"jaywalking" poems
Milyun-milyong mga blankong mukha,
pipintahan,
papahiran ng pintora
ang iba’t ibang kastilyo ng pangarap.
Subalit sa paglipas ng panahon
ang mga kastilyong ito’y rurupok,
at sa isang ihip ng hangin
ay pwede ‘tong gibain.
Masasanay kang matalo,
para sa atin ‘tong mundo.
Para sa atin,
hindi para sa kanila,
kailanman hindi ‘to masasakop
ng mga mapapait na luha.
Nasanay ka na sa panonood
ng mga teleserye o pelikulang
kung ano ang theme song
ay ‘yon din ang pamagat.
Nasanay ka nang mag-abang
sa paiba-ibang kulay na buhok
ni Vice Ganda, o ni Yeng Constantino,
ang umasa rin sa paiba-ibang desisyon
ng mga tao sa paligid mo.
Nasanay ka nang magmahal ang gasolina,
at iba pang mga bilihin
ngunit hindi ang magmahal ng totoo,
dahil takot kang masaktan ulit,
ang iwanan, o umasa ulit,
sa isang relasyong pang-post lang
sa FB, IG o Twitter,
‘yong pang-“#relationshipgoals” lang,
nasanay ka na pero takot ka pa rin.
Nasanay ka na sa mga surprise quiz.
Sa exams. Sa reporting. Sa thesis.
Sa Singko, INC, Withdraw o Drop.
Sa pag-jaywalking,
dahil late na naman sa 7:30 AM class.
Sa paulit-ulit na sorry.
Sa paulit-ulit ding pagpapatawad.
Sa paghahanap ng ka-red string.
Sa paghahanap ng ka-forever.
Sa mabagal na internet.
Sa job interview. Sa gobyerno.
Masasanay ka ring matalo
dahil ganito ang konsepto ng mundo.
Patitikman ka muna ng pagkabigo,
bago ka ulit maging buo.
Baka rin bukas-makalawa
maiisipan mo nang mag-aral ng mabuti
at iwasang ang usapang mabote,
ang bumangon ng maaga
at hindi papatayin ang naka-set na alarm,
ang maging totoo
sa taong nagmamahal sa ‘yo,
o kaya subukang ipa-Photoshop
ang 2x2 picture mo sa resume
para sa paparating na job interview.
Masasanay ka ring matalo,
masasanay ka rin sa mga peklat mo sa puso.
Dahil hindi ito matatapalan
ng pulga-pulgadang concealer ng Maybelline,
o kahit ubusin mo pa
ang stock sa AVON, sa Watson, sa HBC, o sa Lazada.
Kaya tanggapin mo na lang
na ang buhay ay puno ng pagkatalo,
dahil sa huli para sa atin din naman ang mundo,
kaya wala kang dahilan para sumuko,
dahil ang sumusuko lang ang natatalo,
at ang hindi takot sumubok ulit
ang tunay na panalo.
Sep 6, 2016
Sep 6, 2016 at 8:03 PM UTC
Hypermart.
News on air.
Boondoggles,
owl ogles,
ongoing.
Jaywalking.
Reverse gear.
Biting into ginger.
Hindsight: familiar.
Slow down,
observant mirror.
Heartwringing.
Twigs
flying in a whirl.
Coiled up cord;
Snakes from the past.
Boondocks,
hornswoggling,
heartwarming.
Oct 18, 2013
Oct 18, 2013 at 2:21 PM UTC
NEW YORK STATE OF MIND
Walt Whitman
walks by me
somewhere in 1891
I nod to him...he nods to me
lost in himself
Clinton is being inaugurated
Brooklyn Bridge
saunters by
dressed in the summer of '67
the subway
wears its best graffiti
the music of trains and Coltrane
the Flatiron Building is jaywalking
the Empire State
chats him up
a child's hopscotch
almost washed away
a moment's masterpiece
Robert Moses
looks across Long Island
longs to build the city only he sees
he gazes into my future
I look into his past
I pass Robert Mapplethorpe
a man in a white suit
nailed to the darkness
by so many stars
an old saxophone player
busks Rogers and Hart in Central Park
"...I didn't know what time it was..."
