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Unknown

your face in the dark
the stars and constellations
hallowed in the bush

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Alone

simple ramblings unveil
short talks and forgotten hellos
slid inside our pockets

spaces between fingers
still are spaces-empty
unnoticed

we walk along the path
we once dreamt
only to imagine how it is to be a company

still the lonely veranda is alone
two souls fused into one
lying in the cornerstone of hope.

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Poetry

i breathe through poetry
digesting the same words,
letters and pains

i catch emotions through poetry
with a butterfly net
tiptoeing

i shed tears through poetry
where tears are but
a cry of solace

i smell heartaches through poetry
the scent
seems a forgetful memory

since the day i breathe poetry
the senses
become pure-
raw and organic.

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lost in the dark cloud
endless blinded road -
waiting

a whistle from a far
moonlight darkening
silent

sadness
envelopes the sky
nowhere to go

whistle, wee,
will you, whimper,
waiting

winter is waiting
under the dark cloud
and the endless blinded road

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Deep Black



I was wondering
how deep black
was the untraveled
road we set eyes on

I was wondering
how deep black
was the pain
I had last ngiht

I was wondering
how deep black
was pain
and untraveled road

I was wondering
if it was deep black
it was pain
or simply a road

I was wondering
what,
where
and when It was

Deep black.

Photo by Damsel

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Fruit Basket

Shelter me into thy arms
Contain me into thy mold

Let me be your banana
Let me be your mango
Let me be you sweet clementine

the fragrance, the glory of thy heart.

Photo by Damsel

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Table Runner

threads and lemons
knit by patience and sweat

fingers bloodshot
bristles so fine

pale rectangular-stretched design
highlighting the mat

i run through my fingers
on your body

plain
enough to thwack his mouth

shred into pieces
until it turns into fine fibers-

knit another table runner once more
with whispers locked up
between the narrow spaces

the color of a lemon
scented with citrus secrecy


Photo by Damsel

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String Shadows


Coiling, Gripping, Dead

Swaying by the sunrise

Silhouettes all bend


Photo by Damsel

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Shore

I scribble letters on the shore
they were s,o and s

the waves dissolve the scribblings
there left an S

i wonder if the waves
disregard the S

forgiving enough
not to hit the shore

it is different
the waves are absent this time,

but the letter is still alive-
cold and numb

resting
on the shore of fantasy

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Mindanao Times features GiMix UP


GiMix UP by Vanessa Mae Almeria and Glenn Obenza

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MBS 2:Blogging the Mindanao Consciousness


Express not to Impress. Perhaps It was a collective feeling I felt after attending the 2nd Mindanao Bloggers Summit. October 25, 2008 marked one of Gensan's Big Events where Family Country Homes was peopled by bloggers coming from the three islands of the country.

Blogging is a way of self expression so to speak. The summit was attended by mostly Mindanao Bloggers who in one way or another firmly believe that we have something to say, we have a knowledge to impart and a consciousness to develop.Voices from an entrepreneur blogger, student blogger, photo blogger, tech blogger were also heard. A talk by Hector Minoza was delivered. He highlighted the Mindanao Consciousness. Filipinos in general have been blinded and victimized by the distorted image of Mindanao not knowing that Mindanao if once seen behind all the bullets and wars is an enchanted paradise of a rich culture.

The 2nd Mindanao Bloggers Summit paved the way on developing Mindanao consciousness among the bloggers not only for the Mindanaon. We communicate information through blogging. We should uncurl the dire reputation of Mindanao that the news have been feeding us. Mindanao is a place inhabited by rich and diversed culture. Mindanawon, Paminawon Intawon.

