Poems for the Workshop
 

 

Jose Miguel P. Sandejas

Hello, Mother Earth

 

 

Frilly window curtains are whisked open,

A deep penetrating blaze of sunlight fills the Monday morning gloom.

The birds sing a melodious song about the rising of a new sun,

The sky gleams a wonderful shade of aqua blue and boasts of clouds as white as snow.

 

At the time of day when the sun offers no shadow,

Breaths of air flutter across the day, making the trees sway in a soft dancing motion.

The inhabitants of this so-called “Earth” busily roam about tending to their daily duties.

“No one ever stops to look at me anymore,” says Mother Earth.

 

The sun grows tired and it starts its descent,

The turquoise sea up above is overlapped with a palette of amber, crimson and ochre.

The sunset is silent.

 

This mesmerizing kaleidoscope of colors slowly fades to black, pecked with tiny, miniscule dots of gleaming white.

The sun’s younger sibling whose glow is softer and more serene, greets Mother Earth and keeps her company for the night.

Mother Earth is dark and still, the humans are silent.

 

The whole process repeats itself, endlessly, days on end.

But once in awhile, one of these humans, as they are called, stop to look at the earth, stare admiringly at her and say the word, “Beautiful.”

She smiles for them and sings a song of life.

 

 

 

Deprivation

 

Emblazoned on his face was a mark,

A mark that symbolized the anger and impatience of his caretakers.

A low, growling sound from his stomach reminded him

of how long it had been since his last meal.

The streets and busybodies do not pay attention to those with nothing to offer.

 

Ragged clothes tainted with dirt, painted by blood and

drenched with rainwater were irreplaceable to him.

What happens in a world where these are all you have?

Hearts can sometimes be the coldest part of the human body.

 

The hastened glances of onlookers, although only lasting

for a fragment of a second, left a permanent taste of disgust.

What a fitting meal for the hungry.

 

Schizo Was Here

 

A buzzing sound resonates,

An air of electric tension fills the room.

Hearts race in different moods,

Onlookers wait expectantly with an “Impress-me Personality”.

 

The first note is struck

Five different instruments, one rhythm

Five different moods, one tune

Five different people, one determination

All in synchronized beauty.

 

The room gets louder, insanely wilder.

The mood gets heavier.

Heads turn, bodies sway,

Passion is born.

 

 

Hope Rekindled

 

A troubled soul looked upward expectantly,

There was a sea of darkness.

He said a prayer to the Great One,

Asking Him to relieve his feeble existence of its pain.

The night remained silent and weary.

 

He closed his tear-filled eyes and listened for a sound of salvation,

Nothing came.

He did not want to lose hope,

But in the midst of crisis, it seemed that all was bound to be lost.

 

He took one last stare at the sky,

He said one last prayer.

Suddenly, the clouds parted, as the sea did centuries ago,

What was revealed was a spectacle unlike any other.

 

The night was bejeweled with diamonds.

Sparkling with a light so bright and so pure.

It was like a breath of fresh air to his suffocated soul,

The stars reminded him of God’s constant love.

 

He believed that for each star there was,

God said a tender “I love you”.

It reminded him that, in spite of everything,

Life truly was beautiful.

 

The stars were countless.

 

The Eight Rays of the Sun

 

 

The battlefield is set.

Guns cock, hearts race, adrenaline rushes.

The sky is a shade of deep crimson.

 

A gunshot is heard.

Men boldly run forward,

Head on towards the unknown.

Battle cries call out: “Mabuhay ang Pilipinas!”

 

Blood spills.

It is colored red, blue and yellow.

 

 

Poch Diaz

Rubbing Alcohol

 

Kill the shanties

for healthy kogon

 

Clean the cement surface

to draw attention from potholes

 

Poison the masses

for concentrated growth

 

Family Rubbing Alcohol...

"Hindi lang pansarili...Pambansa!"

