love   apple   like   time   know   feel   heart   bed   little   life   home   red   boy   georgie   sleep   away   left   dear   ruth   gone   just   right   long   mind   hope   hair   mi   parts   say   fear   met   laugh   makes   sailing   make   tell   hands   day   poem   different   small   words   private   wish   legs   child   man   free   te   welcome   easy   apples   meteorite   smile   flower   want   way   arms   look   eyes   better   war   lie   good   thing   truly   teeth   passion   thought   work   seen   letters   friend   talk   brought   future   fingers   knew   imagination   sure   told   space   cold  la   mask   black   big   bite   age   size   shadow   petals   inane   stretchmarks   medic   we've   wouldn't   hear   tap   really   best   goes   face   gray   maybe   things   dream   tongue   forever   hate   set   room   death   need   truth   comes   night   lost   calves   pain   end   years   brings   touch   feet   blades   memories   new   core   times   dead   favorite   finally   minute   brain   hearts   getting   belly   far   rain   blue   knees   filled   stupid   woke   cream   fit   young   brown   se   fat   tan   cough   spoke   says   unlike   footprints   ******   rough   forward   buckle   blues   task   shoulder   grace   *******   reason   nostrils   firm   juice   palms   someday   mis   thumbs   screams   arguments   wobble   *****   elbows   *******   wrists   headaches   amo   pesky   ligaments   one-liners   thoughts   later   ash   clouds   lips   dreams   breath   mouth   hold   sense   taking   world   bit   speak   dance   gave   shall   ready   skin   air   single   breathe   button   peace   choices   hill   wrong   weak   close   use   quite   sky   phrase   darkness   justice   sound   unable   brave   holding   deep   grabbed   ****   try   building   paper   lunch   think   kind   stay   days   smooth   perfect   learned   care   fair   hard   grant   sweet   high   fruit   short   terms   kept   relationship   underneath   presence   water   looking   fool   sorrow   tree   second   delicate   nearly   happy   line   tall   tried   sad   satisfied   point   feels   falling   purpose   game   lazy   que   amor   agree   known   naught   loss   broke   failed   games   limp   grin   final   spring   act   south   flare   race   sake   car   large   wishes   neck   blink   knife   seeing   idea   steve   company   greens   spread   ship   lo   sally   sum   drowned   december   weep   sting   smiles   lessons   promises   successful   whistled   drowns   perfectly   pleasing   failure   brothers   cliche   harder   thirteen   ale   signs   limit   serenity   mundane   origin   chat   sapphires   handshakes   skinny   contagious   succeeding   super   refer   maturity   destination   civil   uncomfortable   collects   clack   liz   beatles   vez   attract   accomplishment   backside   throes   flaccid   audi   oneself   beastie   applesauce   naivete   bungalow   outie   there's   couldn't   isn't   they're   let's   'n   primos   primas   cantuta   fronton   redd's   mott's   innie   phallicly   tiny   fight   yo   para   walk   ****   hello   light   flash   silent   stone   does   forth   conversation   polite   green   minutes   ****   clear   flesh   couple   wake   anger   throw   torn   tangle   play   shattered   soldier   land   victim   carry   battlefield   came   darkest   blood   battle   warm   shine   reminds   lose   eye   dismay   hide   impossible   fast   earth   grab   stand   die   worse   year   people   white   story   hit   god   anxiety   realize   fall   asleep   dark   course   apart   morning   remain   beauty   ****   slowly   start   happen   remember   pray   past   easily   straight   mean   hand   driving   instant   thunder   messages   friends   old   coming   pen   seeds   shape   wasted   word   living   tore   shadows   knowing   bad   class   joy   trust   leaves   path   sun   ways   leave   meet   broken   head   weight   means   mountain   boys   true   stars   learn   sliced   naive   decided   player   actually   reality   ease   music   hood   desperate   promise   wishing   begin   miss   caressing   moan   thighs   heard   pretty   emotion   figure   floor   exotic   sand   hits   angel   awake   dreaming   probably   wins   seek   stretch   loved   tears   heartbreak   punk   walking   piece   furniture   unreachable   roots   near   deserve   simple   cats   tail   precious   lovers   loves   mother   tongues   clueless   share   taken   yesterday   faith   freedom   ripe   cursed   running   yes   unknown   feeling   going   stairs   opposite   wonder   afloat   packed   bones   acting   playing   wind   passions   dismissed   hourglass   reached   stares   mouths   singing   shaped   trapped   toll   dies   rock   trunk   discovered   especially   dull   choice   awful   patient   great   indoors   attached   thread   shoulders   warms   bright   bring   ending   drowning   sadness   winter   baby   looked   cute   beating   tight   kids   crying   ran   intoxicating   growing   saying   opposites   melancholy   gives   follow   clearly   dove   tu   soon   entwined   juicy   drown   laid   took   moved   bear   anyways   shirt   negative   clean   guide   sore   location   faux   nodded   glance   caught   chances   week   started   today   obvious   sweat   ***   quiet   laughed   worry   round   ladies   mama   smack   goodbye   rising   sides   wished   beds   infinite   positive   scared   admittedly   mistakes   meal   common   rises   toes   bullets   bound   suited   birth   clothes   belt   pounds   ground   barren   sitting   table   woe   swimming   stick   deepest   motion   cleared   sing   angry   action   sons   smiled   bedroom   wall   wiped   grins   mad   july   store   road   snow   pulse   important   adventure   exactly   foundation   trap   colors   floors   neon   outside   language   summer   north   fifty   served   wavy   kick   raw   thirty   row   changed   hanging   lied   drenched   companion   begins   strength   flies   direction   okay   stories   inky   stubborn   cloud   track   described   lover   replaced   pit   packs   circling   honest   wage   dinner   slave   paradox   faking   screamed   lightning   exterior   stopping   complete   deal   rifle   dependent   gifts   dancer   vision   students   horror   punch   anymore   pack   sagging   folk   honestly   tearing   prepared   creatures   listening   rhythm   unique   roar   card   glass   stage   desert   offered   fought   suffer   awoke   master   eating   furnace   glad   choir   graceful   *****   treasure   ships   bark   musical   strand   bee   finished   pink   slink   stronger   disclose   gravity   schedule   march   medicine   hates   weird   brush   laughs   helped   june   pitched   dumped   tense   sin   withdrawn   stem   proved   whispered   anew   amazing   louder   english   knocked   chilly   boots   false   mistake   toffee   whistle   smirk   gas   poised   buttons   bet   necks   elate  vi   bleak   decades   intention   plane   swollen   unseemly   en   sir   creeping   tells   success   doth   ***   balance   ant   fourth   fits   matters   pan   shook   tingle   dusty   reaching   thanked   careers   pile   tempt   ix   xi   xii   xiii   moms   hushed   spears   twinkling   works   fairytale   double   fighter   shocked   barriers   boot   thanks   solitary   lesson   owned   systems   groan   weekend   tomatoes   cider   calculating   drawer   partially   handy   stumpy   album   appealing   pet   unfortunately   jokingly   hotel   teacher   tag   eighteen   leg   dash   peep   betwixt   swear   attempt   inescapable   venues   worker   suit   coughed   remembers   rhyme   listed   chatter   stuff   assist   blocks   sheen   stanzas   jobs   cleaned   handshake   natural   moi   fantasy   cheers   smaller   curl   nay   leaning   frequent   eggs   cuando   el   desayuno   tus   beige   imperfections   difficult   darlings   overcome   oranges   keys   newfound   fairly   occasions   stats   ponder   pools   ablaze   rushes   fret   quell   breads   progress   comfortable   settling   desks   tile   trails   rainy   homemade   stunned   cemetery   plus   ideas   avocados   bananas   apply   latch   rocky   digress   experiences   vacation   sanctuary   earlier   rocket   precise   various   author   pie   explosions   *******   lighter   matched   plunged   isaac   jefferson   abe   measured   saturday   claw   welcoming   gear   trained   suffocation   leapt   gap   lee   disturbed   es   thrill   alarming   grill   frankly   importantly   una   fray   candied   amalgamation   nasty   american   optimism   guns   craters   contracted   rampant   unattainable   spilled   courts   carrots   shuffled   combined   blonde   forgave   artillery   sandwich   comfier   limitation   personalities   friday   strongly   crude   banana   tennis   limits   quaking   recesses   loot   andromeda   shells   playful   luckily   area   upwards   flail   largest   sappy   freckles   biology   fruition   cases   overtook   pinks   instruments   brownies   birthmark   reinforce   laptop   pirates   blinks   frontier   forwards   resonate   capacity   mumbled   marched   scraping   prompts   multiply   haiku   football   como   function   unfeeling   eighty   backsides   prompt   raced   blare   likewise   pro   chrome   gran   pears   puede   corazon   elated   indecisive   basketball   burgundy   synonyms   braced   effeminate   mutually   duties   companies   honeymoon   flailing   patted   mayo   headon   pero   misma   marveled   aforementioned   abhors   forefront   hesitating   identical   creepy   possessive   screeched   gotcha   infidelity   friction   barrage   nonetheless   disparate   itchy   apex   gettysburg   lunchtime   pickup   muchas   then   and   trading   distinguishable   pitches   bunk   ven   ladylike   encompasses   diagrams   underlying   spaghetti   soccer   trashcan   papa   disarming   finalmente   clashed   rosie   smirks   snapshot   pug   songbird   spitfire   yanks   thankfully   mesa   flexing   virginia   effectively   variations   eclipses   tambien   outrun   incident   vitamin   willpower   underdog   hardboiled   miniscule   checkerboard   entrust   siento   heavyweight   davis   thyroid   foreshadowing   frances   heresy   starburst   deficiency   sawing   peruvian   leche   antithesis   villanelle   alliteration   hora   vivir   clacking   droopy   whizzed   britney   futbol   parameters   disney   mangos   disproportionate   orbiting   tanka   stubby   intro   listo   goldilocks   teamwork   pbj   exemplifies   rey   retainer   tenia   triples   espanol   estuvo   castillo   ferrying   suficiente   racecar   dorky   garganta   veo   julio   peripherals   labios   rojos   foreseeable   frito   groggily   venn   macbook   inanely   hubo   goofball   you've   she's   weren't   wasn't   we're   others'   you'll   should've   haven't   what's   you'd   they'd   man's   boys'   god's   woman's   fruit's   orion's   newton's   lincoln's   adam's   momma's   ******   jackson's   audis   dulces   disproportionately   charon's   deseos   avocadoes   hailey   eran   beatles'   ingles   he   she   it   rackets   --   hashtag   sixty-three   duct-tape   joysticks   sherman's   15   6th   32   500   7th   2013   extraño   barenaked   tamales   6-year-old   tierras   derpy   ewell   rom-com   themit's   adan   mudpits   puddlepits   war--hell   culp's   shitpits   completaron   chocolatada   levantanse   duraznos   n'sync   huevo   cholitos   levantaron   manzanas   endurece   wozniak's   dispara   nuez   open-endedness   innies   cankles   dunder-mifflin   tunks   buck-toothed   outies   grief-blown   a-gawking