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Earth

aroma of earth
penetrating the body
of wandering thoughts

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Whereabouts

KCC Gensan's Booksale ( Lots of cheap used books Trivia: I can spend 6 hours merely for scavenging)
Reading Rilke


Reading Rilke
National Bookstore Gensan (Oooops! Expensive. i can only acquire books during bargain)


photos by Damsel

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Desensitized

staring at the blank page
creating contours
of words,
invisible images
grasping, getting
a touch of a thought

blue merges
with the light above me
creating a color
before bliss
nails the numb
to euphoria

scratch the savages
of guilt grudging
somewhere, sober
in its silent sanctuary
feed the food
right on the mouth, melting

breaking bones
crunchy carcass
of dead syllables
now, knock
slid beneath the boundary of
licking letters

wail, words, wail
deep, dark and howling
sail, sail
fading beauty
painting the dark
sky of pain

lead me to you wonder
possess me in thy name
gather my wandering souls
at the center of the page
as you encircle, caging me in a poem

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Twisted Lines

tonight i shall write twisted lines
where words fly nowhere
hitting the corners
of the page
searching
for their
souls
inside
coffins
and puffing
cigarettes
catching the
mystery of the night

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Tip

leaking
tears squeezed
flakes of pain

cascading
beneath those
cleaved thunder clouds

by George

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Let's Do it in Mono

I
need
to
be
straight
to
say
the
things
that
I
want,
a
stroke
of
words
will
do

I
dare
not
spoil
the
thought
and
give
you
a
gist

i
just
would
like
to
thank
you
for
all
the
things
that
you've
done
for
me-
small
things
give
me
joy

it's
hard
to
grip
my
thoughts
as
tight
as
a
bond
but
even
if
I
am
in
pain
with
this
poem
shit
of
mine
i
still
take
time
to
end
it,
say

you
are
so
real
a
gem
that
I
will
keep
for
my
entire
life

i
need
not
write
poems
just
to
tell
you
that
you
are
one
of
a
kind

i
am
just
here
BEST
i
will
trust
you
the
way
you
share
your
trust
to
me

I
only
have
a
slight
chance
to
be
with
you

i
will
miss
you

I
won't
miss
a
note
in
my
diary

that
i
did
meet
a
friend
like
YOU.

I
love
you
best.
SWEAR!

Cheers!

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Decipher

Dear Reader,

I have read your poems, secretly
I know how you get mad,
I know how you become a different woman when you get angry.
I know how you love to ransack his world,
to reach out for something impossible, invisible.
I realized just recently that you love him
better than the virtual man I introduced to you.

We write differently,
i will forever follow my style,
follow what my HEART always says.
When I tell about my poems in their most silent secrets
you just ignore and abandon their WORLD.

Do you really love spikes than plain?
Oh, now I now...
You've been very ironic these days,
you love death than Life, right?
Because if you don't what's the need
to explore the immortal even if you the reality
feeding you?

I have been reading your poems lately,
oh almost a year honestly.
Crumpled papers, torn pages beneath the beddings,
now I know how you really adore Death and It's immortality,
the way the waves hit the shore
painful
but still the sweetest when they recoil

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Your Highness

send me to the heart of your poetry
to the deepest of their world
mirrors of pain should be broken
when i enter

poetic jesters
should speak of their epic poems
until i rest my eyes to sleep
i hear no laughter- all but poems and seriousness

lonely jovials
should serve my dinner in their most elegant attire
the night should be lovely,
adored like them

the holy servants should dance
the way you do
i want an arabesque,
a passionate rhumba

while doing all the show
i should abandon them
you should send me a cab playing a requiem
command him to your throne

a red carpet should welcome me
yes, purely the red carpet
none of the servants should be delivered
it's more private if we only have ourselves

send me to the heart of your poetry
to your holy master Shakespeare
and Aristotle
serve me the sweetest their sonnets and criticisms

I would love to dine with you
that is if you could bring me into the deepest of their world.

