"aro" poems
I wait
for the return
of the warm summer breeze
despite feeling winter's kiss -
for all my stars aligned.
I wait
for the bloom
of the lilies
despite the barren land -
for allmy star s aligned.
I wait.
I truly wait.
for the sound
of your footsteps
despite a love long lost and forgotten.
f or al lm ys ta r sal i gne d.
fo ar il m n ts a rlsa lg yed.
aro l sf m yl sla rgs a ni ed
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 5:19 PM UTC
Makaribong sa payo
Dai ko na naintindihan
an mga nangyayari
Sa palibot ko
Garo nag-iikot an mundo
Dai na garo kaya kan mata ko
Naglalabo an paghiling ko
Dai na naggagana an payo ko
Napapahibi na ako
**** kan nagbagsak ka
Hali sa madiklom na langit
Manlaenlaen na imahe
An sakuyang nadidiskobre
Igwa pala akong barkada
Sa irarom kan katre
Pwede mo palan kaulayon
An sadiri mo sa salming
Kaya mo palan bukasan
Gabos na pintoan pagnakapikit
Pirang oras pang uminagi
Dai nagpupundo an pagturo kan luha
hali sa librong binabasa ko
An mga letra nagdudulag na parayo sa libro
Tinipon ko an mga ini
Nilaag sa garapon
Mas nagkusog an paghibi kan libro
Nagaapaw na an tubig sa kwarto ko
Nasusuya na ako
Kaya Inapon ko sa langit
Nag-iwas an bulan asin bitoon
Pero kinakan kan saldang
Dai kaini aram na padagos
An pagdulag kan mga letra sa libro
Dai na maugma an saldang
An dating masinggaya ngunyan kurundot na
Aro-aldaw ng naguuran
Aro-aldaw naman akong nasasakitan
Tiponon an mga letrang satuyang pinabayaan.
—𝐔𝐫𝐚𝐧, a Bikol poetry.
Jul 27, 2020
Jul 27, 2020 at 11:57 AM UTC
Arog palan kaini an pagmati
Kan magtrabaho para sa sadiri
Mamata nin amay
Maayos nin gamit
Malutong pamahawan
Makarigos nin dali-dali
Sasanglian an murusdot na lalawgon
Late ka nanaman
Mayo nanaman kayang sakayan
Diyan sa may kanto
Arog palan kaini an pagmati
Kan mawaraan trabaho
Aro-aldaw ginigibo ko an gabos
Buong púsò kong tinatatao
An kusog asin hawak ko
Mayòng pinapalampas na oras
Aro-aldaw na paulit-ulit
Puon sa pagmata nin amay
Hanggang sa pag-ulî nin banggi
Pero tanò arog kaini?
Mayong nakakaintindi?
Hain na an úgay?
An pagmakulog?
Tanò puro pansadiri?
Mayò na bagang nangyayari
Kamong mga nakatukaw
Halangkawon man an harigi
Daí na nindo nahihiling an kasakitan
Kan mga uripon sa palibot nindo
Arog palan kaini an pagmati
Kan dai magkakan nin sarong aldaw,
Duwang aldaw asin sa ika-tulong aldáw
Daí ko na aram kun ano an totoo
Kun nabubuhay an tao para magtrabaho
O nagtatrabaho an tao para mabuhay
Aug 7, 2020
Aug 7, 2020 at 11:25 AM UTC
i can hear the misery
of the poets, artists, and kings
of the ages we wasn't born in,
screaming in agony
as they never had the chance
to love,
to encounter,
to witness,
to paint,
to write about,
the finest masterpiece
that is you,
my biggest dream,
my dead star wish,
you are the poison that intoxicates
my veins and i couldn't ask
for anything more.
•••
i have always told myself
not to fall in love with the moment,
moments will fade away
they will burn at the back of my head
but i saw him standing there
with his palm out
for me and only me
as the love-infused music about
fools falling in love
flowed flawlessly around us
that's where i did it.
i fell in love with not only the moment,
i fell in love with the flowers in his mouth
i fell in love with him.
May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 8:45 AM UTC
Siguro sarò ini sa mga aldáw
Na daí ako makaisip nin tultol
Kadakol ideya, istorya asin manlaenlaen na eksena
Sa panaginip an sakuyang pignonotaran
Baka sarò ini sa mga aldáw na mangyari an mga ito
Kaya man palan kan tao na managinip
Nin dai nagpipikit
Buklat na mata
para sa katotohanan
Mayò nang oras para magisip nin tultol
Kun ano an maglaog sa payo
Iyo na ito.