 

 

A Tantalizing Treat

 

Baked to perfection

by masterful hands

for mankind

 

In

Out

of heat it goes

 

A shimmering glaze

generously coats

its curvy crust

 

Candy sprinkle

in jewel green

carefully  sprinkled

 

A touch

of rich cacao

here and there

 

Two dollops

of ice cream

for a base and a top

 

Everyday

I take a bite

of this heavenly confection.

 

 

Proboscis

 

The butterfly...

 

Sucks

the sweet mellifluous

 

Nectar

without hardly

 

Causing

harm to the Flower.

 

Welting

is prevented

 

by the maneuverable proboscis.

 

Cricket!

 

No!

Not the game!

 

 

Neither is it figurative!

 

 

This is not a joke!

 

 

There's no second meaning.

 

 

God is not involved.

 

 

There are no hypothetical situations.

 

 

It's merely the insect.

 

 

Cricket!

 

 

Binary Code

 

Husband and Wife

together they tango

Feline and Rodent

live for the chase

Light and Dark

existent through opposition

 

Spirit and Matter

Esse and Essence

Creator and Creature

nothing and Something

 

0 & 1

 

The Binary Code.

 

John Aaron O. Mendoza

Tears from the Daring

 

Chaos fills every secluded corner

Unbearable fighting, indeed unacceptable

Petty misunderstanding always surfacing

Such turbulence must perish

 

Some dare stand against it

Never were they hesitant and impatient

Their whole hearts filled with love,

Continued to utter the words, “What’s next?”

 

Courageous they were in every assignment

The battlefields of Mindanao or Congress,

Dark corners of electoral counting centers,

Every street crying for political change

 

Faced with every challenge there is

Often crushed -- by iron hands and feet

What leadership is found in this nation?

One that is unjust and full of shit!

 

Equipped with nothing else but service

No guns, no ammunition, no thoughts of violence

One by one, day after day, they bid us goodbye…

Honorable and patriotic actions forever remain

 

End? Fading away? This will never happen.

A mission etched in their minds

Though forever crying for justice,

A ray of hope is there for the land of our birth

 

 

The Blink of an Eye

 

Clear! Clear! Clear!

My eyes are indeed exquisite

The beautiful sky is falling on me

The stars, the sun, and the moon

Immense horizons of the universe

Sailing through the water of the blue Pacific,

Wandering along the ice caps of Kathmandu ,

Running along with the antelopes and cheetahs,

Gliding through the soaring skyscrapers of Manhattan ,

What a wonderful gift, these eyes!

The sights are always worth seeing

Each minute they get better and better

Hour after hour the journey gets more intense

Witnessing the peaceful and innocent villages

Learning from the four walls of the classroom

Feeling the warmth of love from the family

The world is indeed the perfect home.

Wait! Doctors? The emergency room? A hospital?

A terrifying and depressing feeling penetrated me

Alas! A marvelous sight is coming towards my eyes

One which I’ve never seen in the past

One which exceeds the very beauty of these eyes

Carrying with it never ending happiness

The proliferation of wavelengths began to seize

And slowly a dreary flat ____________________________ line begins to appear…

 

 

Luminosity

 

The bright sunshine filled the sky

Excitement struck him as he awoke

Delighted he was over sunny-side-up

The cabinet of clothes he opened and closed

 

Hurriedly, he rushed down to the street

The sounds of the hustle and bustle of the city

Hordes of people went to and fro, here and there

He noticed one thing and suddenly stopped

 

Thinking, flashbacks, prediction, twirling imagination

What should I do? he wondered

Flood? Disturbing fights? The end of the world?

Snapped back to reality -- more and more people passed by

 

          What are they doing?

They should at least stop and look

It might be too late for sorrow and remorse

Along the street was a banana peel.

 

The clock was ticking. It was ticking fast!
He picked it up and started walking away

Hordes and hordes of people still passed by…

Is it a bright sunny day?

 

 

Inquisitive Thought

 

 

Why am I here?

    Why are they there?

