"ming" poems
#112415
At kaya nga ayokong mag-lotto,
Kasi naaalala kong walang pag-asang manalo,
Mabuti pa si Chito,
Hindi nauubusan ng liriko.
At ayokong umasa sa roleta,
Kasi ako yung tipong sigurista,
Hindi naman ako dumaraan sa peryahan,
Moderno nga pala sa'ming bayan.
Hayaan mo, hindi ako mag-aaksaya ng barya,
Papel lang kasi siyang humahagkan sa bulsa.
Sandali, pagkat hindi ako mayaman,
Hindi ka kasi mabibili ng ginto't dyamante sa tindahan.
Paumanhin, wala naman kasi akong pera
Hindi ako magtataya sayo,
Lotto ka nga eh, walang kasiguraduhan.
Nov 24, 2015
Nov 24, 2015 at 6:45 AM UTC
Nakahinumdom ko,
sa una man gyud to
nga kitang duha nagakadungan pa ug baklay
padulong ngadto sa usa ka balay.
Naggunitay sa atong mga kamot
ug ming-ingon nga di gayud
boy-an ang usa’g usa.
Kuntito naman ko, ug gasalig ko
nga ikaw kanunay naa sa akong tapad.
Apan minglabay ang mga oras ug bulan,
paglingi ko usab sa akong kiliran
ikaw napanaw lang ug kalit
ug wa na ko kabawo asa ko ikaw makit-an.
Mingsulay ko ug tagad kay gihuna-huna ko
basin ikaw akong nabiyaan,
paspas biya ko mulakaw ug langay kay ka.
Apan wa man, sa pila na ka adlaw
nakong huwat-huwat, wa gihapon ka,
asa man diay tuod ka?
Ikaw man gud, langay kay ka.
Ug gapadayon na lang ko ug baklay,
pero hinay-hinay lang, para ikaw unta makaapas ra.
Sa paglakaw-lakaw nako,
Nakatagbo ko ug usa ka tawo,
ug mingsulay ko ug pangutana bahin sa imo,
basin ba, ikaw nakalabay na ug nakit-an ka niya.
Grabe, asa man diay tuod ka?
Ikaw man gud, langay kay ka.
Minglabay ang pila ka mga tuig, didto nako nakahuna-huna
basin ako diay gyud ang langay ba,
ug wa nako kaapas sa imoha.
Busa minglakaw napud ko ug paspas kaayo
para ikaw akong maapsan,
dasig lang, magkita ra lagi siguro tang duha.
Apan, ako tawo ra pud biya,
kapuyon ug uhawon pud ug inapas sa imo,
layo na kaya siguro ka ug naabtan.
Asa man diay tuod ka?
Ikaw man gud, gadali ra pud kay ka.
Ug sa dihang nakahapit na hinuon ko
ug laing balay para mupahuway, ug muinom ug tubig,
kapoy biya pud ug pangita nimo sa pila na ka tuig,
siguro, langay lang gyud diay ko,
kay katong tawo nga akong napangutan-an, dugay ko mituo,
nga ikaw pud diay nagtagad kanako,
nga ana pud ka, nga langay ra kaayo ko.
Magkita ra lagi siguro tang duha, hinaot puhon.
Sep 14, 2012
Sep 14, 2012 at 11:30 PM UTC
Siya ra gyuy nasayod
sa kanunayong pagpuga sa luha
sa iyang mga mata
nga ming bisbis sa iyang
bug-at nga unlan
Siya ra gyuy nasayod
Sa kabugal-bugalon sa iyang huna-huna
mga storya nga gubot ra
sa iyang alimpatakan
Suod niya ang kadaghanan
Alegre ang palibot ug naa siya
Makatakod ang iyang ka hapsay
Apan luyo sa katim-os sa iyang mga pahiyom
Adunay kahuyang, adunay kahadlok
apan siya ray nasayod
Igo nalang ako sa pagpamalandong
Apan ngano ako musulay pa ug salom sa iyang mga hinyap?
