Pain in the grace of God

I don't need no enlightened one
to tell me
that everyone suffers,
everyone dies.
What I want to know
is the why, the for how long.
The questions and sensations abate
after realization -- there is a point
to everything over and under the sun.
In a state of grace,
it hurts,
it's exquisite,
it's pain in the grace of God.

Unblinded

All that is white
come crushing in.
What is left must
all be black, close
behind follow.
Sleep and will,
the lack of it,
tempt what comes.
Then war is
given birth to.
Somewhere around
here must be
the rainbow.

The end is nigh, sigh

Let's scale your ivory tower
Where Rapunzel hides the loot
Of a buried fairy tale
Tea for two
Hillary's Himalayas don't know
The labyrinth of the Minotaur's riddle
Only the griffin dares answer
And Morrison, my dear Morrison
Why did you leave Apocalypse's care to me?
Only Nostradamus knows
1988-3797
Bowie's '84
The split that broke the Cordilleras
Tsunamied the Rockies
Mere messed dismembered numbers
Don't scare me
But monsters sleeping in flag folds
Twice pestered the blue orb
Still he comes the bastard triplet
A nuclear patsied stooge
Why him?
Because John says so

Getting there

Leaving the city urban dead
Seeking green
Seeing gray instead
Looking to the East
Walls on beaches
Walls over trees
To the West are houses
From bamboo to concrete
Nothing left of memories
Dust, smoke, hubris

Dug-Up Gems, Maimed...

(Image from carrieellenartstudio.blogspot.com)

In a particularly early portion of a previous experience – I can't get more cryptic than that – I wrote the following verses. As the preposition for preceding each title shows, these are dedications. As to whether the objects of these consecrations appreciate the gesture is a whole different matter entirely.

Dusted off and humility suspended, PoetasterixTanix presents:

Dug-Up Gems, Maimed...

For Gemma (don't tell her)

her memory strikes me
like slammed door echoes
on a dark silent night
terminal AM static
scraped cola caps
asphalt paved highway
whistling shouts on anemic epidermis
lightning-struck tin man
ash-burned scarecrow
fish on a hook
how do you skin a cat?
give me no answers
she did that to me too


Leaving (For Gemma Part II)

Your white and blue presence
melts my knees
like the sun did
to Icarus' stubbornness

A single base drum
beats the bosom's windowpanes
into a thousand shattered crystals

When you fade away from view
in unclad stiletto heels
a sinister smirk
sows doubts...
you'll never be mine.


For Emma (please, please me)

called you on dead men's day
of all the...
why bother?
heaven's go no cover
on a highway it crawls
a high drunk he bawls
heh, heh
none nun dumb
she speaks to me in whispers
teenybopper's giggly patois
an elder stranger
ex-classmate's brother
lost chunks of his sanity times before
depression, a hate hobby
melancholia, a mania
pondering, a pastime
spin me records, dear
Lover the Dan, I swear
Brown Christmas
in a supermarket paper bag


Secret Satan (For Emma Part II)

You were born naked
clothed in water and salt
fortified by the archbishop
bored by sabbatical Sundays
weaned on television
reared on education
dirty
egos found
smug
counting rosary beads like marbles
tearing novenas like playing cards
shamed by a fig leaf
gored by a horned serpent
you love everything
horror
bless your besotted behind, kid
Inquisitions are behind us
or you could have burned at stake
fried to a crisp
like your soul probably is
now


My fay, my demon (date deleted)

My fay, my demon
silent child
wish you were here
wish you were mine

with dusk on curtained forehead
innocent rain lips
to share the night's wind
on the sly

absent the moon
an incomplete vision

days we see are few
hours we share too brief
only the gods of love
know for sure who suffer

Let your doubts bloom
bitter among the blossoms
for I'm only biding time
wishing what breeds contempt
loses its mind

keep looking
keep smiling
my fay, my demon
silent child

but please,
be silent no more.

haiku dawn7

3:01 AM, The Mother Seed
Nothing stirs but my love snoring
The whispers of memory
Make me do strange things
Lips move without prodding
Just to utter you name at dawn

3:20 AM
All still but love snores
To utter you name at dawn
Lips move on their own

3:21 AM
Nothing stirs except
But for my love soft snoring
Memory whispers

3:26 AM
Pining soft spoken
Rain falls name holy bitch
Makes me do strange things

3:28 AM
Four is a bore chore
Thinking past gray remembrance
She says yes, I know

3:34 AM
This new contraption
Substitutes for masks and lies
Utter names, dawn dies

3:38 AM
Woman-child her friend
Arrogant beyond reason
She let him go away

3:41 AM
Last is easiest
Bored, sleepy, at its weakest
Damn! I rhymed two words

3:45 AM, So It Went
Hand goes cold, colder than dawn
Fingers find keys in the dark
Sickly green light
Message Sent
One word,she replies
Yes
I just wanted to utter your name at dawn
Quote me on that