                  Why are there Asians, Americans, Europeans?

                          Why do we smile?

                            Why do we frown?

                           Why do people eat, drink, and sleep?

                          Why is there love? Happiness? Fulfillment?

                         Why is there hatred? Bitterness? Chaos?

                     Why is the world filled with tribulations?

                  Why am I alive?

               Why does man ever have to live?

            Why are there prayers, priests, and nuns?

          Why do people fight about religion?

        Why is there sin?

        Why is there God?

 

       Why?

 

 

 

Gasp

 

Gasping for precious air,

The struggle seems impossible

Counting seconds, minutes, to hours

Frightened by the wrath of such evil

 

Tormenting creatures linger in every space

Cries and whines are heard everywhere

Dreadful misery flourishes in the air

Gasp, gasp, just gasp!

 

Numerous doses are put into place

The terrifying image of steroids and salbutamol

Furious thoughts come twirling around

Desiring that prized entity seemed forever

 

Desolation positioned itself strategically

One gloomy day remained in sight

Endless suffering was easily portrayed

What a poor bit of existence…

 

An exhausting pursuit went raging on and on

Surrender! Let go! Give up!

The being that continues to struggle for breath

Hoping for its very conclusion

 

Prayers were said repeatedly

The agony, this pain, indeed incessant

Treasured moments were walking by

Relief it was. Gasp. The glimpse of a miracle…

 

 

 

Manuel Alfredo Abrogar Dacanay

Mud-blood

I don’t like the government and how it’s being run, I prefer Communism.

I don’t like the politicians and the sight of poverty all around.

I don’t like the hot and sticky weather and the rainy and floody season.

I like Japanese, European and American brands.

I like to eat Chinese food.

I like and I can speak English, Spanish and French fluently.

I have implants and made myself whiter than ever. Sarap maging Pinoy.

 

Cyrus A. Cariño

 

Virus Scanned

 

Viruses linger in poor bodies.

They disguise themselves as members

Think of themselves as adults but

Really they are just children who

Know nothing of the truth.

Although they appear in different natures,

They always behave the same

They can blow your head with dust

To cloud your mind, and also

Harm you like what parasites

Do for their own “good”

Leaving you near death.

They are strong but

Shoot them with a gun, or

Strike them with a knife through

They can be overkilled.

 

 

Rare Flowers of the Deep Earth

 

The sweet-looking flower

Wanders in the sea

With the waves that delight

Splashing in the tasteful heat and cold.

Its apparition, fresh with bright colors,

Awes and amuses us,

Leaving with a pause of delight

 

But now it had already passed

And it may never be seen again.

 

 

Home

 

The Alps of the north enlightens

Its body wakes up the mind and

Its breeze refreshes the face

From the heat of the morning light

 

In the highlands people sing in joy

Giving life longer time to linger

Children receive memories of happiness

Which they shall always remember

 

These always happen at home

Even if the storms go by

Or the beasts unleash their fury.

There’s nothing sweeter than home.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jim Yuchongco

Unfaithful

 

Sound wakes my morning.

I stand up.

I am completely naked.

I reach over my closet and grab some clothes.

I notice previous night’s clothes on the floor.

I look over and notice something on my bedpost.

There lays a halo.

I wonder who could have left this?

My girlfriend’s maybe?

I stare perplexed

Yes it does seem familiar.

Then a woman gets up from my bed

She greets me “good morning”.

What could she be doing here?
But now I realize the halo isn’t hers or my girlfriend’s…

It is mine.

 

 

Raymond Huang

 

Typhoon

Where I live, at the heart of the metro when it rains it pours.

I get home and try to sleep in a room with my father but

all I hear is the deafening sound of pouring rain.

The aircon is not running, only the fan, but the rain makes the room chillingly cold.

It is unbearable, so I get out of the room and stay someplace else

to relax and make everything return to normal.

Then, the pouring rain makes me think and contemplate on my life.

Nothing will ever be normal again.