Ngano ug samukon ko pa usab akong kaugalingon?
Kung mao ang iya, iya gayud
Kung ang ako, ako gayud
Ug di niya ipa-ambit kanako
ang iyang kasakit,
dawaton ko nalang ang kahadlok nga nahimugso
sa iyang panit
Jul 26, 2021
Jul 26, 2021 at 11:16 AM UTC
Lebron James, he's the man. Steve Nash? Get a tan! The king owns Miami any day, Bron v.s Kobe on tv, I'd pay. His dunks electrify the crowd ever night, if you like Kobe, you shouldn't even be reading this, go fly a kite. I respect Kobe, I can't lie, but Lebron, his legacy is up to the sky. Lebron brings his talents to south beach, there bigger than Halo Reach. I will admit, Michael Jordan is the best of the all, and Yao Ming is really tall, but Lebron is the king, and by the end of his career, his hands will be filled with rings.
Nov 13, 2013
Nov 13, 2013 at 12:33 PM UTC
Whilst looking far o'r
long time spreading moor
Cloaked in daisies white
There shall likely be
Bloss'ming cherry tree
Grasping at your sight
Brushing silently by
As daisies qui'tly sigh
As wind moves in flight
Long time you sought
And hard you fought
Not reaching low boughs height
Till setting down
For sun is drowned
Settled for the night
Just before you drift away
Something beckons you to stay
A calling in the night
Yellow and white flow'r
Both of no great pow'r
Standing to no great height
Forbidden by blistering sun
They Bloom when day is done
Sending petal into flight
Finally draws your eye
From boughs never nye
Form'ly insignif'gant beauty in sight
First blooms Flow'r of moon
Eve'ning Primrose thereafter soon
The second of yellow the first of white
Mar 18, 2015
Mar 18, 2015 at 10:08 PM UTC
Tila nagtatanong, tanang mga muthâ
“Saan ba nagpunta ang payat na mamà?”
“Ilang buwan na bang hindi gumagalà
dito sa ‘ming parang na kanyang tumanà?”
Baguhin ang mundo’y dakilang pangarap
Subali’t mailap mga alapaap
Kung kaya’t bumangon kahit na mahirap
Dal’wampung ektarya’y pinagyamang ganap
Mahabang panahong masugid na nagmamahal
Sa katuwang sa puso at kasintahang walang pagal
Pati na sa gagamba at lahat halos na nilalang
Pati na butiking naghatid ng liham
Henyong ermitanyo ba o maestro pilosopo?
Iba ang pananaw, sa buhay, sa mundo
Lahat ay magkakaugnay at ang tao
ay tuldok lang at di panginoong sentro.
Pag-ibig sa bayan at kapaligiran
Ay di sagabal sa mithing kaunlaran
Basta’t angkop sa kaya ng pamayanan
Sadyang sustenable at di pangdayuhan
Bakas sa landas na kanyang nilakaran
Larawan ng diwang tunay, makabayan
Puso at isipang makakalikasan
Karapat-dapat na pagbalik-aralan
Sa Araw ni Ninoy, araw ng pagpanaw,
Sa Araw ng mga Bayani hihimlay
Bayani ng Lupa, may basbas ng araw,
ng ulan. Binuo ang ikot ng buhay.
Mar 17, 2018
Mar 17, 2018 at 8:21 PM UTC
Kay tagal nating nakasama,
Sa katunayan, mula pa noong umpisa,
Hindi byo kami tinalikuran,
Magkagulo man, di nyo kami iiwan.
Kayo ang aming naging ilaw,
Upang ang daang ito'y matanglaw,
Aming sandigan at karamay,
Lalo na sa mga pagsubok nitong buhay.
Di kakayanin ng kahit anong kalatas,
Matumbasan ang sakit na inyong dinanas,
Kahit ilang beses pa magpasalamat,
Sa mga sakripisyo nyo'y di sasapat.
