Afterwards

So, you see.
There are things that take time
To simmer and boil
The adrenaline rush
Of ripping the heart out has come
And gone
And here it lays,
Spoiled.
Retrospect clarifies they say
The view from afterwards is crystal
What was it that happened?
How was it?
Who was I?
It was, you know,
A rending apart
Of mine and yours.
And here I mourn the bits
I'll never take back from you.

Versus verses

Some things write better in verse
If only because
The economy of words
And what little is written
Somehow better express
Concreteness
Here, you see
In the absences
One can say
What cannot be articulated.
The disjointed staccato
Of the keyboard's clicks
Marries the scattered ego
And dreams with it.
In verse, the unconscious
Weaves and ducks
To avoid the mercilessness
Of the worldly
Here, you see
The id plays and dances
And cries and wails.

Singapore's Best Muffin

Little flecks of chocolate decorate
Bits and pieces melt on the tongue
Dry it is, the muffin
As dry as the tearing eye
Wash it down with milk tea
Warm liquid flows land heavy
Mixing muddy in the gut

----

Hello abandoned blog. It's good to see you again.

Return to Myself

What it means, to nourish
These long weeks, consuming words
With so little time to truly reflect,
Ingest, ingesting them I have
Had little space to breathe
And think and write
Down to my very toes
My shriveled-up soul calls
Come home, come rest here
Stand at the very edge again,
At the very edge
To see beyond, to see behind
To see light, light those fires
Again, kindle mine
Truth to tell, truth to find
Myself, look to the precipice Sparky
Listen.

Republican Skin

This veil of civility
A masquerade
Grand displays of law
Morals in tomes of books
A collection of dust
Borrowed traditions
Alien yearnings
Discordant ambitions
Lay dreams to end
Round, round
Go the wrap, trappings
Of civility intact
Yet a single scratch
Reveal
The seething morass
Of yet bleeding entrails
A pound of blood
Makes just.

Out of Date

The prince says
His mother's dignity rests
On dining at our expense
I say, neither position
Nor birth confer
Dignity, its dearth
Rather lies
In simple transgressions
Committed nonetheless
In such grand scale.

The poodles say
There are things
More important
Than dinner tabs or jet planes
I say, what is ever more
Important than querying
The whereabouts of an hour's worth
Of my labor, I proffer
To state coffers?

In days of old, dignity roots
From position
In society
Here today, dignity roots
From possession
Of self-worth, in merit
And hard work.

Out of date, these leaders
Need be led.

You Troublesome Middle Classes

Bad behavior inspires bad poetry. What can I say?

Oh you troublesome middle classes
Why must you always raise hell
Over every little thing?
Know your place, like the masses
Here it is, the order of things
When the boom comes a-swingin'
They know to duck and huddle
Waddle, roll over and play for dead
It is wisdom to know ahead
The rulemaker will not sway.

Oh you troublesome middle classes
Why must you constantly put up a fight?
With your quaint little ideals
And other inedible quibbles
Like justice and freedom and ethics
What useless calisthenics
Of words and ideas, they hold no sway
Over the real dynamics of powerplay

But then all you really have
Are words and a voice
When the true powerful and rich
Play with their currency of choice
So go ahead, raise a ruckus
Over every perceived slight
Because, in the end
The only language understood
Is might

To the Trough!

This news inspires poetry.


Behold the little pig
And her retinue of piglets
Come pour le dîner in the circus
Drunk in pompe et circonstance

Sip the skeins of success
In expensive bouteilles of power
Madame la Présidente,
A million clinks of shame

Relapse

He says to think about my troubles
Makes me happy
To scratch the scab
Before it heals
To keep the wound fresh
A bright carmine red
To never bloom into dead sienna

The rotoscope in my head
Plays in slow-mo
Stuck from minute twenty-two
To twenty-nine
On and on repeats the scene
'Til the end is the beginning once again

Calm is a rarity,
Lost in the desert of the not-quite real
Remove me from this vicious
Craving to self-immolate
To purge me of that movie
Playing cruelly underneath
These fragile dreaming eyelids

Self-medication

Shaped by the finite
Pilgrims to the finish line
Some faster than most
As others take sweet time.
Aches and pains function,
Reminders of impermanence
That today’s blissful enjoyment
Will be punctuated some time.
For as many aches and pains
There exist as many cures
As they say,
We all kill ourselves a little
When we grapple with the devil
I say,
What doesn’t kill.

Sense

A queer thing happens, rarely.
When the spirit divorces the body.
All that is solid, melts into air,
afloat in the ether it dances the square,
in absolute ecstasy.
That hollowed-out shell is spell-bound, content.
Breathing suspended,
muscles frozen in waiting.
As the essence spirits away meaning.
Splitting reason.

Beats and notes and words strung together
Marshall feelings to muster
thoughts to comfort
What cannot be had in liquor
Must be had by other means
And if hacking away, smashing
At keys, release
And if hacking away, smashing
At keys will force the spirit
Back in harmony with the body
Then let the motion of these fingers
Beg release
Then let the motion of these fingers
Beg surcease.
A queer thing happens, rarely.

Koro

Paulit-ulit, paikot-ikot
Pilit na hinahabol
Ang puno't dulo
Mga tahi-tahing panaginip
Salansan ng mga anino
Kanino'ng palad
Kanino'ng anyo?
Gabing makinang
Lulan ng hagkan
Paulit-ulit, paikot-ikot
Sa'n ang dulo
Ng pising makislot
Ligaw ang amo
Hanapin, hanapin
Upang bigkisin
Ang natirang ningas
Sa kandila sa dilim
Gapusin, ihain
Palibutang mariin
Ang natitirang saysay
Sa kwentong matuling
Palusong sa parang
At doo'y magbibilang
Ng kung ilang ulit
Na lulubog, lilitaw
Ang buwan, ang araw
Paulit-ulit, paikot-ikot
Mga patak ng sandaling
Gumon sa mga hiyaw
Ng kaluluwang ligaw
Na naghahanap ng bukas
Na nagsimula na'ng nilagas
Ng kahapon
At ngayon
Paulit-ulit.
Paulit-ulit.