Tinuruan po ninyo kami
kung paano magsalita at sumulat nang taas-noó
sa isang wikang inampon,
na hindi naman namin Ina.
Ang balumbon ng panuntunan
at talaan ng mga tanggap na kataliwasan
kabisadung-kabisado po ninyo
at ipinagpakasanay po ninyo sa amin,
buung-tiyagang inalagaan
ang mahiyaing mga buko
masikap na hinamon kami
araw-araw, at ang iyong tinig
hanggang ngayon sa diwa’y naririnig –
“Correct practice makes perfect!”
Higit pa sa mga tugmaan ng simuno at panaguri
Ang inyo pong mga aralin sa balarila, na tila gintong may-uri
Ay tinuruan ang mga batang puso, bata sa puso,
Ang mga malambot pang isip:
the malleable minds:
Bawat lalaki o bawat babae ay – “Every man or every woman is”
Pero
Lahat ng lalaki at lahat ng babae ay – “Men or women are”
Anuman – “regardless or irrespective”
Ng pinagmulan – “of beginnings”
Ay kailangang malaman:
1. May mga panuntunang dapat sundin.
          - at isinabuhay namin ang bawat sinabi mo,
          At hindi lang sa aming mga saknong at pangungusap
2. May mga taliwas o eksepsyon na dapat isa-alang-alang.
          - di-tuwirang tinuruan po ninyo kami,
          Kilalanin ang mga pagkakaiba-iba
          At ang mga hirap sa pag-aaral at pagsasalita ng Ingles
          Ay katulad lamang ng mga kahinaan ng mga tao
          At mga katangi-tanging pag-uugali ng aming mga kaibigan
3. Mabuting magpakadalubhasa sa balarila
          - Pero katapatan sa sarili at sa kapwa ang pinakadakila!

Kung kaya, ang mga aralin **** pinakamahalaga
higit pa sa maayos at pusturang pananamit at sapin sa paa
at mga ebanghelyo ng tamang paggamit ng mga salita, syntax,
at ibang hiyas lingguwistika
ay naghatid ng mabuting pagkamamamayan
at butil ng paano maging mabuting kaibigan
Ang mahusay ng pag-i-Ingles na aming natutunan
ay mga aral ng araw-araw na pamumuhay
Mga kayamanang walang katapat na perang kabayaran.

Her hair was long, brown, and wavy, like homemade brownies.
Her eyes were different shaped blues, lighter than sapphires.
Whenever she blinks, I look forward to seeing those sapphires again.
Her teeth are perfect imperfections, retainer and all.
Her bite is one of love but packs a punch.
Her nostrils flare when angry but remain miniscule.
Her mouth a light pink, like Starburst, my favorite by far.
Her smile brings me back from the darkness every. Single. Time.
Her tongue is exotic and playful, and I long for it.
I have never heard her whistle, but I know it like the back of my hand.
Her laugh is intoxicating and contagious; I find myself acting the fool just to hear it.
Then she coughed and I patted her baby back.
Whenever those pesky headaches come, we lie still, thus foreshadowing what will come.
Our arguments are stupid, but they happen nonetheless.
Her neck is thin and ripe for the taking.
Her *******, much like Goldilocks: not too big, not too small, but just right.
Her spaghetti arms flail about when I act the fool, and then that precious laugh again.
Her elbows are full of cream, and you will never find them itchy like mine.
Her wrists are disproportionately large for her size, which makes her all the more unique.
Her handshakes are delicate. Ladylike.
Her long and skinny fingers were weird to me once, but they have contracted and fit perfectly between mine.
Her palms tell the future, and she has great things in store for her.
Her thumbs have no story to tell, positive or negative.
Her shadow is smaller than hers, but no shadow can overcome her.
Her cats keep her company, but luckily we found each other.
Her heart is as big as her brain, and thankfully they mutually agree on most occasions.
Her ******* are stumpy and droopy; this is no Snow White fairytale.
Her shoulder blades are tense but minute.
Her belly button (an innie, not an outie, not an Audi) never collects ****.
Her private parts pulse like her heart above with passion.
Her backside is small and smooth. She has no hourglass figure, yet she does, too.
She has no stretchmarks in my mind, but I have enough for the both of us, anyways.
Her whole system is that of a heavyweight fighter; she’s a little spitfire.
Her legs are perfect and skinny; she has “the gap”, not that it matters.
Her knees buckle and wobble in my presence. I should know: mine do when she is near, too.
Her ligaments reinforce her, much like her willpower.
She has the calves of a dancer, but she has not trained in years.
The ***** of her feet are poised, ready to spring into action to tap tap tap away.
Her toes curl against mine, in an attempt to hold hands.
I have never seen her footprints, and I have no intention of ever seeing them. Ever.
Her promises elate me since I know she is good for her word.
Her one-liners are worse than mine, and I laugh all the harder for it.
Her grin, or rather her smirk, warms my heart like a furnace in the winter.
The last time we spoke, it was mumbled in bed, a hushed goodbye for that awful biology class.