Ngunit ganyan nga naman talaga,
Sa kasalukuya'y wala pa kaming magagawa,
Ngunit sana, sa paglipas ng panahon,
Umiba ang direksyon ng mga alon.
Kasalukuya'y kami'y hanggang "salamat",
Upang bigyang halaga ang pinagdaanan n'yong maalamat,
Mga bagay na kayo at kayo lamang ang makapagbibigay,
Katulad nitong tinatamasa naming buhay.
Kaya sana tanggapin nyo itong aming handog,
Galing sa'ming mga pagkataong kayo ang humubog,
Ang aming pasasalamat na tunay,
Para sa inyo, mga inang walang kapantay.
May 13, 2017
May 13, 2017 at 6:43 PM UTC
Bathala nga’y di nanghushusga
Sa kawangis na nag – iba
Mula ulo hanggang paa
Lahat ginawa at pinagawa
Matupad lamang ang sigaw ng diwa
Nagsilabasan matatalas na dila
Upang bigyan kami ng kakaibang mukha
Bahagharing sa aming makikita
Ito’y naging makulilim na sigwa
Kami’y ginagawa nilang nakakatawa
Kahit sakit na ang nagdudulot sa’ming sigla
Mapagbigyan lamang ang kanilang tawa
Ngunit ang kagustohang sinta
Ay iyong ikinasasam’t pinagdadamut pa
Nais lang naman pag – ibig at pag – aaruga
Tanggap naming na walang magmamahal sa’min ng tama
Wag lang ikumpara sa masahol na hayop sa gubat makikita
Pantay na pagtingin kailan kaya ninyo ipapadama
Ganito nga ba talaga ang gusto ni Bathala?
Mababang tingin saaming ipinapakita
Baluktot na paniniwala mayroon sila
Siradong utak ay pagbuksan na sana
Nang pagkakapantay ay Makita
Ako at ikaw ay hinumal ng kamay ni Bathala
Na walang pag-aalinlangang kasama
Sep 10, 2017
Sep 10, 2017 at 10:57 AM UTC
VACUUM CLEANER TANGO
---Lyrics by Jonathan Caswell
(Some misspellings are due to rhythm keeping)
The Vac…cuum Clea…ner Tango,
Is like…a juicy…mango,
Those fi…bers will…entangle
Your teeth or brushes, pretty quick!
The girls…who do…the cleaning,
Are ev…ver so…well-meaning,
To move…around…guys leaning,
That watch…and approve…the show!
Plugs must…be changed…more frequently,
If lon…ger hallways…decently,
Are cleaned…the most…expediently,
It’s all…a part of…the dance!
The vac…cuum clea…ner tango,
A dai…ly chore…is wrangled,
By clea…ners star…spangled,
Perfor…ming it with…extra class!
Feb 5, 2012
Feb 5, 2012 at 2:45 AM UTC
Maaga kong nilisan
ang lupang sakahan
Tinahak ang lugar
na maingay at magara,
ito pala ang Maynila.
‘di napigilan ng tirik na araw
ang aming pagkukumpulan.
Nagkamayan
kaming magkakabrad,
Simula na ng himagsikan.
Sariwa pa sa alala
kung pa’no
kami inagrabyado.
Itinulak.
Binugbog.
Tinakot.
Ginamitan ng dahas.
Sa plano ng gobyerno
kami pa rin pala ang talo.
Paano pa kami mabubuhay
kung wala ng lupang mapagtatamnan?
Akala ko sa bundok
o gubat lang may ahas
-yun ay sa akala ko lang pala.
Sa’ming magsasaka’y
Kumukulapot ang putik
Ngunit
sa inyong mga nakabarong,
animoy
walang duming nakabahid.
Sa inakala kong
tubig lang ang maaaring
idilig,
Dugo
pala nami’y pwede ring
pumatik.
Tila ba ang gobyerno’y namamanhid.
Nasaan na
ang pinangako nyong
libreng abono?
