Alay sa Patrong San Miguel

I.

Oo, mapait ang beer pero lalagukin ko.
Pagdampi pa lang sa labi ko
nalalasahan na ang bisa ng lasong
iniinom ko. Buti na lang malamig
at nabawasan nang kaunti ang pait.
Sa pag-agos ng cerveza sa aking dila
dahan-dahan ding kumakalat hanggang utak
ang kakaibang lasang nararanasan.
Hayan, tikman mo. Lasapin ang lahat
ng sakit ng mundo. Buti na lang mapakla,
pinaimpis ng laway ang pait, pero sige,
lagok lang nang lagok. Magpakalunod
sa alkohol na nakalalango. Lunurin
ang sama ng loob. Kapag tumagal-tagal
malilimutan din ang sakit ng ulo...
o puso? Ewan! Basta ang alam ko
sa gabing ito tatalikuran ko ang mundo,
ang lahat ng taong pabigat sa buhay ko.
Leche! Tangina nilang lahat! Hala, lagok!
Hayan... medyo gumagaan ang pakiramdam.
Ganyan lang. Sige pa, patugtugin lang
ang samba na sasabayan ko sa kinauupuan.
Puta! Ang gaan ng feeling! Umiinit na rin
ang tiyan, pamalit sa init na dapat sa puso
nararamdaman. Masarap din naman.
At least nalilimutan ko problema ko,
ang mga hinayupak na... hep hep hep!
Teka lang. 'Di ngayon ang oras ng kalungkutan.
Beer pa nga!

II.

San Miguel! Siya lang ang sasantuhin ko
ngayong gabi. Sige pa, yosi! Habang hinihintay
ang pukenanginang beer na... Waiter!
Ah! Salamat. Hayan... sige, ibuhos mo.
Lagyan mo ng yelo. Marami. Ano nga ba
ang kanina kong sinasabi? Ah, santo!
San Miguel! Haha! Si San Miguel na patron
ng mga halang ang bitukang tulad ko.
Kaya kong uminom ng tatlong bote
dire-diretso! Alam mo ba 'yon? Walang puknat!
Without batting an eyelash, 'ika nga.
Tangina, paubos na 'tong pangalawa ko.
Maya-maya oorderin ko na ang pangatlo.
Sa mga panahong gaya nito na walang direksyong
pinatutunguhan ang isip ko, beer lang ang katapat!
'Kita mo, dalawang bote pa lang halos
solved na 'ko. Nalilimutan ko na'ng mga punyetang
problema ko. Hala, sige! Inom! Hithit! Buga! Inom!
Umindak sa samba! Sayaw! Sayaw! Sige pa!
Tangina! Tangina! Putangina! Takot ba 'kong
harapin ang mga problema? Suntukan na lang!
Hahamunin ko silang lahat na nagpapasakit
sa buhay ko! Hahamunin lang naman eh.
'Pag pumalag, ibang usapan na 'yon.
'Pag nandiyan na uurong ka pa ba?
Waiter, beer pa!

III.

Oo, mapait ang beer. Pero sa unang bote lang 'yon.
Sa pangalawa, sa pangatlo, tumatamis na 'to,
parang ang lintik na buhay ko! Waiter, beer pa!
Syet, may beer na pala. Never mind.
Okay na 'to. (Okay na nga ba 'ko?) Uubusin
ko na lang 'to. Pangatlong boteng lalagukin
nang walang puknat. Without batting a fucking
eyelash! Wala nang yelo pero kaunti na lang
naman 'to. Titiisin ko na lang ang cervezang
mainit, kahit mapait. Naglalaway pa rin naman ako.
Siguro 'di ko na mararamdaman ang sama ng loob,
'di na malalasahan ang pait. Ha? Last order na?
Hindi na. Okay na. As far as I'm concerned
tapos na. Tapos na ang gabing ito. Paggising ko
bukas siguro masakit ang ulo ko. 'Di bale.
At least 'yon ang naiisip ko. Hindi ang mga
problema ko. Tapos na rin ang samba.
Nag-uuwian na ang mga customer ng Cafea.
Kasama ko na lang 'tong huling bote ko
ng cerveza, nakapatong sa mesa, naghihintay
na ubusin ko, inumin, lagukin, kahit mapait
kahit mainit.

- written in 1999 at Cafea

Diyosa

Habang dahan-dahan mong
sinusuklay
ang iyong itim na buhok
gamit ang iyong
mala-kandilang mga daliri,
bumulwak
ang isang milyo't isang libong
salita mula sa aking bibig.
Nag-unahan,
nagsiksikan sa aking isip,
nagsumigaw,
kumawala.
Namulaklak ang mga dama
sa gitna ng katirikan ng araw
at sumabog ang nagmumura mong
bango.

