STANZAS OF STILLNESS

WASTELAND

Brown cat-sized rats walk the wires
as kids paddle through overflowing sewers
with bits and grime and stench of garbage.
Can a generous splash of alcohol counter foot disease?

Pink-faced babies suckle sagging breasts
while their mothers talk of Rosalinda
swaying her voluptuous hips half a world away.
Life is unfair, she is sexy and beautiful.

Caged fighting cocks crow in succession, in tune
with the shouts of shots, hoots and curses
of men fueled by round and square bottles of Ginebra.
Do they ever get sober?

The sari-sari store is crowded again
by pot-bellied smart alecks, with their bloated
heads and benches shaking from sun up to sun down blaming
the government for the never-ending traffic and oil price hikes.
Who seated them anyway?

Life is easy
for them.
These lives ruled by entropy—
spontaneous, ever in disorder—
this is the law of nature.

Their days will come and go
without books, without order
yet they will persist
to chatter of latinas or smoke their cocks,
to feast on alcohol and complain on tax,
as their kids' stomachs growl
for too less food and excessive parasites
thriving in this wasteland.

Why desire to be in control
when worms in time will devour all things:
from garbage to men,
from lifeless to breathing;
when this world is fated to disintegrate,
to crumble to its end?

Why even bother to dream?


By Dai C. Miranda (Journals)

Awit ng Paghimbing

Hiling ko lang ay kamay
na hahawakan ko magdamag
hanggang maiguhit ng bituin
ang mga bukas magaganap.

Isinilang akong payak sa layaw ng mundo
ang tanging tangan ko’y bukas na isip at pagkatao.
Hinubog man akong tila bakal sa tatag
ang pusong ito’y nanatiling sa hangin naglalayag.

Tanging hiling ko lang ay kamay
na kakapitan magdamag
pagkat di hawak ng bituin
ang mga nais kong abutin.

Binaybay ko ang mundong lunod sa anino at tanong
tumahi ng pag-asa’t pumasan ng mga hamon.
Minsan ay may saya, bukal ang init at lambing
ngunit ang pusong pagal sa paglalakbay nagpatangay na sa hangin.

Tanging hiling ko lang ay kamay
na kakapitan magdamag
pagkat di hawak ng bituin
ang mga nais kong abutin.

Sana ang kamay mo ang tangan ko sa magdamag
upang dalawin ng payapa sa paghimbing...
upang yakapin ng payapa sa paghimbing...


Akda ni Dai C. Miranda (Journals)



LOST IN A MASK

Everyone wears a mask
I make my own
Cardboard, scissors, pens
String, glue, sequins
All kept in a wooden box
Locked by a twisted paper clip
Motionless beside my night lamp
I want it within my reach
I make a mask every night
I need it for tomorrow
I need to wear my mask
My intricately designed mask
Today it’s a mixture
Of blue and purple hues
I removed the red feathers
They were too loud, I figured
Replaced them with a subtle pink lace
Outlining my mask
My intricately designed mask
Perhaps they will notice it this time
Or perhaps, just like before
They won’t even have a clue
That I’m part of the masquerade too
No one notices my mask
My intricately designed mask
Loud colors overshadowing me
Protecting me…preserving me
Tonight I’ll make a new one
An intricately designed mask
And be lost in a sundry of colors
Protecting me…preserving me

By Ivy San Diego (Journals)



Tsinelas

Sa paglipas ng bukang-liwayway
dalangin lamang ay wastong patnubay
na sana sa bawat pagdadantay
ng mga paang namumungay
ay hindi magkagutay-gutay.

‘Pagkat sa talampakan ay inialay
yaring katawang kong tinulay
ng mga daliring nangagsihanay.

At sa dapithapong sisilay
ay ipapahinga ang ngalay nang
mga sakong na nangapilay
sa maghapong paglalaro at paglalakbay.

Sa muli mong paghikab at paghimlay
ako ay muli ring maghihintay
sa pagbabalik ng iyong malay
sa pagbitak ng bukangliwayway.


by Alma Evita Maniago (Content)