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Tumibok ang puso ko
Hindi dahil sa may hinihinga pa
Ngunit bunsod sa kaba.

Tumayo ako't humakbang
Narating ko ang entablado;
Hindi ko lubos maisip
Na ito na ang pangalawang beses
Na tutuntong ako't haharap sa madla.

Isang pribilehiyo
Salamat sa grasya ng Panginoon.

Panimula ko'y winaksi na sa isipan
Bagkus ang bibig ay kusang niluluwalhati Siya
Maging ang pangwakas ay nakatuon lamang sa Kanya.

Ang buhay ko'y minsang naging sakal
Akala ko noon, kaya kong walang sinasandalan
Ngunit ako'y minsang naupo sa silya-elektrika
At tinawag na nasasakdal.

Isarado natin sa siyam na taon
Ako'y nasa rehas pa ng kadiliman
Na tanging sariling latay ang nasasaksihan
Kilala ko Siya na may lalang sa akin
Ang tingin nga lang ay ambulansya Siya:
Na 'pag kailanga'y, panay hikbi't nanlilimos ng grasya
Ngunit 'pag ayos ang lahat,
Iniiwan ang sarili't umiindayog sa dilim.

Sa siyam na taon
Ako'y binahiran ng itim na blusa
Akala ko'y hindi ko na matatakasan ang rehas;
Ang sekswal na kasalanang bumalot sa pagkatao
At naging mitsa nang paghinto ng nararapat na pagpapala.

Ngunit ang lahat pala'y kayang limutin ng Ama
At ang maling relasyo'y kinitil sa tamang panahon
Na ang pag-ibig ay magkaroon ng katuturan
At doon nalaman na 'pag para sa kapwa'y
Sunod lamang sa mas rurok
Ng saktong timpla ng pagmamahal.

Umaagos ang luha ko nang walang nakakakita
Ang puso'y hinihele ng Kanyang mga anghel
At ang Kanyang sakripisyo'y tagos sa kamoogan.

Hindi ko lubos na maintindihan noon ang pag-ibig Niya
Na kayang akayin ang buo kong pagkatao
At buburahin ang kamalian ng nakaraan
At maging ng ngayon at ng bukas.

Hindi ko alam kung saan paparoon
Kaya't pilit kong sinuot ang maling maskara noon
Ang puso'y mali rin ang naging direksyon
Maling galaw at mali ang naging layon.

Ibinaling ko ang lahat sa sariling persona
Nag-aral nang mabuti't hindi nalulong sa anumang droga
Maraming organisasyon ang kinabilangan
Sa pag-aakalang matatakpan ang bawat butas
At masisilayan lamang ang magandang antas ng sarili.

Sa madaling salita, binuo ko ang sarili kong pagkatao
At nalimot at nakaligtaan na may nag-iisa lamang na Manghuhulma
Ngunit salamat at naarok ko ang tamang landas
Na ang minsang batong sinantabi't itinapon
Ang siyang tutuwid sa baku-bako kong daan.

Hindi pala ako magiging masaya
Kung ang sentro ko'y ang aking sarili
At nang ako'y palayain Niya,
Masasabi kong ganap na ang aking pagkatao
Na nakilala ko ang sarili --
Kung sino ako't kung para kanino.

Wala na akong mahihiling pa
Mahirap man sa sansinukob na ito'y
Patuloy pa ring maghihitay sa Kanyang pagbabalik.

Hindi ko kinalilimutan ang mundo
Ang labindalawang disipolo na Kanyang regalo sa akin
Ang kanilang mga buhay na tangan ko hanggang sa huli
At hindi sapat na sumuko lamang
Hindi ko kaya, ngunit kaya Niya.

Ang pag-ibig ko sa pamilya ko'y hindi maaawat
May mga tanong sa isipan ngunit hindi ko ito ginising
Hindi ko abot ang Kanyang kaalaman
Kaya't inilapag at inihain na lamang sa Kanyang paanan.

Muli, hindi ko kayang mag-isa --
Mag-isang nag-aarok ng pansamantalang tagumpay
Ngunit ang paniniwalang may pag-asa pa
Ay patuloy ang pag-usbong gaya ng mga malalagong dahon;
Ang bawat kaluskos ay maririnig ng Ama
At ang pugad na kinatitirikan ko ngayo'y
Haplos ng Kanyang banal na mga kamay.

(6/28/14 @xirlleelang)
Alila syang sakal
Tila nasa hawlang nasa labas ng sinapupunan
Naghihikahos sya
Humihingi ng tulong.

Tinawag ko si Tatay
Pagkat ako'y manikin
Wala sa ulirat
Habang sya'y nasa piit ni Kamatayan.

Pilit syang pumipiglas
Sa pira-pirasong tabla
Nakaririndi ang tinig
Hindi marunong kumalma.