Anu-anong mga sikreto ang nakasilid
sa likod ng kagandahan mo?
O, misteryo!

Sa bawat pagsuyod
paghawi
ng iyong korona, lumalim kang
parang palaisipan,
nagulumihanan ang kaluluwa.
Sino kang diyosang bumaba mula langit
para magparamdam,
magpakita sa 'kin?
Sino akong nilalang na
pinagkalugdan ng pagkakataong
mapagmasdan ka?

Umapaw ang berso
dumaloy ang mga salita.
Nagmistulang batis
ang aking bibig,
na kung pipigila'y
sasabog
sa pagkakapintog
sa naipong
tubig.

Dali-dali kong sinulat
ang tula
nang di kumawala,
humagod ang aking kamay
sa pagsabay
sa pagsabog
ng bulkan.

Pero sa muling pagmulat
mula sa panaginip,
naglaho ka
na parang estrangherong
'di na nakilala pa.
Sa miminsang sandaling
ibinaling
mula sa iyo ang paningin,
nanaig ang tadhana't
inagaw ka sa akin.
O, musa,
nasaan ka?

Buhos, ulan!
Diligan ang lupa
at pasibulin ang mga binhi
ni Demetrius.
Pasilabin ang araw, Zeus!
At payabunging muli ang ganda,
buhaying muli ang diyosang
minsang kumanti sa aking imahinasyon,
gumising sa nabubulok kong
laman,
at bumuhay sa namumutlang dugong
nanalantay sa mga ugat.

Uwak lang ang sumagot
sa aking mga panaghoy.
Naiwan akong tumatangis,
subsob ang mukha sa tigang na lupa.
Pinulot ko nang isa-isa
ang mga papel,
laman ang mga titik ng ala-ala
ng minsang pagpapakita
ng aparisyong kayganda,
ng multong kaaya-aya,
ng 'sang tunay na musa,
tunay na diyosa.

- written in 1999, inspired by Mina Ong

Pokemon

At 3:10 in the morning
he gave up all hope of ever
finding
the source of his
unhappiness.
There was no one to call
no one
to talk to and blame
for his
misery.
So he pointed
an extended
middle finger
and poked it
into his eye and he
bled
and bled
and he bled
profusely.
Then he said, "Go
fuck yourself!"
'til his brain was all mush
and his eyes were
nothing
but a bleeding
bobbing
dead pokemon
peering up at him
from the floor.

- written some time in 1999

Adonis

Huwag ka nang magmalinis
na para kang Adonis
dahil minsan mo nang
hinubaran ang sarili
sa aking harapan.
Tigilan ang pagpapaka-santo
dahil 'di bagay sa 'yo
ang pagpapa-awa.
Hindi ako bato
para di mapansin
ang pabago-bago mong anyo
tuwing kaharap ako.
Mag-plastikan pa ba
ngayong nagsisitanda na tayo?
Feeling ko ginago mo 'ko,
ngayon pang alam ko nang
bakla kang hinayupak ka.
Ano ba talaga'ng problema?
Baka matulungan pa kita.
Sabihin mo nang diretso,
walang lamangan,
manu-mano.
Kung may problema ka sa 'kin
sabihin mo, gago!
Dahil nakakainis
ang pagmamalinis,
pagpapaka-Adonis.

- written in 2000 for a friend

Dream for the Unwilling Insomniac

As I lie on my chest
the beating in my heart
strung beyond sleep
spirit aroused
amidst the overwhelming presence
of death
(the guests
have all gone home to bed
the rest
of us lying on pews
of hard wood
laid one
in front of another);
I am paying my dues
as the son of a daughter
whose estranged father
lay frozen
in death.
Maybe it was the coffee
or the looming
ending of agony.
Or maybe not.
As I lie on my makeshift bed
I curse the demons
for shaking the pedestal
of my soul.
(Oh cruel!)
The evils of a conscience
unbound beget
turmoil in the compromised
individual.
Bury me now
and hang a sign:
"R.I.P. Do not disturb."

- written some time in 2000 at the wake of a grandparent

Ala-Ala ng mga Anak at Apo

Dalawang bigkis. Kamia. Tuyo.
Pulumpon ng bulaklak. Bulok.
(Walang rosas o orkidya.) Kandelabra.
Tanso. Dalawa.
(Pundido ang isang bumbilya.
Tabingi ang nasa gawing kanan.)
Kandila. Dalawang malaki.
Upos.
(Tunaw kahapon pa.
Wala nang nagpalit.) Kurtina.
Puti. Pula. May mantsa.
Maliit na plastic bag
ng barya.
Ano pa?