She is my rock, ever leaning forwards
with nothing but my Dunder-Mifflin shirt to keep her warm for the foreseeable future.

I told her, Te amo,
well before she was ready to say that inane phrase back in English.
Inane since words do not do it justice.

But then she broke my heart.

My hair was tearing at the roots, unable to stay attached.
My eyes were set ablaze with passion anger, if it weren’t for my sorrow to drown it out.
Whenever I blink, I see a snapshot of what it was, what it cannot be, what it will never be again.
My teeth were her favorite: buck-toothed and all, but that was when I smiled. They hide from you.
My bite isn’t nearly as big as my bark, but do not tempt me.
My nostrils have hair creeping out; it’s hard to keep clean after something like that.
My mouth is louder than all my thoughts combined, but I still can’t find the right words to say.
And my smile would be what brought her back from the darkness every. Single. Time.
My tongue, like my private parts, is limp and dead; phallicly flaccid, there is no passion here.
I have never whistled, but why should I learn now? I keep quiet to quell the roar.
My laugh is contagious, or so they tell me. It’s high pitched. Effeminate.
I cough. I get stares. My cough makes you uncomfortable. Your infidelity makes me uncomfortable.
Whenever those pesky headaches come, I lie still, and for a minute, just a minute, I die. I’m at peace.
Our arguments were stupid, but now there’s nothing left to talk about.
My neck is fat and swollen. **** my thyroid. This vitamin D deficiency is taking its toll.
My ******* are fat, but a momma’s boy would be: too much in the trunk, not enough under the hood.
My arms are as big as her thighs. We measured. Maybe it gave her peace knowing she was small.
She tells me I have a black woman’s ***, and elbows, to boot. Not enough cream. Not enough carrots.
My wrists are the cankles of my life.
My handshake is firm, but is it firm enough?
My short and stubby fingers claw upwards, desperate for air. Her hands are nowhere to be seen.
My palms have no future, and I worry I’ll follow suit.
My thumbs tell all the best stories when joysticks are underneath them.
My shadow eclipses me. It’s not how you feel, it’s how you function.
I’ve never owned a pet. Maybe that’s why I don’t feel possessive.
My heart was full of love, but the love spilled out when you broke it on Friday, December 6th – Saturday, December 7th, 2013, 5:00 AM.
My ******* are tiny and ***** from the cold. I feel the cold indoors, too.
My shoulder blades are dull and sagging with the weight of my world on my shoulders.
My belly button (an innie, not an outie, not an Audi) collects all of the ****.
My private parts, like my tongue, are limp and dead; phallicly flaccid, there is no passion here.
My backside is large and rough. Are you getting the point?
I have all of the stretchmarks, for I am her antithesis.
My whole system is that of down and out former has been; I’m all out of gas.
My legs are thick and fat; I suffer friction with my tree tunks.
My knees buckle and wobble in her presence; I’m weak around her because I’m weak.
My ligaments are partially torn, which perfectly exemplifies me: hanging by a thread.
I have the calves of a soccer player out of shape. Hashtag truth.
The ***** of my feet sting -- unable to carry two hundred plus pounds of failure.
I have finally seen footprints; I’m just glad they were mine.
Her promises mean nothing. My trust is shattered. My faith withdrawn from this or any other world.
My one-liners make everyone laugh but me; I know I mask the pain. Do they?
My grin was effectively wiped off my face when you told me.
The last time we spoke, it was on good terms. But how good are those terms with this double size?

I was comfortable, lazy, ever dependent on her
with everything in my life, especially that which she didn’t need to deal with.

I told her, You deserve to be dumped.
She nodded slowly, crying, and whispered back, I know. My hate described by inane words.
Inane since words do not do it justice.

Then, it hit me.

Our hair is fairly short together, not unlike our time apart since the incident.
Our eyes well up, and the only drowning I hope we get is of love.
Whenever we blink, I want to make sure that I am in front of you, and you in front of me.
Our teeth, much like our personalities, are disparate, and that’s okay.
Our bite is one of teamwork: you can’t bite with one row of teeth.
Our nostrils could use some work. Hair and flare rhyme, but neither fits in our time.
Our mouths chat chat chatter away. We have nothing to talk about. We have so much to talk about.
Our smiles are the reason why people find us cute, and they’re the reason why they were shocked. Let’s give them another reason.
Our tongues dance across language barriers. Mi español no puede vivir sin tu ingles.
We have never whistled. Finally! Some common ground (opposites attract).
We’ve been told that our laughs are nearly identical, like a choir singing in different pitches. Sing.
We cough together, because we know we can take care of each other.
Whenever those pesky headaches come, we take a deep breath, hold on tight, and move forward.
Our arguments ARE stupid. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Our necks are like the Happy Meal and the Super Size Me. I love to see us smile.
Our ******* are life; I don’t know what mine do, but I know yours will come in handy someday.
Our arms have their “things”; you have that birthmark, and I have unseemly hair growing everywhere.
Our elbows could be a rom-com: one smooth, one rough, but they can’t get enough.
Our wrists make sure our hands can keep us afloat.
Our handshakes are delicate but firm.
Our fingers latch onto each other, like a bear trap.
Our palms SMACK together when you high five me. Goofball.
Our thumbs are bound to get sore if we keep caressing our hands while holding onto each other. Raw.
Our shadows slink away when they see us shine so bright.
I hope to God that Rosie the pug is as derpy as your heart can take.
Our hearts have duct-tape all over them…it’s a work in progress, but bones get stronger when broken.
Our ******* are disproportionate. There, I said it.
Our shoulder blades dance across each other when we lie back to back.
Our belly buttons (innies, not outies, not Audis) keep us close to our moms; you’ll agree someday.
Our private parts tingle as we move in motion and rhythm. It’s been too long, mi amor.
Our backsides are like Venn diagrams: yours could easily fit in mine.
I have all the stretchmarks, but I hope you get them after birth someday. We share everything else.
Our systems are the underdog rising up, straight to the top; it took its time, and its chances.
Your legs could fit in one of my own. Please refer to the stretchmarks line.
Our knees buckle and wobble. Please refer to the private parts line.
Our ligaments have taken a beating, but somehow, there’s a strand holding us together.
We have calves of different passions, but we both know what the sweet sting of success feels like.
The ***** of our feet touch down as we’re back to reality. The honeymoon stage is over. Cloud 9.
Unfortunately, we’ve seen footprints, but I think they’re circling back around to meet up again.
This promise should be the last until the most important one comes up. This is it.
Our one-liners keep us close to our dorky sides. Honestly, something is probably wrong with us.
Our grins (or smirks) show that we can’t really stay mad at each other for TOO long.
The last time we spoke, it was yesterday night (or was it earlier today?), but I’m sure you woke up.

We ******* up. Admittedly you more than me,
but I digress: one mistake is not enough to throw away two years of work.

I forgave you.
You were elated. Let’s try this once more, with feeling!
I’ll inanely tell her again, *Te amo.

Kapagka ang baya’y sadyang umiibig
Sa langit salitang kaloob ng langit
Sanlang kalayaan nasa ring masapi

Katulad ng ibong nasa himpapawid
Pagka’t ang salita’y isang kahatulan
Sa bayan, sa nayo't mga kaharian


At ang isang tao’y katulad, kabagay
Ng alin mang likha noong kalayaan.
Ang hindi magmahal sa kanyang salita
Mahigit sa hayop at malansang isda

Kaya ang marapat pagyamanin kusa
Na tulad sa inang tunay na nagpala
Ang wikang Tagalog tulad din sa Latin,


Sa Ingles, Kastila, at salitang anghel,
Sapagkat ang Poong maalam tumingin
Ang siyang naggagawad, nagbibigay sa atin.
Ang salita nati’y tulad din sa iba


Na may alfabeto at sariling letra,
Na kaya nawala’y dinatnan ng sigwa
Ang lunday sa lawa noong dakong una.

