Ehem ehem!
Mic test, mic test
Ayan gumagana ang mikropono
Siguro naman makikinig kayo sa sasabihin ko

'Di ako nandito para makipagtalo
Kung sino mas gwapo, ako o si Piolo
'Di ako naghahanap ng gulo
'Di naman kasi ako palalo

'Di ako nandito para makipag-away
Nais ko lamang mag-aksaya ng laway
Pati na rin bumuhay ng patay
Na sa bawat isa sa atin ay nakaratay

Kasi sinabi nila na naiburol na ang mga salita
Nailibing na kasama ng mga tekstong sa eskwelahan ay ginawa
Hindi na nga daw naaayon ngayon
Sa tinutuntungan nating henerasyon

Pero, saglit, teka!
Pakinggan mo, ang ganda diba?
Kung paano magtugma ang mga salita
Kung paano magtugma ang mga letra

Kasi sabi nila ang korni tumula
Na namatay na lahat ng bayani, kasama ang mga makakata
Na hindi na uso 'to, hindi na tayo bata
Na nauuto ng mga **** na gumawa ng talata

Pero ano ba ang fliptop, ano ba ang rap?
Hindi ba nagmula din ito sa parehong ugat?
Walang kwenta ang melodiya kung walang liriko
Hindi masasabing awitin, kung walang mensahe ito

Kaya ito ang subukan mo
Isulat mo sa papel ang nararamdaman mo
Ang sarap sa pakiramdam na mailabas ang mga ito
At bumuo ng isang kwento

Gamit ang mga salitang akala mo'y walang kwenta
Magiging himig ang bawat pagtutugma
Ang iyong kwento ay magiging tula
Na mananatili kahit ikaw ay wala na

Don't be too obvious
Even your whisper could be heard
Don't be too obvious
Your glances could be caught
Don't be too obvious
You failed
And now he's looking into your eyes
And melting you inside

winding winds weave patterns in my chest
a soft flower like a cloud up my throat
ehem ehem
a clicking swallow: a pinecone slides down
hitting a trembling trampoline stomach, and bouncing
like marble about

a cotton sparrow pecking somewhere everywhere
with its little blue beak of bead
ehem ehem
eye meets eye and eye eye
and winds bloom by, stirring the sky and
low bronze brooding grass, as
leaf leaf leaf laces down, down glittering slow
stumbling midair, stumbling in rays sneaking in through brown
stumbling like lost bee in a pathway of gold

then settling down light as a kiss, as a
curling of lashes on the parapet of eye

I had some tickling words—

velvet quilt round a tongue of damp wood
a tick of skin and tendon and beat
as all the gears in me lock in place
open the mechanical gates and out
the stuttering sparrow, small
with its wobbly chirp that, practiced, perfected,
spills still plaintive in the silence of stone

‘do you have an— an a scale?’


‘thanks—’

oh mY JASM—

That's when I realised;




















I'm not very good at writing dramatic single sentences.

melting
in warm waters
wasting away
to sin and bone
with you
and letting
life ebb
out of my mouth
gasping for
air
in the most
passionate
of ways

Ear           Pupils        Get
Drums     have           to
are            a                 know
really       good           your
funny       way            feet
when        of                they
there         letting        are
is                you            your
nothing     see             best
else            the             friends
to               world
hear

This poem,
,
excuse me,                                                ehem

i
doesn'­t care if you read it to the end
or if you don't like syntax,                                                          ­              the grammar,
or
the                                         capitol letters
line spelling

breaks (orspacing)

                                                    ­               but perhaps you prefer that it be less...
                                                         ­                                               understandable
   ­                                     Compromising,
      that it comprises the  
                                                                  ENTIRETY
                                            ­                              of
                          nature­                                nursing                          ­      nurture
[aligned to the Left]
  That way you walk away feeling like it was something worth your time!
Respectable (as pronounced in the Spanish language).
                                                      ­                                                                 ­                        And yet,

                                                           ­                                                                 ­                   there is a

                                                              ­                                                                 ­                certain re

                                                             ­                                                                 ­                 -gularity

                                                      ­                                                                 ­                        to time...

like           the           tick           of           the           clock---------------------------------------------
              ­                                                                 ­                    >>thatmadeyoucringe<<
congratulations-
                           nobody cared, or ever will--
                                                                ­         it's the bread and butter---
                                                       ­                                                              Apathy