Siguro sarò ini sa mga aldaw
Na nagluluya an sakuyang imahenasyon
Masakiton magsurat aro-aldaw
Manungod sa maski ano
Pero pinagtitibay kaini an isipan ko
Na imbis na kun ano-ano pa man
An maglaog sa utak ko
Ining mga tataramon ngunyan na banggi
Igwa mang koneksyon o mayo
Libre man bagang maging sala
Basta aram mo kun sain ka nagkasala
Siguro sarò ni sa mga aldaw
Na kaipuhan man umuntók
Kan púsò asin isipan ko
Basta magpakatotoo
Ayos na ito.
—𝐔𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐤, a Bikol poetry.
Aug 9, 2020
Aug 9, 2020 at 11:59 AM UTC
I am a feminist
Feeling fenced in
in a gender binary
fenced in a ****** binary
so people dismiss my Bi
No ally can stop that without listening
Listen with your ears and if you can't hear
listen with your eyes. Know that I don't need to prove my Bi
Yemen child brides, committing homicide
building graveyards inside of themselves
Acid attacks, police and blacks
**** is asked for
Jews are gassed more
Conversion therapy
People can't see through the Trans*parency
Gender roles wrapped up into us
Making us feel trapped making us adapt
A is not for Allys
A is for Ace or Aro
Thrown with a bow I miss the target
cast into the shadow
Lesbians are loved stripped down
but not in the gown
appreciated more with their mouths shut
and no ones mind open
They chose to be blind not see with their eyes
hear with your ears
hear the gunshot or the scream from the queer kid
who is bleeding, smiles were misleading
thought they were happy
Thats because we stigmatize mental illness
I feel the stillness of progress
My anxiety is as bad as the start
I've been told that l'm not being smart
but I know my voice is a work of art
We whitewash the shadow
using bleach to whiten skin
drinking bleach when that skin isn't light to begin
I am a feminist
Aug 15, 2018
Aug 15, 2018 at 6:40 PM UTC
Domingo, flor de luz, casi increíble
día. Bajas sobre la tierra
como un ángel inútil y dorado.
Besas
a las muchachas
de turbia cabellera,
vistes de azul marino
a los hombres que te aman, y dejas
en las manos del niño
un aro de madera
o una simple esperanza. Repartes
golondrinas, globos de primavera,
te subes a las torres
y giras las veletas
oxidadas. Tu viento agita faldas
de colores, estremece banderas,
lleva lejos canciones
y sonrisas, llena
las estancias de polvo plateado.
Los árboles esperan
tu llegada
para cubrirse de gorriones. Sabe más fresca
el agua de las fuentes.
Las campanas dispersan
palomas imprevistas
que vuelan
de otro modo.
No hay nadie que no sepa
que es domingo,
domingo.
Tu presencia
de espuma lava,
eleva,
hace flotar las cosas y los seres
en un nítido cielo que no era
-el lunes- de verdad:
apenas desteñido papel, vidrio olvidado,
polvo tedioso sobre las aceras.
827
Your father hates my accent.
I think he's only trying my patience.
Your mother hates my tattoes.
But she's just like your father too.
Your brother and sisters are turning me down.
Your friends don't know for you miles i will run.
They can not feel this kiss, this touch.
Empty spaces i have been through to show you i love you so much.
I killed someone but you have killed me.
You're turning me into a different person.
You see the man in me.
We're sailing towards a new horizon.
Rest your heart on mine.
I am not making love to your father.
I am not kissing your mother.
I am not touching your brothers and sisters.
I am the prince of darkness...
I am a criminal...
I am a murderer...
Whatever i am before them...
I cast your sadness into shadow...
I **** your pain and sorrow...
Náaht tu finnúnf aro'd.....
Nov 23, 2010
Nov 23, 2010 at 2:13 AM UTC
to all my
gay,
lesbian,
bi,
pan,
ace,
trans,
queer,
questioning,
aro,
demi,
trans,
gender fluid,
non binary
family
i want to wish you all a happy june
whether you're in the closet,
or fully out and about,
or somewhere in the blurry middle,
know that you are loved
and i am proud of every single one of you
i am proud to say that i share a community
with so many beautiful, diverse, amazing people
i am proud of the strides we have made
and the people striving to make even more
this month,
just like every month,
i am proud of all of us
and i suppose,
that's what pride is all about
Jun 3, 2018
Jun 3, 2018 at 7:54 PM UTC
Hexaedros de madera y de vidrio
apenas más grandes que una caja de zapatos.
