with a bit of "the significance of essence" (ang kabuluhan ng kakanyahan)

ako'y pinoy sa isip, sa puso't damdamin
at may paniwala sa sariling atin
gawaing pinoy maipagmamalaki
isigaw sa mundo at ipagsabi
na...
Dito sa Silangan ako ay isinilang
Kung saan nagmumula ang sikat ng araw
Ako ay may sariling kulay na kayumanggi
Ngunit hindi ko maipakita tunay na sarili
Kung ating hahanapin ay matatagpuan
Tayo'y may kakanyahan dapat na hangaan
Subalit nasaan ang sikat ng araw
Ba’t tayo ang humahanga doon sa Kanluran (Francis "kiko" Magalona)

(Gloc 9)
Bato bato sa langit
Ang tamaan’y wag magalit
Bawal ang nakasimangot
Baka lalo ka pumangit
Pero okay lang
Hindi naman kami mga suplado
Sumabay ka sa amin na parang naka eroplano
Sa tunog ng gitara
Kasama ng pinakamalupit na banda
Pati si "kiko"
Magaling-hindi parin kayang tapatan
Parang awit na lagi **** binabalik balikan
Stop-rewind i-play mo
Nakapakasaya na para bang birthday ko
Alam mo na siguro ang ibig kong sabihin
Hindi na kelangan pang paikutikutin
Baka lalong matagalan lang
Lumapit at makinig na para iyong maintindihan
Mga salitang sinulat na hindi ko papel
Pero pwede ilatag
Na parang banig na higaan
Kapag hinawakan ang mikropono parang nabubuwang
Eh kasi naman siguro
Ganyan lang kapag gumagawa kami ng bago
Medyo nabibilisan
Hindi mo naisip na pwedeng mangyari
Magkasamasama lahat ay kasali!

(solEmn oaSis)
minsan ko nang ipininta
aparisyon ng aking obra
doon,,, manipulasyon lamang ang kontra
pagkat ilusyon lang ang gamit kong tinta
o pareng makata
imulat ang mata
sa larawang likha ng madamdaming kataga
kung itutuon sa puso't isipan, titimo talaga
sa isang alagad ng sining
walang boses na matining
ang tulad nating mandirigma ay isinilang
upang ang kapayapaan ay isaalang-alang
bato-bato sa lawak ng langit
hinde tamaan wag magagalit
sa aking apat na sulok ng panitik
mensahe ko sa quadro ay hitik
ang lihim sa likod ng lalim
may gintong butil na di patitigil
lantaran man ang talinghaga
patagong kaway agwat ng kataga
sapagkat sa bawat pag-ani
ng parirala sa aking balarila
muli ngang sisibol itong binhi
at para sa kanya...ako ay nag-punla

(curse one)
bilang isang nilalang na sumumpang
mag hahatid ng mga musikang
kaylan man ay hindi maka-kalimutan
at inaalay kahit kanino man
patuloy lang susulat ng tulang
sumusugat-gumugulat ang kantang
nakaka-mulat ng mata. Anu mang
pag subok kayang kaya pag nag sama sama na
ang mga sundalo ng kalsada

i am leather bound
to last night's conversation.

while thumb thick
in good intentions,
i am beginning to think                      
you never knew me
as much as you
think you did.

dear, tell me
what has hooked
your jaws into spouting out
these pig tailed assumptions
of me?

you see, i've never been
quite as crisp tide white
as they made me out to be.
always a little fade to my denim.
didn't you know
some stains
can't be washed off?

some fingerprints
can't be dusted
or steamed out in the dew
of a 4 am shower.
and sunday knows
i've tried.

and still try to make it
plainly clear that i left
my mother's baby
somewhere between the arms
of brooklyn.

left her, all koolaid stained
tongues tied to the push pop
fantasies i'd held until
i was about kush high
to a grasshopper.

abandoned her
pb and j sandwiched in an alley
with a trash bag
criss cross applesauce
knotted around her lovely
to keep her just
as warm and naive
as she never had been.

had you ever noticed
the gauche in her grin
wasn't nearly as golden
as it should've been?
and her paperback bone
seemed to fold
a tad too easily.

of coarse
spines aren't meant to
break like that
but they do.

divorce and dysfunction
has taught us that
it all falls down
someday so don't
weep for the jericho
in my bones
but at least acknowledge
that its there;
that there are bruises
too light to be convincing
but they still ache
when you stroke them right.

that some nights the pains
of resurrection memories
out shine those
of the crucifixion.

certain skins must be shed
when your convictions
leave you broken
and the stars you sin beneath
begin to gossip
about your shadow.

and your shadow
finds its way
onto the floor of living room
while it watches you
let yourself be made
into one of the victims
you write poetry for.

when you're trying to bottle
God and grandeur
into the barrel
of the gloc your mother
grabbed in anticipation
of spilling herself
in the wind
when the wednesday's
got too lonely.

listen
stop trying to card me
before accepting
my truths.
i've traveled too
far for ****** to not
assume i've been
in the dark before.

drop my shell
and see the inside
mash called me
has been spilled
and shattered
and reassembled
and shattered
and scattered
and reassembled
and splattered
and bent
more ways
than i can yoga
position myself in.

when you asked me
how could a 17 year old
know the pain of this world
i wanted to tell you
to roll up you sleeves
and unzip your pride.

yes i am 17
but i know everything happens
for a reason and i know
being broken makes
you grateful of the
pieces that weren't obliterated.

i know you can't be
flexible without stretching
and i know how it
feels to be stretched
between 4 states
two parents
and 1 divorce signee.

i know what a blanket does
for someone afraid
of the shadows
and i know you can't
have shadows without light.