- written some time in 2000 at the wake of a grandparent

Punebre (Awit sa Patay)

Putang mga ama!
Maagang nangawala
isa-isang nag-alsabalutan
naiwan
kawawa naman
kaming kapos sa karanasan.
Sino ngayon
sasalo sa mga naiwan n'yo?
Ako?
Kami?
Ano, bali?

Putang mga ama talaga!

- written some time in 2000 at the wake of a grandparent

Sa Burol

Habang lalo kong tinititigan
ang kabaong mong puti
lalo akong nandidiri.
Nakapanlulumo
ang balatkayo mo
sa loob ng kahang kuwadrado.
Patay na nagmamalinis
binabalot ako ng inis
habang sa isip ko
pumupunit ang
halakhak na mapait.

Tutungkabin ko na lang
ang mga sugat kong naglangib.

- written some time in 2000 at the wake of a grandparent

Parlor Games

Hala! Hawiin ang mga baraha!
Tarang lumimot panandalian
at tumawa sa pandaraya
ng tusong kaanak
na tumoma ng kapeng
tinitipid sana hanggang bukas
sa libing. Balasahin
ang mga murang malulutong
hanggang maubos ang panlalait
at ang pantaya sa gitna.
Iwaglit sa isip lahat ng pangamba
dahil bukas lahat 'to tapos na.
Huling gabi ng lamay sa patay
kaya, sige na! Sagarin
hanggang masaid ang bulsa!
Kahit lakarin na lang pauwi
bukas ang kalbaryo
pa-sementeryo. Sige, taya
nang lumagong lalo ang biyaya.
Huwag lang kalimutan:
(Tuloy ang bigayan!)
Ang buhay, sugalan.
Ang patay, abuluyan.

- written some time in 2000 at the wake of a grandparent

Epitaph

Here lies...

Here lies the dreams
and aspirations
of an era gone by;
the wisdom of the ages;
and the candid
humor of life.

Here lies the nightmares
and miseries
of an oppressive past;
the foolishness of an old man;
and the cursed
sarcasm of fate.

May God have mercy on my soul!

- written some time in 2000 at the wake of a grandparent

Huling Hantungan

Walang punebreng umalingawngaw
bagkus, ingay ng nagngangalit
na makina ng trak at harurot
ng rumagasang tricycle
ang pumuno sa mga sulok
ng purgatoryo mong kinalalagyan.

Walang halimuyak ng kung anong
bulaklak ang kumalat
usok lang ng tambutsong itim
at alikabok ang nasagap
nalanghap sa likod
ng de-rehas mong kulungan.

Walang bisitang naghatid
sa 'yo sa huling himlayan.
Sayang, pitumpu't anim na taon
kang nabuhay nang kapos
naghihikahos hanggang
huling hantungan.

- written some time in 2000 at the wake of a grandparent

Ars Crematoria

Habang binibendisyunan ng pari ang iyong katawan
at aking kalamnan, nagising ang kalooban
dahil ang tubig - na naglulan sa 'yo sa sinapupunan
at naghatid sa 'yo sa pananampalataya -
ang siya ring tubig na ngayo'y tatangay
sa 'yo sa huling hantungan;
at ang mga iyak na sumalubong sa 'yo
sa magulong mundong ito
ang siya ring mga iyak na umaawit ng punebre
sa huling araw mo;
at ang init ng laman na noo'y nagpuyos
at nagbunga sa pagka-tao mo
ang siya ring init ng apoy na lumalamon sa 'yo.
Naisip ko tuloy bigla
ang buhay parang tula:
iisa ang dulo,
iisa ang simula.

- written after the cremation of a grandparent (in 1999?)

Prologue

Ngumanga ang langit
nagbuhos ng yelo.
Bumagyo ng bato
tinamaan ako sa ulo
Nagising si Pedro
nagbulalas ng berso
isinulat sa papel
itinaga sa bato.

Ang lahat sa buhay
nagbago.
Ngayon,
isa na akong liriko.

- written in 2000 for a book that was never published

Epilogue

Dumating ang bagyo
ng yelo at bato.
Ang kawawang Pedro
tinamaan sa ulo,
naglabas ng tabo't
hinarap ang bagyo,
sinalok ang berso't
isinubo ito.

Ang lahat sa buhay
nagbago.
Ngayon,
nakapagluwal na ako.

- written in 2000 for a book that was never published

Masaksak-Patay

Nagpuyos ang mga damdamin
nag-init ang laman
nagsalpukan.

