The Creme Scene

so last night I was watching Naruto. Not shipuuden, naruto as in episodes one to six, I was wondering, what I wanted to wish for. I was entitled to one today. I wished that he'd email me. I laughed at my super mababaw wish while akeboshi's wind played. I woke up this morning and I had coffee and cigarettes and a few chores. I just checked my emails. He emailed me. Yun lang. Nyaaaa. I am so happy. LOLz. Yosi break.

dati pa man, alam ko na
na ako'y pinanganak na kulang
ngunit kapag ako'y bihis
sa kung anu-anong aking pinagteterno
at nahuhuli ko ang hangin
sa pagitan ng tela at balat
isang baun-baong buhawi
saka lamang ako nabubuo

Sa gabing tag-ulan
Ang palakang 'di kita
siya'y huhuni

ako'y maglalakad sa pasilyo
sa kalsada, sa bangketa, sa hagdan
at hagdan at hagdan pa uli ng metro
sasakay ng jeep, ng bus, ng tren
tatayo, uupo, magtatrabaho
may tapang sa likod aking malambot na kalasag
may maskarang di tumatakip sa aking mukha
ngunit nang-aagaw ng tingin mula dito

sa karagatan
tago sa sinag-araw
isda'y lilipad

Uulan o aaraw, magkakapote at puruntong,
magbibitbit ng payong, magsusuot ng shades
isisilid sa plastik ang sapatos at medyas
magtatanggal ng kurbata, magbubukas ng kwelyo

Hay! init-lamig,
nanunuyo ang aking mga labi
lawayan man ay panandalian
lamang ang ginhawa--

Iimik o titikom, walang masabing 'di mali
magbabaon ng abiso, at ipamumukha
itatago ang pangangatuwiran sa kaplastikan
magsisikip nga lalamunan, nabilaukan sa salita

Hay! init-lamig
nanunuyo ang aking mga labi
magkasundo man lang ng panandalian
lamang na ang ginhawa

The propeller of the ship is humming.

The edge of the world is saffron.
close to the omen of a blind night
i searched for that piece of metal
(without actually looking)
unzipping the fly
(the other is busy air-crobating)
while keen is my observation of the sunset.

I can sense the air.
Standing near a ledge. In the ocean.
The breeze, like a ripple,
de-atomizes the chain of water
from the bladder.

Oppressive
the way your grin crept
like tiny legs of cockroaches on my arms
the underside;
(where the splash of Tokyo took refuge to de sanitize the smell of my early morning
disembowelment)
compared to your underside
supple when i accidentally brush
from your sofa.
You are on the bed

Married to the thought of bouncing
while dancing
to Mama Becks.

I read my first full non-manga graphic novel last night. John Wagner / Vince Locke' History of Violence. I have never liked graphic novels because i think the art is distracting and that they would really be better as standard novels. The reason History of Violence succeeded for me was the superflat art style. No distracting art, just story. Nice

Si manang lolang kriminal, nasisingkit
ng sinag-araw sa pioneer, kung buhatin
ang kanyang takatak patakbo sa parak
na parating, nakangiti pa't bumubungisngis.
naisahan na naman niya ang batas.
Bawal kasi maghanapbuhay sa bangketa.
At nung bumili ako ng yosi't kendi-
combo ang marlboro at maxx, tatlong piso lang
sinkuwenta and tipid- nakuha pang pagalitan
akong nagtapon ng balat ng kendi sa kalsada.
Hipokrita, siya ngang nakakalat sa kalsada.
Si manag lolang kriminal, nanonognog
ng sinag-araw sa EDSA, unti-unti
akong pinapatay ng kanser sa baga,
alam niya mabuhay sa Phillip,
kesyo di mo nga naman kailangan
ng kendi kung kay tapang ng mentol
ng yosi. Sin cuenta din yun.

Does anyone have either the movie History of Violence (starring viggo mortensen, kahit anong format DVD, AVI whatever), or PREFERRABLY, the graphic novel of the same title by John Wagner / Vince Locke? Kahit pdf/scans lang?



Please Pahiram, pakopya. Please Please Please

Tuborg sweating cold
numbness in my sense of touch
The Danish version of punk rock
is screaming Danish loud noises
in my ears
(the only cartilage free from piercings in this
hazy environment)
Over the counter
Malaysians screaming,
smoke in between fingers
jumping thumping
O swollen breasts

On my side
smoke in between fingers
Danish carrot top
whispers mexican on my hazy head

I was mexican too the other day.

I jerked my cerebrum yes while
The billiard balls made a clamor on collision
obedient to Newton's laws

I calculated the years left wandering shores
But i have forgotten my age.
Sometimes, i have no idea how i was even born.

O the effect of alcohol.
silver hairs.
The effect of danish scream
In a danish bar
In a danish soil
With the Danish crowd
skin to skin head banging.
(the only epithelial tissue free from needle googles
in this hazy environment).

Kapag kumikidlat sa boni,
parang blacklight lang, at bass
ng dumadagundong na sayawan
ang kulog. Hindi na ako
ang akong kung makasayaw
ay lango sa musika. Masikip
ang kurbata, at kung kumapit
ang manggas sa braso
ay hindi na maiangat ang braso.
Ito din ang mga braso
na nangako sa sando.
Ang salamin sa aking ilong
ang tumutuwid sa pagtingin
na nababanlag ng pagtatrabaho
at sa di pagkalango.
Kay hilig ko dati sa inuman,
kay dali kasing tumawa--
at walang paling
ang aking pagtingin.
Kung kumidlat sa boni,
parang kahapon lang, at ubo
ng dumadagundong na baga
ang kulog.

