Amplified Minimalisms

Forgive me

2011-12-03T00:17:00.000-08:00

Forgive me if the words I've written are those you don't want to hear, forgive me I did not say them, I could not say them anymore. We were talking about our innocent beginnings and the unexpected turn of events that finally brought us together to where we are right now. Life is indeed a mystery and no matter how things seem to remain as they ought to be, the mind is always restless, seeking deeper meanings and significance not only from experiences but also from the positionalities of the actors themselves. For some reason not brought upon (un)intentionally by anyone, the person will find himself misplaced or at least, realizes that he should move on somewhere else. Perhaps that's the reason why I cannot say them anymore, the things you want to hear - the things you will want to hear. I am at the crossroads at this moment and I seem to be heading to the other direction - where you and I have a different meaning and of different significance to one another. Forgive me for my words remain at best, vague, but surely you know what I'm talking about - you are still speaking the language while I gradually lose the ability to do so. But you must know, I have always done my best to (re)learn it, even if most of the time the words I utter in our own language are becoming foreign to me. I always believed, that just like our spoken language, one has to speak ours regularly, to learn more of it and hence get used to using it. But the language of the heart is of a different composition. But it does not simply build up for regularity and coherent integration, not simply on the cognitive level, rather, it arises from the depths of the soul. And if the soul feels that it should learn from other realms, dimensions or other worlds, then it should move to wherever man believes would bring him to his further becoming. I am at that stage right now. I want to explore the other worlds I have yet to know, and regretfully, I cannot take you with me - at least in the language where we used to speak.

Please Master

2010-08-20T18:55:00.000-07:00

by Allen Ginsberg

Please master can I touch your cheek
please master can I kneel at  your feet
please master can I loosen your blue pants
please master can I gaze at your golden haired belly
please master can I have your thighs bare to my eyes
please master can I take off my clothes below your chair
please master can I can I kiss your ankles and soul
please master can I touch lips to your hard muscle hairless thigh
please master can I lay my ear pressed to your stomach
please master can I wrap my arms around your white ass
please master can I lick your groin gurled with blond soft fur
please master can I touch my tongue to your rosy asshole
please master may I pass my face to your balls,
please master order me down on the floor,
please master tell me to lick your thick shaft
please master put your rough hands on my bald hairy skull
please master press my mouth to your prick-heart
please master press my face into your belly, pull me slowly strong thumbed
till your dumb hardness fills my throat to the base
till I swallow and taste your delicate flesh-hot prick barrel veined Please
Master push my shoulders away and stare in my eyes, & make me bend over
      the table
please master grab my thighs and lift my ass to your waist
please master your hand's rough stroke on my neck your palm down to my
      backside
please master push me, my feet on chairs, till my hole feels the breath of
      your spit and your thumb stroke
please master make my say Please Master Fuck me now Please
Master grease my balls and hairmouth with sweet vaselines
please master stroke your shaft with white creams
please master touch your cock head to my wrinkled self-hole
please master push it in gently, your elbows enwrapped round my breast
your arms passing down to my belly, my penis you touch w/ your fingers
please master shove it in me a little, a little, a little,
please master sink your droor thing down my behind
& please master make me wiggle my rear to eat up the prick trunk
till my asshalfs cuddle your thighs, my back bent over,
till I'm alone sticking out, your sword stuck throbbing in me
please master pull out and slowly roll onto the bottom
please master lunge it again, and withdraw the tip
please please master fuck me again with your self, please fuck me Please
Master drive down till it hurts me the softness the
Softness please master make love to my ass, give body to center, & fuck me
      for good like a girl,
tenderly clasp me please master I take me to thee,
& drive in my belly your selfsame sweet heat-rood
you fingered in solitude Denver or Brooklyn or fucked in a maiden in Paris
      carlots
please master drive me thy vehicle, body of love drops, sweat fuck
body of tenderness, Give me your dogh fuck faster
please master make me go moan on the table
Go moan O please master do fuck me like that
in your rhythm thrill-plunge & pull-back-bounce & push down
till I loosen my asshole a dog on the table yelping with terror delight to be
      loved
Please master call me a dog, an ass beast, a wet asshole,
& fuck me more violent, my eyes hid with your palms round my skull
& plunge down in a brutal hard lash thru soft drip-fish
& throb thru five seconds to spurt out your semen heat
over & over, bamming it in while I cry out your name I do love you
please Master.