And even inside that room, it is raining.

Because where I live, when it rains, it pours.

 

 

Pacquiao Sunday

 

The sun is shining, the sky is clear, what a beautiful Sunday.

Being a Sunday, one expects typical Sunday activities to go about:

parishes are packed with cars and people;

restaurants are packed with people;

shopping centers and malls are packed with people.

But all is still and the streets are empty.

Everyone is  watching.

 

 

 

Enzo Pinga

 

Slowdancing With The Devil

 

Party all night in the club,

Time to dress, to impress,

High rolling, low riding,

Walk in seeing skimpy dresses,

Sexy backs catch your eyes,

Bump and grind to the beat,

Fast or slow,

How you wanna go,

Go buy her a drink,

Down the shot,

Pop an ‘x’ in the next,

Get crunkin’ fool,

It’s just starting to get hot,

Dirty dancing in slow motion,

Get your sexy on,

Go ahead and be gone with it;

This is how we do

 

 

 

Swimming Fields

 

The green, green grass,

Showered by the long, long rain,

Twenty-two inhabitants take in,

With one at each end,

The green, the clear and the brown converge,

They cling to all,

No one is saved,

It takes you down,

Wears you out,

Squirk, squirk, splash,

The sounds of your footsteps,

Filth covers every inch of the body,

Inescapable pools all around you,

Whack it, then five feet,

Its motion impossible to judge,

Quick and stop, then rewind,

Over there, and switch it,

Splash to one’s countenance

Slip n’ slide as a

Speedboat in the ocean,

More cover you,

Run, slip, fall, sprint,

It fizzes, curls through the pounding rains

Phhhhhhhhhhhht it goes,

Resting two inches below where

The metal bends a ninety,

Such harsh conditions

Generate so much joy and excitement,

Knees dig through the swimming fields,

A soup of spit, sweat, dirt,

Morbid, not, a celebration,

Absolutely.

 

 

In Michaelangelo’s Feet

Twenty-two artists take on,

Which one are you?

One to twenty-one

Who are you going to  rule?

How are you going to school?

Speed, grace, elegance,

Ability is your gift.

Up and down, left and right,

Impeccable sound of the body,

The tango does take two,

The samba may be for all.

Give and go, one-two,

There is always a rainbow

After the rain,

Joy, excitement, celebration,

Sadness and cruelty.

This is why it is

Never not round,

Ridicule and go take

The other path,

My Sistine chapel.

Make it fly quickly above the prize,

It’s called art,

Poetry in motion.

You are the artist,

Make it your friend.

You can only dance together

Without your partner,

Artistry is left stagnant,

White surrounds you,

Embedded on the green, you are.

It is not the lifestyle, it’s life,

The stands and the pitch ,

Isn’t the canvas,

It’s a place of worship,

It’s religion,

It is a play of stupidity and brilliance,

My Mona Lisa,

It is beautiful.

 

 

One’s Gifts

Smell the mountain air towering over everyone,

Isn’t it pretty, in a perfect landscape,

The way the dandelions flutter in the air,

The way the birds and the bees go off

To search for their food,

The towering pines providing homes for

The squirrels, smell the scent,

The beautiful sand you dig your toes into,

The fish, the whales, the many more

In the seas, it looks a perfect tranquil,

The way the clouds make the sky,

Blue and white, so pretty,

All this made by one,

Being destroyed by many,

Its creation for a purpose,

Made so beautiful for men to enjoy,

Flora and fauna,

And the one that was made the most unique,

Man.

 

 

Angelo Gayanelo

 

Cotton Candy

Sing your song, oh sweet cyanide.

Break a brother bound by betters

Free the forgotten flame of a fire forsaken

Undo the unwanted

Silence the sick sound of sorrow

 

So suddenly surrendered and severed

Broke benevolently, then battered

From the sword so silently sheathed

So swing sweet cyanide, swing till sweetness stand slain

 

Remind a rogue of music before the ruckus

Choke the choking

End the already ending

Mourn the music most merrily maddened

 

Sing, to the sorrowful, sounds a song sang not sung

Bring back the broken melody mourned by many

Knowing, that never, notoriously is forever

Slit that which must be severed

 

 

Big Mac?