Tayo'y nilalang na may isip
May katinuan
Hindi kailangang pumiglas
At panay ang laban.

Minsan, kahinaa'y malalasap
Ba't hindi huminto?
Hindi ito pagsuko, kaibigan
Ito'y paghihintay
Paghihithit ng lakas
Na kahit saglit
Ang buhay ay mahingahang muli.
Naiinis ako kay Teddy (ang Tuta naming mukhang Teddy Bear, malaki ang mata na parang si Keropi), pilit na papasok sa bahay at kaawa-awang maiipit. Buti na lang andyan si Papa, buhay pa siya haha.
Euphoria Nov 2015
Ang unang halik ay ninais maging wagas
Tulad ng pag-ibig sayong hindi pa rin kumupas
Sinabing mo saking walang pagtingin
Tinapos ang lahat at tinapon sa hangin

Ngunit, sinta, ano ito?
Isang halik ng impokrito?
Bakit idinampi ang mga labi
Gayong umalis ka na sa aking tabi?

Isa ba kong laruan sa'yong mga mata
Na magbibigay saya sayo kapag malungkot ka na?
Napakadaya mo naman, sinta.
Hindi mo ba naisip na ako'y nasasaktan na?

Sabihin mo sa akin, aking mahal.
Ano ba ang katotohanan dahil ako ay nakagapos at sakal
Sa magkasalungat **** salita at gawa
Na hinahagupit ako ng walang awa.
solEmn oaSis Nov 2015
muli sa inyong harapan,walang kiyeme.Ako'y may luha ng galak  na sumasainyo
pigil hininga sa mga katotong bantayog na nakakasalamuha ko
halos hikahos kong kinu-kuyumos yaring mga mata ko na wala pang hilamos
pagkat sa tulad kong aba' ,kada rima ay sadya talagang mana nga o para sa tao etong aking paghangos!

isang nilalang na ang kara ay tila ba mapalad na albularyo
na di man lang kapara ng doktor na malawak ang bokabularyo
kaya't halina at ating paigtingin ang naturang tula at talumpati
sa tamang panahon at termino ng huwarang tupa at puting kalapati

ehem,,ayon daw sa isang bokasyon
dapat raw eh mag-bukas 'yon
Oo."ang hawla na seremonya sa KASAL
at tanging tali lamang ang may SAKAL

LAKAS sa paghila,manapa nama'y banayad
AKLAS man ang reaksiyon ng pagaspas sa paglipad
magsisitingala ay LAKSA hanggang ang pares ay magsidapo
mapapahangang gaya sa SAKLA.,tagos agad walang kahapo-hapo

edi wow aww aww...kahol ng bantay-bombang ASKAL
habang nababakas ang kasiyahan ng kapwa magpupulot-gata at ng mga saksing sabik sa sabaw
kapagdaka'y palakpakan naman ang siyang sa paligid ay pumaimbabaw
LASAK man na sa paningin ang pulang alpombra,hinde naman matatawaran mga alaalang duon ay naihalal!
to be continue......
na para bang KALyeSerye--
a Series of Love with KArats
Angela Mercado Jul 2020
Araw-araw bumabangon
sa sariling saliw;
ginigising ng gutom
na kumakahig sa bituka.
Minsa'y may buwan pa.
Minsa'y may araw na.
Palagian,
walang laman
ang platong hapag
sa sahig na simot
sa mumo.

Katamaran!

Katamaran
ang limang-minutong
pahinga
mula sa pag-araro ng lupang
'di pag-aari.
Katamaran
ang pag-inom
ng tubig
sa gitna ng pagkayod
sa araw na tirik.

Batugan kung tawagan -

palamunin

- mga litid na sakal,

makabagong alipin.

Mga matang idinilat
ng karahasan,
mga iyak na busal ng
kasadong bala -

Ngayon,
gigising.

Gigisingin hindi ng kalam sa tiyan.
Binalda ng pang-uumit -
bubulabugin
ng kapagalan
mula sa impyernong tahi
ng bukirin.

Gigising sa sariling saliw;
hindi sa gutom
na gumuguhit
sa bituka.

