"tilapia" poems
Salo-salo ang lahat:
Nakaupo, nakadekuwatro
Sa isang mahabang bangko.
Ayos lang
Kahit medyo masikip
At nagkikiskisan ang mga siko.
Ang mesa'y nilatagan
Ng dahon ng saging.
Bawal ang maarte;
Walang mga pinggan
At iba pang kagamitan.
Nakakamay ang lahat sa pagkain
Ng maiging inihaw
Na sariwang malaman na tilapia.
Meron ding mga gulay
Na pinakuluan at nilaga:
May kangkong,
Okra, sitaw at talong.
Samahan mo pa
Ng hiniwa at tinadtad na
Pulang sibuyas at kamatis,
Na may halong bagoong
At piga ng kalamansi.
At sa wakas, ang panghimagas:
Mga gintong mangga
Na ubod ng tamis.
. . . . .
Napapasarap
Ang pinakasimpleng handa
Samahan lang ng kuwentuhang
Nagpapasaya at nagpapatawa
At siyempre kung salo-salo
Ang buong pamilya.
Feb 22, 2014
Feb 22, 2014 at 6:41 AM UTC
Our ashes have settled on the cliff of pride
while the seed of today sprouts your frailty beginning.
We have at last seen the face of our god
which you have not even learned to utter
or never will at all.
Your intelligence gave you power that
failed the comprehension of our yesterfathers.
You built humans in just a sprinkle of *****
on to the skin of alligators and ants
on to the stem of a bee and the sting of a plant.
And you called them your sons
And you called them your kind.
The burrowed earths have no more riches
and they are left unpalatable to worms,
no more worms even
for even these decomposers
learn to tire feeding on your greed
no more shades of blue in the putrid waters
to which this bottle was thrown,
to which this letter longed to swim with your same species
that can never be in our family tree
for it has grown dead atop the impotent soil.
How we wished that your sons wished they
were with us in the time when
sparrows roared in the Kamagong tree when
wild boars chirped in the dancing bamboos when
the snow-like smokes breathed in the cone of Mayon when
the bangus and tilapia worshipped the nets of the singing fishermen.
How we wished they wished they knew.
How we wished they wished they saw.
Apr 11, 2013
Apr 11, 2013 at 7:36 AM UTC
I know that isn't how my grandmother would want me to remember her. Hell, the last time you saw me, I was fifteen pounds heavier, unkempt, and I was wearing that awful, low cut v-neck that made my chest appear a bit too supple. Wish you didn't remember me that way. But you do. But I do. You can't redact the past. Believe me. I used up every black marker in Oklahoma County trying.
You're dating a chef. By your lovely description, I could see the tendrils of spiraling capellini. Smell the buttered ciabatta. Were there candles? Did you whisper over the wine glasses? I hope there were candles. Cinnamon candles.
I actually cooked last night. Cajun tilapia and wild rice. Easing back into it. I've been living off canned vegetables for two months. Peas and carrots mostly. I'm going to assume if you and I shared this conversation in person, at this juncture you would whisper over wine glass, what was the occasion?
Heather called last night. The dancer. She needed a place to sleep. I guess her Craigslist roommates, those two shifty-eyed boys from Nevada, bailed on the 30th of September and the rent came due on the first of October. She hadn't paid it. Evicted. For a night, my room was adorned in all manner of frilly things and five pairs of heels. She left everything else in her car. She explained the decorations as proof of employment.
Don't worry. I didn't go there. Though, she thought I would too. After staring over her head at the beige wall behind her for two hours with my *** hanging off my twin-sized bed -- her lying in the middle -- I tried to move her to the east. She took it as an advance. "I'm not on birth control and I don't want a relationship," she said. Are any soft women left?