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Something you like

i can't give you letters
i'm selfish.
i can't offer you my words

i can't write poetry
none of which is fiction.
i know nothing of literature

i can't travel
my legs are weak
my mind's searching for something else

you always ask me to do this and that
but i always (as always) refuse
sorry.

i can't give you my poetry,
my words,
my treasures and my plans

but here's one thing,
i can give you cheesecake and a bottle of wine
the next time you ask me a thing i am incapable of doing

will you smile and eat the cake
or let it rot
or else days after you'll notice something
inside the mouth of your cat

(laughs)

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Paris

let me tell you that we need to book our tickets as early as now
you need not worry for the expenses
dad will be giving me a lot of dough as promised

free of worries, away from responsibilities
we will be reading Paris in a week's time
or journey a cruise after a week or two

just tell me when you'll be ready
i'll pack our things one by one
thoroughly with our dreams

you love black, don't you,
how's that, white's mine
neutrals aren't they?

say yes always
never ever to no
we'll be together

lost in Paris
smiling with Mona Lisa
erecting our plans with some brilliant architectures

forget about worry first
let's kiss art
let's journey with our hearts

eyes closed-
dreaming that someday we will get to Paris
hand-reached.

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Pseudo Death

compose a poem about death
even if you hate to discuss it

try to become funny so as not to
be drowned by the theme

crack jokes if you want
as long as they don't veer away

euphemism or irony
choose which one will work

the more honest it is
the more poetic it becomes

don't over do it
over sentimentalizing should be absent

a poem about death
should always be happy

jovial as the innocence of the children
they should talk about death

but never mourn for it,
never mourn for it

i know how you hate about death
so now

let me ask you a question
have you written your death poem

as spontaneous as mine?
or you just mourned over it

to the point that death
is still present in the last stanza

like how a sentence ends with
a period.

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Unknown

no one reads you poetry except him
when you beg her to skim through your poems
she refuses-
"not now, please?"

she knows you're writing for him
with the most grandiose language
in the light of elegance
he knows how to possess you

your hands scribble his muted love
the fantasy and the unreachable
you believe him,
you hear him speak of non sensical things

yet you still believe
he knows how to trick you with his magic
with his words, like a love potion
freed in the air

you dance together invisibly
like two timid eager souls
she knows all, all about you and him
but do you have even the slightest idea

that it is not him
but her
who sacrifices anything
just for the two of you?

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Sunflower

indeed sunflowers are yellow
a reflection as bright as the morning sun
as lovely as an infant's first smile

i pick the sunflower
the glow vanishes
i think of the soil

it is darkbrown
how come it becomes gloomy
suddenly the world turns black

i had not a single knowledge
of losing the bright
of losing beauty

not until i search
for might
in the absence

light

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Fantasy

like how you thirst for poetry
like how i eat you inside my head

like how i break a better line
like how you make simple sonnets

like how I value poets
like how you value Shakespeare

like how I love searching for lust
like how I dip hands to yours
like how I love your body curves whisper a silent poem

Like how I eat you inside my head

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Reprimand

I saw you swimming like a dog

it was me who taught you the basics of swimming

you never learned

I saw you eating balut

it was me who taught you to break the shell

you never learned

I heard you singing like a star

we both sang the song, and we were out of tune

I felt the tears rolling from your eyes

(it was painful, it was you)

It was me who taught you not to cross beyond the line

It was me who taught you to save your heart

I said your heart not your love

(for it was easy, as simple

not like love

abstract and vague)

I told you before to keep yourself away from him

oh sorry,

i
was
about
to
say
keep yourself from any
harm

you NEVER learned.

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Empty Seat

i have heard your resignation
sad and silent for the second time

baby,your boss told me
hey, you did hide behind your words

hush now honey baby
cry like a crow if you want

but never like a child, change!
daddy doesn't want you go astray

doesn't want a dumb dog
inside his house

close that book instead, interesting
are the words when they run

as silent as the stream
with whimpering grievances

cry, cry come on
your boss Bonnie

willingly wanted you back
its just that there are better girls

who could make
him fuck.

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Solace

i wish you were my falling star
that would journey me somewhere
far beyond the distant sky

like my dreams
wrapped with silver kisses
you sent

during my 25th birthday
they will soar like angels
singing me a lullaby

not to cradle me to sleep
but to awaken me from
a long, long traveled journey

only
my sorrows
could weep.

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Neutrals

you said no to opportunity
when things were chosen by your choices

you sniffed joy
the smell of cats
the smell of street girls

you said your children
wanted to see
the color
of your country's flag
furling to and fro
beneath the sky

but haven't you noticed
that your children once
hated the primary colors
and wanted
the shades of black
and
white?