                                      May 1968

A view from a window

2010-03-15T07:17:00.000-07:00

From afar,
someone attempts to write
the saddest lines of her day,
perhaps from the failure
of leaving an impression
in the mind of her beloved: possibly,
when he and she met at a certain point
and all he could give was the faint hint
of a smile and a quick hello,
not noticing the taut clinging of the dress on her curves,
the subtle exposure of the gentle slope that concealed
him inside her and way down
the milky surface which caught everyone’s eyes
except for his.

From afar,
someone takes off her dress
and everything, possibly,
that reminds her of failure
for the day and maybe,
the days to come. She lets the cool air
of the fan to play with her hair let down
to tickle her back, her only source
of pleasure as her fingers press
the soft keys to write, perhaps,
her saddest lines for the day.

The tragedy of commons

2010-02-27T23:35:00.000-08:00

Infinity is just mere finite the mind cannot conquer.

They wanted to surpass death, so they took the pen
and called themselves writers and wrote

everything their mind wanted conveyed, also,
what their fingers could endure (the hands respond slowly to impulse).

Little did they know, they died a thousand deaths,
noble and abominable, nevertheless, slow and cruel.

When she talks on the phone

2010-02-21T07:40:00.000-08:00

It is eight in the morning.
She dials a number on the good ol’ telephone
to talk to somebody, presumably
a bestfriend from highschool or
somebody close enough to understand
or tolerate.

A monologue comes from her mouth:
iiiiihow she anticipates the reprimand
iiiiiof her obsessively compulsive cousin
iiiiito my cousin when the latter allegedly
iiiiialtered the computer’s settings so that
iiiiithe former could not access the internet,

something they believe could have been done
by a girl who only knew of
virtual restaurants and pet care,
the closest thing to tinkering is the
turning on and shutting down of the computer.

It does not matter,
iiiii(she could really have done it anyway, after all, she used to pinch my sister when they were kids)
except

A vicious sneer accompanies the words spoken,
a conviction to the claim not because of its truth,
but by wanting it to be true,
thereby implicating she who may be innocent,
or in bleak terms, not yet a suspect.

But because she knows best (as I was told),
I believed in everything good
and its practice

despite the evil She hangs up the phone and plants a wet kiss on my cheek to bid goodbye.

Sometimes, I wish she is not my mother.

You,

2010-02-21T07:33:00.000-08:00

a discovery
discovered again and again,

you, the flesh
of your words that found their way
into parchment

that I read,
savor,
as how one would masticate
the meat of the sinigang
his mother has cooked for him
after a long journey
without a full meal

Only, it does not end
at the act of swallowing;
it leaves a remnant
not on the tongue

but in the mind that has already begun searching
for the next wave of the same flavor,
only to be continually replaced upon its arrival
with the fresh sensation currently
lingering on the tongue -

the superposition of zests tasted

-

Those intangibly palpable entities
you have given birth to
that turn my mind into a cinema
which flashes not only
the images they paint,
also,

You

So that in the founding of a treasure behind your words,
I always find you.

Paghahanda ng hapunan

2010-01-17T17:57:00.000-08:00

Ako ang pinagmumulan

ng langis na magbibigay-apoy upang lutuin

ang sinaing, at initin ang ulam

na hindi na inaasam ng mga sikmurang kumakalam.

Kaya ililiko mo ang pihitan pakanan.

Ingat lamang sa pag-ikot, at baka ang katawan ko (at ninyo) ay sumabog.

Simon's selective memory

2010-01-04T08:52:00.000-08:00

I do not know him

i. i did not hear his name
iiiclamored by the multitude –
iiiit should be another man
iiithey welcomed merrily
iiion the street with the greenest palms
iiiwaved left to right
iiiby their eager arms

ii. that was the face
iiiiii did not remember
iiiiiof the man to my left
iiiiiwho took bread
iiiiiand a cup of his blood -
iiiiiit must be another man
iiiiiwhose life would be given
iiiiiup for us disciples
iiiiiand mankind

iii. those were not the hands
iiiiithat stretched out
iiiiito catch me on the sea
iiiiiwhen i almost drowned
iiiiibecause of my fear
iiiiiwhen the boisterous winds blew –
iiiiinor was he the one
iiiiiwho came to the docks
iiiiito call forth on his journey
iiiiimaking me his right hand
iiiiiand christening me finally to
iiiiiPeter the Rock

because I have to.

(The cock crows.)

Before she was shattered by my bullets

2009-11-28T00:44:00.000-08:00

I could not let such a beauty go to waste.