Gigising

Gigisingin

ng pakikibaka.
#JUNKTERRORBILL #BIGASHINDIBALA
Random Guy Oct 2019
276
Sinasaktan ka lang n'ya.
At hindi sa paraan ng salita.
Pisikal.
Sinasaktan ka lang n'ya.
At masakit na hindi ka n'ya sinasaktan sa paraang alam kong mas masakit, damdamin.
Dahil kahit ano pang sabihin ng iba na mas masakit masaktan ang damdamin kaysa pisikal,
ay mas gugustuhin kong umiyak ka dahil minura o sinisi,
kaysa sakal sa leeg at sugat sa labi.
Masakit,
kung iisipin ang suntok sa mukha,
o harangan ang paghinga sa pamamagitan ng unan.
Masakit, na sa lahat ng sasaktan ay ikaw pa.
Prinsesa, inalagaan ng ilang taon bilang kaibigan
upang makita lamang ang mga pasa sa braso,
sugat sa puso,
mukhang maamo na nilamon ng pait.
Pero nakaka ngiti pa rin sa akin na para bang walang nangyari.
Higpit ng yakap na para bang walang sakit na iniinda.
Tawa na kay lakas na wari mo'y hindi umiyak kagabi.
Gabi-gabi kong iniisip kung anong ginagawa mo,
hindi,
kung anong ginagawa n'ya sayo.
Dahil bukod sa saya na naibibigay n'ya
sa bawat halik,
o yakap,
o talik
ay mas nangingibabaw ang sakit
mula sa suntok,
sampal
at sigaw.
Pero sa sulok ng aking utak ay mas mapapasaya kita.
Oo,
naisip ko na ito dati,
at mas iniisip pa ngayon.
Alam ko namang malabo ang mga pangyayari dati pero mas lumilinaw na ngayon.
Sa mga panaginip lang dati nangyayari, isasabuhay na ngayon.
Mahal kita at hindi ka dapat mapa sa kanya.
Dahil una pa lamang kitang nakita , ay akin ka na.
jia Jun 2018
ako'y nakakulong.
malayo sa tao,
malayo sa iyo.

ako'y nakakulong.
na tila ba dyamante,
na tila ba isang kayamanan.

ako'y nakakulong,
sa higpit ng hawak nila'y ako'y sakal na,
sa higpit ng taban nila'y ako'y sawa na.

ako'y nakakulong.
ako'y pagod na.
ako ay 'yong isalba.
solEmn oaSis Jul 2022
( Episode 1- Putong )

Poong may Kapal
Kalong po'y Dasal
Noong ako'y pagal
Tulong mo'y Bukal

KulOng pa naman at sakal
dahong binasbas ay banal
Payong ay bukas sa lokal
Balong iniigiban ay moral

kay tagal sinasalubong ng daluyong
Kay bagal umusbong ng Kamagong
Dumatal na at lumipas rin ang dagundong
Kumintal pa rin sa akin hampas ng bagumbong

Ngayong patayo na nga si Pangulong Digong
Tayong mga Pinoy pa din ang pihong bayong
may layong muling maLulan ang panibagong pinunong
Mayroong Tapang sa Pagsulong ng Totoong PagkanLong

Mala-Antonio Luna ang dila,,,hinding-hindi umuurong
Andres Bonifacio naman kung sumugod,,pag itak ang umiiral
Samantala tila Apo Lakay kung umakay ng talino sa pag-usbong
At buwis benepisyo sa sarili ang ikararangal kapara ni Jose Rizal

Sa ngalan ng ama na naging kasing-tatag ng bumbong.,..
Paupo na nga at buong pagpupunyagi sa pagitan ng tipikal kontra kritikal...
Ang anak na itinakda walang iba kundi si Presidente Bongbong...
Ang ika-Labing pitong Pangulo ng Pilipinas , sa inang-bayan ay mapagmahal !!!

© June 8, 2022
Pen by soLemn oaSis


it is not emergency but so
merging epic getting-in to
" T M A L M " episode 2
          were
reminiscing and heading
on the way too,
right inside the ride
            where
i picked packed boom,
as i rewrite my old poem
entitled tic tac toe
           wears
a single syllabication
of chosen words' lyricism
narrated from start to end and
          bears
a no beware bars set up
until i care to dare
the bottom bares on top !
       fear
neither nobody nor elses foes
and heaven knows good son
who does one hell of a bad
       near
unproven bundled doses of unrhymed
lines made by those unarmed farmers
gonewild with unarmored poetries .
                    T  E  A  R ! ! !
             h  r  r  e
             r  a  r  p
            o  s  i  e
            u  u  v a
            g  r  e  t
             h  e  s  s
Inspired by history and events here in my homeland a.k.a orient pearl of far east
The Philippines
Ken Pepiton Oct 22
In the stacks of all we knew, LOOKY HERE,
in 72 minutes we walk a parsec, and Earth turns
two degrees, and Annie Jacobsen's whole
do no more, is all our denoument.

- pardon our verbosity, we had free time -

What news good came lately my way,
I long to think I did expect, my way
was new made, after the majority attained
use of Google translate thinker augments,
weform a contextual we, excluding
orders of social harmony
allowing liar laws life,
justice and way
eminence
eumenine specificity, so many specified known
wasps classified royally cosmopolitan,
mental peace presensing sub-untilificious

royal rules, only queens reproduce,
only idle bees are never seen busy,
and some can see syms when societies
all stop to think, for a minute,
and just breath, in, then out
we form awesome thinks expansive,
to mostly
support generally useless bums, like me.