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Kiss

i once was kissed by a man
on the forehead,
tip of my nose
on my hands

he was not blonde
nor white

we drove his big bike
roaming the outskirts
of the city-
freedom here and there

he was neither
professional nor
a construction worker

who works
day and night
feeding the mouths
of his children,
wife
and
mine.

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Maze

A woman
so proud of herself
asks a street vendor
for
a nearby playground
and its direction

the street vendor
pointed
out his index finger
towards a narrow street

where none
even himself
would dare spend
the whole day
playing
in that
playground
alone

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Haiku 3

An eager daughter
her heart is searching him out
"Papa":Sunday Blues

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Haiku 2

fingers dig the earth
life creeping beneath the soil
a birthchance waiting

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Cheese and Butter

The door slammed
bang!
a fallen jalousie broke the silence of the morning

you know how she hated
to be awaken by your anger
you know how she would love
to see you going home with a viand
(not a bitch)

the rhum you had at the kanto last night
smelled badly for her
your breath
warm as the sun's stirred your daughter's mood

she zoomed out the door to buy bulad
and so she couldn't passed by
your bitch

you know how she hated the smell of filth

she walked past the sari-sari store
there were people,
cars,
children
and happy faces

and the smell of cheesecake and butter
was breathed like sweet potions of romance
in which
it was a missing
flavor inside the house.

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15

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16

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17

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18

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Afternoon

the sun leaps
a wet afternoon-
a gleam hitting the windowsill

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Pages 12-16

13 ^ 14 v
15 v

16 ^

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Page 11 (originally)

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Page 10

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Page 9

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Page 8

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Page 7

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Page 6

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Page 6

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Page 5

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Page 4

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Page 3

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Page 2

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Page 1

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Sun and Moon

Scissors cutting umbilical cord
A shrieking cry beneath the
transluscent window-
5 fingers waving.

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Assumption

One night
I was sitting beside this blatant city
with a hurricane of thoughts
fucking my mind,
hovering like vultures.

One night
I was dreaming inside the yellow roomwith no thoughts-
thoughts i wished would linger
like scents of blossom in the air,
there was nothing,

there was nothing,
only

YOU!

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Duh

Keep clicking,
keep digging
keep searching
for nothing.

Keep speaking,
keep ranting
keep blogging
for nothing.

Keep your thoughts
Keep your emotions
Keep your passion
Keep yourself

Keep your all
Keep you pen and paper
Keep your secrets

BUT don't ever forget to
keep my

w
o
r
d
s

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Spider



It dawned hazy and wet
I hid beneath the coconut leaf-
I flashed a smile and anticipated the Rain,
I sat ∆pside dφwn- waitin’,
Feeling a bit bored.

The chore started:
I s t r e t c h e d my r e a c h and
spun the silk thread-
caught the neighboring limb of an oak tree.
I finished ten spΘkes,
But an unknown creature
suspended
my errand.

I saw a shuttered light,
Still, the aroma of its flesh is doomed to be dined.
I cut across the signal thread-
[trapped]
and pierced it with chelicerae.
The injected poison crawled into its veins.
Shriveled. Dangled like mucus in a filament .
I sucked out his juice,
Triumphed the free zone.
A tiny silk ball was just
D
I
S
C
A
R
D
E
d.


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Newer Poems

When black and white collide…

I Lie flat in this rectangular death bed-
The piercing chill detaches me
From the gray colored world of uncertainties.
Today, I shall walk into the valley of death
Where I sing the happiest melody of sadness.
Today, I shall wake up with a rosary
Coiled on my hands-
I shall write with no hesitation
Only they gray silhouettes of words.
Today, I shall punish my hands-
pound each word on the white paper-
so I could squeeze the juice of syllables-
and paint the
Abstraction of my thoughts.
Today I shall draw a line
That divides each world-
A thin endless line,
Like a knifed horizon
Where the sky and the sea
Seems kissing from a far-
Kissing-
Like an asymptotic bliss*.
*best, allow me to borrow your words, hehe.:)

When Mockery overpowers…

The black vertical thin line mocks me
for the nth time-
When my paper bleeds words
like pain and sadness,
The black vertical thin line
harmonize with the
Beating of my heart-
counting numbers of death,
Echoing inside the hollow room-
guarding like death’s rusty armor.
Now, my paper is half-filled with words-
words that will defeat the black vertical thin line’s purpose,
Now, my words devour the page
where it can no longer mock-
But just sleep and hide
as I turn
My succeeding thoughts
into an end.