Kill The Vampire

Don't let the sun shine on TV
Don't let the tycoons
hold you down
The race of night stalkers
has come home to roost
The tube smokes
of signals and heat

Waste basket not want not too hot
A bloodied stake in the trash
is worth two in the chest
Fangs well hidden in luscious lips,
rosy cheeks and pale skin

Speak not into the mike
Hoarse baritones off key
sound like seduction of the translucent

I singe of the body eclectic
Seeking shadows that melt into the day
I lay me down to weep
Burying pain in art and warts
Tomorrow is another sunrise
Tears mixed with spit of lust and regret

Patricia Javier & Y2K

Mind cobwebbed
by the pochingkai
Reflection is genuflection
on a past gipapas
Bunnyman Prime howls of sugar kisses and killing luna
Y2K scared the shit out of the computer geeks, generals and tycoons
Midnight struck, nothing happened except for Patricia smiling hither
and tither,
covering her mammary glands inches short of glorious display
for the world to see, flower in her hair.
Patricia disappeared along with the phantom fears.
Everyone and everything went back
to their business including her
She married into money and Euro genes, bore beautiful children
who walked the earth as giants the color of precious mocha
They will rule the world like potentates with the power of mutants
Intelligent beyond belief, powerful as gods fallen from Olympus
struck down by lightning screaming of thunder and vengeance
The powers that be will quake in their uniforms and suits
spill scalding coffee on the corporate war-room table
Patricia who was born into grinding poverty and purity
Patricia who grew into ambition and execution
has realized her destiny
She is smug and proud
While she feeds her offspring the milk of bitterness and desire
She sees a future owned by her sons and daughters,
of arrogance and no compunction
She sees herself as what she is --
the Bride of White Pride and the Mother of Mass Destruction
The yesteryears of bare-skinned shame
are ashes under her feet.

BJJ Fighting

(* Apologies to composer Carl Douglas, Vivian Hawke, and the Deftac Cebu guys, not gays, all right?!)


REFRAIN:
Everybody was BJJ fighting
These dudes were slow as lead lightning
In fact, it was a lot frightening
They rolled, experimenting

They were funky Chinamen from Cebu Chinatown
They were choking them up, and they were choking them down
It's an ancient Japanese art, the Brazilians knew their part
From a grab into a slip, and choking from the hip

(REPEAT REFRAIN)

There was funky Norman Go and little David D.
They said here comes big Carl, lets get it on!
We slapped hands and made a stand, started grabbing for the arm
The sudden motion made me slip, now my gi’s ripped

(REPEAT REFRAIN 2x)
…make sure you have expert timing
BJJ fighting had to last all evening…


Schedule of Classes:
MWF 8-10 PM
The Loft, 4th Floor
Asiatown IT Park
Brgy. Apas, Cebu City

T-TH-Sunday 7-9 PM
Baseline Sports Complex
Juana Osmeña St.
Brgy. Capitol Site, Cebu City

Saturday 6-9 PM
“Open Mats”
The Loft, 4th Floor
Asiatown IT Park
Brgy. Apas, Cebu City

Stay

It’s been a long time
Anytime is not long enough
Anyone but you and your arrogance
Your petty ego, your petty torso
You have always known
You were inadequate
There’s nothing you have
That I want, except your body
And that’s a lot
I stammer, I falter
I yearn, I crave
You have finally given it away
Not in a huff
You are forty
Forty and small
Threescore and more
I never did learn to count
I hate, that’s what I’m good at
You are hateful
You have always been good at that
We have stayed away
From each other long enough
Damn the distance, damn the years
I dream, you scream

automatic cows (Revised); Demons rule this room

Before I realized that poetry.com was a scam, I had two poems published there, not to join their dubious contests that promised (they still do, I guess) money and fame to the winners, but just to have my poems on cyberspace. “Over 6 million records” or poems hence (poetry.com’s not mine), I sought out my contributions. These are the children I gave away.


automatic cows (Revised)
let loose on the streets
herds of cattle
who have lost their cowboys
snorting poison and thunder
racing to the darkness of the skies
never letting up
chasing heartbeats
beware if you venture
into the filthier side of the lane
their screeching hooves
might ground you
into water and dust


Demons rule this room
They laugh, swagger like they owned the world
A slice of unswept floor their kingdom
Slippery with spit and feces
The children of their profanity
Their glee echo in the air around them
Fat and putrid, wrapped in clothes
purchased from knockoff shops
Orphans of vanity, jealousy and power play
Growing up with memories of eternal fire
Showering in urine of fastidious filth
They insult, tend rumors -- mongers of strife
Intrigue is bread and butter, life of death
Sinking in the mud of mediocrity
Self-delusions, illusions in the dark
Half-eaten peacock struts; heathen moth's pet
Lick salt off tortured bodies, beaten minds
Bear false witness on the supposed ordinary
They are kings, queens of empires in the mind
Of fire that burns like dried leaves soaked in kerosene

