"baraka" poems - Hello Poetry

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.

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Feb 14, 2020

Feb 14, 2020 at 9:15 PM UTC

JunLit

Kapeng Barako X

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.

58

How Much Gets Me On A Bus? to the City? (I live 30 minutes away) more than this ever will - POETRY I’ve been writing ‘poems’ ever since I remember ever since 11 – reciting these phenomenal words of wisdom to any and all who would listen forcing family-members & friends that’s the thing about poetry, it makes you feel like it’s important, makes you think the words you sling together aren’t really yours it comes to you, through you, needs to come out of you, and when its over you’re just as amazed as they should be. but they’re not, I mean they like poetry, admire it, even enjoy it sometimes, but they could honestly give it up in a heartbeat, live without it. You know what I mean? I’m like you like all the people who come here I'm part poetry as poetry is me A Dodge Poetry Attendee many years – my arm once around Gwendolyn Brooks, cried in a church with Lucille Clifton talked Newark to Baraka – know the honorable Slammer, Patricia Smith! I’ve sat many years with the Lords of Literature - my professors who all seemed to know “whose got it” the intellectuals of American prose who seem to be searching for a rookie, the next best troubadour college-student that will grace their faculty-doors… The poetry I read here is incredible Some of the best stuff on the net, poignant, painful , honest, raw, sensual, serious – provokingly real words I read here startle me, stun me at times so clear in meaning, well-crafted, chosen words unusually strong They’re the kind of words the got-it people have, the poet people (probably all people have) poetry is just another way of finding an infallible song – (I still say we should go sing it on the bus!)

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Jul 26, 2013

Jul 26, 2013 at 11:29 PM UTC

patricia-valese

A "Hello Poetry' Tribute

How Much Gets Me On A Bus? to the City? (I live 30 minutes away) more than this ever will - POETRY I’ve been writing ‘poems’ ever since I remember ever since 11 – reciting these phenomenal words of wisdom to any and all who would listen forcing family-members & friends that’s the thing about poetry, it makes you feel like it’s important, makes you think the words you sling together aren’t really yours it comes to you, through you, needs to come out of you, and when its over you’re just as amazed as they should be. but they’re not, I mean they like poetry, admire it, even enjoy it sometimes, but they could honestly give it up in a heartbeat, live without it. You know what I mean? I’m like you like all the people who come here I'm part poetry as poetry is me A Dodge Poetry Attendee many years – my arm once around Gwendolyn Brooks, cried in a church with Lucille Clifton talked Newark to Baraka – know the honorable Slammer, Patricia Smith! I’ve sat many years with the Lords of Literature - my professors who all seemed to know “whose got it” the intellectuals of American prose who seem to be searching for a rookie, the next best troubadour college-student that will grace their faculty-doors… The poetry I read here is incredible Some of the best stuff on the net, poignant, painful , honest, raw, sensual, serious – provokingly real words I read here startle me, stun me at times so clear in meaning, well-crafted, chosen words unusually strong They’re the kind of words the got-it people have, the poet people (probably all people have) poetry is just another way of finding an infallible song – (I still say we should go sing it on the bus!)

44

I looked at the beggarman Wrapped in a bundle Of cardboard, rags and dirt, With a royal smirk on his face As his eyes pierced mine For the second or less It took to wander by His space of rest, His makeshift nest Of cardboard, rags and dirt... Today he laid On his side, Knees slightly bent, A blue Bic gripped loosely In his right fist, Notepad white In his right... What does a beggarman write From his sanctuary Of cardboard, rags and dirt, I wondered? Could it be a sign, A plea for a penny Or a piece of bread? Or was the beggarman A thespian well-read With a tale or two Trapped in his troubled head.... As he was, In his bastille Of cardboard, rags and dirt... A Danielle Steele Undiscovered.... An Amiri Baraka Reborn... A literary genius trapped In a bundle Of cardboard, rags and dirt With a royal smirk on his face. ~ P (#TheBeggarman) 2/28/2014

