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"blag" poems
Apatnapu't limang minuto makalipas ang alas-dose. Umaga na naman -- umaga na naman pipikit ang mga mata kong kasingbigat na ng ulap na napuno ng tubig mula sa lupa at dagat. Mapungay at napapaluha dulot ng pasakit na hatid ng walang sawang sulatin, babasahin, at kung anu-ano pang mga dapat tapusin. Mga labi kong medyo nakabuka na marahil akala nila'y tapos na ang lahat ng gawain kaya namamahinga. At muli silang sasara, kasingbilis ng motorsiklong humaharurot sa labasan na parang nakikipagkarera, kapag naiisip na malayo pa ako sa pagtuldok sa katapusan. Tumatabingi na ang mundo. Ay, mali, ulo ko lang pala na napapahiga na sa aking kanang balikat tila may sariling isip at ginugusto nang humiga sa kama -- akala niya rin siguro'y matatapos na sa pagsusulat at pagbabasa ngunit sadyang nagkakamali siya. Tak. Tak. Tak. Tak. Tak. Tak. Tunog na ginagawa ng aking mga daliri na kay bagal nang bumaba para pindutin ang mga letra sa aking kompyuter. Suko na raw sila at nasasabik na silang muling mayakap ang malalambot na unan na nag-aantay sa kanila. Tak. Tak. Tak. Tak. Tak. Tak. Tunog na lang ng pagbagsak ng aking mga daliri sa bawat letra ng aking laptop ang pumapasok sa aking utak. Ilang minuto na nakatitig sa iisang pahina... Sa iisang talata... Sa iisang pangungusap... Sa iisang letra... Blag!
0
Jan 7, 2017
Jan 7, 2017 at 9:16 AM UTC
Antok Na Ako
after the tall glass of wine, i was rapt, i was unaware, i was entrapped to the spirit, i succumbed my knees, now numbed one hits the cold wall ...u n c o n t r o l l a b l e... then falls "ka-blag" on the other feeling so light as a feather... ..............f a l l i n g............ my eyes are Garfield-ish hands, like a mallet, heavy-ish ... G O D ! my mind, ~~~d r i f t i n g ~~~ i need some black, brewing... gotta have strong bitter coffee, dark to take my slurry mind back the track..... after the tall glass of wine, i was rapt, i am now much aware, i must avoid being trapped... Sally Copyright 2013 Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
0
Dec 25, 2013
Dec 25, 2013 at 9:52 AM UTC
tipsy-topsy...
How to make friends over a beer How to make any modest room beautiful with fairy lights How to consecutively loose three university ID cards, replace them and then simultaneously find all three misplaced cards in the bottom of the same bag. How to blag your way onto the university bus without ID How to make a family out of your friends When to give constructive criticism. When to hit the cafeteria for discounted lunch items When to let house mates off for making the kitchen a **** tip When to realise that the reason your soreen cake keeps going missing from you food cupboard is not in fact because there are some soreen cake loving mice, it is in fact just your house mate who “just thought you weren’t going to eat it” When to plant an onion in hopes of an onion tree. Where to kick a corrugated door for a taxi Where to get the best tray of jalapeños Where to get a magic tenner Where to sit in the lecture hall so you could only be partially seen Where to find your confidence Knowing I’ll never be able to pay off my university debt But knowing it was priceless
0
Feb 24, 2021
Feb 24, 2021 at 5:05 AM UTC
Things I Learn’t at University
Found myself centred around this river As if it were my life, its shallows deepening Into falling curves and rocky Foundation, yet cluttered in part With stagnating **** at other times Flowing freely and softly engaging me Without its steaming torrents. The waterfall thinks it can engulf me and I consider it at times denying it identity But sometimes it speaks loudly and refuses To whisper....’And so you’re there’ I say, and here Its raging response tumbling me into depths Out of my control..... or so it thinks. I emerge for air and breathe in deeply To sustain me, for when I speak It is with something resembling coherence To blag me time from the place of harm Where it dips sharply and crashes onto slithers Of icy uncertainty, I begin to wipe my brow clean. Releasing me from its fooling ways preventing the air Being squelched from me; take it easy with me My mind desires you to behave and let me be Don’t fool me into calm currents only to be tossed Amongst the white watery crash of boulders rounding Beneath me, sharp shards covered by your caressing hands That persuades my innocent eyes to close To the raging force of veiled kindness I can remember the ripples of softness that would Cover my palm with coolness That dappled in sunlight, reflecting my face Asking me to admire the stillness And I believed in the sereneness of the ebb and flow That sheltered me in fineness with absorbent lining Reminding me of life absent to the steep slant Towards the shelled out wreck of my world...burnt out.
