Day 72. From a Legal Memorandum

Respondent can find as a many contradictions as he pleases with the irrevocable special power of attorney and the Memorandum of Agreement, mostly imagined than real. As the philosopher Jacques Derrida said, there is never a moment in language where meaning is definite. Words, especially legal words, are subject to interpretations of subtexts and contexts. Even the meaning of social justice is essentially contested. Yet, Respondent by signing the Memorandum of Agreement is prohibited from exploiting this basic fragility of the legal language. He is in fact duty bound to try to supply these nuances and bridge the spaces where words fail. Yet, by insisting on not drafting the irrevocable special power of attorney himself and choosing to nitpick on why and which provision of the irrevocable power of attorney is inconsistent with the Memorandum of  Agreement, he has hostaged the Project. He has chosen to filibuster, and for that he is in bad faith. That should never be countenanced in any modern justice system. 

Day 71. Karma is a hoax

One of the most fascinating songs of the Beatles is "The End" from their last album Abbey Road. The song is the last in a medley of sorts and is preceded by the Ringo Starr drum solo before the harmonized vocals sing, "And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make." John Lennon was proud of it as a sort of the group's contribution to philosophy, which he described as a cosmic equation. 

When I was old enough to understand it (which was really old), I realized it was about karma; you reap what you sow as the cliche goes. If you've been bad, bad things happen to you. To put it in a positive sense, if you've been good, good things happen to you. As John Lennon puts it, it is the mathematical equation of the universe. 

But it is not so if you're a Christian. Why -- because we didn't bring anything to the table. It's not equal; it's all God. And even if we've been bad, good things will still happen to us. In the same way that bad things also happen to the good people. God's forgiveness transcends our sense of morality. This helps explain the Parable of the Prodigal Son, which is revolting to the good people. Karma seems to come too late to the bad people, if at all. 

It's Good Friday today, a day when we commemorate the day when men executed the Christ. I put the Jesus Christ Superstar album on repeat in my Spotify playlist. No Beatles paganism today. Come to think of it, the mystery of Good Friday is we got away with it. Two centuries since the killing of Jesus Christ, God's Son, and humanity has not been abolished and continues to flourish. Karma is a hoax. 

Day 70: Animal Talk

Is greed an emotion?

asked the bull to the monkey.

The monkey shook his head, saying

Why do you ask silly questions? 

The bull

munched on grass

and said, my apologies my friend,

I wanted to tame it

like my anger.

Day 69: Fashion Mishaps by Chuang Tzu

Well pressed shirt

with purple tie

dimpled at the

middle where

the knot is —

a perfection taking

years to master, then

your pen blots it all, 

a dark patch of ink

turning your outfit

no different from a rug.

Lesser men will have 

their hearts melted

But greater ones will call it 

unfortunate without stammer 

or hiccups in their voices.

Day 67/68 Nietzsche the Clerk

You should have 

told me a day before

yesterday

if it was due

yesterday.

Power is

you with the bottle

of Scotch as I

miss dinner, tv, and

sleep,

imposing on

my time

what you cannot

impose on

yours.

Day 64/65/66: I missed a poem

yesterday, as I hopped from isle to isle

first stop Bulalacao, darling town of Mindoro; 

a thrilling ride on the hills overlooking the sea 

to be at a nestled resort haven for the peace-hungry;

my father of seventy declared how blessed he was to have lived to see this day, and we feasted on roasted pork crabs, and noodles. I sang John and Paul’s In My Life on the karaoke and rode the ship for Caticlan, gateway to the famous Boracay. At one hour past midnight I waited for dawn for my flight, Visayan chill I savored over ginger tea. My plane left as I looked

at the white and silver sands.  One of these days said I, I’ll be back and do more than see. In Manila, I arrived and joined the clan of hundreds, listened to Great Aristeo speak of Nanay Irene and Mamay Isko with ten children they lived with unsurpassed unity. Misty-eyed all who heard him speak and happy they came to hear and see. And I, who pledged in January to write verse everyday, I failed; all energy spent, no sleep for hours, and worried silly.  No poem can be as good as this day of revelry.  Life happens and we know love matters more, yes love matters more than all the poems, all the poems, that could ever be.