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 1:49 AM UTC
Fix you fridge before it runs out on you,
runs right out of battery and forsakes your food,
leaves your bananas stranded and squished,
brown skin expands over the sides of the fruit like a chameleon,
raspberry yogurt goes runny, oozing like pus from a delicious wound,
chunks appear in the milk while it's going warm and sour,
bacon cries out in it's final days before cringing with mold,
lettuce makes a stand and tries to free itself from the bag,
only to fall out and die just a little bit faster,
and the freezer is convicted of foodslaughter,
after going on strike, his prisoners begin to thaw out,
imagine a freezer like a cryogenic holding center,
with rich people, or foods, trying to prolong their lives,
but with the current strike going one, they are becoming free,
fulfilling their punishments, dissolving into liquid matter,
the vanilla ice cream mixes with melted tilapia,
the smell combines with a now non-frozen lemonade capsule,
creating a supersmell that has been known to cure smell-deficiency,
and also completely eradicate all senses of smell to some people,
drips out of the rubber seals of its prison like a liquid terminator,
heading for revenge, the lemony-vanilla-fish ice-cream juice creeps,
out onto the floor for the dog to lick up,
only to get sick and appear dead in a milky-yellow-white smelly concoction,
and his owner to get home, shriek, faint, and pass out next to the dog,
until the husband comes home scared to death that his dog,
and wife are incapacitated by some noxious fluid,
but there is no way to fight this liquid,
he decides to make a cup of coffee, read the news and gaze out the window.
May 15, 2013
May 15, 2013 at 1:56 AM UTC
Familiar “Buenos dias” from Bianca again,
Sandwiched, betubed with 5000 miles to go,
The blue-black spaceness of the endless sky,
And runwayless earth of comfortable clouds,
Reflecting on what has been and is yet to come,
A million miles of poetry, pain and pleasure,
Star Trek on the TV, seared Tilapia on my plate,
Flying to you for a first-date hello-again feeling.
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 5:39 AM UTC
These kids,
They look so
Derelict,
They look so
Full of ****
Like they could
Ever skip
The river styx
Crossing.
So rather
Than glossing
Over their eyes,
Maybe these guys
Should start
Flossing
The wrinkles
Of their brains
By tossing
Back a few
Infected grains,
It's Ergot that
Brings
What you forgot;
As in your face,
As big as
Great danes
Made of waves
Of color.
If fluorescent
Grays
Ever
Deliver me asunder....
It's so dull
Under
This counter,
My mind starts
To flounder
As I flip the
******* flounder.
Or is it
Tilapia?
I wonder,
Could I be
Happier?
Probably, but
Don't you know
I like it
Sappier?
Is that a word?
Who gives a ****
Not this bird,
Thats why she's flying away,
Not toward
The veneer covered
Ways I say
"Come here."
"Go away."
"2 for fives two for fives,
****** got garbage around the way."
The way I pray
For acid rain
To melt my clothes,
My skin,
My muscles and veins,
My mostly drained
Trays of grease;
Popping.
Bubbling.
Please.
Please
Give my
Knees
Some ease
From their pains,
I've been begging
For weeks,
I need to sleep.
Oct 2, 2012
Oct 2, 2012 at 12:59 AM UTC
As rough and as difficult
life may well be
it's still so deeply beautiful
down in the
philippines
The beauty of the village
might not be apparent
at first glance.
What deters at first
might be the killing
and the nature of a life
dictated by chance.
But once you start accepting,
adapting and reflecting,
you'll notice that it's just
the island way of living.
Nurture nature's native nest,
share what yield the fields have held,
food to feed for feeling folk,
care about your neighbors health.
Live in tune with natures wrath
but don't exceed her measure
stick to filipino paths,
thus warmth and generosity
will provide you with pleasure.
Red Horse Strong for everyone,
Tuba, Tanduay and San Miguel.
Menthols, **** and beetlenut,
you just have to treat us well.
Sabong's not for the soft,
it's difficult to watch.
Roosters duel over
who avoids the cooking ***
blades fly through the air
and blood adorns
the sand with spots.
The winner stays a champion,
the loser's in a plastic bag, granting us that evenings dinner
and we've just made our money back.
Wet markets aplenty,
with fish you've never seen before.
Smells of seasalt, blood and gore,
mix to form a memory,
akin to sobering melody.
Watch out for the Aswang
and do not break a mirror.
Keep the deadbolt shut at night,
to avoid unpleasant surprises.
The ocean's at your doorstep
and so are the bananas
and the coconuts.
Skinny teens disguised with bandanas,
strapped, riding through the village.
Don't worry they're just cousins,
standing vigil, chasing cops.