En ellos caben la noche y sus lámparas.
Monumentos a cada momento
hechos con los desechos de cada momento:
jaulas de infinito.
Canicas, botones, dedales, dados,
alfileres, timbres, cuentas de vidrio:
cuentos del tiempo.
Memoria teje y destejo los ecos:
en las cuatro esquinas de la caja
juegan al aleleví damas sin sombra.
El fuego enterrado en el espejo,
el agua dormida en el ágata:
solos de Jenny Lind y Jenny Colon.
"Hay que hacer un cuadro", dijo Degas,
"como se comete un crimen". Pero tú construiste
cajas donde las cosas se aligeran de sus nombres.
Slot machine de visiones,
vaso de encuentro de las reminiscencias,
hotel de grillos y de constelaciones.
Fragmentos mínimos, incoherentes:
al revés de la Historia, creadora de ruinas,
tú hiciste con tus ruinas creaciones.
Teatro de los espíritus:
los objetos juegan al aro
con las leyes de la identidad.
Grand Hotel Couronne: en una redoma
el tres de tréboles y, toda ojos,
Almendrita en los jardines de un reflejo.
Un peine es un harpa
pulsada por la mirada de una niña
muda de nacimiento.
El reflector del ojo mental
disipa et espectáculo:
dios solitario sobre un mundo extinto.
Las apariciones son patentes.
Sus cuerpos pesan menos que la luz.
Duran lo que dura esta frase.
Joseph Cornell: en et interior de tus cajas
mis palabras se volvieron visibles un instante.
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Ayinke mi, eleyinju aro
Your arms comforts me... like ēka iroko
your eyes... so colourful like rainbow light
and your cuticle smiles.... gives ah heavenly sight
Nibo lo wa, Ayinke mi owon
Omo to rewa ti o la 'bawon
Our heart has been intertwine to one
So living alone suffocates my lungs
What else could I have hoped
Luxuries and gold, don't want none of that
The doctor said I've been diagnosed
And ife re nikan lo le mu mi lara da
Ayinke mi, igbawo lo' made
If you want me to, I'll forever wait
Cos you're worth more than okuta iyebiye
I'll spend all I have.... mi o ko iyekiye
To make my heart' the home you forever stay
Aug 27, 2023
Aug 27, 2023 at 11:12 AM UTC
I am
soupy mud-lukewarm rain.
I am art rarely born in
***
belonging.
gender.
identity.
I am
being more hazardous than a
heartthrob, commitments which don’t owe.
I am
seemingly flawed acrobats where
wars and rifts give purest windows into-
I am
diversity, unbiased observation
without opinion
This body is
a cave to personal Aboriginality.
With similar struggles,
this body is
February funerals
Stumbling drunk
Faulty wires
Silence singing
This body is
masculinity sitting as knobs on my chest. 10 month T shot
showing no faith in God likely hates me like
This Body Is
a two week alcoholic.
I am
some body. A temporary palace worthy of worshipping
past open hours of service,
I am
this breath inside a masterpiece,
losing pace and time of directions.
I am skeletal, with you
growing through rainfalls I want you to learn to dance with me
I am putting on a face
‘pretty’ is a word fit to little girl’s dresses and marmalade eyes
I am
black lightning down her classroom arms.
This feeling is
‘I think I want to wear makeup’ Who I can be Who can I be? Who was I
This feeling is
Who I was.
Bogged down and banking on jawline horizons never seen,
This feeling is
what it is.
This feeling is multiplying
hearts for many individuals.
This body is
I think I’m aro ace all the way.
I am
thought to be nothing more than your constant in a dream.
Mar 19, 2017
Mar 19, 2017 at 4:20 AM UTC
En el aro ligero de la luna
canta para mí solo un ruiseñor.
A cada golpe de oro de su pico
brota en el aire una constelación.
Canta el pájaro pardo dulcemente
y se eriza de plumas y palor.
Cuando se pone el pecho más delgado,
dice mucho más clara su canción:
Morir, acaso, es continuar un sueño
de luna en luna, y de sol en sol.
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