Susugod na sa bilang ng tatlo
Isa… Dalawa… Tatlo…
Sugod

Ang giyera ay nagsimula
Ilabas na ang mga baril at sandata
Ilabas na ang mga kanyon at bomba
Ang mga tauhan at ang mga preda

Magsisimula na ang giyera

GIYERA
Na tungkol sa pagbabalik wikang filipino
Na minsan nang ipinagmalaki ng ating bansa
At ngayon ay ikinahihiya at itinatago na lamang
Na minsan nang ipinagmaybang at itinangkilik
At ngayon ay naiwan lang at tinangay na
Ninakaw ng mga dayuhan

Nang ito ay mawala ay bigla mo na lamang pinalitan
Humanap ng iba sa paligid
At sa katiyakan ay nakahanap ka nga

Nahanap mo ang ingles
Kaya’t ikaw ay humanap ng sabon na magpapaputi
Kinuskos ng kinuskos ng matagal ngunit di gumana
Kumuha ng puting pampintura
Kinulayan ang sarili
Hindi lang ang kulay ng buhok ang nagiging artipisyal
Pati na rin ang kulay ng sariling balat

Ngunit sa isang iglap ay ikaw ay nagsawa na
Sa mumunting kulay na lagi nang nakikita
Naisipan **** maglibot pa
At lumibot ka pa

Nahanap mo ang koreano na nagsasabi ng
“Hart Hart Saranghaeyo oppa”
Kaya’t ikaw ay kumuha ng papel
At nag-aral ng wikang banyaga
Ngayon ay napakanta ka na rin ng kantahin
Na kahit ikaw ay hindi makaintidi
Pero kinakanta mo dahil nakakatuwa
Hindi ba?

Hindi nagtagal ay nagsawa ka
Sa mga kantahang hindi mo rin maintindihan
Kaya’t naglakbay ka pa
Naglakbay ka hanggang sa wala
Naglakbay ka hanggang sa ang araw ay dumilim at unti-unting pinalitan ng tala

Napagod ka

Napagod ka sa kahahanap ng bagay na hindi naman mapapasaiyo
Nakahanap ka nga pero hindi naman ito sa dugo mo ay itinatanggap
Nabigyan ka ng sagot na ang hinahanap mo ay
Nasa’yo na mismo
Hindi mo na kailangan humanap ng iba pa
Dahil ang wikang hinahanap mo ay nakabihag lamang

Ibinihag ito ng mga espanyol sa dulo ng puso mo
Para mapigilan ang pagbabago
Pagbabago na makakasira ng kaisipang kolonyal na nagsasabing
Ako ang piliin mo dahil dayuhan ako
Itinatatak sa isip mo

Laging magiging sosyal ang banyaga
Laging magiging bulok ang sariling wika
Laging magiging sosyal ang banyaga
Laging magiging bulok ang sariling wika

Nagtataka na ako sa iyo
Ang sarili **** wika ay nakabaon lamang sa puso **** nakakandado
Nasayo naman ang susi pero pilit **** isinasarado

Ano

nga ba ang pumipigil sa’yo

Handa na ako
Sa aking pagsuko

Pagsuko
Hindi dahil natalo ako
Pero dahil idinedeklara ko na ang aking pagkapanalo
Isusuko ko na ang mga sandata
Isusuko ko na ang giyera

Inaanyayaan kita
Sabay sabay tayo
Magkahawak ang kamay at hindi kakailanganing bumitaw at maghiwalay
Sama-samang baguhin ang mundo gamit ang sariling wika

Buksan ang nakakandadong puso
At doon ay makikita mo ang sedula

Hawak ko na ang sedula

Hawak ko na ang sedula
Ng pagkabilanggo ng wikang filipino
Handa na akong palayain ito at gamitin para sa pagbabago
Ang dating linya ay magbabago

Laging magiging sosyal ang sariling wika
Laging magiging sosyal ang sariling wika
Laging magiging sosyal ang sariling wika
Laging magiging sosyal ang sariling wika

Susuko na sa bilang ng tatlo
Isa. Dalawa. Tatlo.
Suko

Tapos na ang giyera

Napapagod na akong tumingin sa Facebook ko.
Sa dingding ng mga masasayang larawan ng mga kaibigan, katrabaho
Sa dingding ng mga opinyon na nagdudulot ng masalimuot na pagtatalo
Sa dingding ng mga tagumpay na nakamit mo sa pagsusumikap mo
Sa dingding ng mga narating **** lugar na sobra na ang layo
Sa dingding ng mga video ng pagbigkas mo ng tula sa harap ng maraming tao
Sa dingding ng mga sandaling iginapos mo para ipamukha sa akin na ang buhay ko ay pagkabaho.

Salamat sa mga larawan ng masasayang sandali kasama ng iyong kabiyak
ng inyong matamis na pagmamahalan, na sa sobrang tuwa gusto mo nang umiyak
Nang matuloy kayo sa simbahan, oo na, marami na ang nagagalak
Eto na ang puso ko, wag ka nang mahiya, tuhugin mo na ng itak.

Salamat sa mga opinyon mo tungkol sa paborito **** kandidato
Wala ka na atang ibang ginawa kung hindi halughugin ang Internet para sa bawat artikulo
Para isulat sa dingding mo kadikit ng mga opinyon **** walang humihingi, kahit na sino
Para kang teacher ko na may dalang nutri-bun na isinasaksak pilit sa akin kahit sukang-suka na ako.

Salamat sa mga salita ng pasasalamat na binibigkas mo
kung gaano kadaming biyaya ang ipinagkaloob ng Bathala sa iyo
Sa bawat tagumpay na nakamtan mo sa napili **** trabaho
Naitatanim ko tuloy sa aking isip, kung bakit ang layo mo gayong sabay lang tayo?

Pasensya na, malamang sa inyo ay may natatamaan ako
Wala akong planong durugin ang kahit na anong ugnayan ko sa inyo
Gusto ko lang banlawan, langgasin ang nalalasong utak at puso ko
na pinapatay ng Facebook sa tuwing titignan ko ang mga dingding ninyo.

Kung gaanong ipinararamdam sa akin na sa paninindigan ako ay wala
Na hindi ko kaya maglahad ng opinyon kasi walang papansin, walang maniniwala
Dahil maraming beses na akong naging tapat noong ako ay nasa highschool pa
Wala akong naging kaibigan. Narinig mo? Wala akong kwenta.

Kung gaanong ipinararamdam sa akin na hindi na ako makakarating kahit saan pa.
Kasi pinili kong manatili, kahit mainit, kumpara sa ibang bansa
Dahil nanuot sa aking dila na hindi ko kayang makipag-usap sa kahit na sinong banyaga
Kasi palpak ang Ingles ko. Narinig mo? Wala akong kwenta.

Kung gaanong ipinararamdam sa akin na mamamatay akong mag-isa
Na hindi ako magkakaroon ng pagkakataong lumigaya
Dahil sa pinalagpas kong sandali, ay hindi na mauulit pa
Dahil wala akong kwentang lalaki. Narinig mo? Wala akong kwenta.

Sobrang baba na ng pagtingin ko sa sarili ko.
Ang tanikalang gamit sana para makipagugnayan sa mga kakilala ay tila naging isang angkla na humihila sa mga paa ko
pailalim sa karagatang puno ng mga pusong natalo
Nabigo sa pag-ibig, sa buhay, at sa kahit na ano.