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Feb 28, 2014

Feb 28, 2014 at 10:38 PM UTC

james-g-paul-sr-aka-pablo

The Beggarman

I looked at the beggarman Wrapped in a bundle Of cardboard, rags and dirt, With a royal smirk on his face As his eyes pierced mine For the second or less It took to wander by His space of rest, His makeshift nest Of cardboard, rags and dirt... Today he laid On his side, Knees slightly bent, A blue Bic gripped loosely In his right fist, Notepad white In his right... What does a beggarman write From his sanctuary Of cardboard, rags and dirt, I wondered? Could it be a sign, A plea for a penny Or a piece of bread? Or was the beggarman A thespian well-read With a tale or two Trapped in his troubled head.... As he was, In his bastille Of cardboard, rags and dirt... A Danielle Steele Undiscovered.... An Amiri Baraka Reborn... A literary genius trapped In a bundle Of cardboard, rags and dirt With a royal smirk on his face. ~ P (#TheBeggarman) 2/28/2014

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Everywhere I go, there are too many pillows, like I’m living in, some kind of reality show, oh well here we go, into the experiences of this show, in The Pursuit of Happiness, we catch a good wave and roll with the flow, so, certain of nothing, so, please no fronting, making, love on a bed, projection screen, projecting, a film on the tall white wall, she’s on top of me, I think the film is Baraka, upstairs in bed on an indoor balcony, her friend’s downstairs, I think she’s a lesbian, we’re on a bed, she’s on top of me, I turn her over, finding a tattoo on her neck, I look closer, between sunrise light and skin of sweat, to a tattoo that read, Pursuit of Happiness. We made love, like everything mattered, like anything mattered, please tell me something matters, as Baraka continues to project on the projector, we continue to make love like everything matters, and in that instant instant, everything did matter, and nothing mattered, and the constant contradiction, made me mad as a hatter, as our moment of freedom became perfectly captured, as she lays here post passion in my arms, in this moment of time, as it’s perfectly captured with words, to write the paint for this picture, so that the emotions we feel can be heard, in our Pursuit of Happiness, I’m not certain of much but there’s on thing I can say for sure, everywhere I go, there are too many pillows, like I’m living in, some kind of reality show, oh well here we go, into the experiences of this show, in The Pursuit of Happiness, we catch a good wave and roll with the flow, everyone comes, and everyone goes, so I wrote, this letter to a girl that I’ve just met, and to the tattoo that she has, that reads Pursuit of Happiness on her neck… ∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆

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Oct 13, 2016

Oct 13, 2016 at 1:32 PM UTC

aaronlalux

Pursuit of Happiness

Everywhere I go, there are too many pillows, like I’m living in, some kind of reality show, oh well here we go, into the experiences of this show, in The Pursuit of Happiness, we catch a good wave and roll with the flow, so, certain of nothing, so, please no fronting, making, love on a bed, projection screen, projecting, a film on the tall white wall, she’s on top of me, I think the film is Baraka, upstairs in bed on an indoor balcony, her friend’s downstairs, I think she’s a lesbian, we’re on a bed, she’s on top of me, I turn her over, finding a tattoo on her neck, I look closer, between sunrise light and skin of sweat, to a tattoo that read, Pursuit of Happiness. We made love, like everything mattered, like anything mattered, please tell me something matters, as Baraka continues to project on the projector, we continue to make love like everything matters, and in that instant instant, everything did matter, and nothing mattered, and the constant contradiction, made me mad as a hatter, as our moment of freedom became perfectly captured, as she lays here post passion in my arms, in this moment of time, as it’s perfectly captured with words, to write the paint for this picture, so that the emotions we feel can be heard, in our Pursuit of Happiness, I’m not certain of much but there’s on thing I can say for sure, everywhere I go, there are too many pillows, like I’m living in, some kind of reality show, oh well here we go, into the experiences of this show, in The Pursuit of Happiness, we catch a good wave and roll with the flow, everyone comes, and everyone goes, so I wrote, this letter to a girl that I’ve just met, and to the tattoo that she has, that reads Pursuit of Happiness on her neck… ∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆

