Day 45: The monks were singing

The monks were singing

in the middle of Matins

some heavenly

howling in ancient language,

as the last of the Garganeys

came flying and

sunlight beamed

on the tower —

there you arrived,

the monsoon wind blowing 

away the seams of your dress.

I took my hanky to wipe my eyes

as a voice whispered

”Love is to be eternally

with all that is good.”

I held your hand as we marched

thinking I have not done enough

to deserve this blessing.

Day 44: Kierkegaard is an All-Star

Put on your game face

like Kobe when his Achilles

snapped and he had to

take free throws

There is no tomorrow 

No what other people would say

No Facebook

No ESPN

No PS4

No pain

No pleasure

No fame

No fortune

No husband

No mother

No children

No Duterte

No Trump

No global warming

No duties

No perks

No heaven

No hell

Summon your life 

upon this moment. 

Time is a basketball

or the hoop 

where you shoot it 

over and over

and over

again.

Day 43: Kung Limutin Mo Ako (Si Tu Me Olvidas)

(Halaw at salin sa tula ni Pablo Neruda)

Ibig kong malaman mong

isang bagay.

Alam mo kung paano ito:

kung ako’y tumingin 

sa  kristal na buwan, sa pulang sanga

ng mabagal na taglagas sa aking bintana,

kung aking hawakan

sa tabi ng apoy

ang di masalat na abo

o ang kulubot na katawan ng kahoy

inihahatid nila ako lahat sa’yo,

umiiral  ang lahat ng bagay

samyo, liwanag, bakal,

na parang maliliit na bangkang palaot

sa mga pulo mong naghihintay sa akin

Bagama't

kung unti-unting tigilan mo akong mahalin

titigil din kitang mahalin unti-unti

Kung bigla

mo akong limutin

huwag mo akong hanapin,

dahil nilimot na rin kita.

Kung isipin mong mahaba at baliw

ang hangin ng watawat
na dumaan sa’king buhay

at iyong piliin
na iwan ako sa bingid
ng puso kung saan ako nag-ugat
alalahanin 
sa ganung araw
sa ganung oras
itataas ko ang aking mga bisig
at ang aking mga ugat ay kakalat
upang maghanap ng ibang lupa.

Ngunit

kung kada araw 

kada oras

madama mong 

ako ang iyong kapalarang
may tamis na walang tinag
kung kada araw ay sumibol
ang isang bulaklak sa iyong labi upang ako’y hanapin

Ay! aking sinta, Ay! akin,
sa aking kaloooban lahat ng apoy ay uulit
sa aking kalooban walang pumanaw o nilimot
pag-ibig ko'y binuhay ng iyong pag-ibig, giliw,
at habang ikaw ay buhay

ito’y na sa iyong bisig 

ng di lumilisan sa akin.

Day 42: Goebbels was a blogger

Nice of you

to cheer for those

who lend their voices

to peddling lies

for likes and shares;

they who think

your fart is fresh

and savor the

rotten words you

spew like the smoke

from your gun;

they call it music

the way you juxtapose

bitch and country,

they way you point

to the heavens like your

finger is a dagger,

conductor to the

symphony of cannons,

Will they ever mind that blood

is your water?

You have truly made them happy.

And for you, forever they will sing,

Power to the power!

Day 41: Panaghoy ni Darth Vader

Hindi maaring 

lumaking ganyan

ang bata

ang puso kung saan 

ang sikmura 

wika ang dalit ng diablo

takot sa kislap ng tala

awit ang alingawngaw 

ng lupa

kapalaran niya’y

tulad ng turo sa atin

malayo kung saan tayo

nilamon ng halimaw

Day 40: Trapeze

Mine is the struggle

for rhythm

to mimic the 

pulse of sunrise 

and sunset,

the happenstance

of the osprey

on the pond

as it lands and flees,

my heart hanging on a

string.

Day 39: If Lenin had a limo

Comrade

Prasteete

It doesn’t make a difference

To ride it to the square,

walking achieves 

the same purpose

people might think

we’re enjoying it,

that our coffee is better

in the Kremlin

our pork much sweeter

Simple minds do not know

it’s when we cross out

a person’s name 

and he vanishes forever

that, that is our joy.