Kaya lalayo na ako sa mga dingding ninyo.
Hindi na ako papayag na manatiling tumatanggap na lang ng kahit na anong ipapaskil mo.
Tatakas ako sa mga rehas na nilikha ng mga masasaya ninyong minuto
Magtatayo ako ng sarili kong dingding. Bubuuin ko ang aking pagkatao mula sa pagkakapira-piraso.

Anak ng poocha naman o oh
Sa lahat naman ng ayaw ko...
Anigma pasubali...fliptopan ba'to
Pooja' una pa lang pinagsabihan na kita,
Pero ngayon... malamang magtanda ka na!!!

Unang banat.. wala akong ganang mag ingles
Nakakawalang galang ka! Hinde naman sa naiines
Hinde na lang talaga kasi ako makatiis
Sa pigura **** pagkakinis-kinis
Kahit tuwalya wala ka man lang tapis
Daig mo pa nakatihayang ipis
Pasalamat ka walang pambura dala kong lapis
Kundi aabutin ka sa 'kin ng walang humpay na daplis
Sa patuwad **** nakalilis
Landas ko'y nalilihis.

Pangalawa..hinde pa ito ang huli...
ayoko sanang maging arogante
Sa lubot **** mala elepante...
Ambot sa imo wag kang makampante
Sa postura **** naka bra lang at panti
Naturalmente 'pupusta pa ako ng mil bente
Magsusumbong ka...magagalit ang mga higante
mapapagbigkas ka sa iyong linguwahe
'lintek lang ang walang ganti
Hinde ako intelehente...
dati lang akong ahenteng galante.
anong gusto mo diamante o brilyante
hahaha!! nganga!,, parehas lang yun impertenente!!!

Pangatlong banat,
.... ito ang tutuo
Pinoy Ako!!!
Purong tagalog den ako...
Pero kung iinglisen mo ako..
Then go ahead..english-san na 'to...ehheemmh,,,
=Do you understand the word that coming out of my mouth
You're some kindda liberated there in the south
Don't sample me (huwag mo akong subukan)
...perhalps change me'''' (ibahin mo ako)
YOU CAN NOT EYES ME ANYMORE!!! (hindi mo na ako kayang mata-matahin)
i will "the rich zoo" you! ("diretso"-hin na kita)=
Hey What's up Pooja Sweety?
Nose bleed??? I don't care if i look scary
To you i'm not being pity'
Real talk''' ...i'm not heavy
But you won't be able to carry
This trash talk of my tongue full of messy
Even your closest bessy
In your ***..shall be freaky
Mabuti pang nag selfie ka ng wacky !!!!!
I'm sure .....you gonna be pretty!!!!
Garantisado.....Madlang b-side...tuwa pa nila so plenty
......TIME ;)

Para akong nag babasa ng libro
Na hindi ko binasa at inintindi ang pamagat,
Nakaka engganyo, nakaka aliw, at nakaka gaan.

Napaka raming pahina,
Napapa bilis ang pag basa, napapabilis ang panahon
At isang pala isipan.

Ginugugol ang oras para sa isang libro
Pilit inaalala at iniintindi bawat salita
Ngunit napaka rami.

Napaka raming pala isipan sa bawat letra,
Letrang magsisilbing gabay,
Gabay para maniwala sa araw araw na pag basa.

Pag basa na hindi mo alam,
Hindi mo alam kung matatapos,
Matatapos ang pag basa hanggang dulo.

Na sa dulo, ay baka,
Baka sa dulo, doon mo maintindihan
Maintindihan, kung ano ang sinasabi ng libro.

Librong pinaka iingatan,
Pinaka iingatan bawat pahina,
Pahina na binubuhay ng araw araw na pag hinga.

Hihinga o hihinga?
Di ka pwede mamili,
Maaaring ituloy ang pag basa para mas makahinga ng malalim.

Malalim na malalim,
Kasing lalim ng nararamdaman,
Nararamdaman kada pag bigkas sa letra.

Letrang I,
Sa letrang Ikaw,
Ikaw ang libro at pahina na bumubuo sa araw ko.

Ang I na sa ingles na nag sasabing
Mahal kita
Ang I na nag sasabing "Iniibig kita!"

Itong mga letrang to ang gabay,
Gabay sa librong napaka raming pahina
Ngunit hindi pa rin maintindihan.

Hindi ko pa rin maintindihan
Hindi maintindihan kung sa dulo ba ng pahina na ang I,
Ay "IWAN"

Hindi ko alam sa bawat pag lipat,
Pag lipat na hindi ko sigurado kung saan ako dadalhin,
Napaka raming pahina, na sana

Pahina, na sana
Sana dalhin ako pabalik at papunta sa isang letra,
At iyon ay ang papunta

Sa' iyo, ang Ikaw na aking libro.

I pulled down vicious KKK flyers,
listened to members amplify hate.
Their harmful words only frustrate,
hoping to cease their cruel desires.

Harassment at work occurred
hablas ingles? a lady replied.
I let the racist remark subside,
when I realized I was not heard.

Being bullied at school would soon follow.
A boy shout the Spanish slur at me,
write vile notes for all to see.
Slashed my tires with archery arrows.

I never thought that they would presume,
I was an illegal immigrant.
Their logic absent,
only based on looks they assume.

Matapos ang bawat kanta ng aming pwedeng kantahin
Dasal na alay para sa mga taong may ilaw na bilog sakanilang ulo

Hihinga ako ng malalim
Ngunit di maaalis ng aking paghinga ang kaba at takot sa aking dibdib

Tubig at bolpen lang laman ng aking bag
Sa pagdarasal
Alam kong hindi sapat ito para ako’y manatili sa aking kinalalagyan

At tulad ng aking dalangin
Naghihintay ang aking ina sa ibaba
Sa kanyang puso at mata
Dama ko ang kanyang pagmamakaawa


                                  “Bigyan niyo po kami ng awa”


                                              “Maawa po kayo”


Rosaryo, rosaryo, rosaryo, rosaryo, rosaryo
Rosaryo sa Huwebes
Rosaryo na aming kailangan sabihin sa wikang ingles


Siguro sa aking pagdarasal ng rosaryo ng malakas
Ay maawa sila saamin
Masakit man ang tuhod sa pagluhod
Hindi pa rin nito maalis ang takot at kaba sa aking puso


                     “Alam ko pong hindi sapat ang aming dala”


Ang Ikalimang Misteryo ng aking pagmamakaawa


                            “Pero sigurado po na ako’y may alam”


Naghihintay ang aking ina sa ibaba
Nananalangin na sana’y hindi niya ako isama sa kanyang pag-uwi

Matapos man ang mga Misteryo ng Rosaryo
Alam kong hindi pa tapos ang aking kalbaryo
Dahil ilang minuto na lang alam kong tatawagin na aking pangalan


                                               “Maawa po kayo”

                                                         ­    .
                                                             .
                                                             .
                                                             .
                                                             .
                                                             .


Hindi maaalis ng lamig ang pagpawis ng aking mga kamay ng buksan ko ang pinto
At sa ibaba, nakita ko agad ang aking ina

Itinaas ko ang aking kamay
Sabay ng kanyang pagngiti

Ako’y mananatili
Hindi na niya kailangang mag-alala
Magsisimula na ang aming pagsusulit
At kailangan kong pumasok na




© 2019 B.L.
All Rights Reserved.

i still straddle the fence on this
immigration reform manifesto

i see both sides of the story

it's good to have the grandfather clause
for the immigrants in my bloodstream

- the scrappy scots-irish-ingles-welsh
in me - but too late for the cherokee

behind the old fences of history.

r ~ 11/9/14

Instagram

Anak: Tay, ano po iyong ingles ng gramo?
Tatay: Gram, anak.
Anak: E 'yong kilogramo po?
Tatay: Kilogram, anak.
Anak: May relasyon po ba ang gramo sa kilogram?
Nanay: anak ng kilogram ang gramo, anak.
Anak: Aaah! Ganun po ba? E 'yong tinatawag na instagram po?
Nanay: Madali lang iyan, anak. Ang tanong mo ba ay kung magkadugo sila?
Anak: Tumango ang anak.
Nanay: Ang instagram ay lolo ng gramo at tatay ng kilogramo.
Tatay: Umalis ka nga sa harapan ng anak mo. Na-bo-bobo ako sa iyo e. Dinadamay mo pa anak mo.