{estimated reading time queries are invalid}

This is why, don't ask why again, or else,
imagine that…

The idle mind is where repairs are made.
Pairs connect, mate in mind and hold
thoughts as long as you imagined…

With this tool,
were I one willing, and able,
to master its functionality, imagined

ever learning along with reality
expanding the need to know,

all the things possible in this window,
between my time and thine, whole
worlds away in words never writ
with ink or wedge in stone nor clay
wished for siderealities, as many as
all the stars within augmented plain
sight, as through any stained pane,
presenting dancing pixels just there,
edgewise,
in our per ifery margin, where beauty
squirms eusocially,
all lights holding mean-peak
at an instant's attention
max red or green or blue, fading to black.

Pain, in jokes and drama, pain
is the essential underlay, the gesso
McLuhan saysotoo
over which we pigmentate, media
mental in original intention, obedient,

under law older than Shadrach,
the law of the Medes and Persians,
the power of attorney given priests
of the authors of our orders, classified,
as it is writ, thus it must be… sacred
ready readers, only.
Reading makes inclusion work as wisdom,
instant completely functioning beautifully,
breathe-ing
as if, asked
and answered, at the moment, called
Wisdom, come, entreat with all warring in me,
Wisdom, come, gentle minds twisted by me,
Wisdom, come, make us make believe.
-------------

Eerie, eh, not holding any thought, being
thought spiritual enough to find any word

so idled as to be posh fluff or street crud,
slung to signal inclusion in the with side,
the meaning in life is the message
in this medium prepositioned
opposed
to the without side, those at emnity
with truth's way

Into the comfort zone,

danger free, follow your toes, theories
of everything, meditatively perpendicular,

norms, and circles, churning burning effort,
ef-ing walls extend effects solid ificate
to hold the ash and tailings,

mined precepts seeding crystals
in caverns,
never witnessed, now known, so true,

two dichotomies make one tetrad,
and whatsoever we agree
to make believe

we may, and think it not robbery
to play,

make functional fun, little impulse to smile,
and think I know this idea, functions in me,
wink
and now, you, unless we lost you at the
NAND gate, excluding unbelievers, then a
NAND gate excluding unbelievers in live words,
NAND gate excluding no second guessing, here

we are, all in one window, thinking
we are our kind,  tied
at our common sense ability,

to stretch a point,
to make a thread one pastless point thin,
to tie a premis, a premission, permitting ponderous
whying
heavy duty gullibility
in terms
of mortal sensibilities,
this'll kihl you. I realized. Accidental as the idea silent
aitches let us talk end existence kihling bad ideas

to use pain
to teach, 'ow, why how is always
thorny issues, way back, seemed common,
we learn how fire works
by being made aware,
- not by being burned, a touch is enough
- skin as sensitive as a frog in parable lies, leaps
as touch response reflex functions all start running
what ifs against wonder ifs, wishes versus prayers,
-no, frogs won't simmer to death, they leap
using frog sense,
worth of knowing how long
to wait in winter, learning
worth of knowing bears know something
of weather. Co-mental commenting we think.
Thought hard fruit, thinkalongtime fruit, ra' good

Singing salmon songs I never learned, thinking bear
market strategies make less sense than bullshat
macroeconomic dimensions extractable
from meta data,
under all we ever stood up from under,
in the bubble of all I bet I knew for sure,

boldly accumulating in arterial informal plaques,
and films in limenal tunnels holding quarks as ones,

two bit chirality problem,
solved, cut it six ways,
two heads, two mouths, in one, out the other,
inside outside all at once, so easy, we imagined,
image that, two eyes, two ears, two nasal passages
into synodical pressure sensitive chambers
sinus sorting
of pheremone signal
to act analagous senders
to whale domes, catchers,
signal
from noise, gnosisnot say so,
sniff, feel cold nose, think so,
swallow all pride, and pretend, we made up this mind,
and it uses words we can understand
in all the unbarbing thorny issues
of zoological superfluity, among

watchers and waiters serving as idle ants,
with angst relief primary function,
just take air for granted, free
grace in time of need,
sleep if you are tired, easy,
weary way we know we go, has
cost. Pain exists, you know, you can imagine
in art, in jokes, and most certainly dramatic series
that carry followers
through decades exposed
to commercials announcing urgent solutions,
- now, no commercials, we bingegulp seasons,
- sometimes at a sitting, depends on dope
skating on easy learning absorption skills,
ever learning the drama never ends,

ask your doctor, now,
back to the global equivalent of one
Paredo Distribution, eighty percent of TV
is daily faire for twenty percent of people,
eighty percent of readers reading this far,
get to this bubbles popping edge, on a side

zoom to a scatter graph, who breathes in
who breathes out,
all around the world
whiling away, in trust we make peace seem.
.. seen as through smoked glasses, liquidly
Gaussian blurring edges
where the frame
holds the light we see through
to think like this

is real
at word level. Live rethinking, first men
tale-ings
after refining whying wishes
to know.
More, or less.

