immortal city

There are cities that never die.

And where my weary feet lie I see one.

Once sanctuary to natural wonders: of
towering luscious trees like narra and
acacia. The canopy of which shades
little insects – red fiery ants, bugs, praying
mantis, butterflies of rainbow hues. Where
birds of different feathers nestle. Plants and
flowers scatter. Blooming to color the ground
as canvass painted with pastel. Native.
And appealing. Fresh and refreshing.

When time passes. There are still trees
and shades – now made of metals. Almost
touching the skies. They hide people – dyed
with different traits. Some sweats in their field.
Some trades flesh for life. There are
saints; hypocrites. Indeed, they are colorful.
Above are birds: giants carrying people
to places. Below are similar oversize bugs.
The grounds are flourishing with colorful grass
and vegetation. But the texture and smell,
they differ. Plastics, rubbers, steels, papers.
Stinking like hell. Polluting the world.

This is a city that never dies.

Because it lives without a heart.

a red tulip

My eyes fixed at this wonderful
flora that ever graced this terrain.

Don in crimson dress, inviting,
and beaming with refined beauty.

At times I felt its stare at me.
With the sweetest smile on its face.

But I just could not decipher reality.
Fantasy was toying with emotion.

Then –
a strong instinct to pluck it.

Except I hesitated, was unsure. Afraid.
It might only wilt in my hands.

dream

Pardon my doubt on your
existence, but you pain me
when light opens my eyes.
In verge of despair.
You give false impression –
that I am encased in a
warm embrace. Of a beloved.
Only to realize that illusion.
I shiver in darkness. My bare hands
hugging my body. Cold.
Desolated in the shadows.
At times you affirm this loneliness.
With another loneliness.
Devastating. Please! I am hopeful:
don’t make my day an eternal night
of storms. Shine light in my darkness.
Make me fly when all else are in the sky.

in solitude

Tonight I write a poem for the lonely
for I am one – trapped in a cozy room
where the only light emanates from a
dying lamp; I hear the sound of silence:
it is deafening. But it reminds me I am alive,
for in this unholy hour past midnight, nothing lives
except me. The moon and the stars shine
brightly at the dark sky, they would not confess,
but loneliness overpowers their being. Like me.
As we live distance apart a single touch is
impossible. I want to shout to arouse the stillness
but I recognize the futility, no one will be awaken
except enemies. In this time, I am alone;
my mind though kept wandering, traveling
through time – past, present, future. Yesterday
I had the company of loving beings,
this minute I exist in solitude; will tomorrow
be the same, I ask. No one is certain, but me.
If I persist, paradise is a hand away.
So tonight I end this solitude,
tomorrow I will sow company.

waves

You are great – a part
of a vast ocean enfolding the whole terrain
I will drown if you swallow me, gasping
for breath as my air chamber
slowly crumbles;
the dangerous but wonderful, it is you.
Beauty: the scene of your palisades that churches
become dwarfs:
hue of blue and white intertwined with
splash of green all around. But be not too proud;
you are nothing –
the sun and sky gave you color,
color that nothing compares
and the tectonics dance you in great rhythm
choreographed in harmony.
Be simple, and in eternity
I will see you forever
living in grandeur. Waving.

room 209

Nakadungaw ang aking mga mata sa bintana.
Nagmamasid ng mga taong dumadaan. Sa labas,
may mga estudyante: masasaya, nagkukwentuhan,
nagtatawanan . Ang iba seryoso,
siguro may pagsubok sa klase
may nalimutang basahin; kawawa.
Sa kotse sa kalsada, masid ang
mga propesyonal may kausap sa cellphone
habang nagmamaneho, huwag naman maaksidente.
May mga nagtratrabaho sa kalye,
bantay ang mga panindang nilalako
dyaryo, sigarilyo, pagkain – sarap.
Mabuti pa sila. Nasisilayan ang pagsikat
ng araw, ramdam ang pagpatak ng ulan,
nakakapaglibot kung saan. Malaya.
Habang ako nandito sa loob,
nagmamasid ng buhay sa labas: isang bilanggo
– inosente pero walang magawa
nakatali ang kamay
bilang ang paghinga. Death sentenced:
ilang buwan na lang sabi nila.
Di makalakad ng malayo: nanghihina.
Puso’t katawan naghihirap na. Kaya heto,
nakadungaw lang sa bintana. Nag-aabang ng buhay.
May hinihintay. (Sa Hospital Ward 209)