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Pagtatagpo

2009-09-30T01:12:00.001-07:00

Balot ako ng kayumangging roba na tinatakluban
ang buo kong katawan mula sa bumbunan ng aking ulo
hanggang sa mga kuko ng aking dalawang paa.

Nag-uusal ako ng dasal
sa pasilyo ng monasteryo patungo sa aking kuwarto

nang ako ay mapahinto
at muli kang makatagpo
pagkatapos ng matagal na panahon.

Sa ating pagtungo, hindi ang iyong mukha, kung hindi
ang mga daliring nakausli sa iyong manggas ang nagpaalalang

ikaw ang minsan kong nakilala
na hinangad kong maging kaibigan
sa kabila ng aking kagustuhang mapag-isa.

Lingid sa aking kaalaman, iyon din pala ang nais mo –
ang maging monghe, katulad ko.

- mula sa tulang “Salaysay” ni Allan Popa

About a person who tries to walk

2009-09-29T07:32:00.000-07:00

All it takes are just few steps.
My sandals squeak
Against the tiled floor,
Yes, I am only inches away
From my goal!

Until my feeble knees,
Like they usually do,
Yielded to the ground.
Ouch, but I am few inches
Away from my goal!

I sob uncontrollably.
Then you pick me up
And utter your usual words,
“You are too young
To defy gravity.”

But that was what you told me
Yesterday, and the other day;
Last week, the previous month,
The past year and all the ones that
Preceded it (if I remember correctly).

I changed my sandals several times already –
From size 3 to 10, and now size 8,
Yet everything is still the same -
I am still few inches away from my goal
And I still hear those exact words.

You know that I never wished
To fly, nor did I dream to float
On the puffy clouds or reach
The twinkling stars in the sky.
I only pray for one thing:

That is to conquer those few inches
And get to my goal,
Like you always do
When you stand on your two feet
And pick me up when I fall.

This you never knew
And probably will never know,
For only blank eyes stare at mine
Whenever I try to speak,
Help me reach my goal.

Sabi ng isang bata sa kanyang kalaro

2009-09-28T01:16:00.000-07:00

(noong ika-26 ng Setyembre 2009 sa Marikina Riverbanks)

Halika kaibigan, lumangoy tayo sa
Katubigang pumapalibot sa atin,
Damhin ang lamig ng bawat patak ng
Tubig sa ating balat,
Habang hindi nagpapadala sa
Malakas na ihip ng hangin.

We never talked

2009-09-05T09:30:00.000-07:00

But we knew we always had the connection -
From the day our eyes met and
We started to see each other at
Random places. In school, we walked from
Opposite directions, but we somehow managed to
Intersect, exactly at the same point, despite
The number of people around us, which
Supposedly must hinder our chance
Meetings. At a fastfood, where we ate
With our own friends, we went out at
The same time, regardless of
Who came first and how long the stay.
On our way home, we were standing
At the same train station. I knew you came first,
For you were there when I already came.
I was seated far from where you were
Standing and still, I could see you. And I know
You could also see me, because for that slip second,
Our eyes met again.
The doors opened and I knew I had to go,
But somehow I looked back, to your direction,
Just to know if you cared that I would leave.
And yes you did, those pair of eyes
Glanced my way for the last time

For I had to turn around and go. But I knew
I had nothing to worry about. Next day
Would come, and on that same spot in school
We would see each other, also in that fastfood
And train station. Our eyes would continue to
Connect us in these unseemingly circumstances
for a few seconds. Yet, this was everything that we should have,
brief moments and our eyes

For we never needed words.

*no revisions*

Payo ng mansanas sa kakain nito

2009-09-05T03:07:00.000-07:00

Mula sa puno ako ay iyong pitasin. Pagkatapos,

Idiin mo nang marahan ang iyong ngipin sa akin

At ukaban ang malutong kong laman – na binabalutan ng

Balat na pula.

Kasabay nito, tatagak ang aking

Katas na dapat namnamin ng iyong

Dilang hahanap-hanapin ang manamis-namis kong

Sarap. Sipsipin at kagatin mo pa ako nang

Paulit-ulit upang lalo mo pang malasap ang

Takam, na magtatapos sa aking pagkatuyo at kawalan

Nang ngatngatin mo ako hanggang sa aking

Kaibuturan.

2009-08-27T12:03:00.000-07:00

Bakit ba ako nagsusulat?