Blue is my favorite color at 15 minutes past 12 midnight.
In it,
the hems travel shorter from shoulder to waist
the fibers stretch like blue plastic rope in tension grip
with all due respect to white:
the pious light
of all eternity (my hands a zillion times shorter
wiping the ever affinitive peanut butter
whose sole interest is escaping
sandwiched between onto hungry biting).

If hunger is a worldwide problem
midnight is famine
and yesterday was a hunger-- a strike
but my blue outfit?
the hope that soddens the after grief.

Silence is my favorite music at 20 minute past twelve midnight,
with peanut butter and cheese
and a cup of milk.

I want to write guitar solo poems
because I have run on sentences
and they have lead me no where,
with my feet, pacing, measuring
a mile within my bedroom or upon
my hands, fingered and palmed
with my feet to the clouds
and so I will write in guitar solos
wail and screech and hammer and strum
everything I would have wanted to say
and never learn the words for or
know the words but fear them
for their saccharrine or sour or bitter
and really, if I couldn't say them myself
I wouldn't write them down either

So yeah

My mom admitted last night that she was wrong about forcing me to go to college when I had told her when I was in my senior year of high school that I wasn't ready for school. Back when I was 16, I told her that I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life yet.

She says that I can go to school again, armed with the afterthought of what I really wanted in life. I said i wanted to be a marine biologist and take care of whales. She said, "Wut?"

Really.

Dear Lj-peeps,

who would know of a film school here in Manila that is worth studying in? not a uni like UP or La Salle or AdMU? Like Mactan in Cebu or sumpin?

Please Please Reply. My off-state friend is considering coming home if he can study here. LOLz ulterior motives.

if i make you a poem tonight
would it be alright
if my hand shakes like a newborn babe
in his sleep
though it may not be disarranged
the hue is
lighter than the shade of day
when i am alone
and you are wishing under gemini sky
june is sudden
so sudden my timid mind
is lonesome before auspicious thoughts
scatter like whiskey influencing
when i am disheveled
and you are drunk
by irish coffee


let me think in punctuated dots.

Umulan buong gabi kagabi, sinta:
hindi man ako ang bubong, ako
ang alulod. Nabubutas ang semento
sa ilalim ko, sa bigat at dami
ng sinasahod. Maaagnas ang inipon
kong dahon, magiging matabang lupa
na hindi pagtatamnan.

Umulan buong gabi kagabi, sinta:
hindi kita maitahan.

Ngayong gabi, hindi uulan,
magpapaturo ako sa hangin kung paano sumipol.
Magmumula sa mgabundok na aking kinalakihan,
tatakbo sa pilapil nang idinadaan sa mga dahong-palay
ang mga lupilipad na braso patungo
sa lansangan, iikot sa mga gusaling nagpaparami ng sinag-
araw at langit sa kanilang salaming pader
ngunit ikinukubli ang totoong liwanag
sa kulimlim ng kanyang mga anino.

Huuuuuu!

Hindi lobong umuungol sa kalayuan
o takureng napabayaan ang kulo
kundi ang mahabang hikbi ng alulod
sa iyong mahanging gabi.

someone replaced my userpics...

I wonder if i am missing entries or friends like what them lj news chenes said.

Anyhoot, is anyone else living their love life's vicariously through Sinfest's Evil-lyn/Baby Red?

Mabuti na't wala ka dito:
ako'y kung ganito ay tala
na lima ang sinag kung matulog.
Walang puwang ang aking kama sa'yo.
Sarili ko mang balat ay parusa na
madiktan, 'di ko na nais pang malaman
kung paano papasanin ang magaang haplos
na hindi natatangihan. Mapapabayaan
ang paglapat ng labi sa aking batok,
at gayong maikukuwento, magbabalik-
tanaw ang ilong sa buong araw.
Mula sa mga singaw ng lupa,
ang pagkaluto ng basura sa kalsada,
ang paglambot ng alkitran sa aspalto
hanggang sumapit ang gabi at magsisindi
na ng mga gasera ang mga magbabalot
at bibigat ang inipong usok ng sasakyan
at dadapo muli sa lansangan.
Nakakahiya.
Ako man, sa aking pagligo ay umaalingaso.
Nasisingkit ang aking mata sa pagakyat
ng init mula sa aking katawan paulo
kaya't inihuhuli ang shampoo. Hindi man
kita nais makasama, hindi kita maitaboy.
Nakakaubos ng lakas ang init sa Maynila-
kaya't mabuti na't wala ka.

I promised myself i wouldn't post non-poetry, this is my poetry journal. I am breaking it.

Someone whose literary opinion matters to me told me my poetry is kalat. I immediately defended myself.

Now I am filled with self loathing, for being kalat and for defending my kalat-ness. I'll never make it.

There are no awkward firsts but only recurring seconds;
details to keep to a precise minute. This man,
like clockwork, set to accuracy, predictable; stepped
into a span of years, walked a clockwise town. He is always
right. My fingers marked the moments, counter.
I am to be left. Behind his face of numbered
movements, he turned upon himself, grinded silently;
clicked a hidden tongue, disapproved.
I look for where he had touched me: my eyes
are deeper set, more shadowed and lined; my mouth
a little more pursed: disappointment dulls
at the passage of time and turns into a habit of sighs,
renamed melancholy, stored away with tedium.
Because by the pendulum swing, the return is a lighting-
up, a flutter, a rekindling and an unmentioned welcome-back.