Puffed-up

Last night, when you whispered
to me the crispiest story of the day
I laughed with a colorless reaction-
You stared into my eyes,
a thirsty tiger waiting
to be quenched.
I pushed you away from me
but you stood behind me-
Leaning, pushing your body harder
to mine-
from the time
you drew your hands into
my shirt-
I could feel your cold bare hands
Exploring,
nurturing each of my
full grown fruits of pleasure-
You kissed them with your ambitious lips,
imagined them by your ecstasied* eyes…
We breathe, we stopped,
we were in a brief hiatus-
surrounding us were white curtains,
undulating
with tempos beating, beats from our
Tainted hearts.
I moan for forgiveness,
I cry for bliss,
I envy the goddesses-
We cry in tears.
When things were done,
I clasped my bra and
put on my skirt
and so with my white sticky shirt,
a spit from your nicotined* mouth
tarnished my shirt
and the owner of the fabric,
Everyday I go home with this thought-
as dirty as my whole-
a whacked swollen whore.

Good Morning Juno*!

The sun is up,
Girls are busying queuing to take a bath,
Inside the laundry room my pants hang damp
The alley floor scatters food left-over-
Another icky food fiesta for hungry cats,
The surroundings is the same, even if they
Have grown green leaves and let go of
Withered petals, even though their branches
Spread-out, even though they give life to us-
Still their existence remains the same.
The mineral water bottle is empty,
The orange and blue tumblers
Stand proudly even they are ¾ filled with water,
Even though they appear like thirsty
Penises.
The mineral water bottle is a womb-
A hallow room of a baby.
The lid is open,
Making it vulnerable to objects that are
willing to penetrate.
These trains of thoughts are complete-
Giving birth to an inanimate objects,
Producing a poem,
Producing a baby out of words.
My poem is complete-
After 9 minutes of thinking,
9 minutes of arguing with my mind-
I have produced a baby-
My baby which I will call a poem.
*The idea is an allusion to the movie Juno
~ by scarletpoetions on April 16, 2008.

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Ang Pagmata


Hala, tan-awa ra gud,
niluag na gud ang tarak-tarak-
hinay hinay nga nahabwa
ang nagkaguot nga isda.

Nag inusara si ankol oh,
init baya ay,
init pa sa iyahang yellow nga tisirt..
Pero mayo nalang guyd nga nibaba na sila,
nalipay mi sa akong katapad kay nakapangita
na ug lingkuranana ang kagwang,
didto nakatungod sa may pirtahan,
hangin-hangin baya didto, ilis nalang unta mi oy,
nay hangin pero dili presko,
nay halo nga baho sa gas pero
pati iyahang buhok kay nakagusto
pud sa iyahang gilingkuran,
nagsayaw-sayaw baya ang bruha.

Tama lang pud nga diri ko,
gisirado sa pisting kundoktur
ang pirthahan,
naundang
hinuon ang show.

Sakit kayo sa dughan oy,
ikaw daw beh, patungpan
aning mga kagwang
nga tigulang,
nanimaho ug tuba-
kaluod oy.

Daghan siguro ang gihuna-huna
aning akong katupad ba,
nganong murag problemado
pa man sa ako,
dili siya ganahan katupad ko?
Kagawapa na ah.
Ngek, di jud mabangbang ang pagka
lalom sa ginaisip niya-
di man matungkad,
lalom pa aning bangin nga among
ginaagian sa dulom
nga kagab-ihon.

~ by scarletpoetions on February 16, 2008.