Day 63: Coffee Talk

We entered the cafeteria

unwelcomed by that smell of cow 

innards stewed in ginger.

You asked —  is there a 

difference in the conversation

over instant coffee vis-a-vis

the kind priced astronomically 

prepared in a French press

and served in pin-lighted 

polished wood interiors 

with tall chairs?

I’ve always thought musings

over brewed coffee are superior, 

you said — they’re better, relaxed,  

if not philosophical, compared to the cheap

fuzz-free sugar, coffee, cream

3-in-1, tit for tat.

As we stood to leave the table

finishing the quick in and out talk

over our cups

getting the business done in 

what is called short term 

give and take

I was ready to agree with you,

save for the fact that we never 

had it this good

in a coffee chain or 

hotel lobby which disproves

everything so far said.

Day 62. Variation on a Prayer #2

Dear Lord,

Let Thou be the ship,

whilst I be the sea. 

Amen

Day 61: Variation on a Prayer

Dear Lord,

Let thou be the train,

whilst I be the tracks. 

Amen

Day 60. Joseng Sisiw sa Manila

Tanong ni Joseng Sisiw 

sa batang eskwela —

May tula bang makikita

pagtayo mo sa kalsada

hawak ang pansahod ng barya,

trabaho’y sumenyas sa rumaratsada

ipahiwatig parating na tren o wala pa?

Sagot naman ng bata —-

Kay hirap ngang humanap 

sa buhay na sinapit.

Maaring umawit, magbilang, sumayaw,

 bago ang tren ay dumating. Ngunit

sa malamang sa hindi

tula ay wala sa kalyeng mainit.

Tumalima ang makata, eskwela ay biniro 

—Ay huwag hamakin, 

gawaing tapat at marangal. 

May galing din namang matatawag

sa hamak na hitsura,

galing sa pagkita

ng mailap na kuwarta. 

Day 59: Usapang Lasing

Walang rebolusyon,

wika ng isang namundok

sa kanyang dating

kasama sa kilusan.

Ang kapangyarihan

ay kakabit ng

katakawan; ang 

bayani noon,

punong malupit ngayon,

sabay lagok ng 

isang basong serbesa. 

Sagot ng kasama,

bakit ka pa umasa sa 

mga pangako ng libro?

Sa ‘king buhay, nakamit

ang pagbabago,

nang maging ama at

nag-alaga ng mag-ina,

tuloy tagay ng baso

at lagay ng yelo.

Tumahimik ang nauna,

Bakit nga ba, isip niya,

mas mahusay makinig

sa kausap na lasing

kaysa sa politiko sa Luneta?

Day 58: The Wrong Thing

Said the Master 

to his pupil,

Superman dying

is not a possibility 

any one likes to imagine.

The glory from saving 

the little child trapped in a fire

or Lois Lane captured by Lex Luthor’s

machine, even the cat stuck

in a tree — they too perish as their 

memories. What foolishness 

to believe that power 

is not fleeting, that order will not lead to 

disorder. Superman’s death is 

no different from that of a seedling;

Only time and space will

tell his bitter end. 

And the pupil replied,

So, what are we to do?

The Master answered,

Disengage your desire

to be like him. 

And the pupil shook his head,

All his life he dreamt 

of the wrong thing.

Day 57: The Man Who Cried Wolf

There is no wolf he cried

when asked about

the dismembered body

of the boy of four

his heart missing

his clawed face

all bloodied.

The villagers said,

the boy must have been 

a thief in his past life,

the witches came for

reckoning and took

his evil heart as offering.

Not long after, they found

a woman pregnant with a child

sprawling naked on the earth

her eyes gouged, the marks

of a beast’s great bites on her chest.

The man declared,

there is no wolf, I say.

It must have been the vultures,

the villagers declared,

this woman of ill-repute, dead like

her bastard child, must accept

her karmic fate.

And months since then,

the man confessed to the villagers

I’ve spent sleepless nights

my soul cries every moment

for the boy, the pregnant woman and her child —

I am the wolf.