two obese Chinese
take up most of the sidewalk
both speaking fluent - Irish
Leaves of Grass
lies scattered across the road
read now by the wind
a car caught in traffic
blares out Joel's
"New York State of Mind"
I laugh at such
a happenstance
a walk-on-part in my own movie
escaping the borders
of the body
I walk through times
I am all the times
of the world
they intersect in self
Walt and I
sitting on a park bench
waiting to go somewhere else
an 1990's rain
falls on an 1870's NY
they are beginning Brooklyn Bridge
I meet my self
coming and going
an older and a younger me
time held prisoner on the wrist
I turn and walk away
into this the newest of centuries
Sep 15, 2018
Sep 15, 2018 at 3:23 AM UTC
A lovely optical illusion is old in seconds and dead in minutes
I remember the camper van; it was the highlight of my day.
There’s always time for jaywalking.
The people who name streets are the people who still use Internet Explorer.
Cumberland would make the perfect photograph.
If I had money, I would live in a fairy-tale for a day.
It’s like a thin cotton t-shirt pulled too tightly over the ridges of a spine.
We would make great comic book villains; we’re already competent bank robbers.
They boarded up their windows, how welcoming.
I wonder how much tape gets stuck to your shoes while you cross the street.
Everyone needs ceramic vegetables.
Catch the light with our breaths.
10th street goes through quite a transformation.
Financial time Deutschland.
Oct 14, 2012
Oct 14, 2012 at 9:50 PM UTC
*No Justice. No Peace.
We're killed for jaywalking,
But are expected to remain at ease.
We're seen as looters.
When terrorists are heroes.
And never unjust shooters.
They "protect and serve."
They protect each other.
Whether its inhumane doesn't matter.
Then they serve morgues...
with young black bodies on shiny silver platters.
They don't want to hear us.
So we're told to remain peaceful because it's easier to ignore a sound that isn't being made.
And if we remain quiet the passion for wrong doings will begin to fade.
Black people are ashamed of each other for rioting in their own community. But it doesn't belong to us. So feel free to burn down gas stations and break the windows out of a Toys"R"Us.
We'll be executed in suits. We'll be executed in sweats. We'll be executed when we're armed and We'll be executed when we pose no threat.
So scream if you have to.
Let it all out.
Fight fire with fire.
It will grow, and eventually someone will put it out.
Because remaining peaceful has gotten us nowhere.
When we're peaceful they don't care. They torment us. And we're mocked. And are attacked with tear gas while rubber and wooden bullets are being shot.
So don't shoot. But when you need to. Shoot back.
I want us to be able to raise children who won't be murdered for being big while black.
And it isn't in the U.S.A.
Where Unjust Shootings are Admissible.
And Uniformed Shooters are Admired.
So fight back. Even though we're already so tired.*
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 12:29 AM UTC
*You may find this hard to believe
But I just saw a monkey
Drive by me doing eighty
In a Maserati
Eating rainbow ice cream
In a cone from Dairy Queen
I don't mean to sound mean
But should a monkey be eating ice cream
Just then I saw a cat
Right before he went splat
Jaywalking will often do that
And that my friend is straight up fact
The monkey swerved to avoid him
That's when he lost control and
Into a brick wall he slammed
As the ice cream went a flying
Since a cat has nine lives
He came to quite surprised
As Keith Richards does most nights
The ice cream landed just right
The monkey's now in heaven
The cat is ice cream licking
The Maserati is a has been
So I guess this must be the end*
Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 8:54 AM UTC
We met at the same spot
seconds apart.
We looked both ways
and took the first step.
We saw the headlights
but went on anyway.
As the cars got closer
we got faster.
Soon we were sprinting
trying to stay alive.
We got to the other side
and looked at each other.
We exhaled and smiled
seconds apart.
Because we knew
for those few seconds
we were strangers
running for our lives
together.
We went on with our day
never to see each other again.
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 7:15 PM UTC
It Girl,
Pierced **** girl,
****** as a jaywalking crow
With bluebottles for eyes.