Anim ang patay
sa kalyeng nadaanan.
Suntukan

nauwi sa saksakan.
Kumuha ng baril
kumitil

ng inosenteng usyosero.
Ikapito akong bumagsak
nasaksak

patay.

- written in 2000

Vandalismo

Sapat na kaya ang minsang pagdadabog
sa harap ng mga piping dingding,
ang pagpukol ng inis sa maputing pader,
para ibsan ang nag-uumapaw na galit?

Sapat na kaya ang pananahimik sa telepono
habang kausap ang kaibigang alam mong
ipinagkanulo ka na sa demonyo?

O ang lumulon nang sapilitan para pigilan
ang pagbulwak ng kulong kanina pang
naghihintay kumawala mula lalamunan?

Paanong lulunasan ang hapdi ng sugat
sa pagkatao kung alam mong tagos
hanggang kaibuturan ang hiwa?

Sapat na kayang magpakalunod,
o magpakaanod kaya, sa kahibangan
ng kawalang-katinuan, sa kabaliwan?

Tama na kaya ang pagkitil ng daloy ng dugo
sa leeg, o 'di kaya sa braso, sa talas ng kutsilyo,
at ang pagpahid nitong mapulang dugo
sa imakuladang pader ng mga salitang,
"Heto ako, mga putang ina n'yo,
nang iniwan n'yo ako!"?

Sapat na nga kaya ito?

- written some time in 2000

Stigmata

Minsan kang sumuntok sa buwan
sumadya sa aking luklukan
nag-iwan ng pilat na pilit
tinago sa paningin ng mga
mahadera't usyosero.
'Di kalakihan pero maitim
nakasisira sa paningin
dahil sa harap ng marami
marumi. Kahiya-hiya.
Sugat na 'di naglangib
galis na 'di maalis.
Ngayon inaamin ko na:
ang minsan mong pagkanti
sa natutulog kong kaluluwa'y
sumundot sa pusod ng pagkatao.
Gamit mo'y salaming humiwa
sa balat kong manhid at kinakalyo,
nagbalik ng imahe ng katotohanan,
ng kahubarang pilit iniwasan.

Ang pilat mong iniwan
mukha ng tunay kong kahinaan.

- written some time in 2000 for Tina

Eclipse

Nasaan ka araw
nang kinailangan ko ang iyong init?
Nasaan ka noong ako'y nilalamig?
Hinigop na ng hangin
ang natitirang buhay
sinipsip mula sa balat
pinaglaho sa kawalan
ng kalawakan.

Paano na ngayon pag-aapuyin
nagyelo kong damdamin?
Paano pang babawiin
katinuan kong nagdilim?

- written in 2000

Kay Mito

Nakita kitang sumilip
mula sa likod ng bintana kong
bahagyang nakapinid
kumakaway nang buong kisig
sa bawat kumpas ng
mapaglarong hangin
at umiindayog sa bawat lisya
ng tusong bagyo,
tila sinasabayan
ang bugso ng bawat kong
hininga at ang dagundong
ng bawat pintig ng pulso
sa sentido.
Sa pakikipag-buno
bungkos-bungkos na dahon
ang kumikiskis-kiskis
na parang marakas
sa koro ng ulang
nagsisipilantikan
sa bubungang yero.

Kahanga-hangang
sa gitna ng unos
mistulan kang balerina't
musikero!

- written one stormy morning in 2000

Ulan Ulan Bantay Kawayan

Umagang kaydilim
ang bumulaga sa akin
pagkagising mula sa tulog
na mahimbing;
hanging kaylakas
ang humampas
sa bintana kong kagabi'y
naiwang bukas.
Ano'ng mainam gawin
sa umagang makulimlim
na may dalang malamig
na simoy ng hangin?
Ano pa kundi
ang sa kama'y manatili
at sa alapaap
ng panaginip
mamalagi.

- written one stormy morning in 2000

Bagyo Bagyo Bantay Kabayo

Sa ilalim ng malambot kong kumot
may sumuot na maliit na hayop
sumipa sa diwa kong
himbing sa tulog
kumiliti sa talampakan kong bagot.
Ano itong bumulabog?
'Di pa kamo nagpapilit
nangulit nang nangulit
hanggang 'di na ko makabalik
sa pagkakaidlip.

Gising na!
Tanghali na!
Ang musa ng bagyo'y
kinakaon ka!