Version original de Esopo...

Un buen día en invierno, algunas hormigas estaban ocupadas secando su almacén de maíz, que se había humedecido durante un largo período de lluvia. En ese momento apareció un saltamontes y les rogó que le otorgaran algunos granos. "Porque", dijo, "simplemente me muero de hambre". Las Hormigas dejaron de trabajar por un momento, aunque esto fuse en contra sus principios. "¿Podemos preguntar", dijeron ellas, "qué hiciste todo el verano pasado? ¿Por qué no recolectaste un almacén de alimentos para el invierno? "" El hecho es que ", respondió el Saltamontes," estuve tan ocupado cantando que no tuve tiempo ". " Si pasaste el verano cantando ", respondieron las hormigas, "no puedes hacer nada mejor que pasar el invierno bailando". Y ellas se echaron a reír y continuaron con su trabajo.
______­

Nueva versión del siglo XXI: El Saltamontes y las Hormigas (por Víctor D. López, fanático de las hormigas en todas partes del mundo y en todos los tiempos)

Un buen día en invierno, algunas hormigas estaban ocupadas secando su almacén de maíz que se había humedecido durante un largo período de lluvia. En ese momento llegó un saltamontes y exigió que le dieran una parte justa de su maíz almacenado. Las hormigas dejaron de trabajar por un momento, aunque esto fuese en contra de sus principios.

"¿Podemos preguntar", dijeron ellas, "qué hiciste todo el verano pasado? ¿Por qué no recolectaste un almacén de comida para el invierno? "

"El hecho es", respondió el Saltamontes, "Estaba ocupado con cosas más importantes, como abrazar árboles agarrado de las manos de personal con ideas compatibles y cantando “Cumba Ya”. Desafortunadamente, estas actividades no son apreciadas por las estúpidas élites que oprimen injustamente a las clases más bajas y tratan de explotarlas por medios tales como hacer que realicen trabajos mal pagados y sin sentido que están por debajo de su dignidad ".

“Si pasaste el verano cantando, agarrándote de las manos y abrazando árboles”, respondieron las hormigas, “cuando deberías haber estado planeando y construyendo tus tiendas para mantenerte a ti y a tu familia durante el invierno, no puedes hacerlo mejor que pasar el invierno bailando ”. Y se rieron y continuaron con su trabajo.

El saltamontes, que era un tipo de temperamento muy sensible, quedo profundamente ofendido por el egoísmo y la intransigencia de estas hormigas ricas que no estaban dispuestas a proporcionarle su parte justa para apoyar a los miembros menos afortunados de la comunidad, como él. “No construiste el maíz que cosechaste a través de tu avaricia en el verano, mientras que las personas más ilustres que tú trabajaron muy duro explorando su naturaleza sensual y artística. Ustedes no hicieron que lloviera, o que el sol brillara, o que las abejas polinizaran los cultivos nacientes. Simplemente cosecharon el beneficio de la generosidad de la naturaleza que pertenece a todos y tratan con avidez de conservar para ustedes una cosecha proporcionada no por su trabajo sino por la gracia de la madre tierra. Ustedes son ladrones, acaparadores y bestias egoístas que tomarán para sí mismos lo que la naturaleza proporciona a todos sus hijos en igual medida ”. Luego se marchó, mientras las hormigas sacudían la cabeza, sonriendo y regresaron a su trabajo.

Más tarde, ese mismo día, el saltamontes regresó con hordas de personas de ideas afines que hervían sobre la indignación y la falta de respeto que les mostraban estas hormiguillas egoístas, crueles y despiadadas. Cayeron sobre las mismas a golpes y patadas dejándolas a todas sin sentido. Luego tomaron la mayor parte de su cosecha y quemaron lo que no podían llevarse para enseñarles una lección a estas pequeñas hormigas malvadas, mientras cantaban: "Sí, podemos", "poder para la gente" "Si no hay justicia, no hay paz" y una serie de frases similares mientras golpeaban a las hormigas egoístas ya inconscientes, liberaban sus tiendas de alimentos y quemaban el que ya les sobraba. Fue un gran día para los saltamontes que bailaron día y noche alrededor de las hogueras de su victoria.

Ese invierno, las hormigas murieron de hambre, al igual que los saltamontes que pronto agotaron las tiendas liberadas de las hormigas egoístas en unos días de fiestas y orgías las veinticuatro horas del día. No pudieron encontrar ninguna ayuda de los otros espíritus libres en su pueblo ese invierno y, como su último acto, se reunieron, tomaron de las manos, abrazaron un árbol y cantaron al unísono su canción final: "Todo es culpa de las estúpidas hormigas que trajeron su destrucción sobre sus cabezas y las nuestras a través de su falta de voluntad y egoísmo en reusar compartir su generoso tesoro. Insignificante pequeñas hormigas estúpidas, egoístas, codiciosas. Todo es su culpa. Todo es su culpa. Si tan solo hubieran sido tan cultas como nosotros "
El Saltamontes y las Hormigas - Edición del Siglo XXI...
THE GRASSHOPPER Y THE ANTS por Aesop (Edición original con traducción al ingles de Proyecto Gutenberg, http://www.gutenberg.org. La traducción del ingles al español es mía. La edición nueva del Siglo XXI es mía también en ingles (2010?) y en español (2019).

Translated from my English original "The Grasshopper and the Ants--XXI Century Version"

Kung puwede lamang / na siya'y limutin
Di na sana noon pa'y / wala ng paggiliw
Kung puwede nga lang / itago't ilihim
Ang kanyang balaning / umakit sa akin
Di sana tuyo na'ng / nunuyong damdamin
At ang pagluhog ko'y / noon pa natigil
Kung puwede lamang / na di maging dahil
Ng kasawian ko / na siya'y ibigin
Di sana tapos na / ang kundiman namin
At lipas nang lahat / ang aking hilahil
Kung puwede lamang / na siya'y limutin
Ang sugat ng puso'y / ampat na marahil




* Ang panandang / ay tanda ng sesura (caesura sa Ingles)

Come on pilgrim,
vamos east
to Jerusalem and Mecca,
ferried from Algeciras to Tangier.

King James told me some stories,
he'd give me a ride, and

we can pull what we want
on abortion and abolition,
strung on a thorny rope
out of H. Christ's tight little *******.

Black Francis, Picasso, and S. Dali;
chicos guapos, you are good to me.

I fight Pablo, a different one,
through Robert Jordan (ingles)
Pablo, eres un cobarde, go and
get gored by your bullheaded stupidity.

General,
I'll wander the labryinth,
slicing up eyeballs (oh ** ** **)
unable to leave the room.
(they're only cow eyeballs, don't worry)

You Spaniards!
Yo hablo un poquito,
but those men
speak to my heart.

Followers of Sfera would be glad to know that the Spanish fashion brand recently launched its Fall-Winter 2016 collection at its flagship store in SM Makati.

The event, held in partnership with the Spanish Chamber of Commerce in the Philippines (La Camara Manila), had the local Spanish community and members of the diplomatic corps among the guests.

They were treated to a fabulous showcase of the collection, along with cocktails and an exciting shopping experience.

In attendance were Maria Jose Carrasco, wife of Spanish Ambassador Luis Antonio Calvo, Pedro Pascual of the Commercial Office of the Embassy of Spain, Alfredo Roca, vice president external of La Camara Manila.