 

I cut the tomatoes

Dice the onions

Fried the patty

Squirt the mustard and ketchup

I fried it.

I fried it good.

I ate it

Barfed it out

I went to Edsa

And found me some more tomatoes.

 

 

 

Paying 9 Months Rent

 

I saw mother washing my clothes today

The sun was out, the flies were biting but she didn’t stop scrubbing

I played with my friends, and came back to see that mother was still washing

I went to study, and came back to see that mother was still washing

I went to work, and came back to see that mother was still washing

I went to wed and came back to see that mother was still washing

I asked her why she was washing, but all she did was wash and wash

I screamed at her, stormed out the door and never came back, mother kept on washing.

Until one day my father called and told me that mother had stopped washing.

When she went down, under the ground, I went to check her things

And in her drawer I found a shirt, with a note on the back.

 

“For my boy. For whom I never stopped washing.”

 

 

 

Soaring

 

The ground is far

The sky is near

It doesn’t really scrape it

Not even close

I doubt it even could

But I’ve got to say, they tried pretty damn hard

I’m looking down at it

I’ve got to say, It doesn’t look pretty

You know what, I just might not

I look to the man in blue

Idiot

It looks much more appealing than ‘talking’

Funny everyone came

Some of them I don’t know

I look to the man in a white dress

Idiot

What good is he?

It gets closer

It wasn’t as far as I thought

But just before I kiss it

I see him

He smiles

I cry

He walks away

I’d follow him

But it’s too late

Crap.

 

 

Shining Mahogany

 

I stare down

He glares back

I scream

He smiles

I spit

He cries

We laugh

The Tender passes another

We chug

I look down

I don’t know him anymore

Chug a second time

I recognize him again

I can’t live there

In His shiny home

I wish I could

When the shit hits the fan

He’s still clean

I get dirty.

So I’ll chug a third

So that the mahogany gets clear

And he smiles again.

 

 

 

Justin Aguinaldo

 

A Little Adventure

 

I dig my toes into the sand

I’ve walked a thousand miles to reach this point

I’ve said to myself that I’m happy

Seeing the morning view brings tears into my eyes

Then the earth starts to crumble beneath me

Then turning upside down, the rush of blood into my head

Changing every vessel in me

I’ve seen the waterfalls crumbling down before me

Holding my breath and watching the simplest sight of beauty

The ocean looks like a thousand pearls strewn across a blue gown

The ocean’s waves start to swallow me into the depths of the unknown

I get trapped under the ocean, losing air quickly

then I become weightless and flow to the top

the wind blows me up into the ever blue sky

I nearly tipped the clouds with my fingers

Then a cool breeze blows me away

I start to lean against the wind I feel a touch of ease then

The sun starts to set under me, glowing everything in its path

Nothing but streaks of light beyond my eyes

Blinding my sense of sight for just a moment

This journey is about to end

At this moment I am happy

I wish you were here

 

 

The Love of the Untrue

 

I can’t grasp the reality which I face

Yet my body devours it

My heart and my eyes

Cry for anger and joy

My mouth cannot speak

What my heart can feel

You shine like the moon

With a skin of diamond

How my eyes cannot roll

I break my heart and give me yours

 

Deeper the eyes

The harder to get

Bluer the heart

Better for me to like

A bigger smile

Easier to live on

Colder the heart

Enough for me to last

A graceful stance

Would keep me going

The more beauty there is

The more of me

 

 

 

Don’t Look

 

Black roses

Scented like gold

Dancing along a garden of flowers

Standing out and showing its beauty

Giving jealousy to the rest

Dazzling and tranquility it is

Shedding its petals

A naked flower beyond my eyes

 

 

Aitor V. Barandiaran

 

 

A gun on the right,

A sword on the left,

A man in the middle,

A big heart inside.