Ginawa nyo na bang pataba
sa mga bulsa nyo!?
Sa pagpunta
ng mga imperyalistang bansa,
Matutulugan
pa ba kaming mga dukha?
Makatatayo ako
sa aking pagkakadapa
Ngunit
ang bayan
kong nakalugmok ,
makakaahon pa kaya?
Jan 6, 2020
Jan 6, 2020 at 10:48 PM UTC
Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer were a very notorious couple
of cats.
As knockabout clown, quick-change comedians, tight-rope
walkers and acrobats
They had extensive reputation. They made their home in
Victoria Grove—
That was merely their centre of operation, for they were
incurably given to rove.
They were very well know in Cornwall Gardens, in Launceston
Place and in Kensington Square—
They had really a little more reputation than a couple of
cats can very well bear.
If the area window was found ajar
And the basement looked like a field of war,
If a tile or two came loose on the roof,
Which presently ceased to be waterproof,
If the drawers were pulled out from the bedroom chests,
And you couldn’t find one of your winter vests,
Or after supper one of the girls
Suddenly missed her Woolworth pearls:
Then the family would say: “It’s that horrible cat!
It was Mungojerrie—or Rumpelteazer!”— And most of the time
they left it at that.
Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer had a very unusual gift of the
gab.
They were highly efficient cat-burglars as well, and
remarkably smart at smash-and-grab.
They made their home in Victoria Grove. They had no regular
occupation.
They were plausible fellows, and liked to engage a friendly
policeman in conversation.
When the family assembled for Sunday dinner,
With their minds made up that they wouldn’t get thinner
On Argentine joint, potatoes and greens,
And the cook would appear from behind the scenes
And say in a voice that was broken with sorrow:
“I’m afraid you must wait and have dinner tomorrow!
For the joint has gone from the oven-like that!”
Then the family would say: “It’s that horrible cat!
It was Mungojerrie—or Rumpelteazer!”— And most of the time
they left it at that.
Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer had a wonderful way of working
together.
And some of the time you would say it was luck, and some of
the time you would say it was weather.
They would go through the house like a hurricane, and no sober
person could take his oath
Was it Mungojerrie—or Rumpelteazer? or could you have sworn
that it mightn’t be both?
And when you heard a dining-room smash
Or up from the pantry there came a loud crash
Or down from the library came a loud ping
From a vase which was commonly said to be Ming—
Then the family would say: “Now which was which cat?
It was Mungojerrie! AND Rumpelteazer!”— And there’s nothing
at all to be done about that!
2.8k
Good old Hawk. He was quite a guy. The truth of the matter was that Hawk was a needle freak. He was hooked on morphine. He had hepatitis. There was a whole in Hawk's arm where all the money went. Sad but true. Except for enough money for two beers for the Hawk and me.
Who has to hear it. No one, everyone. Needles can be useful for medicine: they can also be a curse. You pierce the skin and feel the ruch and the juices flow unil you get your fill. But there never is a fill until it's over. Don't kid yourself. It will be over because it's a dead end trip.
You'll crash at the end of your last trip. And the trip you have on earth will be on of misery and despair. Nirvana doesn't come cheap. Hundred dollars a day habit could lead to desperate measures. A life of crime, scamming, pawning, betting, borrowing, and stealing. I'm glad to say Hawk held himself above all this. It could not have been an easy road out to travel.
He overdosed three years before the end.
Hawk actually died and was revived by some kind of good fortune, or was it good fortune? Hawk after this had no memory or regular thought process. Hawk wasn't the same man after that. It was not a pretty sight. He was a hollow man, a mere shadow of his former self.
I grew tired of telling Hawk the same thing over and over again. He lived with us for a few years. He moved out into a group home which he didn't like -- too much macaroni. About six months later Hawk was found on the floor of the group home bedroom. This time he was really dead. I don't know if needles were involved. I never heard the details. I like to think needles were not involved for the last three years of Hawk's life. I know he was clean for all the time he stayed with us. However, a great deal of damage had already occurred when Hawk came to live with us.