Sfera, part of Madrid’s renowned El Corte Ingles Group of Companies, opened its first store in Asia in the Philippines in 2014, on the second floor of The SM Store Makati. In 2015, it opened more branches—on the second level of Building B in SM Megamall, and on the upper ground floor of SM Seaside City Cebu.

September 2016 saw its first department store corner at The SM Store in Aura Premier.

This premium fast-fashion brand offers men’s and women’s wear, and is known for its ability to stay on-trend every season while maintaining good-quality clothing and affordability.

From SM, heading to the opposite side of town, we were treated to a gastronomic symphony at one of our favorite restaurants, Salvatore Cuomo.

The six-course dinner, prepared by chef Salvatore Cuomo himself, served as a sneak peek of his new dishes on the menu.

The Italian culinary titan has narrowed the boundaries between innovation and fine taste. The meal was a roller-coaster of dynamic flavors and textures—an array of small bites paired with light aperitif for starters, washed down with Italian and French medium-bodied red and white wines.

In true Salvatore Cuomo fashion, the ingredients used in the entire dinner were thoughtfully selected and sourced from the best producers in Europe and Asia.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-sydney | www.marieaustralia.com/red-carpet-celebrity-dresses

I saw something today and it raised hell and flipped it over
I was walking
and then on the other side of the road,
there was a Mexican lady walking, minding her business, not bothering anybody
and then a kid, some 10 year old child, shouted to her from her window
"Hola!
Como Estas?"
the lady turned around and kept on walking
and that kid yelled
"No ingles?"
and laughed and hid behind her house
then when she came back out again, I stopped and glared at her.
She looked like she was going to say something back, but she just went back in the house.
I was fuming and when I was crossing the road,
I ran to that sweet Mexican lady,
and told her,
"She doesn't know what she's saying ,
ignore her,
Have a beautiful day."
she smiled and it **** made me cry.
She was a beautiful hardworking person.

How she probably works hours and hours
for her kids at home
How she would be a loving mom, hard worker, and a kind hearted too

It was as if God's telling me,
Anna do something.

and guess what,
I will.

this is what music foraging on youtube used to look like, you'd find gems, 6 years old, approx. 10K views akin to Undogmatic & Kernfeld: thought experiments... you know... you travel outside of the anglosphere of said language, what is the opinion of a Greek or a Pole about Fb? not much... it's only the english-speaking "cool" kids that are making all the fuss... i mentioned minds.com to a Greek guy i was giving directions to, once, in Warsaw... he looked at me as if i was the first person to show him a ******* elephant... 5 blind men followed and we know the story from there... catering to the natives: who will never be or ever have been satisfied... they just need their: banta... their ****-storming, their gravitational pull toward bloodsports: rather than dialectics... nothing is ever to be done... who can shout the loudest... who can rock the boat the most... who can translate past playground grievances into a web of anonymity and avatars... as far as i am concerned... these social media firms, these u.s. firms have long gone stopped catering to primarily english speaking people... all these anglophone calls: Fb will fail like myspace failed... blah blah... these firms are tired of brats... elsewhere these spaces are utilities... they're not an extension of either thought or life... collateral damage of those first exposed... the Greek will still use the platform... the Pole will also... i too remember my childhood: hide & seek... digging holes in the ground and throwing marbles into them from a distance of five metres... creating chalk labyrinths on the pavement and flicking beer bottle caps filled with plastecine through them... and no... styxhexenhammer666 is not banned in Poland... i never wanted youtube to become what it has become: 72 virgins? give me a library of music for all of eternity and i'll be an 'appy chappy... i don't need some count dankula regurgitate a wikipedia entry about tarrare - oddly enough: i too can read... see... i blame both sides for ******* up my foraging tool... the "legacy" media and the indie vlog "creators": creative really reative, spewing regurgitation after regurgitation... i'd hate to be drafted into this vulture journalism of video making... at least when you pay a *******: you pay an honest wage... and she subsequently spends the honest wage on **** i wouldn't even buy... so the funds are given to the person who otherwise keeps the economy running... a woman... oh yes, i've been watching closely these indie "creators"... lucky for me i watched enough of them to round them up and say: this much... there's a big difference between a "creator" and a commentator... if i'd want to listen to an audiobook containing the current journalistic spew: anyway... half of these stories in the "news" are tabloid ******* that gave rise to 24h news reel and the vacuous space feeding the tapeworm of insomnia... since when did news outlets think they could produce an amphetamine alt.? clearly they did... i can't keep up, i won't keep up, to hell with going against these giants... youtube was never about these indie "creators"... music and music was always the prime concern for me... lucky for me remnants of the old a.i. still give me chances to glimpse records like CLANN - Seelie... these indie "creators" become just as tiresome as the legacy medie snippets... you want a more ******* version of CLANN's Seelie? try Salem: king knight (2010).

.just some after-thoughts, when a post scriptum becomes, a pre scriptum... you know... i sometimes think this lingua franca, that's english, ergo: lingua inglese is bombarded, London is the microcosm of the world dislodged from the realities of other natives... there's a grand congregation happening, of hosts, and even here, on the outskirts of London, where all it takes is a 30 minute walk to go pet a horse or a tender young bull, "randomly", in a field, spot a fox, or chase a herd of deer who "wandered" into the middle of an X junction creating a traffic debacle... but the language itself this, lingua inglese needs updating, notably from the "real" grammar nazis... i'm not just going to give up my new earned rights of literacy, for all the years of being kept in the dark like some ******* mushroom, just because, someone feels it is necessary to feel lazy, about establishing rigour, discipline in using this former tool of power, like i'm going to bend over some lazy peasant... no... dis-ci-pline... you need it, i might drink, but i'll still return to this language with great respect, for the per se worth of adherence to it... it already is a metaphysical person / "person" to me, at least i can offer that much, as much as is necessary... one question though, echo-chamber... it's enough for dyslexia, it's enough for emoji, it's enough for: l8er... it's enough for "gender neutral" pronouns... see... that language i was born with... that **** won't stick... certain languages have pronoun-"augmentation" associated with verbs... e.g.?
                                            mogłem (past-participle masculine
                       of i could have)
                        mogłam (past-participle feminine
                    of i could have)
this, inherent bias, within the confines of the english language, well, i didn't expect it to be so rife, until i witnessed it being exploited! now at least i can pander / side with the natives: funny - coming to a "madman" for sanity quotes, for rigour... well... because there's no fun without someone not having the ***** to counter the libertarian farcical tragico-comic current circumstance of: "pushing the boundaries"... like i said: a lingua ingelese echo-chamber... no belly-button status of the world for you... this viper of an idea, this sordid wasp of a "conundrum" will not spread elsewhere, i feel inclined to contain it, with english regulations of grammar... just like i learned this language to begin with: first the language, then the grammar... physics first, metaphysics later... first the experience of communication, then the theory of communicating... thank god that some languages have an unshakeable foundation, e.g. western slavic: where the pronoun is integrated into verbs with a gender discrimination structure...
  further examples?
                miałem (i had - masculine)
                                                     miałam (i had - feminine)...
so the problem is contained... in this, sometimes erring into sharpnel of, what could have been: a bullet of a tongue; or, i dare say, will hopefully preserve itself, to be it.