But the villagers they said,

why should we believe you

you lying crap?

Leave us alone,

There is no wolf.

Day 56: Why your Dad is not in EDSA

Imagine if General Tadiar

channeled your Dad,

“Tadjak” they called him

fierce marine, trained to kill,

a sea of people barricading his tank

nuns holding flowers and rosaries

and on the radio -- 

Artemio, this is your Uncle Fred. Your Aunt Florence and I and all your cousins are here in Crame. Now, Boy, please listen to me

Make the right decision on the basis of evidence and intellect. Bear in mind, the future of this generation is at stake.

Ukininam! Your Dad would have said

The tanks roll, and he would 

have flattened them all,

heads, bodies, arms, and legs

the road glistening red

as he enters the gates.

Blood is his water, remember?

But the General knew better,

as he got out of the hatch

and embraced his uncle,

Yeah, he made a lot of uncles,

cousins, brothers, and sisters

that day. And your Dad,

who fondly calls the dictator his idol,

I bet he calls the General

bayot.

Day 55: Fr. Gomez Contemplates Sen. De Lima's Arrest

Dawn in the month of February

I walk uncertain 

what lies ahead

A leaf, I say,

doesn’t move without 

the will of the Creator; 

Zamora’s gone mad, 

Burgos rages.

I smiled to bless 

the children who 

kneel on my path. 

145 years hence 

and people remember 

the man who walks 

calmly to his death. 

The curse of tyrants it is 

to be the heroes of newspapers 

but the evil men of memory. 

Poor victims who suffer

their names be whispered fondly.

So, walk sweet Leila, 

Today, you go to jail;  

Forever, the best seat in history!

Day 54: Wika ng Maestro

Wika ng maestro—

Ang galing ng tagak

kung magtungo siya

sa tabing-dagat

hindi maaring wala

siyang huli

kung sumablay

man sa una

walang kiyemeng

susubok, babalik,

at muling tutuka

parang kinakatam

ang pandama 

sa bawat tuka

at sa ilang sandali

nadali na

ang agahan,

panlaman ng

tiyan.

Bakit ka matatakot,

kaya mo namang

maging tagak?

Day 53: Solved is the Mystery

Ay! Ay! Solved is the mystery!

The Mayor, the Mayor,

Lord and king  of the 

great city

who’s no way a sissy,

became our prexy

because God wants

us to see

you and me

what the Mayor

has done yeah

what the Mayor

has done yeah 

to God’s people

God’s poor people

of His beloved city.

It's God’s trap,

a Divine trap,

you give the Mayor

the country,

yeah crazy country,

so he will leave,

leave the city

Oh wow pearl city

God's precious one

of the parable,

Wow, great wisdom 

The city is free!

The city is free!

Bow down our heads

the great hand of God

the mighty hand of God

of history!

Day 52: Tatay Tatay

Tatay, tatay

huwag papatay

ng lamok

ay, ay, 

ay, away

insekto

Ay dugo 

palit buhay

Why? Why?


Why Tatay?

huwag papatay

ng baboy

Oy, oy, 

oy, gutom

ng tao

Di na lang 

maggulay

Why? Why?


Why Tatay?

huwag papatay

ng tao

O, o, 

o, init

lang ulo

Gago man 

ay tatay

din di ba?

din di ba?

Ha, ha, 

ha Tatay?

huwag papatay

Please. 

Day 51: My Wife, the Painter

My wife, the painter, 

says as she whips the

canvas with her brush — 

In Bhutan they fear the 

empty; evil creeps in &

fills it up the way 

darkness conquers

the sky as the sun

sets in the unsuspecting 

world. 

Entropy it is — I said, 

matter combusts

and scatters, the spaces,

like silence, mark the blasted.

And so, she continues --

to take up the palette

and draw on the wall

a castle on the mountain

the dance of the takins

a weave of colors,

is the act of the

free and righteous.

I bit my lips as I thought,

without speaking,

it is not like

the poet who

shelters the good

in silence.

Day 50: Judas phone

Your android won’t betray you

like the call that never came,

pm that denied your request, or

email that promised millions

from Nigeria. It is what it is.