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NAKAMATIKOD KO…


Wa man intawoy pulos ning konduktor,
wa kabalo sa iyahang mga pasahero.
Makakita gyud xa ug away ani bah,
pustahanay pa.
Kabalo unta siya
sa distinasyon ug naugan sa
iyahang mga pasahero para
dili malangan ang biyahe.
Makapungot guyd,
nag aso-aso na pud ang kalagot sa uban,
unsa man
ilahang gusto?
Tawo ra pud baya ning
putot nga konduktor,
makasala pud gyud,
sabton nalang pud
unta sa mga nay buot.

Ismol bateribol
ang atong ankol,
di gyud palupig,
gahi jud.
Tama
na ng way padulungan nga away,
pls. lang,
ankol,
ante,
tama na
mutuo ba mo
nga sa mata
sa mga bata
tanan tama?

~ by scarletpoetions on February 16, 2008.

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Ang Paghuna-huna


Inday kanunay na tang nag-uban
Ikaw, ang akong palangga- akong kalibutan
Kanus-a pa man ko nimo tagdon?
Katong imohang “answer” nga akong ginahandom,
Unta masayod ka sa akong buot ipasabot
Ako si Dodong nga sang-una pa nagapaningkamot.
Unta nakamatikod ka inday,
Sa akong gugmang inatay-
Kanus-a nako matilawan
ang imohang nga ngabil,
ang damil nga natilawan lang nako
sa akong mga damgo.
Kining taknaa Inday, tubaga ko,
Nganong ginapadugay pa man nimo
Lalom gyud diay imohang ginahuna-huna?
lalom pa aning bangin nga
atong
ginaagian sa dulom
nga kagab-ihon
kauban ang mga nag-aniyag nga maga bitoon ?

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Boys are Toys

I hate boys,
they are my stupid toys.
When they cross my way,
good luck for a very fine day!

They are stupid-
desperate cupids
hungry for attention
what an imbecile creation.

I hate Myk,
He isn’t my like
and so with rey
who ruins my day.

Continue or else you’ll die
all of your stupid lies
bury them on the ground
if not, ill make a screaming sound.

All of you fucking idiots,
who are fond of “iots”
go away and fuck around-
for i’l have my merry go round.

~ by scarletpoetions on February 18, 2008.

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Poem #3

Poem # 3

We’ll sail on amidst
this saddened overcast-
with its gentle slabs
of cotton hurled
over the skyline,
concealing
our confined qualms,

which churned whitecaps
into their finality.
Serenaded us by
the ghost of the wind,
through its bosom
as it penetrated
the cracks of stones.

These armored hands –
fra-
gile as our hearts
concealed the earthly vows
sworn before heaven
and
earth
which drew the demarcated thin line
between each extremities.

I stood
before
you
with a
camou-
flaged
sin

as though imparting
the other me-
to you
with this pure ether of
whites and hopes,

Brought us to the very

depth of
unfathomable love.

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a poem written while you’re dancing


like how
you value
literature-
poetic lines,
epiphanic endings

like how
you value
music-
graceful movements,
enchanting arabesque

is the same
as the way
I cherish
our friendship-
goodbye
selfish ire
we had have enough of you.

8-28-08 (DULA,UPmindanao)

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19


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Sonnet I


Repute, with stature and standing our dear populace has known,proud A
With your spirits high and gestures in the sky were strewed B
Better yet relish your royal possession with substantial mound A
Seek not for improbable realities of unearthly mood B
Otherwise dwell with incorporeal needs, C
But why abide for such ineffectual deeds? C
No seeds of yours would dare to couple or enshroud A
For her eyes would not want to settle with yours- not as good, B
Ours is different and of no deceit when you’re around A
Since we know our edged and fathomed prelude B
Defend her not with your cultured armor-in which she sees C
For sweet innocent ideals are those that she seeks C
Defend no more of your unearthly love, immaterial of no sense. D
With our grounds of real love- apt to mature, devoid of pretense.