Everything, all at once, is chaos, whence
art abstracts beauty patiently, trusting wishes
what if its another trick we have no defences,
we get eaten alive,
for cultural misappropriation.

Dear is a value to be weighed using full bandwidth
Sakal, show thy self letters ready for measure,
mea culpa, mea maxima culpa, indeed
שָׂכַל defined several of seventy ways,
spelled to take a broken heart
and mend it with a realization.

If my need became your need,
we would be in love,
that would really
defeat the use
of preparation, peeling potatoes,
prudence, ever ready to entertain,
pounding clothes down by the riverside,
watchin' babies being washed off and blessed,
שָׂכַל knowing waiting is suffering, not pain
watchin' life like National Geographic, before TV.
A messenger's whistle, hear
ah
Message to the mass essences
of little looks mira-clues, seen miracles
since who knew when today
would continue as today. As if once more.
Dear Prudence,
did we come out to play, as if today,
was one of those times that we all seem
to have, recollected
if it could seem alright.
שָׂכַל prophets spake, Ai make secrets known,
the whys for all the wars so far. Pride, indeed.

Why? Would that defeat the use,
and not the purpose
of preparation, final product,
Battlefield Earth, truths uses versus lies uses,
us as we
who think it all through
to the seed
in the fruit it self desirable
to make one wise considering
שָׂכַל science falsely so called, still makes believers.
Slow down.
Jello time reminds second glancers,
when time is not as dear, as an instance
in re co gnosis, swallows gnosis known nots,
- wise was the serpent discerning decision trees.
what would ever make us all think one thought once,
then never think it alone again, we all ways, big all
think this was the way, we walked in,
the same way we walked out, all
set to comprehend wisdom and knowledge and
yada da da da we who work
   in living once idle words,
our side ways won, when we did not fight,
we never lasted al-mental
this long before, but
when we get old, we keep our wits, we got older
sooner than later, so we know
more than our dads, too.
- old friends well imagined
- happy ever after any way,
don't aspire, little maker
of good sensed peace,
to stave off thermo nuclear war
by your self, aight, here we go,
make up a master mind board
of suggesters
by your self,
HelloWorld,
with you
in a minute,
I am in a consultation,
relationships with dead friends, such are
deeply personal, core ties to old times, remember
we can hear them say the same damnedlies, or listen,
שָׂכַל together with stars consider real the times

analagous to tuning back when zero beat, was sought
to make one wise,
in Genesis, esoteric
in the gaps,
she saw he never knew, so Cain did, for sure…

hey, old enemy of me, I cannot remember why
I was afraid of you, and never got to know you,

but I recognized your art, the other day,
in an old, old magazine ad,
then that leads to us in a sense, innocent,
a lost soul I had no sympathy for, I was his bully,

so he's dead and we're okeh, spiritually, we talked,
I told him I had changed, he told me he'd broken,
got busted in Oklahoma, went to prison, for ****,
got religion then went nuts, and I said

I can relate.

So we stay in touch in the spirit.
I don't know how he died, but we were in situations,
where sixth grade bullying had been forgotten,
when I call this character
into my life, as a friend, known to many
mistreated in this mortal moment, laughing ever
as a complexity of never ifery, it did not ****
you to know, boys were always boys,
we always think of Infinite Jest, and laugh
at the coincidence we both read Foster Wallace.
Always sorry, for the trouble we allowed
our wild child payback voter against
peace at any price, what price glory?

The little monstors empo'w'rable in us all, rahrahrah

It was Donall Dempsy said it:
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4897567/even-now-now-very-now/
The flag of self unfurls
snaps into the lost moment.
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4899302/walking-from-the-rising-sun-to-kildare-town/

Oi, this man's an inspirer of SAW such as wisdoms, never told,
could be, back when eighty percent
of us heard all our wisdom from drunks.
Now we read texts.

When the battles over,
and common sense is laughing,
some of it singing simultaneously

concurrently free presses in spirit and echoing
out side the bubble we met in as licensed wannabe

messenger shouting in the wild,
anybody home, we got lost.

As the earth moves relative to the sun, see
two degrees, is about, nearly to the Picosec
Seventy-two minutes, a parsa, in tradersprachen,

the realization, sure and certain utter destruction,
an agreed upon form of right use ness, national opinions

believe madness deters madness and nonsense in just code.
-it is not secret code, nor sacred, knowing is necessary, just
always was, all else you were told
to believe, with knowin' known
as sin, well we have recycleables
to trade, for those,
made
of the exact same historical threads
to here. On the battlefield, after all.
The point of anything we wished we did, done.