- written one stormy morning in 2000

Pagsisilang

Matagal din kitang ipinagtiis
Banye-banyerang mga salita ang
Pinalampas
Pinaalpas sa ihip ng mga gabing
Walang pasintabi
Kung liliparin
Ng hangin ang mga bugso
At kadyot ng damdamin
Tangay-tangay ang katinuang
Umaalpas
Na parang tubig sa mga kamay.
At ngayong kaharap na kita
Sa katulad na gabi
Ipagkakanulo ang himbing
Ng tulog
Upang dinggin ang mga umuudyok
Na kulog.

- written one stormy morning in 2000

Elixir

Be for me, sacred tea, an elixir of death
bid thy elements turn potent against me
drown me with your poisons that I may
taste sweet death; rage 'til my veins burst
stir a tempest within, a storm brew
to destroy this vessel with desire consumed
a fire set ablaze to raze my soul, torch my spirit
'til I am no more than dust for I lust for death
and rest. Then, bitter potion, sweet, sweet poison
summon the healer in you to conjure a cure
a concoction pure to rouse me from my savage death
call upon my spirit and let your venom sting no more
then let death from you bring life anew.

- written some time in 1999

Heal Me Doctor

heal me doctor I think I have a tumor
in my brain help me sleep for I'm drained
nights have turned into nightmares spare
sweet heavens my life for I die in pain
when I lie in bed with the tumor in my head
death becomes an alternative so fetching
it scares me to think I can choose to sink
defeated by the disease or choose not to ask why
I dread each waking moment for
the unbearable comes with the rising of the sun
day dawns like twilight in my bones
operate on me doctor and break me open
to find the tumor in my head to stop the cancer
eating my brain put me up for my day at the room
soon cut me up slice me precisely remove the tumor
in my head anguish fills the life which is not
every nerve ending cries out torment unending
a tumor so reviling defiling me with thoughts
mothers would cringe at give me an anesthetic or
something for death I refuse to live without reprieve

for a life is not when
inside strife rules
anarchy reigns then kills
like cancer or a tumor
in the brain

- written some time in 1998

Five Minutes of Ecstasy

Five minutes of ecstasy
flavored jelly dry in my tongue
every breath out the nostrils
euphoria-like smoke in a crystal ball;
discordant notes in my head
playing like Kurosawa's dreams
a bubble of cream
tracing down my throat
into my lungs where smoke
stay afloat.

- written some time in 1999

Mouths Agape

Mouths agape
sucking in mouthfuls of air
eyes squinting
watery
face contorted
stretched
beyond capacity
driven taut
forcefully
by the fiery smoke
of an oral
chimney

death came
so suddenly
he never knew
what hit him.

- written some time in 1999

Last Trip

Drenched, I waited
for the train to arrive
to take me to
the outskirts of sanity.
'Twas Saturday
and the station was
deserted and quiet
'cept for the pounding
rain on pavement.
I clenched the one-way
ticket and slid it
into my pocket
to shield it from
the downpour of
two lifetimes ago.
I've forgotten how
rain felt on my skin -
pale now from the constant
patter, devoid of color
and life.
From the distance
it came announcing
its presence with the muffled
blow of horn and the blind
searching of headlights
through mist. Alas,
here is my ride
hovering over
rusted rails and wet earth.
I waved to welcome
salvation but the driver
didn't see the glint
of happiness in my eyes
and the sadness
of my goodbye.
I thought of her
one last time as I
made my way
down the overhang
with the ticket
still in my pocket -
a farewell letter:

Goodbye life
please tell her
I love her.

- written some time in 2000 for Cynthia

Genesis

tiny seeds caught
in fouled air
drawn by billows of black smoke
coughed up by striped nostrils
red and white
protruding from barren earth
catalyze
coalescing dew drops hanging
and waiting suspended
in the hazy tropospheric mass
the burning red star polarizing
the ambivalent sky
helpless against the imminent brewing
of thunderstorms yet numb to the shock
of several million volts blind
to the flashes of light

then I heard thunder clap
from within

- written some time in 2000

Omen

making sense of nothingness
decaying rotting trying
to make sense of the world
through mind filled with filth
staring blankly at death forever
forever death wailing at emptiness
the stark lonely darkness of
a lone lit lamp distant shining
flat white light at night
scared of humanity scarred
from the harsh reality of
the here the now the present
eyes unblinking wide open bulging
adsorbing gray images of nothing
the bitter taste of nightmare
growing a menacing
physical presence of sex
of violence evil becoming
corrupting
growing
being

- written some time in 1999

Vertigo

My hands, still wet
from the condemnation
that befell me, tremble
at every heartbeat;
when spurious ecstasies
sparked, spread from
the groin like the itch
of seven lifetimes
overpowered me, gnawed
from under skin to being,
I lost my soul. I groan
in desperation cried
out, "Redemption!"
to the heedless gods.
With endless prayers,
past stares, I choked.
The numbness on my face
and neck let trickle
saliva down my throat,
sweat soaked skin
flooded the core, rendered
helpless my body.
A flash and a glimpse of earth
I catch as it sped toward me -
or I toward it.

