"eyebag" poems
"Gusto ko nang lumaya, pero alam kong kailangan mo ako." -Dagang Electrically Dextrosed
"Pahingi ng kumot, nilalamig na ako." - Kapeng Medyo Mainit (May pinagdaraanan: Evaporation)
"Patayin mo na ako habang wala pang nakakakita, tutal, yun at yun lang din naman ang gagawin mo eh!" - Puyat na Fluorescent Lamp
"Relax lang, sandal ka lang." - Pasensyosong Silya
"Alam ko pagod ka na, tara na." - Kamang Wala sa Lugar
"Hinding-hindi kita iiwan." - Mapagmahal na Eyebag
"Kailangan naming mag-grow! Walang makakapigil s amin!" - Unstoppable Pimples
"Tama na yan!" - Zombie ko
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 4:24 PM UTC
Jay-Z sounds like he's underwater. And the showerhoses tilt shut and the bathroom door opens to reveal - well, what I thought was a sealing wound thankfully turned out to be headphone covers and my brother's obscured big toe. Trembling.
He walks as if he was the rapper himself - chest hunched, back lurching forward like that of a street cat who doesn't know he's made it. Shaky feet, wet hair, darkened eyes that hadn't been shut for days.
''For my father was black, and beautiful, and beautiful, therefore, black. There was a blackness to him that was beautiful. A blackness entirely clear and his own.'' -James Baldwin, Notes on a Native Son (paraphrased).
His legs if you roll up the pajama bottoms are filled with quilt patched mosquito bites and blacks and blues. Self-inflicted. Eyebag patches punched back into his face resurfacing in the hidden contours of his thigh. Trembling. Allow me to reintroduce myself. Trembling.
He is and he isn't. No native son of ours black but yellow covered, yellow but eyes tinged with red, and awash in shadows black and blue - he is beautiful - puffy eyed, brickfaced boombox carrying screamer of profanity and tongue tied silence all and still - he is black, and he is beautiful.
An underwater mixtape taking shape to be a broken record anthem.
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 12:36 PM UTC
and she said "I'm fine"
but her eyes tells a different story
and she said she's well
but you can see the eyebag under her eyes
and she said she's strong
but you know she cried all night
and she said she's clean
but you see the way she hides her wrists
and she said "I'm fine"
and you said "Honey, i saw the way your hands shake"
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 5:17 AM UTC
some dreams are made for diplomat's sons
some hands are not attached to potters
i have two of those hands
i have no potter's hands
i only have two hands
to hold all the wrong things
from hurt to hurtful
to wrinkle their fingers
like caved in ribs of an umbrella
that will not withstand
or press in the growing eyebag
i have no potter's hands
and it mostly makes me feel bad
Jan 12, 2018
Jan 12, 2018 at 3:47 AM UTC