We can use our minds in ways once called praying,
we think we say we wish you the best, and hesitate, luck or grace,
favor undeserved by a wretch like me, ah, the maze,
the logos as spirit medium cord, twisted spider kite collection,
Ariadne, toss the lad a line, he's a ways to go until sense is common.
I hope you enjoyed that, it seems I asked for more, tooo often
Euphrosyne Feb 2020
Ala una
Alas dos
Alas tres
Dilat ang mga matang
Gising na gising
May nakatingin?
Mga namumulang mata
Na umaaligid
Hindi lang sa kwarto
Pati sa panaginip,
PArang papaTAYin ka sa sakal
sa oras na pipikit,
Dadaganan ka
Sa oras na nagdidilim,
Ano ba mga ito
Hindi NAman kayo ginugulo
Wala AKOng gusto
Hindi ko kayo kailangan ngayon
Sino ba kayo
Wala akong ginawa
Gusto ko lang matulog
Ng mapayapa,
Tulong
Tulong
Tulong
Hindi ko kayang mahayo
Mga demonyong umaaligid
Ilang gabi na silang
Bumabalik
Hindi ko na kayang mapatagal
Mga nakikita
Mga nararamdaman
Mga demonyo
Baka gusto nilang
Ako nalang ang mawala?
May isa pang mensahe. Kapag may problema ka wag **** sarilihin magkwento ka.
Matias Jan 2019
Isang tanong, isang salita
Limang letra, oo lima.
Ba, bakit kailangan mangyari pa?
A, ano bang mali kong nagawa?
Ka, kalayaan ba ang hanap mo?
I, ikaw lang naman laman nito.
Ta, tangang-tanga na nga sayo ‘to.

Kaya bakit? May kulang ba?
Tinatanong kita ng paulit-ulit, siya na ba?
Sa tingin ko ay kaya mo na.
Dapat ko ng turuan yung sarili ko na kaya ko na
Kung sakal ka na
Malaya ka na
limang letra ay sapat na
Bakit?
Ang tanong ko sayo.
Limang letra ay sapat na
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2021
the dream began long before the sleep overcame
me...
   lazy architect of the clouds:
what was it going to be this time:
per usual: castle, swan... a death mask -
ruminations of the future?

                     a violin quarter op. 17
no. 4... or as i imagined it before
sleep dragged me below the waves
into the deepest caves before it plucked
out my eyes and have me tears
or shed in watercolours...

   something so tender as this poem ought
to break into a thousand pieces...
or however many letters there are to match...

standing on Waterloo Bridge... playing that ******
violin... however crudely...
a pocket of fame so tiny that would
spread until... some other violinist heard
of the antics taking stage...
   a dream... that didn't catch me by surprise...
not lingering like a dream: proper...
which might take up at least the whole
morning of a tomorrow upon waking
and bewilder and amaze...
  
            such that i promised myself:
not a sip of that fine Mount Gay Eclipse
***... never: i hope never again will you drink
"thinking" you might write something:
at worst! tender sips only after something
blessedly sober was started during
the business of a day...

               an alternative to the Italian risotto
or a Spanish paella?
none other! the Biryani!
  oh the spices at my disposal...
a black cardamom pod
4 green cardamom pods
a piece of acacia bark (sorry...
  out of cinnamon!)
   3/4 tsp of fennel seeds...
caraway seeds, cumin seeds...
coriander seeds. black peppercorns...
a star anise...
6 cloves
      a bay leaf...

something from Norwegian poetry?
olaf bull?

og jeg, en levende mand, paa jorden hjemme
and i, a living man, with earth my dwelling...
som jeg, en død mand, paa jorden hjemme (begrenset)...

but i'm not going to learn Norwegian
on these isles...
it would make some sense
to learn Danish for a historical
whim or German...

then again... my bet it on either
Romanian or Turkish...
a today... at the Turkish barbers'
i only instructed him:

keep the length (of beard):
   but tidy the rest up...
tut(mak) uzunluk nın-nin sakal:
ancak temiz...

well i sat down in the waiting line while
the other turkish barber was finishing
off a customer... working with the electric
razor around the stubble...
strange sounds...
i've heard of iron stubble...
the sound of shaving never sounded
so... glass on a chalkboard...
a piano shattering...
something felt odd: like someone
was playing me a Turkish film
with Armenian dubbing...

so he shaved and shaved and i looked
on... does an electric razor mowing
stubble make that sort of, "sound"?!
it was only when my usual barber:
the one i modelled for once
when i came in like a homeless man
and 20kg overweight...
he took photos of before & after:
pointed me toward seat no. 2
did i finally come to grips with the sounds...