i know that florida fern leaves
are consistently stormed on
and never curse clouds for it.

i know i am beautiful
and i know how many
days it took me to find out.

i know i am made of those days
and those days
were born of a maker.

i know my mine
met and got married
and made me and my sisters
and mistakes and i know
they paid for them
in cash and criticism.

i know my father is a good man
and i know good men
lie awake at 4 in the morning
making plans to fix things.

i know my mother loves to laugh
and i know laughter
is the easiest way for her
to cough up her worries.

i know she almost drowned
on dry land before
and i know she was one of
the best swimmers in my family.

i know i am still learning
but i've learned
we know a lot less                            
than we realize
and feel a lot more
than we recognize.

there will come a day
when father time will grow
jealous of us and
the fireflies will
turn off their glow

when the diamonds
wont seem so precious
and all the joys
of this world will
seem foolish and low
and i will have to
let you go
dear mama

sometimes i make you laugh
just to hear the joys
youve stopped showing
on your face

to breath your
attempts to cough up
your worries and drown
in my love

to watch you unfold
at the ends and
sease to be held in
at your seams

there will come a day
when everything
i have ever said to you
will flutter off like a thousand
butterflies in a storm
and my actions
will weigh heavier
than the 98 pounds
they've made of me
dear mama

i know i wont be able
to hold your stare
for as long youve held
my hand but im hoping
the seconds i've been given
havent already carved
a gourge in your daylight
since you recieved
me in place of a son

instead of building
a doll house of regrets
i vow to keep the
reality of your name true

wont glorify the time
you tried to spill
yourself in the wind
with the barrel of a
police issued gloc
because the shock
of your babies moving away
too much of a trigger

bet i let the ringing
of unfired suicide rounds
bounce off every new york city
sidewalk slab i've chased
in an attempt to
run from myself

when i left you
know that i held
the crotchet needles
you made my baby blanket
with in my chest
had the day
of your second stroke
in my heart

and the only way
i could release them was to
shed my skin under the chin
of a brooklyn boarding house
so dont frown at the anatomy
of a new york city skyline
just know it offered
the shoulders i needed
at that moment

when father time
grew jealous of us
and the fireflies turned
off their glow
i grew a light of my own
dear mama

something happened
between me watching you
relearn how to walk
around the same time
i learned to
double knot my tennis shoes

when everyone assumed
my ignorance was bliss
and let the brilliance
in your bones become
as black as night
without ever noticing
i was afraid of the dark

what have these years
done to us?
to make me bloom
in the bright of day
while baking the stalk
that is you
i cant stand to watch
you wither
wont you shine too
dear mama

“I’ve become lost in the cross hairs of love and lust.”
His line of thought became stagnant with no one to watch,
spellbound by her snare looking for someone to care,
her words would trimmer proving to much to bare—
“it’s just not the same, in the way that i love you,
something doesn’t remain.”
A sword breeched his heart that day,
vessel went off course filling with black waters of spite,
lines became blurred, compass askew,
naive conceptions of a roadmap wouldn’t do.
“Rain washed away our chalk, it’s not all lost”
this thought’s become seared,
simmering in his mind until the time would come.
I can’t talk of the grilling in our prince’s kingdom,
except that the tyrannical king, made hell his home.
Acidity was palpable, yet still he continued,
never ceasing words kept him through—
“but I do love you” until the fat lady’s tune,
sulking in the nostalgia of her swoons.
He continued to praise her more than the moon
thanks the sun, for illuminating it’s room,
in the sky, and the stars scream out cries,
for the mangled prince lays waiting only for her shine;
however the lyrics must stop, at some point,
the fat ladies pitch will drop,
until the nightingales love song stops.
Scared to be hurt once again,
a vow has been made that no more friends will be lost,
or bring pain, but this came at a cost.
Drowned by sorrow he knew only one way to manage,
cut everyone out because they can do damage.
Reclusive, seclusive, he shut out all,
friends’ unaware, the ball couldn’t have dropped further;
ashamed, self-disdained the thought feels like ******.
What of the piper that doesn’t pipe?—As grim as tales come,
stuck between a gloc and a hard bane.
“Baring may be impossible” he said to cold steel,
heavier than expected, ice-like to his lips,
sitting against the wall, with a cumbersome grip.
Last text sent “Take care of everyone for me, you’re now the guardian.”
Panic set in friends, but it was all to late to heed.
Until the end comes, he looks into the cosmos of his mind,
and lastly to her shrine; final thoughts unknown,
except to the wall and rug bellow
but here I’ve presumed— “I will love you forever”
trigger pulled, death concludes.
RIP- Clay

prove to me....

prove it to me!
because..
words are just words, show it to me!
don't let me stay sick,
be the cure!
Be there for me,
stay by my side.
Love could be there,
just don't cover it with lies!
Love me,
don't let this chance slip.
Having me is better than having a wrist slit.
Scared to commit??
Why would you?
You stayed a loyal friend
all these years,
now why wouldnt you?
Step up and  be the person the to shut it down.
Uplift me,
save me me from this deep blues,
and deep scars before I drown.
protect me!
Be the love and armor that's shines beyond distance of sound.
Be the air that I breath,be the path i walk.
Each step with on you can be real and not just talk.
Is what I feel,
put my heart on lock. prove it to me....
times in life are late rough.
Not you,the clock...

tic without the tock,
zip without the lock
hip without hop
click without the clip and gloc..
is you without me,and I know if you need me,its will never stop..
real talk,or walk lies,
step up,is forever hear my misery in the friendzone,not ties.

By: Emmanuel jv Hernandez
7/7/12