Hawk was a night person. He would lie there on the couch watching TV all night long with our dog Ming faithfully by his side. They loved one another those two. They were soul mates. Hawk gave Ming her favorite toy - a little blue ball.
Hawk never gave up. His sister would come with raspberry pie and Hawk would glow for a few days.
Anyway, I gave Hawks eulogy. The song for the eulogy, "The needle and the damage done" by Neil Young.
To soar like a Hawk. To crash into the ground.
I'd like to think his spirit soars like a hawk. Maybe now Hawk has found the peace he never found in this life.
Jan 22, 2019
Jan 22, 2019 at 2:38 AM UTC
H-alaga ng buhay
A-y kanyang ipinamalas
P-ag-aaruga't kalinga'y
P-atuloy niyang ipinadarama
Y-akap at halik ang laging niyang
ibinibigay, ngunit tila
M-arami ang sa ati'y nakakalimot na
magpasalamat
O- o nga't tayo'y abala sa pang araw-
araw nating pamumuhay upang
mabigyan siya ng masaganang
buhay, ngunit sa
T-uwing siya'y nalulungkot at
nalulumbay ni
H-indi natin magawang aliwin man
lang
E-wan kung saan ba siya nagkulang
upang pasasalamat sa kanya'y hindi
magawang maisambit man lamang
R-amdam ang pangungulila ng isang
Inang napagkakaitan ng
pagmamahal at pasasalamat ng
isang anak
S-akripisyo'y kanyang iginawad upang
bigyan tayo ng magandang buhay
D-ugo at laman na sa ati'y kanyang
ibinigay, kaya
A-ting alalahanin na tayo'y may isang
Inang handang magmahal at
magbuwis ng buhay, kaya ngyong
araw ng mga Ina hayaan **** ika'y
aming pasalamatan
Y-ou're our Mom who gave US life.
N-atatanging INA, sa
A-ming siyam na magkakapatid na si
N-anay
A-DORACION LOYOLA TIMAJO-
ARCENAL a.k.a DORY OCAMPO
May 12, 2018
May 12, 2018 at 6:01 AM UTC
The slant-eyed
giant hunter
people of Tsul Kalu
came in peace
To become
the central universe
Cherokee white elders
hereditary priests
teaching peace
Winged rattlesnake
constellation
of time untime
Singing the death song
Sacred spirits
animal, plant, herb and tree
The wheel
what is, will be
(*The ancient Chinese were
the greatest astronomers.
Later in the 1400's their
massive treasure fleets
mapped the World
The Yuki, Navajo, Apache,
Yuchis, Ming ** Melungeons,
Shawnee (Oceanye ** Sioux,
Cree Ojibuwa and Moskoke
have Chinese ancestors
some claimed to be Chinese
European explorers told of
elders speaking Chinese
ancient Chinese artefacts
and wrecked junks seen
History as taught might
be but a fairytale*)
Aug 12, 2010
Aug 12, 2010 at 5:07 AM UTC
Today I write an ode to Joe’s
Procurator, seller, and trader
For my better half it is your coffees
For me, your store entire, for
Your bounty fills my refrigerator
Treasures spicy from India, Japan
Brought to us by your Trader San
From south of the border
Travel goodies galore-a
Compliments of Trader Jose
Then there’s Trader Giotto from Italy
Without a doubt, his yummies call me
There are Jo-Jo’s, curries, oh cho-co-late sweet
And did I mention lotions for feet
There is Pilgrim Joe’s and Trader Ming’s
Who bring to us the finer things
The wines, the drinks, the healthy oils
I dream at night of all your spoils
By way of mention, I cannot forget
Baker Josef who serves to us
Tasty bagels, delicious baguettes
Arabian Joe’s and Joseph Brau
Bring us falafels and rings in our beer
Oh, Trader Johann's and Trader Jacques'
For bodies clean and lips that are fresh
Your Joe's Kids keep mummy's happy
Trader Darwin's help us all stay healthy
Did I, could I, miss anyone?