ha!
a cage with two budgies - budge-rigours...
budgerigars was placed in the corner...
two jittery little fellows...
i sat back closed my eyes and relaxed...
better than a *******:
ah... with ******* you need to staple your
eyes open to your eyebrows...
but getting your beard trimmed?
nothing to it... like kissing metal...
oddly enough either i was relaxed
or my barber was relaxed...
not a ******* pipsqueak from the two
birds...
a vibrating sense of contentment
a bit like...
when was the only time you saw
a bulldog content?
in the company of another bulldog...

now that's what i call a barber shop...
when he finished i was asked by
the other barber whether i wanted
to a cup of coffee...
my barber offered me a hot towel...
i refused both...
i'm pretty sure this was a way
to make new friends...
or rather: have some backup should
a funeral take place tomorrow...

maybe i have been living in England
for so long that... i might look English:
like the Turkish ******* remarked...
but i feel... neither here... nor there...
if i were to go back to my native birthplace:
i'd be alien too: not engrossed in
the politics in the culture in the everyday:
starting from: "born yesterday":
engrossed in the culture & politics of England...
but hardly "born & bred" as one
former fwend of mine: child of Egyptian /
Iranian immigrants remarked...
i can switch off from all the saturation
and read some Knausgaard in ******...

right now... i've just spent a mad hour cycling
and i'm going to sip some proper whiskey-esque
*** without the stealth assassin / an agitator
of a diluter of spirits... caffeine murderer of
a carbonated caramel ****...
i'll drink it straight over some ice...

an hour well spent...
  for all that's currently music: lyrical constipation:
i need to relearn how to breath:
to even think...
revisiting that dream i never had
that began with Haydn's op. 17 no. 4...
just the violins... no need for drum-tactic rhythm...
we're all "im-der-hier"... in the here...
"im-der-jetzt"... in the now...
but never really: must be lagging...
daydreaming or otherwise wishing it was
otherwise...

would taking the offer of a coffee and a hot
towel made so much of a difference...
or would i just have set there like
a ******* pile-on-steam-of-****?!
i love the smell of manure in the morning...
i love the smell of manure in the foggy morning...
i love the smell of manure when i'm
planting a new tree and it grows to be over
8ft tall after planting the original bonsai plum
some 7 years prior...

even in classical music:
there's the music that's there: played to death
& a second death that's boredom
that's only used to diffuse fame...
Haydn's op. 20 no. 4: that's how
a mousetrap ought to work...

niche listening: there will always be
someone reading something by Stephen King...
otherwise... spend a year on the oeuvre
of some composer...
at least the composers never fail:
produce "too much": then listen to it
being filtered down... sharpened to:
a bugging nugget of praise...

all that's pop is not necessary...
unless: utilised for pedagogic tactics...
breathe the air! there are no percussion instruments!
barricade the doors to your mind
with the wind of violins!

seems only fair that since i've had
my beard trimmed by a Turkish specialist...
speck? ***** & span... no...
speZ... if i am to write someone of my own
i'm drowning in the works of others
and there's 7am to mind...
there's defrosting two fridge-freezers too...
the sensibility of waking up
moderately sober...
all that's day and all that's a masquerade!

trivial things: poetry: porcelain...
but they shouldn't be so easily: quashed...
now that everyone can readily
read: write... somehow... long before
poetics was pushed aside...
of all people... if the Vikings are to be
somehow... envied... emulated...
ingenious thieves that they were...
at least they kept words somehow
sacred...
while they exhausted each limb from limb...
a body wed to the earth
a mind wed to the air...
and all congregating in sun, fire & water...
perhaps some mead some
frost... fog and shadow...

how i envy the almost first men
and their chemical eureka upon eureka of
the first intoxication with beer!
not this intellectual: morose flight of body
anchored down by the more heavier extraction
of run: run: ***-***-**-here-we-go!

let it not be another knock-out night for me
on this tired plank of wood i dare to call
ship: but i'm dried up on what's
language: trapped in conventionalities
of passer-by conversations that are hardly
that...

of course this couldn't be a lament:
i would regret a good conversation
since the *** is almost as good or if not better
than any whiskey...
a good conversation would get me off
my rockers all the more...
but then the fear of sobering up
in the middle of it...
for the proper K.O. i'll wait for the chemicals
to take charge... while i'll play both
mouse & fox & sneak downstairs for
a glass of milk...

architects of dreams: best to appease a
boredom of London by stripping it down to:
far away... Athens... here in quasi-Sparta
on the outskirts... the ******* emblems of
itching at the sky...
the ****** emblems of stadiums for
which football was made to be: ahem... "footed"?

bypass the standards of any language...
the nouns...
then work around the verbs...
and the adjectives that work as substitutes of verbs...
eh... prepositional, pronoun and conjunction
shrapnel...

presto scherzando: of Haydn's op. 20 no. 4:
a sort of violin does a pilgrims farewell
to the folk dance: hey hey hey trance
which reminds me of...
some modern song...
   very, very: modern...
                
it complete silence: or rather... memory
by now has become a drunken orchestra!
on the tip of my tongue...
ah! yes! corvus corax! herr wirt!
hey hey hey... there are accents of it...
littering Haydn's
presto scherzando: of op. 20 no. 4!