Then blackness.

I awoke with pain
tremendous searing through
my brain, my eyes pounding
at each gush of blood.
I strained to see my body
slumped face down on mud.

- written some time in 1999

You Make Me Want To

It's good to hear from you
Good of you to call
Been wanting bad to hear your voice
I miss that most of all

I don't wanna hang up
For I'll die if I do
You're so much a part of me
I'm nothing without you

Every time you call
I feel, I feel it all
What is it you do
That makes me wanna want you?

We talk and never tire
Think it's beyond normal
'Cause we only talk 'bout things
Inconsequential

What is it I feel for you?
Don't understand no more
Don't know what I'm going through
Never felt this before

Every time you call
I feel, I feel it all
What is it you do
That makes me wanna want you?

With all the confusion going on
Don't know if I can play along
But I say bring it on
Stay with you forever on the phone

Every time you call
I feel, I feel it all
What is it you do
That makes me wanna want you?

- originally intended as a song for Larra, written in 1999

Hesitation

You asked how you could help.
I said you can't.
It's you I'm thinking about
I won't pretend.

Said you had an idea what it was.
I'm sure you do.
I've been saying things I shouldn't have
To you.

So should I tell you or no?
I do not know.
I'm headed to a river crossing
Where I shouldn't go.

Now all that's left is frustration.
What do I do?
I'll just sulk in desperation
And stay blue.

- written in 1999 for Larra

I Wonder What It Would Take

I wonder what it would take
for you to agree to go out with me.
Should I bring out my flashy new SUV
and take you for a ride through the city?
Or should I smile my cutest smile
and wow you with the good looks of me.

I wonder if you'd go out with me
if I filled your room with blooms
or built my body up to a Schwarzenegger
and carry you around at noon?
Maybe if I brought out my witch's broom
you'd agree to go out with me soon.

Maybe you'd go out with me
if I brought you M&Ms daily
or gave you a foot massage
served soothingly over coffee.
I think maybe you'd go out with me
if I brought you all the world's fancy.

But I don't have a groovy car to ride in
nor a witch's broom to fly with,
only good stories and good company.
You see all I could offer you is me.

I don't have looks that could kill
nor a rock-hard bod with which to thrill,
I've only the purest of intentions,
sincerity, with no pretensions.

Your dentist would kill me
if I gave you M&Ms daily.
You might think massage over coffee
as too intimate too early.

So you see I have nothing much to offer,
just me and this bunch of flowers.
I don't know what you want to hear or see
but one thing is very clear to me:

I like you. Please go out with me.

- written some time in 1998 for Ruth H.R.

I Said I Loved You

I said I loved you
but now I wonder
if I knew what it
meant; the loss
of you left me
broken,
unkempt, blind
in an alley of mirrors
that reflect different mes,
lost in a thousand selves,
holding on to that one
reflection that caught
a fleeting moment
of bliss on my face,
but drawn irreverently
to the corner where
broken glass flash
back pieces of an
irreparable soul;

truth untold:
I could not have loved you at all.

- written some time in 2000

Claustrophobia

What do you do at two o'clock in the morning
when everyone
in your house is asleep,
when all your friends are with your other friends
in bars
patting each other's backs
for their fast cars and silver spoons?
Whom do you call when everyone you know
has gone to their beds
happy
they have someone beside them
to kiss
and have breakfast with in the morning?
Whom do you talk to when you think
you are ready
to fall
into a mere
sub-existence
barely able to feel yourself
or hear yourself speak
or see
your reflection in the bathroom mirror?
How do you wake up from a bad dream
without
losing your sanity from realizing
that a bad dream is more sufferable than
a wretched life? How do you regain hope
stolen from the womb that bore it
or confidence
bought out by malicious capitalists
that hog fame and favor and leave
you
with canard?
How do you live to see yourself
perverted
corrupted
reduced to a
demeaned level of polishing shoes of honchos
day
after day
after day
dismissed at whim like
cheap perfume?
How do you keep yourself from
consummating
that suicide note long written in your head
when you find there is
nothing
to hold you and keep you from it?
How do you deal with conscience?
How do you keep your mother from prattling
about how your job sucks and
your appearance
never right?
How do you endure
the ceaseless playing
of that effusive
record by your deplorable neighbors
when your ears
bleed
from the steady
drumming of polka? Why can I not scream
from frustration
without passersby looking
with eyes bulging and brows twitching?
When can I take that vacation? Where do I
go
for solace?
Why does it hurt to dream?
Why does it cost to love?
When does
this migraine leave? When will sleep come
when it is the only
source of happiness
and rest
left?
When does life become?
And when
will death be gone?
How do you begin to exist beyond
imperfection?
When do I transcend finally the evil that
surrounds me
so I can live in peace
free
from judgement and prejudice
let alone
for being me and not somebody
else?
When will I be let loose
emancipated
from the superstructures upon which
this whole goddamned world is built
under which cowardly peoples
and men of half-wit
hide
so I can live
to relish my days – and my nights –
without having to feel rejected
dejected
alone?