Day 38: Foucault Plays Monopoly

You will never find a 

“Get out of Jail” card, 

inspired by the Parker Bros game, 

as you cast the dice and land

on the square with the police who

sends you to the corner 

with the man behind bars, 

holed up for a couple of turns 

as everyone gets by 

with this business of winning. 

That card has long been picked by those

who started the game before you did, 

and so poor fellow, never believe

the game is fair, 

take the consequence

of your moves, 

obey the will of the dice. 

Some people are born to win the game, 

and others to die just playing it. 

Day 37: Middle Age Blues #1

You won’t admit

this business

has gotten into your head,

like a trip to Divisoria we took once

and we hunted for the jeepney called “Highway Star” because  it had a pile of tapes on deck, 

and only a splint of light to see the road,

and its speakers were blasting

the bass lines which you claimed

came from Thin Lizzy, but you only

knew that because your dad was

working in Saudi, and he sent you

this heavy metal stuff along with his

voice tape because he was too lazy

to write you a letter. So now, I’m offering you a ticket of Air Supply  for my son’s fund-raising, and you say how dare I offer you a ticket for an Air Supply concert even if it’s free? Even if it’s not going to be a date? Yeah, how dare me offer you? You who cried when I left you, and the radio was playing, “I can wait forever.”

Day 36: Nietzsche Proposes to his Girlfriend

If my love 

is like a mirror 

you hold against 

another, how

much time

would it take as 

that light comes

and goes, before you

decide to put it 

down and 

cease this 

repetition?

Would you know for

that brief moment

you held eternity

in your hand?

Day 35: Dalawang Dilang Latay / Two Tongue Lashing

Hindi bagay

sa taong masalita

parang nagkikilo

ng karne, wala naman sa

palengke, tawaging

bayot ang tumangging

sumali, makabuka lang ng

bunganga, maging bida

uli, mapangiti ang mga bungi 

na hindi naman makaiyak

dahil kailangang sumipsip,

kaya namang nagtityaga,

tango, yuko, palakpak,

sa taong hindi bagay.

It does not suit people

to be quiet; someone

speaks of the heads

he blasted, and we

wish he’s kidding,

that he might

be speaking of the

Clint Eastwood movie

we might have seen

from youtube, 

so we decently

smile or feign a short laughter.

No. Hindi.

It’s not suited

to pretend

Hindi bagay

magkunwari

our tongues are tied

nabuhol ang ating dila.

Hindi bagay sa atin.

Hindi bagay sa atin.

Day 34: The Ghost of NVM

Last night in my sleep

my departed mentor 

spoke of his last book

that he didn’t finish 

but started with the epigraph 

from a Chinese sage

that to be human

is to constantly deny

reality. 

I asked him then

what is the key,

for like that  Borges 

poem about limits,

there is no hope?

”No, not courage, my child"

he said,

"but imagination.

That is why,”

he added

“I appear in your dreams.”

Day 33: Nothing better

than a headache

when I wake up 

and the dog is barking 

because it's hungry 

and all I have is bread

moldy and sour

which I've ingested

so now my stomach is grumbling 

and I'm out of tissue

and I'm out of water

and I'm out of coffee

But you arrive from jogging

and the dog gets cuddled

so it shuts up.

Nothing better

than you

nothing better to do

but be here

this nothing better day.

Day 32: Let them

out in the wild

these little ones 

whose footsteps gather 'round you

like rain in June,

their reach no greater than 

circles of bubbles 

that burst at the sound 

of syllables,

their scent like lilies.

New friends, myths, and places

they will find

their spirits soaring

like dragonflies 

crawling out of the water.

Day 31: Upon seeing the sign: No Purpose. No Entry.

What shall I say 

when the gatekeeper asks

to account 

for my presence?

Should  I say I came to 

serve or be served

or observe

the state of things

of confusing service and 

disservice?

 When you travel this far

only to find you've

forgotten your purpose

or you no longer want it,

will it make sense to return

or proceed;

and this guard--

what standard does he keep

to say a purpose is valid,

will he accept silence?