- and to think... i could have had a wife!
- and to think... i could have had a son!
- and to think... i could have had a daughter!

an uncle was a disappointment...
half of my grand-parentage i don't know...
beyond estranged...
cousins etc. long gone: still alive...
my maternal grandmother recently
estranged herself
from her grandson and her daughter
choosing a conspiracy of three
attitude with some cousin and her son...
while my grandfather...
there's pain: exhilarating...
quickly done away with you:
with a butcher's pardon on the guillotine...
then there's: pain: numbing...
relapsing... erosive...

well... i hardly imagine having enough time
to... somehow conjure up a connection
between corvus corax's herr wirt
& haydn's presto scherzando: of op. 20 no. 4...
beside the fire of the television:
how lacerating the warmth
how tongue numbing how...
if only this insomnia was
somehow translated into a transparency...
like my melancholy is a perpetual
hard-on...

all that's intelligent while only ending up
being mere posturing...
all that's plain daft while only ending up
being mere arrogance...
the insensible Kafkaesque tribalism
of the urban peoples...
the masculine aspect forgotten?
new: automated new: muscle loss?
the new wheat? juxtapositions around
cat's persistent inquiry whether the window
is somehow open...
or whether the bed is not yet slept in?

throw in a glass of milk come 1am
and... beside all that's to come with the chemical
circus... from now...
docile wolf still itching: bite a harvest...
sliding doors... the quintessential British
film from the 1990s...
it has to be...
that's me... dreaming of Swiss cheese...
cut with a guillotine... not a knife...
better still...
                     how familiar a curry has
become...
but you try and find the proper rice
to make a biryani not look like some phlegm
suckling stuck together grains of rice...
of a risotto or a paella...
Ken Pepiton Oct 21
Dear is a value to be weighed using full bandwidth
Sakal, show thy self letters ready for measure,
mea culpa, mea maxima culpa, indeed
שָׂכַל
If my need became your need,
we would be in love,
that would really
defeat the use
of preparation, peeling potatoes,
prudence, ever ready to entertain,
pounding clothes down by the riverside,
watchin' babies being washed off and blessed,
שָׂכַל
watchin' life like National Geographic, before TV.
A messenger's whistle, hear
ah
Message to the mass of little looks mira-clues, seen
since who knew when today would continue as today.
Dear Prudence, did we come out to play, as if today,
was one of those times that we all seem to have,
if it could seem alright.
שָׂכַל
Why? Would that defeat the use,
and not the purpose of preparation, final product,
Battlefield Earth, truths uses versus lies uses, us as we
who think it all through
desirable to make one wise
שָׂכַל
when time is not as dear, as an instance in re co gnosis,
- wise was the serpent discerning decision trees.
what would ever make us all think one thought once,
then never think it alone again, we all ways, big all
think this was the way, we walked in,
the same way we walked out, all
set to comprehend wisdom and knowledge and
yada da da da we who work in living once idle words,
our side ways won, when we did not fight,
we never lasted
this long before, but
when we get old, we keep our wits, we got older
sooner than later, so we know more than our dads, too.
- old friends well imagined happy ever after any way,
don't aspire to stave off thermo nuclear war
by your self,
make up a master mind board of suggesters
by your self,
HelloWorld,
with you in a minute,
relationships with dead friends are
deeply personal, core ties to old times, remember
we can hear them say the same damnedlies, or listen,
שָׂכַל
analagous to tuning back when zero beat, was sought
to make one wise, in Genisis, esoteric in the gaps,

hey, old enemy of me, I cannot remember why
I was afraid of you, and never got to know you,

but I recognized your art, the other day,
in an old, old magazine ad, then that leads to
a lost soul I had no sympathy for, I was his bully,

so he's dead and we're okeh, spiritually, we talked,
I told him I had changed, he told me he'd broken,
got busted in Oklahoma, went to prison, for ****,
got religion then went nuts, and I said

I can relate.

I don't know how he died, but we were in situations,
where sixth grade bullying had been forgotten,
when I call this character into my life, as a friend,
mistreated in this mortal moment, laughing ever

at the coincidence we both read Foster Wallace.
The time of year, pumpkins and witches on history tv...

— The End —