Draft

2009-08-17T14:04:00.000-07:00

* The concept had kept popping in and out of my brain for a long time already and it was just until recently that I got my hands and mind working on this one. The delay? This was not me. Not really what I used to write about. So I was posting this to have a sense of accomplishment, since I was trying to write the first draft for four days and what I got was only one paragraph. Hmmmm.

He hastily got out of the entangled covers. He frantically searched for his garments – his slacks, polo and loafers, and immediately put them on, without pausing for a breath or two. Then to his bag on the chair beside the bed. He slung the strap on his shoulders and motioned to the door. I was about to get up – never mind if the blanket fell, he had already seen and explored every part of my body anyway, but just when I was about to, he stopped on his tracks, unsnapped the button of his bag and groped for something inside. He took out an envelope or something – I could not really see it clearly – and out of that were bills stacked together, bundled into one pile, as thick as a Valentine romance pocketbook. I thought he would shower me with money, or maybe I thought I was in a movie again, but he just went to the chair beside the bed and simply put the stack on it. That simple. After doing so, he moved fast again, making his way to the door without looking back or a word or two. And I was alone again. I was thinking of putting on some fresh, newly-washed clothes, but I was too tired to get them, let alone stand on my feet. So I lied down again and worked my mind again, feeling that if I concentrated on one thing the feeling of weariness from having my body spent would go away.

* There's a second paragraph following this one, but I am not yet ready to post it. :D

Pangako

2009-08-02T13:37:00.000-07:00

Naaalala ko nang minsang
Sabihin mo sa aking walang iwanan,
Kaibigan.
"Mananatili ako sa iyong tabi
Sa lahat ng sandali,
Pangako iyan kaibigan."
Ngunit katulad ng pagkaputol
Ng sanga sa puno
Datapwat matibay ang pagkakapit
Nito ay siya ring pagkabali ng iyong
Pangako ~
Pangakong hanggang ngayon ay
Pinanghahawakan ko.

Mahirap Magmakata

2009-08-02T04:10:00.000-07:00

(Mata ay nagmamasid
Sa buong paligid
Nagbabakasakaling
Mayroong masambit.)

~

As Voices Come and Go

2009-07-22T10:39:00.000-07:00

Muffled are the voices
roaming around the room
Murmurs begin to
grow louder
Slow beats
become faster
As these sounds meet
and bump
one another

But they are nothing

Nothing compared
to the only voice
that calmed
my tumultuous nerves
The only voice
that soothed
my restless sleep
The only voice
that called forth my long gone laughter
The only voice I would follow wherever it might go

The only voice that matters to me the most

As it passed by
and made its way
it did not hear however
my own voice
bespeaking
it to be with me

Forever.

Bakit kasi nagsusulat pa gayong punung-puno na ng marka

2009-07-19T16:13:00.000-07:00

Mahaba-habang panahon na rin ang nagdaan
Nang una kong ilapat ang aking panitik
Sa markadong sulatan

Sinubukang mapansin
Mula sa libu-libong sulatin
Sulat dito, sulat doon,
Ngunit ako ay bigo pa rin
…

Pagod na ako.
Subalit ibig ko pang magsulat.
…

Sumulat.
…

Sulat.
…

Ngunit hindi na kaya.
Mabigat na ang pluma
Sa mga daliring walang sigla.

Parirala. Salita. Titik.
Marahil may maisusulat pa
Sa papel na punung-puno na
Ng marka.

…

Hapung-hapo na ako.

Marahil wala talaga akong puwang
Diyan sa puso mo.

Ideya

2007-04-16T22:45:00.000-07:00

T'wing nariyan ka sa aking isipan,
O, anong saya, 'pagkat mayro'ng maitatala!

Subalit ilang sandali lamang,
Ika'y tatakas na naman

At hindi na babalikan
Akong masugid na nag-aabang

Sa iyong aking inaalala
Bawat t'wina.

Dahil ako'y umaasa,
Balang araw ika'y maisusulat.

***

Ganoon ka nga ba talaga,
Kusang darating ngunit biglang mawawala?

Sadyang kay hirap
Ng iyong ginagawa -

Isipan ko'y pinarurusahan
Sa bagay na kawalan lamang ang bunga.

Ano ba ang iyong sadya
Sa iyong pagdaan -

Upang ako'y tulungan
O bigyan ng bigong pag-asa

Na ikaw ay mabasa
Sa maraming mga pahina

Hindi mo ba alam
Na sa iyo nakasalalay

Ang aking pag-aakdang
Siya namang aking ikinabubuhay?