- written some time in 2000

The Hunt

Down the cavernous path
I saw a roach
making the slow climb
to the grimy ceiling.
It shuddered about
sensing the predator
that was inching its way
through the narrow entrance.
I picked it up
and felt it struggle
between my fingers.
I gave it a little pressure
and felt its gut
spill onto my hand.
I bit on the head
but decided to swallow it
whole - head, gut and all.
I licked my hand clean
and began looking
for my next meal -
hidden somewhere
in the crevices and cracks
of the narrow,
cavernous path.

- written some time in the late 90s

Solitaire

There I found myself
writing words that may
never be read by the one
for whom they are written.
I have expected this to happen,
subconsciously waited
for this to happen. Somewhere
along the way, I knew I'd be
left alone again, by myself
again, to share of myself
again, blindly to no one,
throwing myself at oblivion,
emptying the shell that
has been empty all along,
finding myself all alone
again, by myself again.
I look up at the door
hoping it would open to
reveal her, hoping, hopelessly
hoping again, alone
again, by myself again.

- written some time in 1998 for Ruth H.R.

Linger | Stay

When I can almost reach she flees,
like water in my hands 'tween fingers
drip, like breath I hold but fail to keep,
like grasps that lose the grip.

With every move, every whim,
charged currents flow 'neath skin,
circuits crash within, I implode,
explode, burst, though unwilling.

When I see her on her feet moving fast
around me, past me, door closing
behind her, I take one last breath of air
and take in lingering traces of her.

- written some time in 1998 for Ruth H.R.

Ode to the Sea

Where the wind blows freely
Where waves and sand touch endlessly
Where the sky meets tenderly
The sea

Where dark blue skies cover me
And sand warms me
Where stars wink at me
Naughtily

Where a soft breeze would carry me
To where imagination allows me
Where I am finally free
To be

Where I cannot pretend to be
Any more than me
Where I can be true to myself and see
Inwardly

Where I can see my reflection
Clearly in the glassy sea
Where I think more freely
And naturally

Where I am who I am really
And not me
Where truth is truth
Constantly

Where comfort comes soothingly
From the sound of sea
Where peace overwhelmingly
Enfolds me

Where I can almost see eternity
Looking back at me
Beckoning me
To be free

- written some time in the late 90s

Indian Summer

Melancholic utterances
bleed from the cracks,
the crevices, flooding
barren earth with tears
silver in the fluorescent
light of bulbous moon.
We have come to an impasse,
an end inevitable.
As the rain seeps,
we weep for the choleric
melancholic
beauty of a dying,
unnurtured love.

- written March 25, 2002

Slow Dance

You looked up at me with eyes that
mirrored the painful reality of the present.
There were tears of bitterness
waiting to fall and I was there with you
waiting to catch them with words.
We were locked in a dance and your eyes
spoke of a time when we were deeply in love
and fighting a future that neither of us
could see nor feel. When the first tear fell,
the pain in my chest became most unbearable.
I could not keep in step to the music.
It was the first song of the evening but we knew
it was the anthem of an ending long overdue.
How, then, do we dance to the music that
leads us further to the end? How do we dance
the slow dance of the inevitable goodbye?

- written some time in 2000 for Cynthia

The Emancipation of Ra

You are like the sun
worshipped by primeval entities,
revered even in the deepest recesses -
in caves of stone and forests deep.
Creatures rage and bask as they forage
under your eternal fire.

You are like the sun
and I lie scorched, counting irregular
blotches and scars on my body that's
as bare as the oceans and
helpless as the seas.

Even the stars die out under your blinding
light. The moon draws its illumined countenance
from you, oh glorious King!
You are like the sun, raging and majestic,
towering and nurturing.