...
….You make me want to return into the shell I already broke out of.
I hope you
Your
You’re happy
Because it is now a cave. From which I will spend eternity.
Congrats. Congrats on showing me the world for exactly what it is.
A place. A dwelling.
A dwelling for those who talk against the slow, the weak.
THE RECOVERING. THOSE WHO WISH TO GROW.
Those who have nothing but good intentions. Intentions not for themselves but. For Others.
Congrats.
My soul is as rachet. As hated. As Hatred.
BECAUSE OF all things that came: Your gossip. Your rumors. Your hidden enigma….*ehem agenda
…
Got to me. Broke me in front of reality.
Naked and bounded by nothing but deceit. Discord.
I call on Shiva...but now..
...Jesus.
Please. Show me the broken way. The broken way back to glory.
If nails strike me down. I’m willing.
I’m willing go further. Not to death. But to suffer. But not suffice or succumb.
Because I'm giving in again. I’m giving in...again.
“And I’m just holding on for tonight, On for tonight, On for tonight”
“Help me, I’m holding on for dear....”
LIFE

And I decided
LONG AGO
That I wont.
***** THEM

!!!
…. “I’m gonna swing, from the chandelier, the chandelier”
“I wanna fly”
“Like a bird in the night”
Watch my tears as they fall
Make rain a ghost of
A proof
Of the broken
Broken glass, broken mirrors
Broken bones out of
Words
syntax.....
...

"ehem"
we all hear it
the voice of the once-feeble boy
whom we always assumed would
end up in some shabby office job
typing away schedules and making spreadsheets
avoiding fellow humans and drinking coffee– black

the voice that seemed so small to us then
now seems impossibilly loud–
ridiculously honest, and tragically sad

and no trace of anger or shame
or anything that bears resemblance to
the last picture of the boy
you carry in your minds

important people, marked by name-tags
and good posture–
nice suits
surround him

it's all very intimidating
all of you hoping
he makes no mention
of you, or you, or you

and the wait, for him to speak
is nerve-wracking and
feels remarkably long
with people tapping their feet
impatiently, and readjusting their ties

until finally he clears his voice once more
and addresses the crowd
the audience exchanges expressions
of amazement, wonder

his voice is strong and reaches you
though you're hiding in the very last row
and you can't bear to meet his eyes
or return his flashy smile

he makes a speech
and you settle into your seat
as you forget your own presence

all seems well
until
he stops mid-word
and meets your stare

and

all of a sudden it's 1979 again
and you're back in that playground
and you have a bat in your hand
and he has fear in his eyes
and he's crying
and begging you to let go
but something in you snaps
and you hit him
right across the nose
before you could stop– and then you sprint

it sinks in when you're halfway home
and you stop and hesitate
feel the guilt
but shrug it off
and walk the rest of the way back

the roles are reversed now
and he is clearly the bigger man
and you are small, and weak
and petty

a playground bully is your only claim to fame
while he is the president of this ******* country.

he starts again
and you feel worse than you would had he
given you the punishment you deserved

nope, this boy ain't angry- or ashamed,
only hurt, and blatantly sad.
so, so sad.

As I'm looking at this new format,
in my utter bewilderment,
I think it must be a bad joke
I mean who really designed
this thing or is it completely broke?

Did you not stop to consult
any people who might be
using it -
like laypersons
( ehem... poets )
for example?

Myself the ex-tech analyst
I would have gladly helped,
as this is exactly what I tried
to prevent at my old job.

Anyway I am not sure
I'm going to be writing on this site
any longer
-unless they do something
about this harrible harrible format!!
and yeah I know I sound like Trump
but it just doesn't work correctly
with my computer
and I also lost a lot of poetry becuz of it.

The brunt of your will
the hammered vacant
out of the bag look
of your swill
the brunt of every joke
especially when I'm not
joking
like when I described
our most spiritual
(ehem) moment-
I spray painted the *******
you put on the forehead of your ex-
wife's Buddha (ancient symbol
from those parts but the irony
was lost)
to place upon the grave
of our favorite cat
I supplied the pillowcase
while my dear panzerblitz
of a man dug. and dug
and I suggested that he
mound the dirt to allow
for sinking
he looked up, morning sun
in his bloodshot eyes,
"Do you think I've never
dug a grave before?"

So, now, whenever I look out
the back door the Buddha shines
not so much me anymore
I laugh out loud, inside joke
to be sure, and not my grave
anymore

I liked her. I guess. beep there's two problems.
First, beep speaks little English. beep would like
To think I beep quite big English. ehem
"Would you like two for one?" "No thanks. One's fine."
I mean we've spoken beep Spanish at least.
I beep that I speak un poquito beep Español.
The beep I seek's unknown to beep.
"Thank you! Have a nice day." Maybe I'm cold,
Desperate for a body to warm me.
There is a stiff breeze in this dark carpark.
Secondly, she's religious. I believe
She'll wait for marriage. So a dates the start
Of some far greater commitment. I mean
My Spanish is Okay, but not ready for eternity.