I can see your billion goosebumps,
Your skin dragging at
Your perfume.
You’re not beautiful,
But girl -
You
Are
It.
Dec 29, 2013
Dec 29, 2013 at 7:28 PM UTC
One year since I met him.
Six months since I saw him.
Three since I've spoken to him.
And finally I'm done.
Like polar bears lumbering
Over sand dunes I'm dried up.
I can't believe that he was a man
For whom I thought I could have
Written epics for.
I need new inspiration.
When your muse is fickle
As leaves on deciduous trees
One must find a new source
For the Mississippi.
I will take up crime, start small.
Jaywalking!
And write a limerick about the
Thrill of it.
I'll dance with more than one
Man in a night let them touch
But not keep. They cannot
Breach this beach it's mine.
I don't invite strangers into my
Bed, I take none of them home,
but somehow they're all a poem.
I don't want to be a writer
With pages of ex-lovers in
Her notebooks scrawled
Out in ink, like blood,
Like tears from a flood.
Cause I will pour out all
My words, my language is
Love, on the pages balled
Up in waste baskets hidden.
My heart beats to a rhythm
Too irregular a meter
For most to keep up.
I get it.
A muse is old news.
I can write it better
Than some hipster sweater
Wearing, never texting first,
Fall in and out of love headfirst
Kinda man.
But oh man, I'd love a man
With whom I would write
Perpetual sonnets.
Fill volumes with devotion
Not about one night but all
The nights that we fall asleep
Together knowing that tomorrow
Is another day I get to write about him.
And though nothing will be new
There will be something beautiful
About when the whiskey on his breath
Meets the coffee on mine.
We all have our vices,
The idea of love is mine.
Each kiss would taste like rhyme
A thief he'd steal my heart
A victimless crime.
Till then I will take new roads
Through yellow wood and
Envy the song of the nightingale,
Because I too know why the
Caged bird sings.
It rests in my chest, flutters,
And gets excited by others
Touch and false promises.
I promise this: I will wait love
But idle shall my pen never be.
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 3:55 AM UTC
Ever heard of the fire that burnt
All I never really cared about?
The curtains are reduced to ash
But the lagan in my head’s left untouched.
I’ve had a lump in my throat for the longest time
So I couldn’t call for help.
But I took the longest time to reach your walkway
They say I was jaywalking most of the time.
My eyes are too tired to take in your colors
I’m not sober enough to be able to take in some more of your words
But tell me how you feel about today
Suddenly I know I’ve said too much
And you know all about my shameful inclination
Towards revisiting the darkness you remind me of
But what can I do if that’s the only part of you that’s left with me?
The next second your smile curves into a morbidly straight line
You look indifferently at me, but not into me anymore.
How you just draw yourself away so exquisitely I’ll never know.
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 2:19 PM UTC
*No Justice. No Peace.
We're killed for jaywalking,
But are expected to remain at ease.
We're seen as looters.
When terrorists are heroes.
And never unjust shooters.
They "protect and serve."
They protect each other.
Whether its inhumane doesn't matter.
Then they serve morgues...
with young black bodies on shiny silver platters.
They don't want to hear us.
So we're told to remain peaceful because it's easier to ignore a sound that isn't being made.
And if we remain quiet the passion for wrong doings will begin to fade.
Black people are ashamed of each other for rioting in their own community. But it doesn't belong to us. So feel free to burn down gas stations and break the windows out of a Toys"R"Us.
We'll be executed in suits. We'll be executed in sweats. We'll be executed when we're armed and We'll be executed when we pose no threat.
So scream if you have to.
Let it all out.
Fight fire with fire.
It will grow, and eventually someone will put it out.
Because remaining peaceful has gotten us nowhere.
When we're peaceful they don't care. They torment us. And we're mocked. And are attacked with tear gas while rubber and wooden bullets are being shot.
So don't shoot. But when you need to. Shoot back.
I want us to be able to raise children who won't be murdered for being big while black.
And it isn't in the U.S.A.
Where Unjust Shootings are Admissible.