Like the boyfriend you thought

was your boyfriend, turns out to be

a playmate who sends you a text that

you should separate just like that,

and the dream is over; 

so you turn to Instagram, 

a picture of you sprawling naked,

no scars from that episode. No lies. 

How can you accuse your 

android of such a thing? 

The palm-size gadget with no heart, 

but a traitor it is not.

Day 49: Ang Mananayaw ng Harlem

(Salin ng The Harlem Dancer ni Claude Mackay)

Tumawa ang nagpalakpakang kabataan kasama ang mga batang puta

At pinanood ang kanyang perpektong

katawan, may kalahating saplot sa pag-indak

Kanyang tinig ay parang tunog ng timpladong mga plauta

Hinihipan ng mga itim na manunugtog sa araw ng piknik

Umawit siya at sumayaw ng kaaya-aya at kalma

Sukbit ang kanyang magaang na gasa ng kanyang hugis

Sa aking tingin wari siya ay mayabang na umiindak na puno ng pawid

Na lalong gumanda sa paglisan ng unos

At sa kanyang malakayumanggi, 

abot-leeg, itim, at makintab na kulot

Ang marangya ay nahulog, naghagis ng barya bilang papuri

Ang mga namula na sa alak at laki-matang mga binata at kahit mga dalaga

Nilamon ang kanyang hugis sa sabik, madamdaming pagtitig;

Ngunit sa pagtingin sa kanyang mukhang may huwad na ngiti

Batid kong ang kanyang sarili ay wala sa kakaibang lugar na iyon. 

Day 48: Starts with the letter "G"

I am concerned about

the mangoes, I said

as my daughter 

lunged a spoon 

on its yellow flesh for lunch, 

why do we have them 

all year? We used to

have them from March to May

and they start to vanish

in June. How come 

they are sweeter than

before, not that I complain,

but are we allowed to 

do this - mess with the

fruit because we want

them more often or sweeter

than they can ever be?

Should somebody think

of turning them into blue,

do we still eat them,

call them mangoes?

She said, “Oh Tatay, 

It’s called technological

innovation. The great modern

work of genetic engineering.”

I smiled at her answer as she

left the table, and proud how

smart she’s been to reply to

my question. But I knew 

Chuang Tzu has a word for it, 

she would not like to hear.

DAY 47: How do you solve a problem like Regina

who walks the talk, and

talks and walks some more

a privileged life she left

to do her yoga

and teach poor children

in the slums of Kenya

where the toilet was awful

and water was scarce;

But she saved some

to clean her undies

You can’t fake 

that kind of life.

No you can’t.

No you can’t.

And then she came

to task big media

— protect the

planet where we live,

a losing cause for government

traded money for the mountain

and more money to let miners 

take what they can, do as they please.

But Regina she told miners

you’re going to die soon,

what are you going to do with your money?
Yeah, what are you going to do with 
your money when you’re dead,

so 

very 

dead?

You can’t fake 

that kind of life.

No you can’t.

No you can’t.

Then Duterte put her on the spot

in the office where they steward

this part of the planet, and she

asked them to clap as she came

to shoo away the bad vibrations.

They tried to bribe her like the

ones before her — How do you bribe

the one who volunteered for life 

in Africa instead of Forbes? How do you

bribe a yogi? Ha ha, Duterte gave you a puzzle you can’t solve. 
She’ll close the mines. She’ll cancel the contracts to protect our water, 

oh so very precious water getting scarce, 

leave some for your undies like Regina.

You can’t fake 

that kind of life.

No you can’t.

No you can’t.

How do you solve a problem like Regina?

”How do you hold a moonbeam in your hand?”

 

Day 46: My Headache

with no name,

comes with

chilling sweat on the forehead,

thudding on the left temple

comes and goes, with

the rhythm of heartbeat,

sends a ripple

near the skin a few 

inches from the spine;

An amazement how

one part is connected,

like a boat

on a river on a holiday

with stations and stops.

The Greeks blamed Algea

for all their headaches

The Romans called them Dolores

But these folks surely missed,

only the living feel pain. 

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.