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There is no encore only a final curtain For my former self, June 23rd 2015 Recently, I've been feeling this wave of nostalgia As the rain caresses my skin and the wind howls past my ears Every time I walk the streets to university, Or watching the squirrels play around The oak tree in the morning... It feels like only yesterday. And I count my blessings, And I know how lucky I am to be alive. And I look at a picture in this photo album of a younger me, As I fake a smile to hide my pain. I will never forget my former self. And in my dreams, I am dying I wake up screaming and shivering With no one beside me, and when I close My eyes again, there I am... Stood on the bridge, drunk on starvation Counting down from five to jump. © Sia Jane See Amiri Baraka "Preface to a twenty volume suicide note"

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Jan 31, 2016

Jan 31, 2016 at 6:11 PM UTC

sia-jane

There is no encore only a final curtain

There is no encore only a final curtain For my former self, June 23rd 2015 Recently, I've been feeling this wave of nostalgia As the rain caresses my skin and the wind howls past my ears Every time I walk the streets to university, Or watching the squirrels play around The oak tree in the morning... It feels like only yesterday. And I count my blessings, And I know how lucky I am to be alive. And I look at a picture in this photo album of a younger me, As I fake a smile to hide my pain. I will never forget my former self. And in my dreams, I am dying I wake up screaming and shivering With no one beside me, and when I close My eyes again, there I am... Stood on the bridge, drunk on starvation Counting down from five to jump. © Sia Jane See Amiri Baraka "Preface to a twenty volume suicide note"

21

Black Matter is a potent drug an induced state of existence omit the lives and the possessive of matter and meaning what you find is a body black in phenotype detrimental maybe even dangerous to the self or a world in which porcelain dominates every form of the masses easily influenced. THE BLACK BODY IS DOOMED TO DISINTEGRATE. Death automatically consumes its soul because it was destined out of the womb. When I die, the consciousness I carry I will to black people, when I die I pray that God takes our souls to his kingdom- reviving us of our natural death, on the deadliest land an exact clone of hell in its purest form. Will we find heaven? Or will we find ourselves burning too? The black body must know hell before heaven, has known peril before redemption, has known... Blood: lift and drop; a sudden breeze. Bone: the other was looking at — Bone: cradled to catch drips Has known policing of the body and has always known “forgiveness”. Beware Beware But do not be weary “Let us see the bodies,” they say.

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Jan 4, 2017

Jan 4, 2017 at 8:28 PM UTC

crystal-worrell

Untitled 100: A pastiche ( Amiri Baraka, Samiya Bashir,Duriel E. Harris)

Black Matter is a potent drug an induced state of existence omit the lives and the possessive of matter and meaning what you find is a body black in phenotype detrimental maybe even dangerous to the self or a world in which porcelain dominates every form of the masses easily influenced. THE BLACK BODY IS DOOMED TO DISINTEGRATE. Death automatically consumes its soul because it was destined out of the womb. When I die, the consciousness I carry I will to black people, when I die I pray that God takes our souls to his kingdom- reviving us of our natural death, on the deadliest land an exact clone of hell in its purest form. Will we find heaven? Or will we find ourselves burning too? The black body must know hell before heaven, has known peril before redemption, has known... Blood: lift and drop; a sudden breeze. Bone: the other was looking at — Bone: cradled to catch drips Has known policing of the body and has always known “forgiveness”. Beware Beware But do not be weary “Let us see the bodies,” they say.