And Uniformed Shooters are Admired.
So fight back. Even though we're already so tired.*
Aug 18, 2014
Aug 18, 2014 at 2:28 AM UTC
*No Justice. No Peace.
We're killed for jaywalking,
But are expected to remain at ease.
We're seen as looters.
When terrorists are heroes.
And never unjust shooters.
They "protect and serve."
They protect each other.
Whether its inhumane doesn't matter.
Then they serve morgues...
with young black bodies on shiny silver platters.
They don't want to hear us.
So we're told to remain peaceful because it's easier to ignore a sound that isn't being made.
And if we remain quiet the passion for wrong doings will begin to fade.
Black people are ashamed of each other for rioting in their own community. But it doesn't belong to us. So feel free to burn down gas stations and break the windows out of a Toys"R"Us.
We'll be executed in suits. We'll be executed in sweats. We'll be executed when we're armed and We'll be executed when we pose no threat.
So scream if you have to.
Let it all out.
Fight fire with fire.
It will grow, and eventually someone will put it out.
Because remaining peaceful has gotten us nowhere.
When we're peaceful they don't care. They torment us. And we're mocked. And are attacked with tear gas while rubber and wooden bullets are being shot.
So don't shoot. But when you need to. Shoot back.
I want us to be able to raise children who won't be murdered for being big while black.
And it isn't in the U.S.A.
Where Unjust Shootings are Admissible.
And Uniformed Shooters are Admired.
So fight back. Even though we're already so tired.*
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 10:34 PM UTC
When I hadn't fallen for someone I used to think a lot.
I can't figure out what can I talk and what can not?
Is there any institution where this could be taught?
Or a guy like me can never learn & I should put away this thought.
But then I gotta know that secret lies in HOW.
WHAT TO TALK is never the question I've understood it now.
I have learned from this experience somehow.
And I can make her feel like princess if she will allow.
I realized I fell in love when I couldn't stop talking.
At nights, her social profiles, I started stalking.
Losing the sense of surrounding I started jaywalking.
And, In my book of life, a new chapter is now unlocking.
The sun for me doesn't even rise without her morning wish.
My friends are telling me that I've stopped being selfish.
For me, each word of yours is precious, although you think it as *******
I usually act mature but with you I can't stop being childish.
Smiling so widely when your parents are watching you.
Telling each other about every situation which we've been through.
Thinking that the hours of our conversations are really very few.
A poet fell in love and you all are reading his point of view.
Jul 30, 2018
Jul 30, 2018 at 12:53 PM UTC
I wear my violet like royalty,
like a badge,
like I have so much "honor"
[-is a concept I don't believe in].
I've shot every enemy I've had
in the back, or stabbed them
with this sharp, silver tongue.
Oh, the humanity;
we're all pacifists till
we're in vehicles,
swimming in caffeine and
road rage, threatening to run
over pregnant women, slowly,
for jaywalking. Smiling and driveling
over empty plates or china full of ****
Smiling over garbage sniveling,
"I'm so weird, I'm so crazy,
Oh, I'm insane".
I'm insane.
I'm insane.
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 4:08 PM UTC
so your feelings were hurt
you cried like you always do
one more night of sadness
one more night I just had to walk away
it occurred as I found myself
putting on my coat I want a drink
I crossed a busy street
hurrying to avoid traffic
a police officer drove by and warned me
no jaywalking.
I thought of you
I told the officer it was way too late for that.
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 9:58 PM UTC
When a detective falls in love, he does not know who to bill for expenses--
everything is up in the air.
At a mixer for suspects, he invites me to dance via loudspeaker.
Radiant in my white dress, I resemble a snowy owl
even down to my carefully bandaged hand which he takes without hesitation.
I whisper in his ear:
I am Leon Czolgosz.
Your heart is the President of the United States of America.
We are dancing in Buffalo, city by the Niagara.
My detective, of course, falls hard.
The next time we meet, I wait for him in the bullpen at the police station.
They know him there.
They hire cellists.
He confesses his deepest fantasy to me:
I want to speak words of love to you
via telephone
with our hands naked and separated only by the safety glass.