Is it done for a living?
Or is it done for love?

A man fights, suffers, and dies

For what?

Rebellions here and there, makes me wonder,

maybe it’s all just about the Benjamin’s

Or maybe it’s for the land where he was conceived?

For the love, the honor, the excitement

Or can it also be simply for the great feeling of ecstasy?

Whatever it may be, continue fighting the great battle

Until victory is ours.

 

Miguel Galvez

 

Death by Thought

 

A man is in love with a woman,

but something does not seem right.

What is wrong with this expression

of endless love, not being able to

get enough of each other.

 

This so-called love is pirated, a copy, a fake,

like accepting CDs from Ruins. Or maybe

eating pasta without sauce, bland and tasteless,

or a pen without ink, as useless as shit.

 

Then comes another woman, full of

anger and rage. Her head is red,

boiling at 150۫ C, nearing explosion.

Why the hostility, as if her maid lost

her most valuable possession.

Then in a world only she may enter,

click, clack, crash, kaboom. The woman

the man “loves” is dead because the drunk driver

with a black car did not see her cross the street.

 

 

Post Mortem

 

The flow of fluid into your mouth

that rots your teeth to their very core,

like corpses of dead bodies, and yet,

we do not know that it strikes every

morning, afternoon, and night.

 

Time flies and we are not scared

of its consequences. Well, how can we be

scared if we do not know what time it sets

itself to attack the very soul of our mouth.

It waits and hides itself in its domain,

where no one may enter, and when it is

released from its chamber, it attacks you

with everything its got.

 

We fright only after we die

because of the damage it

has done to us. From white teeth, to

black teeth, to holes in our teeth, and finally,

no teeth at all. Now we are scared, but

isn’t it a bit too late for that? Too bad.

 

 

Chad Aquino

 

On the afternoon of your 6th birthday

 

On the afternoon of your 6th birthday

You told me you wanted a horse

 

So I brought you to the carnival

And I took you to the carousel

And for you, I chose the prettiest pony

 

I lifted you up on it

I stood by, holding you

 

But you said you were a big boy

You said you didn’t need me

 

So I kissed you and left

And I stood by the railing, watching you.

 

You’d come around

(and around again)

Bouncing on your bright-red saddle

 

And each time, your face

Would light up like it was the first time you saw me

 

And I would smile too because

It would be

The seventh or eighth time I saw you

 

On the afternoon of your 6th birthday

I gave you a merry-go-round horse because

 

I was afraid if I gave you a real one,

It would be

The last time I would ever see you

 

The Pawns

             

Charge! With the flag of your nation,

  With the song of your land

And let your name be known

 

Charge! With the roar of a beast,

  With the wings of your feet

And you bring the adversary on their knees

 

Charge! With blood on your face,

  With everything but fear

And let yourself soldier on

 

Charge! With the pride of your soul,

  With the allegiance to your oath

And you end up obsolete

 

 

Bullets and Butterflies

 

Here they come! Here they come!

With boiling blood and dancing guns

As steady as the whispers move

Not a shadow to intrude

 

Just when the silence fills the air…

Crack!

And thus begins the affair

 

Out come the beautiful bullets

With their blood thirsty eyes!

Out come the heavy anguish and hate

That brought the other to forsake

 

            Free running blood flow on the soil

            From the agitated turmoil

            Oh how unfortunate the weak and oppressed

            All gone in the sea of red

 

What a remarkable sight is left behind!