0
Jun 14, 2012
Jun 14, 2012 at 3:34 PM UTC
Of Life
Found myself centred around this river As if it were my life, its shallows deepening Into falling curves and rocky Foundation, yet cluttered in part With stagnating **** at other times Flowing freely and softly engaging me Without its steaming torrents. The waterfall thinks it can engulf me and I consider it at times denying it identity But sometimes it speaks loudly and refuses To whisper....’And so you’re there’ I say, and here Its raging response tumbling me into depths Out of my control..... or so it thinks. I emerge for air and breathe in deeply To sustain me, for when I speak It is with something resembling coherence To blag me time from the place of harm Where it dips sharply and crashes onto slithers Of icy uncertainty, I begin to wipe my brow clean. Releasing me from its fooling ways preventing the air Being squelched from me; take it easy with me My mind desires you to behave and let me be Don’t fool me into calm currents only to be tossed Amongst the white watery crash of boulders rounding Beneath me, sharp shards covered by your caressing hands That persuades my innocent eyes to close To the raging force of veiled kindness I can remember the ripples of softness that would Cover my palm with coolness That dappled in sunlight, reflecting my face Asking me to admire the stillness And I believed in the sereneness of the ebb and flow That sheltered me in fineness with absorbent lining Reminding me of life absent to the steep slant Towards the shelled out wreck of my world...burnt out.
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35
The palindrome falls on shadowed riots, clamoured mediocrity and fever of falsified truths- hyper-normalised until we’re writhing in animatronic snake oil. What’s worse, the hysteria or the disease? Over-indulge the fascists kiss their fists as they flail in cognitive dissonance- white knuckles dragging to the rhythm of another media blag. Patriotism cradles their fear and wraps it in red, white, and blue; a stifled tricolour vision, bathed in sanctified blood-clotted volition. They’ll never let them come clean they need their repugnance, and inability to see that hope is an option but the disparity is always just a news broadcast away.
0
Feb 2, 2020
Feb 2, 2020 at 3:01 AM UTC
The Evolution of Anger
so, i'm on this page, and i meet my ****** pusher, sure as hell he's pushing ****** although it's digital, the site / street corner? allpoetry.com i get to publish 2 poems, but can't publish more, i have to comment, and comment positively, 'allo comrade Stalin! then comment on 2 poems, and get this message: *Congratulations, you've achieved level 2, and are now an "emerald cat"! To reach the next level you need: 7 x comments, 1 x enter a contest, 1 x favorites, 1 x edit an item. • What are levels?* i am not playing candy-crush saga! i'm not! i'm not even kidding you, what is this **** we've been ****** by paedophiles anonymous?! please get me off this ****** grid of the Cyber Pavlov Experiment... likes and comments and saliva and cookies... or premeditated minority reports - akin to Orwell's thought crime gestapo - god it sounds **** when said: g'eh'sh'tap'oh. or how to use the internet akin to deciphering and censoring established media outlets... obviously social media can't replicate socialism, it's a media outlet, but it can for sure **** off with all the little capitalistic mind games that lead to nothing but the Pavlov experiment - and that was with dogs... try that with a ******* Gorilla and i'll watch you cradle prosthetic limbs while he rips your original limbs off like he's playing a harp: then you can rhyme: twinkle twinkle little thumb, how i wished you were attached to my hand to my arm to my torso... that's the same story we had recently concerning a Mr. Kumbuka... who escaped enclosure, and proved the a.d.h.d. complex correlation with exposure to sugar... ****** drank 5 litres of concentrated blackcurrant squash replying: i'm mad at the keepers for keeping me on a diet! i do king kong and you do the frenzied blonde maiden. it's still a concern for me that they herded the poets into an area worthy of zoological inspection, meaning that they base their worth on deplorable points system: like they're immigrants waiting for visas to Canada - comment, like, blag and blabber your way into that new country, known to all of us present as Si S / Silicon State... by my count that's the 51st, or the secular version of the Vatican.
0
Oct 20, 2016
Oct 20, 2016 at 9:12 PM UTC
the Cyber Pavlov Experiment
so, i'm on this page, and i meet my ****** pusher, sure as hell he's pushing ****** although it's digital, the site / street corner? allpoetry.com i get to publish 2 poems, but can't publish more, i have to comment, and comment positively, 'allo comrade Stalin! then comment on 2 poems, and get this message: *Congratulations, you've achieved level 2, and are now an "emerald cat"! To reach the next level you need: 7 x comments, 1 x enter a contest, 1 x favorites, 1 x edit an item. • What are levels?* i am not playing candy-crush saga! i'm not! i'm not even kidding you, what is this **** we've been ****** by paedophiles anonymous?! please get me off this ****** grid of the Cyber Pavlov Experiment... likes and comments and saliva and cookies... or premeditated minority reports - akin to Orwell's thought crime gestapo - god it sounds **** when said: g'eh'sh'tap'oh. or how to use the internet akin to deciphering and censoring established media outlets... obviously social media can't replicate socialism, it's a media outlet, but it can for sure **** off with all the little capitalistic mind games that lead to nothing but the Pavlov experiment - and that was with dogs... try that with a ******* Gorilla and i'll watch you cradle prosthetic limbs while he rips your original limbs off like he's playing a harp: then you can rhyme: twinkle twinkle little thumb, how i wished you were attached to my hand to my arm to my torso... that's the same story we had recently concerning a Mr. Kumbuka... who escaped enclosure, and proved the a.d.h.d. complex correlation with exposure to sugar... ****** drank 5 litres of concentrated blackcurrant squash replying: i'm mad at the keepers for keeping me on a diet! i do king kong and you do the frenzied blonde maiden. it's still a concern for me that they herded the poets into an area worthy of zoological inspection, meaning that they base their worth on deplorable points system: like they're immigrants waiting for visas to Canada - comment, like, blag and blabber your way into that new country, known to all of us present as Si S / Silicon State... by my count that's the 51st, or the secular version of the Vatican.
