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Cedric Feb 2019
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.
Aktor was a man of the poor,
he was a mighty good *****,
but when he starts *******,
he gets tired of *******,
and ***** all over the floor.
Just a short, nothing major.
Yukina Hawmie Sep 2016
Janganlah terlena akan pujian-pujian yang mereka utarakan
Karena bisa saja membuatmu terbuai keenakan
Berbangga pada diri seolah kau adalah aktor kawakan
Yang kemudian menjadikanmu manusia haus perhatian
Sekali dua kali mereka tersenyum manis didepanmu
Kemudian mengucapkan rangkaian kata penuh bujuk rayu
Lalu mereka membuatmu terlena dalam rangkaian kata mendayu-dayu
Yang kemudian akan membuat pipimu tersipu-sipu
Siapa yang tahu jika kata-kata itu hanyalah keindahan semu
Membuat hidupmu mungkin malah menjadi semakin kelabu
Kemudian akhirnya kamupun terisak-isak sendu
Karena menyadari bahwa semua itu hanyalah pujian palsu
Percayalah padaku wahai kawan
Janganlah terlena akan pujian-pujian
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2016
summer's here;
   and so's my ****** poetry.

custard on skin, sweat, *******,

while others peacock
around, basking in the sun,
to the trance of Ibiza

or perhaps sloth in St. James'
park feeding mandrakes
and geese and swans

these sun worshippers
and their hotdog selfies on
beaches, sunglasses, molasses
and ice-cream -

i'm sitting among blank stairs,
like an alcoholic Aboriginal in
some desert town in Australia -
blank, nothing coming in,
nothing coming out -

the usual traffic of poetry in me
exhausted by summer, the one season
i'm like Mr. Grinch - the loathing
of the heat - with Sahara blowing
more than sand these days -

fruitless season: oh, but of course i
can eat a strawberry, a grape
a watermelon and whatever i wish,
a kiwi a mango, whatever,
but i just can't dig my teeth into
the page, like i can in winter -
with it's gloom and frost and grey cold.

like in Scandinavia - where they treat
their melancholic aura as the last
happiness, or a hidden happiness,
where it's not a medical condition
worthy of a chemical concoction -
much more than just
       pill after pill after pill -

the next pinch of airy salt that the cold is:
pinch after pinch on the face and the hands
as if plucking out feathers of a chicken.

summer's here,
and so the first summer thunderstorms,
yesterday the great stomach of
Ethiopia and Sudan descended over
my house, the rumbling of a stomach
of a thousand starving - thunder -
the great voice -
                             summer's here,
                             and so's my ****** poetry -

torden: stemme av eldgammel *hvisking
,

etymological observation working from
the Norwegian hvisking (whisper), although
similar, in Polish - obviously a letter or two
more, but the prefix hvis-

according to alexander brückner (Cracow, 1927):

 chwist, chwistać, chwis(t)nąć,
‘orzech próżny’, chwist w 15. i 16. wieku,
jeszcze u Reja, ‘błazen’, właściwie ‘aktor,
komedjant’, ‘mimus’; jak świstek (papieru),
‘orzech próżny’ nazywa się
r. 1472 gwiżdżem i malikiem (p.);

u czechów chwiszt, ‘świstak’;
tylko u nas i u Czechów istnieje to chwist,
chwistati, por. gwizdać
            i świstać u innych słowian;

my concern however is stressed in
italicised form,
he supposed that chwist- only exists
among poles and czech - well it doesn't,
it also exists among norwegians -
as already shown, with hvisk-.
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2017
nie tak sie przerzegnamy jak bylo dane (w lewo, w prawo, w lewo, w prawo) nie! pierw głowa, potem ręka, wtedy serce, a na końcu: pachwina; jako prawo-ręczny... straciłem ucho na nowoczesny vogue lewicy (w braku komuny)... bo trudo srać, i słuchać tych... bzdur! w swym: powiem co tylko moge... bo i tak angol jest trędowaty, jeżeli chodzi o języki, oprócz jego; a o tym znaczy gromada amerykanców którzy tylko mówia: jak to sie wypowiada?! rub rub rub your hands... startled by the sea of tongues, dislodged from the synchronisity of the tide.