Don’t want to leave out even one
Your marinated meats, your frozen treats
From Diner Joe’s there are lunches quick
For us working stiffs, his heat-n-eats
Oh, pumpkin scones and cereal O’s
I should not forget your sample bar
Where tastys await to test for my plate
And did I say how amazing you are?
While others sell just fluff and stuff
Of your yummy goodness
I cannot get enough
So if one day soon the Joe’s disappear
I’ll not fret, no i’ll not fear
On me for sure you can count the cause
Right down to your last breadcrumb
For shelves will be bursting in my garage
Where I'll be holding them all, without ransom
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 4:10 PM UTC
Hanging turtles and
Netted birds of amenity
Dangle from her
Left hip like jewels ‘neath a,
“Ming,” ear as she traverses
Mountains beholden kitchens
And one more rise come setting splendor.
Supper may be atop the right, pelvis,
But opposite and left,
Rests the flask, bitter in chase of sanity.
I’m sure the scant pebble
Rattling in between
Her stomach and sorrow
Was nothing more than
A desperate thirst opposed the
Blister born benevolence,
Thirst opposed execution
And a coin converted spirit opposed,
“Xie xie,” (thank you), a platitude,
As heads clip pavement,
Blood pales a gutter,
Or soon-to-be feast’s final throes,
A bleeding and breeding for other,
Leading jitter-beholden mice to flee,
For they may be next
So future’s victuals arrive
Unhindered.
All and assumptive, assistance and rendered,
She walks away with only this –
Everyone’s emaciated
And the butcher on the street is still a butcher,
A peddler, a savior, and butcher again;
A source, be it left, right or wrong,
In need of a drink, as we all are,
With only the means, “take me to the sip,”
And by dollar come pocket born you.
Aug 13, 2015
Aug 13, 2015 at 10:13 AM UTC
I was doing research in Hubei
Where they executed Yu,
That deity soldier glorified
By Buddhists, Taoists too,
I sat perusing manuscripts
That dated from the Ming,
And came across a reference
About Yu’s finger ring.
A ring of gold so broad that it
Would fit a peasant’s wrist,
For Guan Yu was a mighty man
His ring, an amethyst,
Set round with groups of diamonds
It was lost the day, they said,
That Sun Quan had ordered them
To lop off Guan Yu’s head.
They lost it for a thousand years
It turned up with the Ming,
Was lost again in battle with
That mighty force, the Qing,
I’d heard it round the market place
A whisper, now and then,
That ring, it might have surfaced
In the village of Maicheng.
I scoured the streets and alleyways
For signs of old antiques,
Researching as I went, I walked
Around the town for weeks,
I found a backstreet corner shop
One night, and open late,
Run by a dodgy Chinaman
A total reprobate.
He had links to the Triads, they
Would come into the shop,
A shifty group of gangsters with
Their stolen goods to pop,
From where I sat with manuscripts
Up on the second floor,
I’d look straight down the staircase
Watch them come in through the door.
One day they brought in a bundle
Tied up in a burlap sack,
Threw it down on the counter, said:
‘What do you make of that?’
Fang Zhang then opened the parcel and
He pulled out a giant hand,
The flesh the texture of leather with
A monstrous golden band.
The ring was almost immoveable
The hand, with fingers spread,
Could grasp a maiden around the waist
Or crush a warrior’s head,
I held my breath as the Triad tried
To disengage the thing,
And all the while the diamonds flashed
On that massive golden ring.
Fang Zhang paid over a block of notes
That looked more like a brick,
There must have been a million Yuan
From what I saw of it,
The Triad left and I caught my breath
Fang Zhang had pulled it off,
He threw the hand in a ******* bin
And then I left the shop.
He hid the ring as I walked on through
I had to get some air,
I’d caught a glimpse of a famous ring,
A thing I couldn’t share,
They’d say it didn’t exist, that I
Was dreaming, if I tried,
They thought that it had been lost to view
The day that Yu had died.
