"pickpocketed" poems
Watch out, the stove is hot.
White iron teeth that will bite your tongue,
split chapped lips,
then eat salt and vinegar crisps.
Sharp streaks of nerves,
grinning with missing incisors
drip in lines down your chin
of green and brown copper.
If I had a fish pond
to throw these dimes into,
I would never have to know
where they came from,
why they didn't fall out of
my coat with the turned up collar.
Unwashed wool wraps and rots
round warped shoulders,
gnarling strained fingers
between ball and socket joints.
Fussy tea cakes and strands of hair
relinquished to the wind
hobble up and down outdoor train stations,
old-fashioned floral prints swept aside,
a puppet show of sickly chicken legs
pocked, potholed and pickpocketed.
Lost in the war, between couch cushions,
baked into blackberry crumble
in go egg whites, out come memories
of snow that tightroped power lines,
good dogs that stayed,
coauthors of the oxford english dictionary.
Badly rolled cigarette smoke in the streets
writes gregorian poetry for darned socks
snagged on shoddy repair jobs,
splintered wooden bones.
Pour yourself a stiffer drink,
it’s going to be a gangrenous winter.
May 23, 2013
May 23, 2013 at 2:38 AM UTC
As I breathe the taint Manila air in,
I knew I was about to fall in love again.
Oh how I craved for the smoke belching out of the jeepneys,
how badly did I want that signature smog to have me begging for fresh, precious air?
Ah, nothing would beat the musky, filthy smell from the streets and the constant fear of being pickpocketed that no feeling in the world would ever compare. The last time I felt my heart beat like a wild beast was when I was walking alone down Raon to fetch my first few vinyl records.
Commuting is a breeze. Except that breeze is in the apple of the eye of the storm that I would gladly, willingly look straight into. Quiapo is but an irony; the only place in the world where you would feel safe and protected by the church and the very same place you would feel fear of being mugged or robbed or both.
But the food, dear God, is incomparable. The blood enemy of my melancholy. I find peace in Binondo, a haven that makes me forget all the political dysporia going on with our good old neighbor and ***** lover, China. Let's take a breather and bask on our shared heritage and cuisine instead, shall we?
Manila. Her chaos, her charm,
her history and the dreams she holds for me...
these are what I will always come back here and battle death for.
Jul 17, 2019
Jul 17, 2019 at 4:54 AM UTC
Pickpocketed
each pocket has a purpose
church bells shatter through the surface
the worthless circus sunday service
a procession past the pickled mirthless
dispersions of persons pass pews
hoping He accepts the time served, in lieu
and thus this pocket is purposed for you
At the masqurade parade all day
That preys on insecurity
youre sure to see a bargain,
sharking, armed with curiosity
but the cost is often hidden, lost
in a forest of desire, in a silk lined pocket
and this is where they keep your wallet
search for solace in a sound structure
then ruptured synapses, flayed fluster
rebuild it all, regard life's lustre
meander melancholy with what you can muster
place them in a pocket, each respective,
one for your lessons and one for perspective
as the pickpocket of fear plays with the reasoning detective
Aug 27, 2019
Aug 27, 2019 at 8:28 AM UTC
I hear the voice of God in your whisper
Pickpocketed remorse hastily disguised
By the veil of childlike, painted glee.
Beyond this moment I truly could die.
May 26, 2019
May 26, 2019 at 1:22 AM UTC
i screamed into the void until my lungs collapsed,
but she barely gave me a glance when the silence relapsed.
i called out to the stars and they gave me an excuse:
“hey man i’m sorry, it’s me, it’s not you.”
i tried to infuse my veins with rocket fuel,
but the mechanical pieces of my internal organs found the chemicals too cruel.
they rejected everything until i coughed up acid:
“why isn’t this enough? please just be placid.”
so i cracked open my ribs along the seam of my breastbone,
searching for my heart in the empty unknown.
instead i found my lungs, punctured and failing:
“why are you here when there’s stars to be sailing?”
i tried hailing a taxi with the blood on my hands,
but my ribs were too messy for the driver’s backseat to stand.
so i tried walking home but the sidewalks betrayed me:
“why are you stepping on me when you should be saving me?”
i broke out into a sprint through other people’s backyards
but i found myself blacking out and not getting too far.
it was then that i found a fence that caused my stumbling and crashing:
“hey kid can’t you read? that sign says no trespassing.”
i pickpocketed other people’s dreams until i couldn’t hold them anymore,
bursting at the seams with too little to show for.
i picked apart my brain to find the source of my decay,
only to find a note in my own handwriting: “find your own way.”
i dropped to my knees and ignored the bruising,
struggling to find anything i’ve done of my own choosing.
i cried out to the sky and the constellations replied,
“why are you complaining when you haven’t let go of your pride?”
so i swallowed my tongue and cast down my eyes,
rising back to my feet but no longer alive.
i looked up to the moon to give me guidance,
but whatever answers i was looking for, i couldn’t find it.
it was then that i realized that i’ve been complacent too long,
finding new beats but always singing the same old song.
so i stitched up all my pieces and washed myself clean:
“i will be okay. it’s just, i don’t ever dream.”
Oct 3, 2016
Oct 3, 2016 at 5:13 PM UTC
Walking down the road with a cheerful mind
I enjoyed every minutes with a serene breezy wind
Suddenly I have realized I lost my keys
But that won't be a matter I guess,
Because I have another set of keys in my home.
Then I couldn't find my wallet in my back pocket
Probably I was pickpocketed,
And I didn't care about that also
All of a sudden your thoughts came to my sense
I lost you a long time ago
But those feelings are still in my mind
As I walked down the road towards your kiss
In the end that have turned into a bliss
As I walked down the road to the light
In the end that have turned into a fight
The fight is in between my heart and my mind
Mind says move on but the heart still bear those feelings inside
This chaos won't be solved which I have realized
We lost many things and we teach ourselves to move on
But there there are some missing that we still want to carry on
:( :( :(
May 13, 2016
May 13, 2016 at 4:24 PM UTC