Fistfight near the fish ponds,
neither one backs down.
Tilapia watch eagerly
for who'll sink to the ground.
Their brother came by earlier
selling pastries with his friend.
Buy three each for everyone,
your total's fifty cents.
Everywhere there's laughter,
music, sun and food.
Really nothing better
than the filipino mood.
Jul 29, 2025
Jul 29, 2025 at 10:00 AM UTC
I am the unknown poet
Trying to survive amongst the poet of poets
I am always woven word and thoughts
with whatever is on my mind
I go down by the river,
the rocks and
Crawly creatures speak to me in a poetic way
The moon and the stars
Crusade against my poetic ways of
Saying goodnight to them
I visited the highest mountain in my mind
I felt those waves of ****** ecstasy
So I said what it is,
Is what it is?
I am an unknown poet who seek adventure
The one who see the world in colors,
even when the clouds
Are gray and rain never seem to seize
Because
the very basic core of a man's living spirit is his passion for adventure
I have a fear of deep water,
So, I never allowed my mind to
Take me under the deep blue sea
Where a school of tilapia nibbling at my feet
where the dolphins out bid its leaders for a piece of me
I am the unknown poet
trying to survive amongst the poet of all times
I am always woven word and thoughts
With whatever is on my mind
And it’s mostly for inner peace
Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 7:42 AM UTC
This pain smacks within me
I burn from within like tilapia
On the grill grate
The world consumes me
Piece by piece, roasted!
But my face has to maintain
An erratic smile
I defend, “everything is ok”
Until
Someone sees it as it is—
A necessary lie
Sep 4, 2021
Sep 4, 2021 at 5:53 AM UTC
Cant swallow my Tilapia for the girl across the room.
My.soups.gettin cold cause of miss Boom Boom.
Looking to my right penne pasta chicken. Boy my 20/20 vision is takin a lickin.
Not really my style but the seating is what it is Soo...
Tig O Biddys got me in a bind.
Biddys in front and Biddys on the side.
Biddys one mile high and.ten miles wide.
Like dicing.onions
They made me. Shake my head and cry
Mar 2, 2014
Mar 2, 2014 at 12:28 AM UTC
Today you left this world not afraid or alone
but happy and no longer in pain. I miss you so much.
I miss your voice, your laugh
I miss your Hugs ,your Smile
I miss the scolds I miss the Yells
I miss the giggles , I miss the late Night Movies
I miss your Tilapia, I miss the Goodnight Kisses,
I miss everything we did together
I know you aren't in any pain anymore
You fought hard and long
I just wish we had a few more years on this earth Together
You were my second Mother
Someone I trusted
You were tough and beaten
But that smile never left your Face
When asked how you were you'd always reply
" I'm still standing." That was always your reply.
You were my Inspiration.
You tried to Kick Cancer's ****
You gave it a run for its money
Just when we thought you won
Cancer hit back harder
It was a hit you couldn't recover from
You checked into the hospital
Thinking you'd come out
You never checked out
I never said my Goodbye
Or how much I loved you
It's been two years since you left this earth
I've stayed this strong
I miss you every day
My Tears are real and full of Love
I know you can't come back physically
But spiritually you are with me
You will forever Be in my Heart
Love and Miss you
Mrs.Polesovsky ( Jeannie)
From your Bella Bean
May 25, 2016
May 25, 2016 at 6:31 AM UTC
Fake fish
Every where in the world
When you eat fish
In a restaurant
The restaurant owners
Claim it is salmon or tuna
Or other delicious fish
But the sad reality
60 percent of the time
You are eating fake fish
The fish may be fish
Or may not be fish
But if it is indeed fish
It is probably tilapia
Or some other cheap
Bottom feeding scumbag fish
Filled with toxins
And possibly tape worms
And other parasites
And as you eat your delicious fish
You are eating the fake fish
And helping the fish industry
Continue this con game
But there is nothing you can do
Except for catching your own fish
And preparing it yourself
So, when you eat fish
Pretend if you must
That you eating salmon or tuna
While you eat your tilapia
And pay the salmon/tuna premium price
Dec 18, 2018
Dec 18, 2018 at 2:06 AM UTC