An everlasting thought for the mind

How these tiny Butterflies

Cause the hundreds to die

 

 

The Hanging Foundation

 

At first, you don’t know where to go, what to do

   So she builds you a hanging bridge

           

Then, you are afraid of taking the first step on the bridge

   So she goes first and encourages you

           

As you moved on slowly, you trembled with the fear of heights

   So she squeezes you in her arms

           

Once you got used to it, you wanted to walk the bridge on your own

   So she holds your hands instead

 

             When you were nearing the other side, you walked at a faster pace

   So she lets you enjoy your freedom

 

            At last you reached the steady ground,

   So she smiles at your triumph as she falls with the bridge of your childhood

 

John Tan

 

Of Reigning Tranquility

 

What a bright and blinding light! Its expanse impossible to fathom

Piercing the chilly depths of darkness, providing the only blanket of warmth

The fountain of eternal youth and life; of golden springs and untainted streams

A wondrous haven of silver dragons, creatures that rule the vast and pure skies

At the very end they gather; where the highest mountains convene in solemnity

 

When everything seems to be nothing and bodies turn into dust

The very core remains intact and continues to thrive among the pillars of faith

Its truth clouded in sheer mystery, our mere minds unable to comprehend

Untouched by the ever-changing fingers of time, forever it will remain true

 

A Delightful Encounter

 

He strolled along the beautiful meadows of his life

Each glistening flower blooming with perfected grace

A carpet full of vivid colors, such pleasure to behold

And the clear blue sky seemingly falling in sweet embrace

The wind dancing playfully, gently performing for its audience

 

He lay there; on his bed of paradise, forgetting everything else

And as the enticing aroma filled his nostrils; lulling him to sleep

He did not see the small patch of wilted roses; crawling with worms and spiders

And was unaware that the hand of decay, death, and corruption, slowly approached

 

 

 

Severed Bodies

 

Is there a remedy for misery and pain?

That feeling of hatred and hopelessness

To be able to run away from fear and rage

Hear my desperate cry for salvation

 

Why must there be suffering and death?

Why do people have to cry and mourn?

There is really only one thing I’m asking

Why can’t we be half of a whole?

 

 

 

Mikee Liwag

 

The World’s Worst Poem

 

This is the world’s worst poem

It has no beauty, it has no art

It’s not intelligent and it’s not witty

You will forget about it and hate it

It doesn’t make you feel anything at all

It has no sense at all

It has no object, nor any subject

It has no vehicle of delivery

It is awful to read, ears may even bleed

 

Here it is ladies and gentlemen the world’s worst poem

 

“qwerty”

 

 

Lionel Belen

 

Photo Finish

 

The gun fires at the starting track

And the runners rocket from their marks

With a burst of speed that leaves its trace

Burning tracks onto the red race path

Outrunning each other, surpassing themselves

Pushing every aching bit to the limit

Thoughts, feelings, swirling chaos

Moving so fast that time seems to shatter

And then…

Everything …

 

S T O P S

 

The world stands still

A second forever frozen

Numb - absolute - timeless

The end, the finish line, the goal

And just as suddenly

The race is over.

 

Livehouse

 

Steady beat, the drums' power

Huge, deep, surging, quick pulses

Funky-wave, bass, the background

Throbbing-rhyme intoxicating

While the guitar leads in

Psychedelic godlike melody

And the voice of good and evil

Scream from tormented souls.

Jamming, raw power, emotion exposed,

Confusion in order appreciated

Up and down as the music changes

As rock transforms into blues and

Whatever else they can play to

In rhythm with life.

 

 

Grand Design

 

r moves one way and never back

beautiful but irredeemable

on and on it never ends

and an occasional leaf floats by

aloft on the water

serenely following as it gets swept away

like the white clouds above when the wind blows

with no idea where they’re headed

just along for the ride

and so people get by from day to day

going where chance takes them

but unlike leaves and clouds they wonder

and believe

that wherever the river takes them

is something meant to be.

 

Sodom and Gomorrah

 

Have you ever seen an ant,

One of those tiny six legged black ones?

They scurry here and there as busy as can be.

Especially when there's food near about

A whole lot of them, countless droves, show up;

And we watch intently

As these miniscule creatures

Infinitely powerless and immeasurably inconsequential

Live and toil.