Sylvia Plath - The Applicant

This is one of my favourites. Aren't you glad to have been born decades later than her? What it must have been like to be a woman then.

Well

Its amazing
The rope is unspooling
So spectacularly
The narrative has left
Inexpressible regret
Inexpressible and yet
The song in words remains
Rhyme, rhyme, sing, sing
There is no escaping
No comfort in drink
Or smoke
Or love
Where is the bottom?
It didn't used to be this deep
When will I hit it?

Sleep

Shed skin tonight
Leave nothing but bone
Peel each layer with abandon
Look deep, fear not
Lick those wounds tonight
Remember the flavour
The sweet, the bitter
The fiercely tender
Longing, malingering
Abandon hope tonight
Anticipate the scars
There will be no saviour
No solace, no surcease
No more, no más
No stopping fracture tonight
The end is no closer
The end is none sooner
The end is no clearer
Shut those eyes
Take leave of senses
Abandon the waking
Dream of sleep tonight
Dream of sleep.

Muse

Memory soothes the senses
Balm on cracked lips
On a dry day
On a dry spell
On a dreary blinding morning
Memory forgives sins
Of lost chances
Of failed attempts
At fancy plans and ordered moments
Extraordinarily brief
A little box of snippets
Of a most precious communion
Of a passing of time
In double vision
Twice as clear
Twice as muddled
Sharply drawn charcoal lines
In swimming technicolour motion
Memory mourns joy
In the precious few seconds
Of a clear bright blue sky
A brave face to the horizon
Memory borrows sorrow
In return, the ordinary
In return, the simple act
Of drawing breath again tomorrow.

Basag

Ang Kiukok, Idealist


Tuwinang nalalapit
Sa mga basag at kulang-kulang
Sa mga larawang mabigat,
Marupok ngunit malaman.
Mga multong naghahanap
Ng karamay sa dusa
Nananaghoy nang tahimik
Kay ingay ng pag-iisa.
Maliwanag ang dilim
Kaakit-akit ang timpla
Sa nais lamang magbahagi
Ng kaunting saya.
Bakit kaya kay igting
Ng pakikiramay sa salamin
Sa kung ano ma'ng nais kupkupin
Sa naglalagi sa lalim.
Marunong na mangmang
Mangmang na marunong
Mga basag na kalul'wang
Mas mainam na katuwang.

Nanay

Ang Kiukok, Mother and Son


Nais kong magbalik sa'yong sinapupunan.
Ang kalong mo'y 'di tiyak,
Ang yakap mo'y matamlay.

Kung maglalagi rito sa mundong ibabaw
Magbibilang ng araw
Ang katawan ko'ng nakaratay.

Iniluwal mo'ng bulag at pipi
Sa saliw ng naghihiyawan.
Paanong maglilibot ng palayo
Sa lingap ng 'yong kandungan?

Nais kong magbalik sa'yong sinapupunan
At na'ng sa loob mo ay hanapin
Ang nawawala, ang kulang.

Nais ko'ng imulat
Ang mga matang 'di sanay
At ibuka ang bibig
At magsimulang magsalaysay.

Sukubin mo ako ngayon
At iluwal kinabukasan.
'Pagkat 'di na kayang maglagi
Sa kalong mong mababaw.

Ang Pera

Ang pera ay pagod
Sakit ng likod
Kakulangan ng tulog
Rayuma ng tuhod.

Ang pera'y magang mata
Ngawit ng leeg
Panahong ginugol
Di sa layaw, di sa hilig.

Ang pera'y panukat
Ng talino't galing
Ng tapang at sipag
Ng abilidad, ng tulin.

Ang pera'y panukat
Ng obligasyon at paglingon
Sa utang na loob
Sa pagkalingang naipon.

Ang pera parang wika
Nagbabadya, nangungusap
Ng kasiyahan o ng kakulangan
Ng ganda o kapangitan.

Ang pera nga ba
Ang s'yang namamagitan
At kumakatawan
Sa pakikipagkapwa't ugnayan?

Ang pera nga ba
Ang simbolo ng tatag
Na s'yang naghahayag
Ng pagkatao't kalooban?

Tulog ng Gising

Pagod na ang katawan
Ngunit gising pa ang malay,
Naglalakbay.
Paroo't parito,
Ang mga larawan ng kahapon at ngayon
Ay binabalasa ng isip.

Ang mga hugis at hubog na tinunaw
Ng bilis ng pagsasalin-salin
Ay naglalaro, nagsasayaw
Sa likod ng natatanaw.
Ano'ng tunay, ano'ng likha?
Mga ala-alang nangungutya
Sa nagnanangis, sa lumuluha
Sa nagbibilang ng panata.

Kung bakit ba naman
Ayaw dalawin ng idlip
Ang diwang nagpupumilit
Na ikahon ang ngayon at kahapon.
Ipagpabukas ang kabanata
Ng kwentong hinahabi,
Upang sa kasalukuyan
Ay gisingin ang panaginip.

Humimlay, huminga
Magbilang ng mga sandali.
Magparaya sa daloy ng panahon,
Magtiwala sa mga alon.
Huwag pilitin.
Huwag lumangoy,
Huwag lingunin ang panaghoy,
Pagkat ang malunod sa kawalan
Ay s'yang paghinga ng katawan.