Kalinaw Sa Kinilaw

Didto sa dagat, wala gyuy hasol
Gawas sa kahugaw sa polusyon
ug sa mga dinamitiro
Sagdi lang tong mamana, mga mangingisda
Pero, ingon ana man gyud nang tawo
Sabton na lang nato

Nagmalinawon ra unta ko
Sa akong pagpamuyo
Salom diri, salom didto
Ka-on diri, ka-on didto

Apan gipasol man ko nila
Ambot nganong na-ilad man ko
Kahibalo baya ko nga taga tong
Gitangag sa uhipan
Uhipan ra may nakit-an nako

Sakita, oy!
Bitik akong ngabil
Gibira ang tangsi
Unya, naglisod ko og ginhawa
Mora man ko og astronaut
Nga nawad-an og air tank
Didto sa outer space
Mora bag alien in a strange planet
Sans proper breathing apparatus,
Ingon tang punga.
Kana kung kinahanglan
Bang moginhawa ang alien

Ma-o di-ay toy tawo
Lahi gyud sa isda
Dagku sila, dili sama kadaku
Sa mga balyena, apan dagku sab
Daku pa nako, taas og buhok
Ku-an ba, duna silay buhok,
Duna say opaw pero dunay bungot
Dili pareho namong isda
Nga hingbis ray naa

Gatangag pa gyud og sigarilyo
Ang usa ka mangingisda
Giibot ang taga sa akong ngabil
Unya giitsa ko didto sa baldi
Ipon sa akong mga kabarangay

Daghan mi
Dunay pakol, dunay danggit,
Dunay mamsa, nukos
Apil pang labayan
Gagmay ug dagku gisagol
Ang uban pinukotan,
Gipasol ang uban, sama nako
Sud-an na ming tanan

Hay, kapoya ani, oy!
Nagmalinawon ra man unta ko
Adtong Dominggoha
Namahaw ra man ko
Kahuman magsipilyo, ligo
Unya deretso na unta ko og simba

Napasol na man hinuon ko
Na! Kung dili ko ani tolahon
Sugba o kilawon, silihan
Mayna lang, kay sa i-itsa sa iring.

I Cannot Be The Great Hunter

I cannot be the great hunter
You wanted me to be, grandmother
I have ridden the raven
Saw the whales do loops on the waters
The white man's sickness
Made me spit blood on the snow
A white man took me away to his homeland
I found myself amongst victims
Wanting to be cured of a spirit
You haven't seen in the forests
Living in rocks, living on water
It is like a tree growing in my lungs
I have no spear with which to kill it
The white man calls it a name
Our tongue finds strange
He says warm weather
and his world's medicine will cure my illness
They cut me open, placed me in a room
white not quite like snow
I feel stronger now
(My heart is hard and sharp)
But I cannot be the great hunter
You wanted me to be

Butuanon

The ripples are not the afterthought
of a child with a pebble,
or that of fish swallowing a bug fallen on water.
They are the spirits of the river made insane
by unnatural filth.

They scramble and fall.
They gambol and crawl.
Nothing makes sense anymore.

Long ago, all they knew were fish
and shrimps and crocodiles,
grass on the banks, bamboo clumps.
Wading through to the other side
was an adventure ripe
with fairies and sprites in the mind.

There were no bridges then.

Mewhat

Scales fell from my eyes
when Saul gave Paul up
the down staircase.
Kiss Grace goodbye,
my friend, my lever.
Kiss your piece goodbye.
Night has fallen forever.

For two years
the number 3
has held magic
between the lines
of the mind.
All it takes
is the knowledge
of the cry,
and the jags of the dance
cease to flirt
with blind lying bravado.

How can I get back to --
for myself -- the land of promise?
Of fields verdant fruits abundant.
Reveling in innocence pure.

Shall I exile my soul
tonewandbetterfutures?
Will we ever know which is better?
Bitterness blinds the search.

Cosmic Love Song

I look at the skies at night

and watch the stars die.

I imagine myself

an eater of worlds

not content with planets anymore.

Water and soil

make my stomach turn,

revolted by the constant

east-west revolution of orbs.

Even a god's taste buds have limits.
So I search the heavens,

cross dimensions, in search

of alternative sources of food.

Meantime, meteorites provide sustenance.
(Heavenly bodies tidbits --

flavor of the month.

Although, what month it is,

I don't know.

No moon left

to keep time with.)

Sometimes I get tired

of my quest.

Sometimes, I think

if it would not be better

to give up,

to stop moving,

to stop seeing,

to stop breathing,

and let my body float in space.

I imagine myself imagining

why I have become this way.

I know the reason why:

My heart is broken.

sleep far

eyes see visions of orbs in sockets
the music from somewhere is noise now
sleep is a land worth a two-way fare
i will be back when i find my way

little dragon balls

later.

i will access my poetry files.

will post a few, maybe more

who knows if the sun falls

and turns into a ball

bright as the moon

hot as Mercury