I went back down the following day
The Police were there in force,
They stood out front and barred the way
From normal ***********
They told me through an interpreter
Of the ****** of Fang Zhang,
His face was black, for around his neck
Was a massive, ringless hand!
David Lewis Paget
(Pronunciation: Guan Yu - Gwon you
Hubei - Who - bay; Sun Quan - Sun Chu-arn
Qing - Ching; Maicheng - My - cheng
Fang Zhang - Fang Shjang (soft J))
Oct 26, 2013
Oct 26, 2013 at 9:26 PM UTC
An Oriental doll
In front of
A Wild West painting
in my
Mother's house...
East meets West.
Polar Opposites.
Together.
Just
Trying to
Tell
Their
Story...
Jul 4, 2015
Jul 4, 2015 at 1:31 PM UTC
Crawls out of tree trimming truck
Open windows, vacancy
Passer by calls out, “Home, Sweet Home”
Smile replies “Good morning projects”
Stretch, yawn, alive another day
Stacks in hand, bravado declares
“Hey, it just takes twenty to roll.”
Cars roll up, dealing time
“Mother **** get off my line”
If his head wasn’t cracked like a fish on a hook
He could have made serious book
Screens left in car pockets, empty balloons on asphalt
**** this player’s playin’
Strawberries crawl out of woodwork
Rocks off for rocks transactions—no cash pay
Maybe this one will let you stay
Yo Becky, how are your kids?
**** ups from the past recite their script,
“You going to cop?”
Sprung like a Safeway chicken
You know the drill, just walk it off
Strung out with eyes afire
Well acquainted with your veins
Taking care to bleach needles
What about bloodied syringes, *** brains?
Got in trouble with your boys again
This time there’s no runnin’ anywhere
Pulled you off the top of the fence
Almost left your finger up there
Took a ride in an ambulance
Was it fun?
Your little sister and I flew
Picked you up from County UCLA Harbor
She cried the second she saw you
Don’t know if you even saw her
Since your eye was out of socket
Went up north to heal but started to deal
Big sister’s growing skunk
Little brother’s in Chino with Ming Tai
Big brother’s on America’s Most Wanted
Is this typical projects funk?
Brothers, sisters, homeboys, sensei all had voices
You had talent, promise but made other choices
Maybe now, brother, you can rest in peace
Here lies Shawn
All his heroes were dealers
Feb 22, 2010
Feb 22, 2010 at 11:19 AM UTC
altho
ugh i push y
ou away, yo
u have alw
ays see
med to kno
w that
the truth of the m
atter is, i will alwa
ys need you more
and yet
poets are flagra
nt wastes of space
hem
ming the edge
s of this society
confining it
with hed
onistic needs and wants
and all t
he ridiculous feeli
ngs assoc
iated with the fu
cked system of
emot
ional intelligence
emascu
lating the blac
k and wh
ite i des
ire of
Alas, Alas
I seem to have drowned myself into Kool-Aid.
"Poets are shameless with their experiences; they exploit them" said Nietzsche once.
I wonder how you are today.
Sep 28, 2012
Sep 28, 2012 at 2:45 AM UTC
Torrents pouring down around me,
Standing with my arms flung wide
Trying to catch the life, the meaning
And possibilities so high.
I can't stand here, watching helpless;
I wish my soul would be at peace.
There's nothing more that I desire
Than for anxiety to cease.
I see the bubbling brook, so peaceful,
And hear it as it passes by
As birds, chirping, bid me welcome
In bloss'ming trees that point to sky.
Spring and life anew surround me,
But still, I feel no joy inside.
The burdens of my life are haunting
As life is turning with the tide.
Thousands of people, talking, laughing
Pass me by at every turn
If I could but reach out and touch them,
Then would my soul-song cease to yearn?
Alas, I'm in this lonely bubble
Silent but for tears and fears;
Uncertainty that swarms around me
And cringing from the gossip's jeers.
