pag-ampo
09/19/08*
Patadyong:
Naa ko’y gidulaan sa akong ulo ganina
title:
I DONT GO TO CHURCH ANYMORE
-a haiku-
both my ex and god
thought i was most lovely when
i was on my knees.
nagkaun na ka?
wala pako kaon oi pero dili lang ko magreklamo kay ang uban wala gani kaon tibuok adlaw 
hahaha kahilak ta sa drama
dili na uso ang simba kay ang mga pare manyakis na hahaha
kung muadto ko sa simbahan mananaw lang ko mga chicks
not my fault kung sexy sila, im sure moingon pud sila nga dili ilang fault,
so fault jud sa pari hahahah shhhh
(insert very long title here)- Dream Theater
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pagaspas
09/16/08*
nostalgia by: Pipo Sulpico
Traps, flaps and flights- Alindog
in this sphere of flights
is there somewhere to hide?
where someone stands
between you and the sea
holding your hand
clasping the sand
someone who unsails
just to hear you breathe
in this land of leavings
why do you stay?
why do you settle for the years
that have sailed?
for the broken smile of your wife
for the curtains of your night
for the smell of the dawn
when all the flames have died
sometimes, saying goodbye
is like trapping a firefly
it flickers through the night
flapping beauty and light
you wake up the next morning
it owns no streak of life
in this endless loop
whose arms do you hold?
are you around the one who can’t let you go
or do you lie next to the one you cant live without
do you palm oasis
in this square of drought?
if there are beautiful deaths
would you brave to die?
~
i woke up with this song. gargled with beats.
.
alangot
09/14/08*
-
(lola)
her face was more wrinkled than her hands,
for some months, I thought she was my mother.
I cocooned in her hanging patadyong,
her lullabies,
I wish to wake up listening to it,
folding my dreams into paper bags, walking out
with nothing but my calloused feet and the courage
i murdered because I had to.
-
from the shutter of: Kimay Bureros
But no,
Have you ever wakened up to a place where everything seems alive by dawn and dead for the rest of the day? I have. There, people wear deep wells as faces. There, some corners melt every time I look at them and start to remember the smell of your palms. Feel the maps on your hands. Jump on the pitfalls from your fingertips.
The stores sell nothing but liquor and loaves. The vending machines, home of fat rats and the phone booths are broken when you see them from a distance. The only post office has been closed for decades. The museum beside it collapsed after I went out thinking that I could challenge Geography and could delete all shipwrecks of time since the day I flew a kite, stumbled and scarred my knee.
This place is so familiar for many of us, but why is it that we haven’t bumped onto each other?
Maybe, just maybe, I was too busy running because I have long been yearning to tire myself. That if I get my self tired, I may give up. And, that, I, may, let it slip.
Maybe, you were looking downwards, retying your shoelaces.
-
(gunshot)
surrounded by dusty bookshelves,
you showed me this rotten journal,
I opened it
like gently ripping off
some skin from my shoulder blades.
I opened a yellowed leaf:
“the way to end a poem
like this
is to become suddenly
quiet.”
The Thing This Doesnt Mean Is Nothing- Silent Land Time Machine
.
kilid
09/12/08*
We Are Nowhere and it’s Now- Bright Eyes
city of blurs by: Tey Lopez
*
from clear plastics, they swallow
an ocean that keeps them afloat.
“look, there are rafts, they will sail us home.”
under the overpass, they compare
the stars and the early christmas lights.
they sleep, hungry;
they dream, starved.
*
from the sidewalks, he writes about them
for he is the boy with toes of a soldier,
lips of the fireflies, arms of the old trees
and a heart of a gypsy,
long been dead.
*
from envelopes, she dreams of holding his hands
in front of the rice fields, facing scarecrows,
flying with mayas.
so the alarm clock is mad, she takes a shower.
he dances under the rain in slumber.
*
from her eyes, the world is road full of vehicles,
from vehicles are idle hearts,
too busy to even notice those greased faces,
fainting dreams,
in the corners…swallowing an ocean
from clear plastics full of sticky copper.
*
You see your breath in the air as you’ll climb up the stairs to that coffin you call your apartment. I kissed a boy near my house; he had a swollen lip given by his step father. He had sad empty eyes of sticky copper that reminded me of yours, a long walk we shared, talking about street kids and the future we may never have together. may never have apart.
.
kurog
09/11/08*
year 27 by: Myrah Mae
There were familiar books, unfamiliar picture frames,
The smoke from your lips shivered, your eyes evasive,
and she just smiled, “you look tired”
You told her she still has the same mannerisms, toe tapping,
pouting the lips when unsure and dunking hands into pockets.
“does she have a senior citizen ID?”
“she does, but she could not sign at all.”
“old age, it breaks my heart seeing her, but she can talk with her eyes.”
You made her coffee, typed endlessly, asked her about her family,
her journals, her postponed dreams you knew of years ago. You asked about her
cloud rats, if she is still into star gazing and slingshots.
She looked at you with peace, with the same pair of eyes:
“I don’t want to be a lawyer. I’ll be happier somewhere else.”
“You know what, you own this… this courage, this courage I am envious of.”
I heard of that, someone wanted to burry a bullet on your
Father’s head and… and yours?
Like a little girl she laughed, the poise you thought she has earned
over the years faded and she began pounding your table:
“damn, that was really funny. But well yes, I was not scared.”
“I believe you.”
You were typing so hard, typing so hard that she
could almost hear each button spell out its letter.
You lit a cigarette and blew shivers.
“you look tired.”
You span your chair and giggled like a broken foghorn,
“This is crazy. I am tensed.”
She evaded: “You know, I woke up at the wrong town like three times
when I was still commuting back and forth. But getting lost has always
been my fuel. Fuel for finding home.”
“I was sorry.”
You said and that time, the shivers from your smoke,
clouded in your eyes, she searched for the sun between them
or underneath, but she found the same star-studded sky.
She took the papers from your hands,
gave you a chewing gum,
“Other than this world, we never shattered each other. Let it go.”
Other than this World- Azure Ray
”i am the solitude that asks and promises nothing; that is how i shall set you free”
-W.H. Auden-
(thanks pamela joy for sniffling from the other line and for this line that reminds you of me)
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