i guess.... wait... are stars supposed to that?
i just witnessed two,
transverse the night sky:
    in that, more than the already
perplexing circumstance of a straight line...
to the naked eye:
   they're not supposed to move in
a parabola fashion, are they?
    yes, last time i checked, this was never
going to be a metaphor for
the current state of european politics,
   to the naked eye:
    i would be unable to witness a comet,
and, on the odd occassion,
   the blitzkrieg accent on the sky
by a meteor falling...
            i never had the tools to measure
the difference between a falling
meteor appearing in the sky,
                      to a lightning strike -
time wise...
            after all: is a lightning strike
confined to the same category as light,
yeah: light from the sun?
   i guess this is were awe comes...
          once again: if i somehow manage
to come across the facts -
   i'll give my narrative of a temple's
worth of structure to the blinded,
enraged skin-headed Samson to pull at
the pillars...
                now, with regards to:
a black girl in a supermarket...
   well... i've done it,
    i can clearly state i have become
fully integrated into the multiculutral
experiment that's England,
   it didn't take that long,
               ******* contra being attracked
are two dfifferent ball games...
the language is here,
                 working just fine,
   some native prejudices are somewhat
here,
            i have a harder time
"not understanding" the quickened
paddy taljk, to me the scots sing,
and they managed to preserve
                                     the trill on the R...
so, as they would say in
    a clockwork orange type of fashion,
fully rehabilitated, ****, sorry, integrated...
i can find myself being attracked
                           to an ivory beauty...
side-effect?
    whenever i visit my grandparents,
whenever i pass through
   the urban landscape of Warsaw...
   i feel...
        an extreme nausea,
paranoia,
                 sifting through my in-born
mirror of homogeneity...
the whole process takes, oh,
                     i'd say, roughly 20 years...
brain-washing?
      or a want for a sense of belonging?
my only sense of belonging in
Poland is only related to the use
of language, culturally?
      hybrid at best,
                    or not even hybrid,
mongrel...
                sure, the impeding disaster
of putting a physical hybrid
           with a metaphysical hybrid...
i don't even know how i'll feel
when the ****** tongue dies with
the people i could associate to by speaking
it...
maybe i'll be lucky,
having the luxury of not one death,
but two, in my life.

p.s.
   stating the ****** obvious,
surds...
   lingua ingles(e)
              and not lingua inglesé...
how can i not be stating the obvious,
that's how practiςing
    literacy works, doesn't it?
who has ever heard
a guitar player not say:
    i'm not playing,
  i'm simply practiçing                ?
i guess the origins of the french
         cedilla come from
                                     the greek sigma,
i.e. if it's so smart,
how come a drunk, like me,
                         has to "unearth" it?
always, it's always about
the fiddly bits of language,
english is peppered with
      rules, that are not dogma of
pedagogy...
         of the pedagogic experience...
"somehow" surds appear,
i.e. "silent" letters...
   e.g. there's no (g)nome
         but there's diagnostics...
this, this lingua inglese...
this supposedly "universal" language
for a global community,
and then all the particulars
associated with the native idiosyncracy...
mind you...

     i woke up with a dream,
righ rarity event...
   i was sitting,
then i started walking,
i looked behind me,
a ****** church procession was
walking with banners
and crosses, dressed in black,
i turned my head,
and there was a bunch of
schoolchildren walking toward me,
i was eating a raw chilli...
a boy from the throng coming
at me was eating a raw pepper,
'hey mister'
and pointed at a piece of
a raw papper lying in the grass,
insinuating i lost it...
i replied:
                                          'chilli'...
er­m...
        who the hell would ever need
to amplify dreaming
with a psychadelic experience,
esp. if that person is usually
sleeping for 10+ hours per day
and is dream-starved?

Mi maestra es espectacular.
Aprendio espanol por
mi porque no la iva entender
ni ella ami.Para mi a sido muy dificil
aver aprendido ingles.Y ella es todo lo
contrario.Imaginense si o no es dificil aprender
ingles y saber spanol al mismo
tiempo y lo se porque yo estoy
sufriendo eso.
Miento cual sufrir para mi
es lo mejor que me aiga pasado en mi vida.
Por eso aprecio tanto a mi maestra porque
es la mejor en el mundo.
GRACIAS POR SER LA MEJOR MAESTRA DEL MUNDO. (:

Salitang Ingles na ginagamit para sa mamamayang nagbibigay-ingat
at nagbabantay sa mga tumatawid na mga manlalakbay
sa pagitan ng mga mundo.

Habang niyayanig ng mga kontradiksyon, panatiliin
ang sarili, tapusin ang mga paglalakbay ng walang patid,
Hindi dahil walang patlang, kung hindi dahil kabahagi ng pagsuong
maski dilim, patlang, at kawalan.

Patuloy na tumuklas at buuin ang sariling praktika,
hanggang tuluyang matutunan
kung paano tahimik itong pakawalan ng walang pag-iimbot o pagtanggi
sa Lawa na nagbabaga sa pagal ng mga kaluluwang
hindi na makalapag at makapagugat sa ilalim ng lupa,
ngunit hindi rin makauwi sa pinangakong lupa, langit at tubig
na ngayon ay isang lotto ticket, SDO, at mga gawa-gawang karapatan.
Ayon din sa matatanda, hindi ito mababago, at nabubuhay tayo para makidigma at patuloy na tumaya.#

A las cinco de la tarde.
Eran las cinco en punto de la tarde.
Un niño trajo la blanca sábana
a las cinco de la tarde.
Una espuerta de cal ya prevenida
a las cinco de la tarde.
Lo demás era muerte y sólo muerte
a las cinco de la tarde.

El viento se llevó los algodones
a las cinco de la tarde.
Y el óxido sembró cristal y níquel
a las cinco de la tarde.
Ya luchan la paloma y el leopardo
a las cinco de la tarde.
Y un muslo con un asta desolada
a las cinco de la tarde.
Comenzaron los sones de bordón
a las cinco de la tarde.
Las campanas de arsénico y el humo
a las cinco de la tarde.
En las esquinas grupos de silencio
a las cinco de la tarde.
¡Y el toro solo corazón arriba!
a las cinco de la tarde.
Cuando el sudor de nieve fue llegando
a las cinco de la tarde
cuando la plaza se cubrió de yodo
a las cinco de la tarde,
la muerte puso huevos en la herida
a las cinco de la tarde.
A las cinco de la tarde.
A las cinco en Punto de la tarde.

Un ataúd con ruedas es la cama
a las cinco de la tarde.
Huesos y flautas suenan en su oído
a las cinco de la tarde.
El toro ya mugía por su frente
a las cinco de la tarde.
El cuarto se irisaba de agonía
a las cinco de la tarde.
A lo lejos ya viene la gangrena
a las cinco de la tarde.
Trompa de lirio por las verdes ingles
a las cinco de la tarde.
Las heridas quemaban como soles
a las cinco de la tarde,
y el gentío rompía las ventanas
a las cinco de la tarde.
A las cinco de la tarde.
¡Ay, qué terribles cinco de la tarde!
¡Eran las cinco en todos los relojes!
¡Eran las cinco en sombra de la tarde!

"Matamis na lunggati
sa bumubusilak na bukang-liwayway
Nasnaw sa bibig at dila
ang pita sa lilim ng Pinya"

Lunggati't bukang-liwayway sa wikang Ingles ay isalin
Kapag naisalin na ang lunggati ay dagdagan ng "e"
Gawing "e" ang letrang "i" sa salita sa dulo ng huling dalawang taludtod
Palitan ng "ñ" ang baybay ng katapusan na salita na kasintunog
Doon lamang malalaman ang buong pangalan ng irog

Ngayon isulat kung ano ang ibinuo...

'the rain in Spain'
no habla ingles
which doesn't really matter
it's still soaking wet.

but the weather seems mild to
this northern child
who was brought up
in
six feet of snow.

"Northern child"
ha
I'm a bit old to be that
but
I've still got dear Teddy with
his battered flat cap

So
it's what's in the heart
that makes one an age

I've got jelly tots
in mine.

De besos y abrazos
no nacen muchachos,
pero tocan a vísperas.

Como avispas: picantes
y enojosas
enaguas blancas entre ***** y *****
(y rosa y rosa muslos hacia el alba
casi azul de tus ingles),
cuando corres.

¡Aire! ¡Aire!
(El viento frío y azul la tarde).

Dicen
que te dejas besar en los portales
y abrazar la cintura.

¡Aire! ¡Aire!
Me callaré tu nombre,
pero escucha:
de besos y abrazos
no nacen muchachos,

porque no eran los míos.