Surely, there is joy

even for a fleeting second

to stay at the door,

between aiming and aimless.

 

Day 30: All you ever wanted

When you wake up in the morning

And your dick won’t rise with you

And your maid is late with your coffee

and viagra

and this maid calls your driver

who is late because he went to a wake

of the dead and the living who wanted your photo a-feastin’ and your fly open

and your toes showin’ and you

curse him for wakin’ later than his

bossin’ and you read the papers

and you notice they missed the quota

and the countdown is off by a thousand and they talk about the helicopter and the man who jumped off from it and landed on the crocodiles and they have not forgotten but it has not been proven

And you hear Obama fucking intellectual, writing books, teaching law, editing a law journal, and he became President, what does he know about power when he hasn’t shot a man, when he hasn’t fucked a whore, when he gets angry in a gray suit, well-pressed and bloodless? Unlike the police with the million dollar home who robs a Korean, and then chokes him and burns him and flushes his ashes off the toilet while his boss sings a rock song in a concert of hippies who worship the Pope who caused the traffic and caused you to be late for a date

with a whore, and this drug-addict lover, de Lima, whose voice reminds you of your teacher who almost flunked you in math which has no use but for counting dead bodies that smell of gun powder that gives you the high like when you’re mad 

so you decide to go on air and call the press and talk about the bullshit you go through each day 

when all you ever wanted is an angry fix. 

Yes, all you ever wanted is an angry fix.

‘tang-ina! ‘tang-ama! ‘tangnyolahat!

Day 29: Conversation with Chuang Tzu

What business is there

in being useless,

to plant a tree in the 

middle of nowhere,

so it will not be disturbed,

when surely the tree

serves some purpose

like holding the soil in a flood

that will inundate the village

or provide a shade for the birds,

a home for the squirrels?

Dear Master,

who said the useless is

never disturbed,

perhaps it is better to say

it is futile to wish to be inutile

prepare to be disturbed

for we are all designed

to be of use if not to us

but to others.

Dear Master replied,

”Who said we wish not to be disturbed?

What we wish is to free ourselves

of use so we can

learn from them who use us.

When we cease to be 

what others need of us

we become that 

tree before it grows up.”

Day 28: Song for the Accused

The Supreme Court missed it 

as they sometimes do

great learned men of the race

put a man to death and

misread the law.

T'was April 1974, in 

Pola Mindoro Oriental

Manuel Morales had carnal knowledge 

with his daughter  Maria, 

young lady of 14.

Incestuous rape we call it now --

a plague humanity beset for centuries hence

And it happened repeatedly so

poor child,  Maria, 

I wished he set her free.

But God was silent all those months 

and on December of that year,

born to Maria one evening at 7

a bright baby named Mary,

she was crying and healthy

but Manuel had thoughts 

and poor baby he took and 

buried on the ground

15 feet away from 

where she was born.

Yet, God had eyes who knew

and decreed that no crime though hidden 

would not be found

for one Delfin Dris and the fiery Dr. Alamar

unearthed the remains of little Mary.

Manuel Morales was caught and jailed 

He confessed to the killing

and related his deed.

It was shame he said 

that caused him to do it,

the proof -- his granchild he killed.

He confessed to the police.

He confessed to the court.

He was ready to embrace his fate.

The court sentenced him to death

and the Supreme Court reviewed

if the law was applied.

The Revised Penal Code it said,

the great Court quoted,

Nocturnity would aggravate

the death penalty -- we cannot avoid.

but one J. Abad Santos dissented

How can it aggravate when it was not intended?

Poor baby was born at 7 already in the evening

Nocturnity was not planned but was a given

the punishment should be reduced

to imprisonment for life.

But the Court of sage chose not to hear 

the lone dissenter's voice

perversity must not escape, it said 

and to the death Manuel Morales went.

And now, forty years hence

we examine the mistake

our dearest Court made

J. Abad Santos, God bless him,

was right. In crimes it is so

one is punished for intent

and not for an event 

as common as night. 

