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Friday, March 23, 2007
Kuntento na ka?
Pangutana sa babaeng nagputol sa akong buhok
Didto sa Salon de Rose
Sa akong huna-huna:
No.
Of course not.
Hilom palihug beh.
Hinay-hinayi pagkupot
Ug pagsudlay ang akong buhok.
Kahibaw ko nga baga kaayo na
Itom
Ug mangutana ka sama sa uban
Nga na-una na nimo
Nagpatina ka day?
Ug motubag ko sa libuan nang higayon
Wala. Of course wala. It’s natural.
Kahibaw ko nga mosukol na.
Bisa’g unsaon pagsudlay,
Lisod patumanon.
Apan naningkamot intawn ko
Nga malingaw samtang galakaw-lakaw nga nag-inusara
Dinhi sa SM.
So palihug lang, tas-i tas-i ang imong pasensiya.
Pahiyom sad ginagmay uy
Ipasangko sa akong alimpatakan
Nga I’m worth your time.
-- http://veraleigh.blogspot.com
Posted by inktrip at 10:45 AM
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Run
in case of emergency
run to the nearest fire escape
you'd love a blinking exit
when things get complicated
Houdini with the polished ego
Where are you off to
And then you run
And then you run
And then you run
Run, run, it's all you do run, run
Run, run, it's all you do run, run
Run, run, it's all you do run, run
Run, run, run, run
You're not half the man my gay friends are
You bossa nova superstar
Run to me when a fuck is what you need
Run away when it gets to deep
i'd be a hermaphrodite for all i care
i've got more balls than you could ever dare
you're not half the man my gay friends are
you're not half the man my gay friends are
You're not running fast enough
You're not running fast enough
You're not running fast enough
CHAI
Posted by inktrip at 1:26 PM
Sunday, March 04, 2007
Two poems
i followed your instructions.
keep all promises in a tightly sealed container
away from direct sunlight
keep out of reach
of prying eyes and ears
store in a cool, dry
place
only you and i could visit
in wee hours.
no labels.
yes, no labels
on this bottled, nameless thing.
but now that i've found
they're all rotten,
you impose:
no complaints.
keep all screams muffled
in a tightly sealed container
away from broad daylight
store in room temperature
as coolas if nothing happened.
otherwise,you explain,
this will be too messy
on the glossy pages of magazines
on Kris Aquino shows
on your friendly-next-door-neighbor polo
on your perfectly polished nameplate
on your perfectly polished guitar
on your perfectly polished ego
never mind if i'd bled enough already
and stained my clothes
never mind if i'd lost my poetry
or my self-respect
and messed my head up some more
and you prod me on,
be strong,
you can clean that on your own,
that mess in your complicated head
and i try to wipe memory
spotlessof you
but Mr. Clean's promises
of sparkling white
are as black as yours.
and i still follow your instruction.
don't spill.
keep still.
don't spill.
___________________________
the day brims with an absence.
the silence of
a thread of hair about to break
a drone of flapping lips
in a fastfood joint
a flatline
and that pause
before the scream
coming downfrom a carousel ride
into the sadness
of a brighly lit empty carnival
without your momma there
a fall
from the 13th floor
stuck in mid air
and wishing
there was something
as tangible
as solid
as concrete.
Posted by inktrip at 1:01 PM
Two poems
i followed your instructions.
keep all promises in a tightly sealed container
away from direct sunlight
keep out of reach
of prying eyes and ears
store in a cool, dry
place
only you and i could visit
in wee hours.
no labels.
yes, no labels
on this bottled, nameless thing.
but now that i've found
they're all rotten,
you impose:
no complaints.
keep all screams muffled
in a tightly sealed container
away from broad daylight
store in room temperature
as coolas if nothing happened.
otherwise,you explain,
this will be too messy
on the glossy pages of magazines
on Kris Aquino shows
on your friendly-next-door-neighbor polo
on your perfectly polished nameplate
on your perfectly polished guitar
on your perfectly polished ego
never mind if i'd bled enough already
and stained my clothes
never mind if i'd lost my poetry
or my self-respect
and messed my head up some more
and you prod me on,
be strong,
you can clean that on your own,
that mess in your complicated head
and i try to wipe memory
spotlessof you
but Mr. Clean's promises
of sparkling whiteare as black as yours.
and i still follow your instruction.
don't spill.
keep still.
don't spill.
___________________________
the day brims with an absence.
the silence of
a thread of hair about to break
a drone of flapping lips
in a fastfood joint
a flatline
and that pause
before the scream
coming downfrom a carousel ride
into the sadness
of a brighly lit empty carnival
without your momma there
a fall
from the 13th floor
stuck in mid air
and wishing
there was something
as tangible
as solid
as concrete.
Posted by inktrip at 1:01 PM