IF YOU think that you
know better than the
chimp

then be a man

P.S.

And if you want to be
more complete

listen to the woman.

NOT FOUND

a lost wallet has always
a story to tell

which the owner who
misses it

can never hear.

DIRTY HARRIES

those who think like
everyone else
comes with a definite
conclusion that
we could not have
entered the room of
the motel and then we
chant the mysteries of
the holy rosary

honestly, you may not
believe
and we don't really
care

what we had was a very
lively oral intercourse

not what you have still in
your dirty mind

Fools! we simply had the
best conversation ever.

dysfunctional art

sometimes art
has no hands

the poor couple
who sat here days
ago

went to the other
village because no one

accommodated them
for a night's stay

and the famous artist
did not bother except

of course his way of
depicting them

in his new bronze
structure that now

lies on display in the
public park.

LONELINESS

A white cat with blue eyes
lays its head on the arm of the
sofa

it is a sunny day again and it has
not smelled something fishy.

a daughter marries a distant place

when a daughter marries
a distant place
his father will be sad
knowing that
distance can always stab
him anytime

as years go by the bleeding
continues

the daughter can forget all
these with a child to bear
and years can add some padded
memories that make the distance
more bitter

the father goes to the kitchen
for comfort as he slices with his
sharp knife some onions

tears fall down and in those years
that he is alone
the floors where he stands are
rusting with all the crystals of
salt

the news is heard that the father
one day goes out of the house and
runs naked in his farm of cabbages
there, he uproots what he plants
there, he curses the rice paddies
and pours his misgiving to the
scarecrows

one day the daughter comes back
bringing her three daughters home
what surprises her are the changes
which she cannot believe: the
stair has only one tooth left
the floors of the living room melt
the roof is nested with black crows
the bed has a boa for a sleeper
and in the kitchen there she finds
her father who is still slicing
all the rotten tomatoes constantly
for all the years

the daughter embraces his father
and shows her three daughters but
then the father has turned into
a sculpture of stone.

A LOVE POEM FOR A WOMAN IN HER 40'S

you shall soon love a man
who kneels before you and
sees the tiny stars below
your navel

you shall close your eyes
and forget what chains are

you lie in bed as you offer the
moon for him
and soon when light pierces
the blinds of Venice
when the softness of
tenderness wearies away

you shall wake up to a new
day inside his cozy arms

YOU AND THE NIGHT

night is a private affair
between sleeplessness
and pain

the sockets of the eyes
are repositories of
regrets
the pillows soften
trying to comfort what
pain inflicts

sleep is forgiving
as it comes and then
at least for these hours
you are rested
in such slumber of
forgetting

LOVE BIRDS

They were a lovely pair
as i sit down waiting for my turn
at the ticketing section of
the airline

The lover sits behind
the beloved and puts his
chin on his shoulder
and begins to whisper
as he giggles and turns
to him and their lips meet
at the middle

The lover wears a fitting
cotton white shirt while the
other has a pink polo

From the looks of it
they are all young men
smooth skinned and
muscular

I turn my gaze away
as my number is called

I feel nosy sometimes
The world really has changed
Love's definition

HAPPINESS IS ONLY REAL WHEN SHARED

AT chow king
i've seen so many
new faces eating
the hours alone

no one is surprised
one gets attuned to
a certain individuality
a mode of indifference
where one minds
his own business
like a yuppy

i must be an outdated
fool feeling a little bit
ashamed to sip my
seafood noodles
alone sensing a
humiliating selfishness
underneath the spoon

i have decided though
to have a take-out
i am not happy at this
chair facing an empty
chair as others pass by

i want my noodles shared
with someone
where conversations
become spices where
news become condiments
where friendship makes
the food more delicious
simply because the hours
too are shared like food
for the soul itself.

i have no motive
to change the way you see things

a cabinet is still a cabinet
i dare not open those closet
full of skeletons

i am taking you to a place
where we shall have fun

a beach, some waves of
thoughts, we listen to some
monotones

we look at blue skies
and at night we make a fire

we feel the sands of time
falling to our feet

when we part it will be dark
as windows begin to show

the sparks of lights
to our homes where love waits.

SIMPLICITY

how simple is air
without raiment

not even color
and yet the most

essential

life is even simpler
than air

yet how complicated
have you made it

to be.

KILLING

You may justify the killing of that
bitch

But how can you ever justify
the cries of the puppies?

those who are helpless and
yet keep on waiting

THE SOURCE OF IDEAS

Actually it is not me
which is the source.

It is you.

I merely mirror
what you are saying

and behold, you
flatter yourself by

saying that i am
beautiful.

THE MAN WHO KNOWS EVERYTHING ABOUT THE PORK BARREL SCANDAL

he knows every detail
addresses, parking lots,
names of banks, brands of
shoes, amounts spent
in lavish parties down to the
last cent, all
the luxuries that the
pork barrel went through
senselessly
shockingly
he can name specific names
of those involved about a hundred
of them or so
but he remains

anonymous.

HUNGER GAMES

when i first watch it
i could but cry because of
the violence

despite the pomp of the props
the fire and the sharpness of
the colors

was the director merely hungry
for the blood and the honor?

nope. He shows what we are.
How easily can we forget our
violent history

how Cain and Abel were
how brother kills brother

i had years reflecting and i guess
we deserve more deaths of our own kind

to be human again. To be careful
that soon we all perish

and lose our very own inheritance.
Earth, Peace, Love.

BRIEF

People are so busy
and their attention span
is short

too much info
here and there and

everywhere

and so i have this
tripping now

brief. A poem must
be brief.

women easily
understand that

what is important
is not what is between

the long lines but
what is deep within

that brief
poem.

WHAT I DID TODAY

I went to our old house.
Papa built it for us all five.

The old santol tree is
teeming with fruits.

All Bangkok, sweet,
huge and pulpy.

When i was a young boy
then
I watered it. It was not
a tree yet.

All my other siblings
went their own ways.

I am left going back
to my past. And trying

to convince myself that
now, I am reaping what

i watered. The old house
is falling. Papa and Mama

are all dead. And i am
their childless son.

I am eating too much
santol. Look what envy

and that feeling of being
wasted can do to trees.

I just did it to myself.
But don't worry.

I have this feeling.
everyday. And i love it

somehow. Angst and
Anger sounding like

brothers bonding
like long lost friends.

WACKY

i am 52, reserved,
refined, and
serious.

i am more of a teddy
bear
in your cabinet

but when you said
"go wacky"

like the rest i jumped
and stretched my arms

forgot the teddy bear
in me

and well, i was wacky
and wants to be wacky

for once. But tomorrow
i want you to do the same

"shout at me, GO wacky!!"

i guess at 52 i can still
jump a hundred times

but how about you,
Mr. 70? Can you go

wacky too? How about
you Ms. Broken Heart

Ms. Forlorn, Mr. Insolvent
Mrs. Unpaid Credit Card

Mr. Failure, Ms. Cauldron
Mr and Mrs. Casserole

Do you like to go wacky too?

at any rate, ...hmm
"what is wacky?"

we're all put
aflame
we shine in
the dark

we are all
consumed
not by fear.