Morales is dead, but he could have lived 

to contemplate and suffer for his fault

he might have reformed and lived a pious life

as he had shown when he confessed

He might have been forgiven and 

lived a wondrous life, yet it is

over now and it is done.

an evil deed and big mistake 

forever etched.

So, here I argue against death,

how many more mistakes will we make?

how many more to suffer his fate.

Someday it might be you, your friend, or family.

Pray it never happens to anyone you love --

a hopeless fate 

remorse too late.

Day 27: Meatless

They say you become the

animal you like to eat.

I’m a pig then

nosing around the pen

happy to lie in the mud or wherever

always waiting for dinner

and the next meal after that

and the one after.

And you,

a chicken, 

forever pecking on the ground

looking for little things like worms

in your food, but if you’re a chicken,

the worm is your food, which

you hate like lizards.

And even if you’re just sitting there

you’re actually doing something

like guarding the chicks

or hatching eggs.

It seemed improbable 

that we’d end up together,

the slouch and the worker.

So, we decided to get married

and now we’re vegetarians,

almost.

Day 26: Names

You've understood something 

if you’ve learned its name.

Like when a new species of birds is discovered 

and it is called

Rudder's Forest Robin

Some rare pain in your heart,

Brugada Syndrome

Crazy roommate,

bipolar

Your dark past,

Incestuous rape

Caring but silent god,

Father.

Day 25: Letter to 70 year old self

You could have been President 

like you once dreamed 

until you read Nietzsche and 

decided metaphysics is more exciting 

than feeding the greed 

of those who profess 

they want to serve.

The philosopher king 

would have to win the election 

without joining it

or wanting to

such queerness of fate

should match 

Plato’s design that the 

ordinary ones wouldn't understand.

But cheers to you who kept the faith

to keep the path that Frost described

to find enjoyment in the rain,

drink in measured cups,

fast in large dinners, 

feast when there is little

To sing the forgotten song 

and dance for dancing’s sake 

To tell the story no one

wants to hear

To think and unthink at a finger snap

To love with a love, as Poe described,

That is more than love, 

and love some more.

To stay when there is hope

To pray when there is none

As the universe expands,

to be its little child.

Day 24: Boazanian Dreams

I don’t remember Voltes V

ever having trouble with it.

A beast fighter attacks 

and they begin the dance — 

the machine hero takes some beating

a couple of blows,

it is wrestled to the ground,

a chain runs a current

gets the team in pain,

But the earth defender recovers,

chain knuckles, Voltes Bazooka,

the Ultra Electro Magnetic Top is unleashed 

taking from the skills of Mark Gordon,

the orphan cowboy with the obscure past,

the snake like belt turns 

into a yo-yo string and a whip 

with spinning tops that 

explode on impact.

It never fails

this zippy gadget

doesn't stop 

the way a cellphone drops a connection 

or an ATM goes offline

and debits your money

and eats your card,

or the LRT freezes on track

or your car gets a flat tire.

And though the Voltes V story 

fails not to inspire 

it's never the same

when you gear up for work

and a thing conks out

in a third world kind of way

and you lose or 

(almost) die.

Day 23: The Guard

At the port of Verde 

the quiet isle between 

Batangas and Mindoro

stands an abandoned resort,

Dos Palmas, they used to call it, 

the same one

which lost Martin Burnham

in Honda Bay, Palawan.

The lobby chairs are empty

the rooms still kept,

sheets, dusty;

spoons and glasses complete —

No one there

but a guard on duty.

One morning I came by boat,

a client wanted to see

how much the resort would fetch;

the pictures showed it was,

a place of rest, serenity. I walked around the island and met him

who stood on the edge of nowhere

No one but the sand and sea

No boss to report to

No thieves to deter

No kidnappers to fight

There was no one to kidnap

But the turtles on the beach.

A tough job it was to be vigilant

Like Beckett’s play it seemed 

Godot never came to him who waited.

Jester was I and called him 

expecting him relaxed and cheating

“Attention! 

Soldier, are your shoes shiny?”

And lo! On his boots I saw the

sun winking, and said he —

SIR YES SIR!