tú stanie moja stopa,
                           i tu nią, powiem
    *hūk
! grzmot!
                                rygor! disciplina!
   aport! aport!
                mniej warty niż pies
                                      gnoju!
  doberman na podwurku
                                   chociaż szczeka
    na widmo, czy też cień!
                         ty, kurwo języczna?
    whine whine whimper...
dawaj chociaz voodoo haiti,
      a ty kurwa skad?
   nigeria? kenja?
     co tam gavari? zulu?
           no to kurwa mów! - - - -
- - - - - large dogs don't really
bark at other dogs
    or people, the ones they
                          can see...
          poodles?
   they're picking the wrong
fight, always have,
                       always will.
        ten "muzynek"
bambo?
     wkradne sie w jego
                                  dupe...
   z metrowym kijem
           bambusa!
    i potem spytam...
           gdzie te widły
chinczyków do żarcia
             z twej mordy?
choppy choppy, shticky shticky?
                 bombai fwy wice?
        dziś? jutro? pojutrze?
   za tydzień, miesiąc?
  rok? sto lat?
              sto lat! sto lat!
      niech niech żyje nam!
ale mie to wkurwia...
    wprost, dzięki bogu że
tego nie mówie...
            bo jak bym miał
o tym gadać... to i tak
bym nie gadał... tylko srał...
czy też bawił sie w
                   rzeźnika...
o hej hej! fri-dom of spicz!

  niech bedzie pochwalony...
na wieki wieków
                     ten zór byka...
      że tak sporo na zachodzie
myśli: słowianin to slav tzn.
niewolnik, albino-bambo...
a tak naprawde to:
       kowalski...
                słowowalski...
                      ­ słowny-kowal,
          kowal dla czteru!
      czterem w oddech ziemi

                       north (conquest)              
    
west (war)                +                   east (death)

                       south (famine)


we mnie cichy lew, i tym bardziej
                  lis, szachista ciszy;

             ale z nich pół-głąby kapusty,
co to za polityka, jeżeli tylko dwu-znaczny
grymas... i tym: niewyparzona morda
"wolności"...  co każdy aktor czy diwa zna?
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2017
ibi est scena -
                      autem ibi
           nullus actor -

there is a stage -
                          but there is
                                              no actor.

if omni orbis
                              est scena

                                        ring true...
       we can confine
the aktor
in the mould of a medax -

halfwit minotaur...
           culprit and
the scalped crown...
                
i have the bloom of whatever
flower i take to choosing -
and the remains:
      an engraving of
hopes, dirges, and desires...
whispered fragrances
to allocate a foothold of
cerberus's stood ground...

           barking, whining,
whimpering,
      howling and desiring
the lodgings of a
smoked timber-frame -
        
revealed in the immediate
circumstance -
as the loss of the ultimatum:
the penultimate loss -
the one, pondering death...
        the one:
  once discarding,
now all the more
embracing...
            
                   all word is a stage,
given an actor present...
     but no stage is ever a stage,
where no actor takes to
invite the world being staged...
            
    in the guise of
                  a worldly staged
                loss of a reckoning -
to no stage an equivalent world -
to no actor an equivalent role -

              there is a confirmation
nonetheless -
   a stage empty, without actor,
is a world emptied with
     a labour that otherwise demands
a caress of a soothing tongue -
in replica, as in non-replicating
take on disaster - a formality of
re-introduction.
Hindi nakumpleto pag-aaral sa Tertiarya
Gayunpaman hinalal na Bise-Presidente mula pagka-aktor
Kilabot ng mga kriminal, kaibigan ng mga dukha
Subalit hinablang sa bayan nagtraydor.

-12/28/2014
(Dumarao)
*Pinuno Namin sa Panahong Pilak Collection
My Poem No. 298

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