Tag: spoken word
Engineering
I engineer my poetry They need not feelings, proper art, true humanity They consist only of words pretending to have some substance—I like playing with letters seriously Words I can never get a hold of in tangible reality how fast do the distant hearts beat in juxtaposition to each other and what other sensations can…
Kay Sarap Magmahal
Kay sarap palang magmahalat namnamin ang lamig ng hanginsa mga gabing maliwanag ang buwanat matingkad ang mga anino natin. Kay sarap palang magmahalat damdamin ang mga minutong ‘di nagtatagalYaóng tila usok na initat mala-habambuhay na pagpikit. Kay sarap palang magmahalat pakinggan ang mga salitang ‘di masabi-sabimusikang pampakalmaat nanggaling sa nanginginig na mga labi. Kay sarap…
On Defining Terms
The World is full of inhibitions I cannot write the world I see for it cannot be true. My vision is fractured; it is nothing but a piece of glass—nothing is no more. Nothing is no longer natural—to be nothing is sinful here in the World that deceives the truth stares at me observer vis-à-vis…
In theory
We are but storms and it overwhelms me the thought of no fair days and neither rain I want the cold winters and blazing summers the whole spectrum of colour in theory I want to witness it, all from afar; I want to see—this is the expected response, the right answer All I want is…
It
Terrible: Has it any worth? It? Has it any value anymore at all? It? Has it anything left in its shadowing capacity—where is the fortitude cleansed by grace? There lies some sort of power overcome by a vacuuming guilt riddled with shame intangible and abstract— It does not seem to matter, it does not seem…
Fire
Fire is how she goes: burning from within, flames in the palm of her hands—the world turned to ashes. She wanted to know if petals can turn into gems; she sought alchemy for alchemy’s sake. There was no need for friction: burning from within, flames everything she holds turns into flame—the world and all within.…
M.M.
She sees her hand and takes it but it slips through, it vanishes in the air; it is gone yet it is there: untouchable, immaterial. Neither does her smile exist—it has no shine the lights behind her eyes, are nothing and she wonders: where had It gone? Has It always Not Been There? The many…
11:07
Memories of a faraway world would visit me at random:in the middle of the night, as I prepare to sleep tending my broken wrist with oriental herbs so that the next moment’s slumber would be painless, or simply less painful that how it would have been dreams from some yesterday would come about in my…
Rivera
The longing to be like the river: having neither mind nor beating heart that may stop every rushing flow toward One one of the great oceans—an upside down sky, such is the view of the roaring river. If a river can read and move deep within the carvings of the earth If a river can…
Visitations
It seems to come only in short whispers but leaves a tinge of hues so strong that though no one can see, It is known to so many others of the alternate Real there are several rooms of one immeasurable house the imaginary palace has taken over Its master calling consciousness back to wherever It…