I want the call recorded
and broadcast to wild lovers around the globe.
Shortly after, we are married. I wear my favorite bearskin robe.
My small black cubs frolic nearby,
climbing the pews and then tumbling gaily down again.
My detective is resplendent in his tuxedo.
The hired band plays Funiculi Funicula.
I snarl when my detective gets too close to the cubs, and this inflames him.
At last, we lie in bed together, like busy machines come to rest.
I am wearing nothing but the revolver-shaped earrings he has given me.
My detective wears a felt fedora
and a look of smug adoration like a daredevil over the falls in a barrel.
I am The Queen of the Mist,
suspected in various thieveries, check kiting, and jaywalking.
Our love is an aviary
where birds wheel above the thundering water like intelligent confetti.
Look in your mailbox, I tell my detective.
I have left you a valentine and an Easter egg.
He asks if, after all, I am his mystery client.
I enter a plea of innocent.
My love is happy now, laughing.
Jul 25, 2025
Jul 25, 2025 at 11:15 PM UTC
I lived in Shenzhen, China, for my 6th and 7th grades.
- China was AMAZING.
In China, blond hair is unusual, I stood out like neon
and touching blond hair was considered good luck.
In a train station, if I stood still, I could draw a curious mob
- especially in the provinces like Heubi and Shanxi. I was in
more than a few selfies but people were polite and respectful.
China is much more advanced than the U.S..
Everything is new, clean and modern - the Internet is faster.
Most trains are bullet trains that travel 325kph (>200mph).
There are more than 10 new, gleaming cities larger (and newer) than New York.
An App called WeChat (used on your phone) runs the world.
imagine Facebook, iMessage, PayPal and Uber combined
- with that one App you could do anything.
At restaurants, you paid your bill at your table using WeChat from a QR code that the electronic corner of your table displayed. You even paid street vendors with the app - no one used cash.
Cameras are everywhere - if you break a law like jaywalking and BBBZZZZ you get a text and the fine is deducted from your WeChat account - all automatically.
Public TV screens, located on corners, show recent violations with the perps picture and the fine they paid - again, automatic.
Does this sound Orwellian? Well, maybe, but Chinese police
don't **** people - or even engage people for minor offenses.
America, you're broke and on the edge of being a third world country.
Yeah, yeah, I know that China is free-market-communist
and certainly imperfect - but if you saw China, you'd be impressed
and you'd know the ugly truth - America has squandered it's wealth on military macho and forty years of war. China's last, small war was in 1980 (With Vietnam who they beat in 3 weeks and 2 days).
Middle America looks almost bombed-out with closed businesses
(even before the pandemic) - but in China, you can’t look anywhere
without seeing building cranes - like a forest of trees. A physical
illustration of Americas loss of wealth.
I LOVE America - it’s sad to see. We've gotta wake up.
Oct 23, 2020
Oct 23, 2020 at 6:36 AM UTC
*No Justice. No Peace.
We're killed for jaywalking,
But are expected to remain at ease.
We're seen as looters.
When terrorists are heroes.
And never unjust shooters.
They "protect and serve."
They protect each other.
Whether its inhumane doesn't matter.
Then they serve morgues...
with young black bodies on shiny silver platters.
They don't want to hear us.
So we're told to remain peaceful because it's easier to ignore a sound that isn't being made.
And if we remain quiet the passion for wrong doings will begin to fade.
Black people are ashamed of each other for rioting in their own community. But it doesn't belong to us. So feel free to burn down gas stations and break the windows out of a Toys"R"Us.
We'll be executed in suits. We'll be executed in sweats. We'll be executed when we're armed and We'll be executed when we pose no threat.
So scream if you have to.
Let it all out.
Fight fire with fire.
It will grow, and eventually someone will put it out.
Because remaining peaceful has gotten us nowhere.
When we're peaceful they don't care. They torment us. And we're mocked. And are attacked with tear gas while rubber and wooden bullets are being shot.
So don't shoot. But when you need to. Shoot back.
I want us to be able to raise children who won't be murdered for being big while black.