Do not go! Do not let the cold of night rule
in your stead. Burn instead and lick the earth
with tongues of fire. Burn incessantly and sear
my calloused heart, for I fear the enveloping
darkness of your absence.

Stay. Stay forever. Then we shall lie in the
comfort of our love. For I am like the earth
and you are like the sun
and between us there should be
only void.

- written some time in 2001 for Elias

Taciturn

How unsaid thoughts
Tell of tales untold
Of love, of hate,
Of courage, of fear.
How gestures undisguised
Speak of feelings undescribed.
How plainly clear
What needs to be said
And obscuring the mask
That hides instead.

Oh, how much silence lets through
With the passing of minutes
Thirty and two!

- written in 1999 for Larra

Beholding Beauty

In a voiceless whisper
You called to me and
Lured my soul
To come and draw near.
You held my hand and
Brought me close
To unfelt bliss,
Unknown ecstasy.

I opened my eyes and
Saw what was before me,
Standing there
Elegantly,
Splendidly,
In form, most pure,
Most delicate:
Beauty.

Your face, asymmetrical
Yet poised, confounded me,
Held my eyes captive
And possessed me.
As I gazed at your face,
The lovely folds
Glowed in the
Mild morning sun,
Shimmered and
Broke into a thousand
Different hues,
Into a musical canvas
Of tone and brilliance
Waking my imagination.

Unlike any I have felt
Or touched, your skin,
Soft and supple,
Beckoned me to caress
Your body. Then,
As in a trance, I let
My hand glide over
Your entirety.
Oh, beauty!

Dazed from your sweet
Subtle scent, my mind
Wandered through eternity,
To a dream of beauty
Divine and ethereal.

To have lived and fought
And not felt such freedom,
To have gone and sought
And not found such splendor,
To have walked the earth
And never seen such majesty
Is to me like sin
Against such beauty.

- written some time in the late 90s as an ode to Philippine flora, dedicated to Raven in 2009

Ramblings

I heard you talk about your insight
on affairs of the heart one night.
You caught my attention on-site.
Have I...?
Nah, it was the view at Kelly Heights.

I came to know a really great person
fun-loving and always in season.
For an ailing heart, you're like a potion.
Have I...?
Nah, it's out of season.

I hear your strong and reassuring voice
everything else becomes noise.
To me your voice is music of choice.
Have I...?
Nah, I'm not like most other boys.

I often catch myself looking your way.
I just caught myself the other day.
Didn't exactly know what to say.
Have I...?
Nah, not me, Jose.

I miss the smile that brings me cheer
whenever you're not near.
Now I don't want you ever to disappear.
Have I...?
Nah, unlikely, a bit queer.

I miss your punch and gentle attack
whenever I'm out on backpack.
You make me want to hurry back.
Have I...?
Nah, I don't want to turn blue and black.

I search around and look for you
and when I don't see you
I feel blue.
Have I...?
Nah, must be getting the flu.

And then one night you decided to trust me
with things you held in secrecy.
You can't imagine how much that meant to me.
Have I...?
Nah, I'm no sucker for intimacy.

I stayed on the phone with you 'til dawn
not wanting to put down the telephone.
To you I think I was drawn.
Have I...?
Nah, I've always been alone.

I guess I'll always remember
the day we dined together
when time really didn't matter.
Have I...?
Nah, but I think it's becoming clearer.

I sat beside you and wanted to stay
couldn't find a reason to go away.
I didn't want to leave you anyway.
Have I...?
Nah, it's too early to say.

I touched your feet and felt alright.
Can't remember if it was the left or the right.
I just knew then that it felt so right.
Have I...?
I don't know, maybe my head was light.

Then yesterday I saw you
with somebody else, someone I knew.
I didn't know what to make of the view.
Have you...?
Oh, how I wish it wasn't true.

I envied the hands that held you.
I envied the arms around you.
It was only then that I knew.

Yes, I have fallen for you.

- written in 1997 for Ruth

The Chronicle of Change: An Anthology of Poems

This blog presents a collection of my poetry from the early 90s to the present. Since almost all my poems are in hard copy, I will have to encode them one by one, so bear with me. I will be posting them as I go along.

The dates of posting are not necessarily the dates of creation of these poems.

More importantly, please note that I do not and never will claim that these are good poems. They are my creation and are therefore special to me. If you or any of my readers find value in any of them, then I thank you.

You are most welcome to comment on them. I welcome both praise and criticism.

If for any reason you need to quote me, lift excerpts, print, publish, or refer to the poems in any way, I would appreciate a note or an email, and an acknowledgement of ownership, and of the website. Intellectual property rights do apply.

Read on and enjoy, dear reader.