Ng paroo’t paritong mga alon
at ihip ng hangin
Ang mga impit naming pahatid
Na iniukit
Ng mga palihim na hikbi
Sa tila natutulog na buhanginan
Sa dalampasigan
Ng ‘yong puso. Namamahinga ka na ba
aming Kasama?

Hindi mawawala
ang iyong pangalan
sa harap ng pinid na pintuan
Ng kani-kanina lang
Ay dambana
Ng iyong tila hindi nangangalay na panulat
At tabernakulo
Ng namimitig na mga binti
Ng nagtalumpating tinig.

Namamahinga ka na kapatid.
Ngunit hindi mapipipi ang batingaw
Na kahapon, ngayon at bukas ay magtatawag
Ng mga kapanalig,
Pagmamahal sa kapwa, sa bayan, sa kalikasan, sa daigdig.

Sumisilip na ang araw.
Mamamaalam na ang mga tala.
Patuloy na nagliliwanag ang bituing
Ikaw, oo, ikaw, maningning.

Hihimlay kang tahimik
sa puntod at bantayog
ng mga hindi namin malilimutang
Paninindigan. Pahayag. Panawagan. Paala-ala.
dahil sa isip at puso namin, isang Bayani ka
at maraming salamat na ikaw ay nakilala
at aming nakasama.

Kupas na ang ‘yong larawan
Ala-ala kong sulyapan
Ang kahapong s’yang tahanan
Anino na lang nang bal’kan.

Amidst dark moments
One brightly lit moon's shining . . .
We're always hoping.

Finding poetry in a disease
is like looking for a nugget
of gold in one Smokey Mountain
of revolting, rotting *******.

A poem is precious.
It breathes us life.
Even one about death
brings hope of imagined
heavens and dreads of
eternal incomplete combustion,
but dengue ***** dry
its hapless victims.

Baby mossies
are cheering,
wriggling,
today, detritus feeding . . .
Tomorrow, the girls among them turning
into little vampires blood feeding;
and the boys will have for drinking
plant juices like wines brewing.
Rightly or not, the winged being
receives much of the blame, poor thing!

The greater pain, the bigger burden,
felt greatly by the downtrodden,
however, lies not so much in the bitten
nor the biter - always the villain.

When those whose tasks are meant to serve,
serve not the ones who need, but only themselves
When solicitors utter Hippocratic mantras
Like gurus descended from Oriental Olympuses
but in truth are Proud Marys burning with empty heads . . .

And when the multitudes blind and blinded,
in Plato’s Cave chained, demented
faithfully follow the falsehoods preached
by the High Priests and Priestesses:
I recall the scenarios of old tales told
of Pied Pipers leading kids out of Hamelin’s fold
to a treacherous realm of eternal repose.

And a nation’s bound to decompose.

Rows and rows of friends,
tall and mighty trunks, ancients.
Humbled, I am home.

Lakad, akyat, kahit pagód, dala ay tuwâ.
May pakanta-kanta pa ng Beatles, sadyâ.
Buti classic, edad ay 'di-ga'nong" halata . . .

Life is a journey -
the road may be very long.
We need to go on . . .