And it isn't in the U.S.A.
Where Unjust Shootings are Admissible.
And Uniformed Shooters are Admired.
So fight back. Even though we're already so tired.*
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 4:05 PM UTC
Oftentimes, sometimes, many times
I search through
all the words I know
And there are many a few.
I rift, I raft
I sift, and cart
I search, and submerge
Pondering over each one’s usability and suitability.
Trying to find one,
the right one,
the tight one,
the oh so alight one.
Terse, specific, concise and precise,
perfect, quintessential, robust,
mellow, complete, that cuts through the ice.
Not squandered or meandered,
Jaywalking through,
lost or philandered.
That’s so true a vision,
captures my emotion,
Visions an illumination
Offers description
Catalyses reflection
Provides perspective,
Inspires action,
Or are just so perfect in their conception.
Then some are there, a little broken, sound woebegone and weatherbeaten
Through a life well lived, they are rooted if slightly moth eaten.
They wear history and tell many a tale,
Just their espousal sets you to sail.
My favourite ones are a beacon of hope, encouragement, love and touch you to the core,
A ****** of laughter, a pirouette of flirtation, a wordful gaze, touching the heart, stimulating the mind, soul searching, words words words, those ones I love so.
Then some scare me to fumble, tumble and kazoomble freakishly so,
My pupils dilated, my breathing short, dark, dismal and morbid, less of them is more.
Some are just there, need to be,
alone they are nothing, combined they provide the key,
They coexist happy in their role in the larger plan.
Is it you, or is it me,
Ah those words...
but sometimes, just sometimes
Words just are not enough,
They are just not enough to get anything said,
Then all I can say is
Nothing!
Jul 24, 2019
Jul 24, 2019 at 1:14 AM UTC
And when I see you
My heart skips a beat,
Walking out into the middle of the street
Without regard to the cars
darting through the intersection.
Some raising their fingers,
Others intentionally driving faster.
Remembering a time,
Remembering a place that
you were everything I needed.
Everything I could have wanted.
And when I see you
My heart so badly wants to
relive those moments.
Stepping one foot in front of the other.
Dodging near miss
After near miss.
Knowing that deep down
I'll end up getting hit
For not letting go
May 25, 2019
May 25, 2019 at 7:32 AM UTC
transmitted ****** talks
(partially presented pablum pertaining
particularly - president ***** (PAC -
******* action *** mitt tee)
portfolio ******* philandering)
baneful boorish boastful bullheaded
Brobdingnagian beastie boy balks.
conspicuously cavalierly crudely curtly
cavorts, capitulating, claiming,
championing crying chauvinistic
concupiscence, ****** cupidity caul
king crooked cowboy cakewalks.
Donald daringly, dastardly, defiantly,
demonstrably, deplorably, deprecatingly,
devilishly, divinely dumbfounded,
duplicitously desultory, debauched, duckwalks.
eccentric effrontery, egregiously enervating,
excitedly exculpatory, extremely evil eyestalk.
"fake," faultily fervently fiendishly flagrant
fool, frightful.
gaffe galling, gamesome gawker, generating
gerrymandering.
harboring hectoring heinously hellishly
hideously horrendously horrible hulk.
ignominious illicit ilk, imbecilic immodest
immoral impetuous, impishly impudent,
incarcerate, incinerate indecently, indecorous,
iniquitous, intently intolerant, irascible
irksome, itching ii incite iv iiiiii ix *********** izards.
jowly ******* jackdaw jackknifing jaywalking
jumping **** jilting jinn.
knowingly keeping kryptonite, ***** Kardashian
kvetches, kris kringle ken kool, kissing kitty,
kosher kumquats kippered, k-nine kooky korps,
kowtowing ku klux **** kinsfolk.
legal leafstalk lawlessly locked, lacerated,
lambasted, languished lost lively lust,
limped, legal levity limited.
menfolk made macho mission. many moons
monthly mandate marked maybe mars,
mercurial maladroit monkey manumission modified
modus mystifying maze moonwalk.
Mar 23, 2018
Mar 23, 2018 at 6:43 PM UTC