And then…

Without breaking a sweat

Destruction and ruin rain down

Squashed like bugs (by us),

And so our lives go on

While HE looks on from above

At innumerable trifle existences

Ready to lay on divine punishment.

 

 

Bayani

 

Lights flood the city

And cars fill the roads to the brink.

The traffic overflows

Even long after sunset.

Soon the rain begins to pour,

A jeepney picks up another passenger or two.

 

The driver's seen this sight day after day.

He's watched the scenery change;

Skyscrapers, slums, and beggars.

The economy's in the pits,

Gas is up, the Peso is down

But EDSA's still as busy as ever.

 

He doesn't earn enough-

Probably never will.

Tomorrow, he'll get in his jeepney

And drive through the streets of Manila

Honest work and honest pay

Apart from unjust society.

 

 

Rafa Itchon

 

 

One

 

Juan is born.

He is underweight and pre-mature

Juan is taken home

He struggles to stay alive

Juan learns his first word

He suffers his first asthma attack

Juan takes his first steps

He falls, breaking his brittle bones

Juan is goes to school

He is picked on by all the boys and girls

Juan takes his first test

He fails, finds out he’s dyslexic

Juan goes to college

He is a social outcast, a loner

Juan gets a job

He is over worked and under paid

Juan buys a house

His house is old and run down

Juan asks for your help

Juan dies.

 

 

 

Place of Skulls, Place of Love              

 

                 Dust settles

                 Lady weeps

She takes her son down from the wood

Taking into stride the veritable act

                   Cries are

                   silenced

                   The soldiers

                   believe

                   It is done

                   The Earth

                   is quiet

                   Lady

                   weeps

 

 

Parade Day Down Edsa

 

A corpse glows magnificently red

  No one dares to miss its joyous decay

    A yellow ribbon flies instead of a swastika

      Reminiscent of when Malcom was subdued

         Chaotic catastrophe broke when they took X

            Heaven and hell are now out of their league

              You can’t stop us now that we’ve started our charge

 

Cole Francia

 
A Superhero
 
A man who:
Controls the forces of nature
Is in the epic battle of good and evil (surely he will win)
Can control anyone (but does not)
Could kill millions of people
Anytime he wants (soon, not now)
Has the power to revive
Anyone from the dead
Could read everyone's mind
Can foresee and control the future
Can do anything (mostly)
Died for our sins
 
Nothing
 
Nothing as a word is nothing
Its definition is itself, nothing
Nothing is nothing and
Therefore it is nothing
 
But how then do you explain this:
 
When one goes skydiving
And he pulls the cord on his parachute
And nothing happens
 
When one drives fast
And then he slows down
By stepping on the brakes
And nothing happens
 
When you are swimming in the sea
And you use your gills to breathe
And nothing happens
 
When one loses his job
And he tries to shoot himself
And nothing happens
 
When one is at home
And tries to take a shit
And nothing happens
 
How can a word, which
Is nothing, which means
Nothing, can be of significance
For the rest of our lives
Uncertainty at its best
 
 
Stars
 
Blazing stars in the sky
Thought to be unattainable
But now reachable
Through work
Toiling in the hot summer sun
But by never giving up
In reaching that bright star
Twinkling in the corner of your eye
At the back of your head
And the tip of your tongue
 
Ramblings
 
Covered with melted desire
Multifaceted proximity
The vicinity of obscenity
In its vicarious eyes
Despotic leaders overrun by
Precarious men
Its vivacious look
Amplified by multitudes
Of vigilance
 

Aaron Mendoza

 

Lifetime Mission

 

Stain here, stain there, Oh my!

Why? Spaghetti, chocolate cake, KFC gravy

The unbearable difficulty of catharsis

Her hands become rough and terrible...

 

Opening the faucet, twisting it on and off

Bubbles, bubbles, and more bubbles from detergents

Can she do this? Mission: Cleansing? Accomplished or not?

Hard it may be, she puts them up to dry

Can we be saved?