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No where to go


Where does the wind come from?
Where do ashes go?
Could we buy Happiness?
Could we speak no ill words?
Why do we smile?
What's with pain that we always get hurt?
Is there something hidden with secrets?
Why are diamonds so attractive?
Do we know God?
Are we familiar with evil?
Why do we have to experience dawn?
What's with the morning dew?
Do you know how to spell rhythm?
Does one account the goodness of the other?
Do I know you?
Do you know yourself?
Are we strangers?
What's familiar with the word familiar?
Is there something truthful about lies?
What's special with abstraction?
Do I have to write such kind of crap?
or just leave the last line with this?

Time ended: 4:40pm

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Home Alone


It stood there for almost 21 years,
with lintels and pillars
of age decayed memories
of yesterdays and roots of fruitful tomorrow-
hovering a shadowed future.

Fenced with passion with markings
of smiles and hearts,
Lighted with pastels-
glaring bright streaks
from speckled moonshine.

How wondrous things could be!

An abstraction of colored-
glass tinted with intricacies
as a reflection of disordered
coordination when,how,why,what,who?


The air breathes in and out of the screened eyes,
passing every melancholy and despair,
How the linen folds says how impatient
the wallpaper acts.


Goodbye four cornered-room,
Goodbye stinky hallowed dwelling,
Goodbye dark colored doom
Goodbye disgusted telling,

I still must rest with awe.

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Bikini's in Shame

She was busy with you-
Pants.
Breathes.
She did converse with you-
Sips coffee.
Throws away the cigar's filter.
She smiled and did it again-
Gets a paper.
Crumples it.
She stood beside you-
Offers a drink.
Sighs.
She was dancing with you-
Flickers a smile.

Whistles.
You serenaded her with your look-
Shakes her hand.
Asks for another drink.
She kissed your hand-
Goes inside the C.R,
puts lipstick.

You held her hand,
stabbed her with a look-
Sits,
Stands-
disturbed;

She sashayed her butt-
Looks at her bag.
Reads her text message.
You asked her for another-
Opens her wallet.
Sees a picture.
She willingly agreed-
Dances.

Cries.
Pants.
Breathes.
Cries.
Dances.

You sat in the corner-
Sips from the bottle of vodka.
Smiles.
She approached you-
Screams.
Holds his hand tightly.
You dragged her away from you-
Kisses hardly.
She slapped you-
hands wrapped around his waist.

You held her face before yours-
Armies invaded the colony.
She begged for another-
gave you another chance-
Everybody's enraged with excitement.

That was enough.
Glances the picture-
a family.
Music off.
Lights on.
Clothes put on.
Open door.
Closed door.

Solitary-
rugged ambiance,
Jeepneys' absent,
Moon's in gloom.

Skies in darkness.
Red bikini's in shame.
Pride's aggravated.
Hands of shame behind body's in flame.

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Thread of Secrecy


Closed doors,
Mouth's shut Nothing's heard-
Silence-
secrecy;
a dove,
blotted with fears and anguish

helplessly roared above
the scraped shadows of the sun
Bled with torments and despair
Jailed with so much guilt-
DISTURBED.
heart's palpitation
was above normal veins cut-
shed of blood.

A fowl with its hacked beak
Ripped out innocence
from an unsinned facade,
now in discourse with pegasus
waiting for the sun to breakclouds to shine,
wind to blow,
and birds to chirp.

Nothing to wait for guilt
swallowed the relentless shadow of darkness-
nowhere to hide-
for conscience's battled with pride.

No way to escape,
the dimmed hole's always a hole-
unsearchable unless trekked.

Tomorrow's beamed- out with swayable
discourses Wrinkled with sympathy
and ruthless discoloration,

Of truth and unreserved
blindness this tightened
harness I know would forever be endured.

When you came I was blinded
by the lights forever out of sight
with your unexpected welcome.

How come I had experienced
such plight when all i did
was to be innocent and out of guilt.

From the time I ensured my conviction
You betrayed my will of innocence-
pure, virgin- as white as dove.

You left me a scar that will
forever be cherished- a wounded lady,
unretrieved by the fowl's broken
beak- hanging on the thread of secrecy.

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