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57
Ghosts Children's voices from a nearby school have softened and slowly faded away... the streets are cleared: no more school buses, all gone for the day... people, stray dogs and cats are free, roaming the streets, having fun in the fading light, even as the dark spreads... faster, and wider... evening quickly creeps upon us, the dark descends lazily on our weary minds and bodies... it roosts on our self-confidence, too long at times...filling spaces between moments of fresh air and deep sighs... sending in unwanted thoughts things we would rather not remember... but--- dismal light from a lamppost sneaks in through the windows, and creates shadows that sway and dance on the wall... dormant figures gain consciousness, dragons unconquered start to waken... out in the dark they emerge: blag!  blag!  .blag!   heavy footfalls bringing tremors, breathing out red flames, and start spreading terror... in the midst of a spacious arena is where we find ourselves... vulnerable, stripped of our courage, hiding.....from these blinding, fiery and scary scenes... from earthbound ghosts of a dark past that cower over us... it is true, darkness fades with every morning, it is also true, ghosts come visit every once in a dark evening... tonight is dark and quiet, out here in the cold and pitch black darkness, i know they would come, i could feel this weird coldness, from a weird ghost of the past... night of all nights! i must not fall... i am not alone in the dark! i am not alone in the dark... i am not... for warm is your one hand, now under my elbow, the other, lightly resting on my shoulder... you came, my dearest. oh, please, let not your hands learn to hold another's warm body. may your eyes never stray from mine, may your arms never falter, may they never slide, may they never fall, may you always, a l w a y s, hold  me right never loose, never too tight just hold me firmly. Sally Copyright 2014 Rosalia Rosario A Bayan
0
Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 3:58 AM UTC
GHOSTS
Ghosts Children's voices from a nearby school have softened and slowly faded away... the streets are cleared: no more school buses, all gone for the day... people, stray dogs and cats are free, roaming the streets, having fun in the fading light, even as the dark spreads... faster, and wider... evening quickly creeps upon us, the dark descends lazily on our weary minds and bodies... it roosts on our self-confidence, too long at times...filling spaces between moments of fresh air and deep sighs... sending in unwanted thoughts things we would rather not remember... but--- dismal light from a lamppost sneaks in through the windows, and creates shadows that sway and dance on the wall... dormant figures gain consciousness, dragons unconquered start to waken... out in the dark they emerge: blag!  blag!  .blag!   heavy footfalls bringing tremors, breathing out red flames, and start spreading terror... in the midst of a spacious arena is where we find ourselves... vulnerable, stripped of our courage, hiding.....from these blinding, fiery and scary scenes... from earthbound ghosts of a dark past that cower over us... it is true, darkness fades with every morning, it is also true, ghosts come visit every once in a dark evening... tonight is dark and quiet, out here in the cold and pitch black darkness, i know they would come, i could feel this weird coldness, from a weird ghost of the past... night of all nights! i must not fall... i am not alone in the dark! i am not alone in the dark... i am not... for warm is your one hand, now under my elbow, the other, lightly resting on my shoulder... you came, my dearest. oh, please, let not your hands learn to hold another's warm body. may your eyes never stray from mine, may your arms never falter, may they never slide, may they never fall, may you always, a l w a y s, hold  me right never loose, never too tight just hold me firmly. Sally Copyright 2014 Rosalia Rosario A Bayan
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75
Early sun the birds' tongues sends a-wag; Gorse pyres force fires in through open window dragged, Like rogues blag a cabin below the deck of a wandering ship, So smoke woke being stowed on the lip of a morning wind. Taking my time, Light I descry, To wake in a while. Warm bodies that lie Beneath a banyan balcony, a muse of colour calls to me. A sari much less touched than seen, but touched to see My chest used to be used not as a pillow, but my trunk For you, blown skin willow is drunk on your best. Taking our time, In the night slowly by, But waking under a spun sky, Miles now divide and I'm Not spending night Be still full of time
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Apr 25, 2016
Apr 25, 2016 at 4:09 PM UTC
Hey, Kim