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Marthin May 2019
Oh magandang binibini, ako’y lubos na nagagalak dahil sa ating mga mumunting palitan ng mga mensahe. Kahit na ito’y di masyadong impormatibo, ako’y lubos na nasisiyahan sa ating mga pinag-uusapan.

Oh binibini, ang bawat ngiti na iyong pinapakita ang siyang nagbibigay sigla sa matamlay kong araw. Ang iyong mga tawa ang siyang nagsisilbing musika sa aking mga tenga, na walang kapantay sa tinig at ganda.

Kahit na sa kakaunting panahon na tayo’y nagkilala, para na kitang kaibigan na kay tagal nang kilala. Ang bawat palitan ng mga letra’t salita ay may kasamang pagmamahal at tuwa. Kaya ang mga salitang ito’y kusang lumalabas sa aking dila.

Oh binibini, nawa’y mapansin mo ang mga problema na dulot mo, sa pagka’t gabi-gabi nalang ako’y di makatulog pag na-aalala ang mga ngiti **** sintamis ng preskong bino at ng mga titig **** kasing init ng siling labuyo.

Nawa’y sa pag idlip mo’y mapaghinipan mo ako, ng ako rin ay makadayo sa mundong tayo lang dalawa ang nandoon. Kung saan malayo tayo sa mga mata ng di nakakaintindi, at sa mga salita ng di nakaka-alam.

Oh binibini, lagi mo sanang tandaan, na kahit saankaman ay laging nasa sayo ang puso ko. Na kahit bagyo ma’y dumaan at mga lindol ay maranasan, na ang pagtingin ko ay laging sayo lamang.
A deep tagalog poem
neth jones Jul 2021
the sleeper...

riled in slumber
         her face fevered
     cussed about the terrain
                                     of a floral breeding
  bedding patterns and the print
                                        bunched in struggles
in smudges
                     an amateur trial with sisters makeup
     primal cosmetics
            make a mock
                    daubed
                                ceremony for slumber

dusty and museum are her dollworks
        an amphitheatre audience
                                 overlooming her berth
    flaunting the gallery shelves
                sustained expressionist menace
Roman eyes and Victorian ridicule
stuffed suffering with Ugly Duckling down
****** sawdust and your sullied label
they bray and they brawl
         and they sluice their gull gall
    a sick drizzle
       over the sleepers form

   from the exterior
  wild wails the weather
its being
     drubbing
  peers fragile
at the windowpane
a raid on this vulnerable sleeper
impounded in bedroom aloft
raised to meet the jet stream

she is fumbled in dreams...

  abraded adolescent swells
judder out figments
  a bleed of vandals
     siling her muted childhood
       parading the playground
          berating old
         once loved playthings
       adopting no sympathy
    adapting in favour
      of the wild riding will
        of the direful pre familiar

into the woods...

a ***** charmed breath
       dressed smartly as boy
stoppers her pathway
       insisting a gentleman's assistance
frustrates her recitations
      of grandmothers doting
           stern teachings
         like fragile pottery
            come to harm
         broken into teeth
the quick blood beating
       this nocturnal forest
     busy in heat
      bonding death
       to refract the hustling moon

a company of wolves
    fill out the clearing
not a spell too soon
their howls reverberate
             jeering
mocking their new glut
sifting followers
      from the raggle-taggle array of fools
the foolish dreamers
          rounded up
amongst them she stands
red dressed and nervous
one hand clasping
                  and sexing the other

fortified
a great jaw operates here
an excited irresponsible mastication
committed to this fairytale

...agitation in her sleep
Inspired by the movie version of The Company Of Wolves

Sile = Strain OR filter
Goodbye Europe

Driving along I saw at a distance what looked
like two dark shadows holding up a smaller wizen shadow,
and I thought without Africa, Europe would have been a more miserable place.
We stole their people from working in fields and factories
we took their minerals and gold and left them destitute.
Now they are coming here, and we offer them a tent,
If you are not a wall climber, a fast track runner or football
hero, we don't want to know.
I the meantime, the population – white tribe- am dying out
We have reached the pinnacle of our evolution, the glass siling  
has broken women prefer driving Mercedes cars and
men turn to each other for succour to be gay is the new normal.
We older and another race must take over our delimitations we are
dying out, we are a curious vanishing race in a sea of colour and strange
manners. Unless Europe wakes up and produces own children
we need immigrants on a massive
scale, if not we become a historical footnote.

— The End —