Alas, if I could love another--
With love, unselfish and so true
For so few can penetrate this bubble
Knowing my flaws, and loving me, too.
Apr 23, 2010
Apr 23, 2010 at 12:13 PM UTC
Nagigirumduman ko nanaman an namit
Kan tocino na binakal ni Papa ki Pay Tasing
An parong habang piniprito sa kawali
An pagtilampsik kan lanang sobrang init
Inaabangan ko an pag-ugpa kan kakanon
Sa lamesa ming maugmahon
Yaon si tugang na mayong ibang ginibo
Kundi an magselpon maghapon
Si Papa na inaabangan an balita sa TV
Uni ako sadit-sadit
Dai pa kayang magkakan solo
Kaya inaabang ko an eroplano
Nagitok-itok may darang maluto
Saka paborito kong tocino
Naglalayog daa sabi ni Mama
"Open your mouth na"
Arog lang kani an buhay mi kadto
Simple lang pero magkaibahan
Sa atubangan kan lamesa
Mahihiling mo an pagpadangat ninda
Mauumok ka sa kaugmahang dara
Simple man lang an gusto ko
An makainom nin tubig
Sa atubangan nindo.
—𝐔𝐦𝐨𝐤, a Bikol poetry.
Aug 8, 2020
Aug 8, 2020 at 11:51 AM UTC
We walk with pride, so what if, in hell, we ride.?
We live with love, intermittently fighting, we ourselves feel disgust.
We are our own demolishers and, widout oxygen mask, try to face high tide,
We build up life in here too, known as diversely robust.
Affection we all do have, but somewhere our ego ruthfully slays,
We speak always truth in here, and mostly we lie, eh.!
But still there hope for us, for the sight of unity is always shown,
So what if the dividing strength amongst us is grown.?
On one side we are creative but on the other we destroy our world,
Anger is filled like hell in us, to bring guilt with the cold.
Spiritual rivers spread peace among devil's in this beautiful creepy land,
Fire of Hunger is soothed by the waterfall of diverse recipies, bring on the pan.!
Strength of ours comes in various types and brands,
So what if our tears flow sometimes, our hearts are soft as sand.
Our own siblings are slashed and ripped, then like a drama, we inspect,
Our sisters here are lustily slayed, and guess who's the suspect,
Music explores our minds to reach its every string,
Explodes the energy out of us when dance and music ming,
It was us who concatenated words and forming a tone we sang,
What ever we have now, it all started with a big bang.
May it be Science, Religion or Creativity, Our blood contains them as heritage,
Every knowledge is adored and then here it mutates, may it be of the time of stone age.
We are selfish, greedy, sinful and want to win, images of us all in fear,
But kindness, help and purity's also there in us, loves flows in here like-oh dear..!!
Emotion we have upto brim, but dare you mess with us,
We can be on the top of everyone, except some ***** cause the trough.!
Beauty lies in us in all aspects, come and do explore,
Nothing in the world can beat the sinusoidal graph of HUMAN Lore.!
Jan 18, 2014
Jan 18, 2014 at 1:23 PM UTC
I am not offended by your words.
Do not be offended when I smile.
Look up.
Let the sun rays burn your face
and fall,
fall
into a peace,
a peace that passes all understanding.
A knowing.
Of greatness.
You'll fade
they all do.
Learning to love.
Love unconditionally,
without attatchment.
Prepare your heart
and make room for the lights
the colors.
The rainbow beams of every soul.
Even the dark.
Light cannot be without shadows.
"Some Warriors look fierce but are mild. Some seem timid but are vicious. Look beyond appearances - position yourself for the advantage. - Deng Ming-Dao
May 14, 2013
May 14, 2013 at 8:58 PM UTC
dead plants and concrete and
awful awful skinless things
in each brown eye
in every silence
start
screa
ming
Dec 26, 2011
Dec 26, 2011 at 10:56 PM UTC