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Dictionary of Sufiyana LOVErz Alhamdu-Zr My BELOVEDz is the most praise worthy Astaghfiru-Zr *My LOVE is an act of Seeking forgiveness from my BELOVEDz* Baraka-Zr-U Feek *LOVERz prays God/dess/Nature's blessing To bestow on the BELOVEDZ* Bismi-Zr *I'm re-born In the name of my BELOVEDz* Inna-Eil-Zr-I *Indeed the birth of a LOVERz Marks the existence of a BELOVEDz Indeed a LOVERz Belongs to BELOVEDz* Jazaka-Zr *My LOVE is a grace for Rewarding all the goodness of the world To my BELOVEDz* La Ilaha-il-Zr *In this world there is no one Who has illuminated my soul And is worthy of worship Other than my BELOVEDz* Masha-Zr *My BELOVEDz is My God/dess' will* Nauzubi-Zr *My existences seeks refuge from God/dess Within my BELOVEDz existence* Radhi-Zr-U Anhu *May my LOVE bring Good future on my BELOVEDz That everything of Nature That everyone of Nature Is always pleased with my BELOVEDz* Rasoola-Zr *For the BELOVEDZ Other than LOVERz No one is anointed To be the Messenger of LOVE* Sa-Zr-U Sallam *May my LOVE bring peace To the soul of my BELOVEDz* Subhan-Zr *My BELOVEDz is the one Who is PERFECT Who is without errors* Yarhamuk-Zr *My LOVE is a prayer to God/dess For blessing mercy on my BELOVEDz* Zr-U-Akbar In LOVE, BELOVEDz is the greatest

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Nov 21, 2018

Nov 21, 2018 at 11:32 PM UTC

melan-of-innocent

Dictionary of Sufiyana LOVErz

Dictionary of Sufiyana LOVErz Alhamdu-Zr My BELOVEDz is the most praise worthy Astaghfiru-Zr *My LOVE is an act of Seeking forgiveness from my BELOVEDz* Baraka-Zr-U Feek *LOVERz prays God/dess/Nature's blessing To bestow on the BELOVEDZ* Bismi-Zr *I'm re-born In the name of my BELOVEDz* Inna-Eil-Zr-I *Indeed the birth of a LOVERz Marks the existence of a BELOVEDz Indeed a LOVERz Belongs to BELOVEDz* Jazaka-Zr *My LOVE is a grace for Rewarding all the goodness of the world To my BELOVEDz* La Ilaha-il-Zr *In this world there is no one Who has illuminated my soul And is worthy of worship Other than my BELOVEDz* Masha-Zr *My BELOVEDz is My God/dess' will* Nauzubi-Zr *My existences seeks refuge from God/dess Within my BELOVEDz existence* Radhi-Zr-U Anhu *May my LOVE bring Good future on my BELOVEDz That everything of Nature That everyone of Nature Is always pleased with my BELOVEDz* Rasoola-Zr *For the BELOVEDZ Other than LOVERz No one is anointed To be the Messenger of LOVE* Sa-Zr-U Sallam *May my LOVE bring peace To the soul of my BELOVEDz* Subhan-Zr *My BELOVEDz is the one Who is PERFECT Who is without errors* Yarhamuk-Zr *My LOVE is a prayer to God/dess For blessing mercy on my BELOVEDz* Zr-U-Akbar In LOVE, BELOVEDz is the greatest

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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!

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Dec 2, 2021

Dec 2, 2021 at 11:48 PM UTC

JunLit

Kapeng Barako XVII (Panahong Karipas)

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!

25

I was born on the tongue of the prophets. i was here before the profit. I never thought the money would ever stop it. spirit verses spit. Baraka versus nonsense. holocaust versus holocaust at what cost whose blood lost in God the dollar trust from Fanon to Fila Adidas to Allah we die with prayer beads in our palms store em in box so the leather never worn.

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Nov 5, 2015

Nov 5, 2015 at 4:53 PM UTC

deztine-lorenza

Untitled

I was born on the tongue of the prophets. i was here before the profit. I never thought the money would ever stop it. spirit verses spit. Baraka versus nonsense. holocaust versus holocaust at what cost whose blood lost in God the dollar trust from Fanon to Fila Adidas to Allah we die with prayer beads in our palms store em in box so the leather never worn.

15

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!

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Sep 21, 2024

Sep 21, 2024 at 7:41 AM UTC

JunLit

Panahong Karipas

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!

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