Day 22: My Wife vs. The iPhone

She threatened to throw it to the trash

Once

it refused to turn on, having been 

Dropped

repeatedly from high places like my 

Heart

of a rock that wouldn’t budge to tell 

Hers

is not a problem of force but of

Understanding 

if she’s not keen on reading the manual

Might

as well listen and accept there is 

Nothing 

on my mind but her struggles, and the 

Time

I spend on duties are things to 

Fill

the open space of being like the 

Gadget

when it chokes because it's sending 

Email

and many other things

And

in this fight against the iPhone,  

We

are rooting for no one else but 

She.

Day 21: Tatay's Lesson

He asked me one morning 

as I rushed a paper for class

why I haven’t learned to type,

growing up in his shop 

with typewriters that arrived

missing letters, rigid strokes, 

that needed fixing

in a corner of his house in Pola, 

a town of bankers, lawyers, and clerks

who begged their babies 

jumped the line

for theirs were texts that needed to be set, 

filed in court, or sent far away.

He counted 

how many learned

from his machines

in the afternoons

learning rtyu’s to fghj’s

soon after they’re chasing the quick brown fox, 

the rhythm of clickety clacks and bings 

replacing the stoccatos in which a beginner starts,

That was thirty years ago

and Tatay left;

how would it fascinate him to know 

Liquid Paper is gone

with auto-correct.

Yet on a Macbook,

God bless his soul, I worry 

about letters on the

screen neat and clean, and

regret it might be late

to learn where the “z” is

without looking

a written word

on a moment’s thought

just by touching.

Day 20: Riddles for the 21st Century

1. Twelve numbers 

you need to handle me or

you know not what I will be
for when I have flown and you didn’t see, you regret it and you miss me.

2. What it is the end 

of all that begins,

and begins at the very end,

like a river with no sea,

the end that never ends?

3. “You say potato and I say potatoh

you say tomato and I say tomatoh

potato, potatoh, tomato, tomatoh

Let’s call the whole thing off.”

Answer: 

1. Time 2. Death 3. Sec. Andanar and the Press, or Pres. Duterte and Sec. Yasay

Day 19: Wika nga ni Neruda

(Halaw at salin mula sa Soneto XVII)

Di kita mahal gaya ng rosas na asin, topasyo, o hilera ng klabeles na nagsasaboy ng silab:

Mahal kita tulad ng pagtangi sa mga bagay na madilim,

palihim, sa pagitan ng anino at diwa.

Mahal kita parang halamang hindi bumubukadkad at bitbit ang liwanag ng bulaklak, kipkip, sa sarili lamang,

at salamat sa iyong pag-ibig

mula sa lupa ay nabuhay sa aking katawan sa lilim ang

masinsing bango ng rosas.

Mahal kita ng hindi alam kung paano, kailan, at saan

Mahal kita ng tuluyan, walang ligalig at yabang

Mahal kita pagkat hindi ko alam kung anong paraan ka pa mahalin

kundi ganito, walang ikaw o ako 

sa digkit ang iyong kamay sa aking dibdib ay akin

sa digkit ang iyong mata ay pikit sabay ng aking pangarap.

Day 18: To Throw

off a troll, 

start with a big word 

like “supine,”

he’ll be wondering 

how it’s pronounced, 

and, too lazy to lift

his fingers and Google 

how to say it, he won't 

read any further, 

not knowing in English it means

— the acceptance

of an immoral situation 

due to selfishness or 

indolence

like when people are killed openly on the streets by state agents and 

no one protests because only drug addicts get killed and bystanders are mere collateral damage.

Also means 

— the position of body lying down and the face is looking upwards like when the drugs addicts are killed and they are made to lie facing the sky as the policemen put a gun on their hands to make it appear the corpses were involved in a shoot-out.

Sa Tagalog, “supin” syort por

sumisipsip na Pilipino kaya

kahit patayan ng patayan 

walang nagrereklamo kasi hapi-hapi tayo.

Supin supine in the face of murder.

And he, friendly neighborhood troll,

might even  click “like" and "share” 

if you end with

 👊 👊👊👊!