Archive for the ‘Poetry’ Category

My Kite
October 30, 2009

By Pol Arellano

An inner child’s view of love and possession.

I was getting worried
I thought my kite wouldn’t make it
But then I saw its tail flutter
Like a butterfly in heat
Amongst the ink-blotted sky
And I smiled

This isn’t the season for kite-flying,
Or so they said
But I couldn’t disagree more
Kites will dance
Even if the wind
Refuses to cooperate
Yes, my indigo-bellied kite
Shall fly
High up in the sky
And the rhymes will get better after
Each flutter
Or
They will just stop
As I smile

My kite beats hers
And any other kid’s for that matter
Because my kite can
Grin
And enunciate
The words spoken by your grandmother
When she was still in her flour-sack undies

My kite is unlike any other
It smells like bread rolls and
Buttered onions
Laid out on a Midsummer’s day picnic
My kite smells like a virgin
For my kite is a virgin
Flirting with nothing
Not even the sky
Or the Eagles
Or your brain

My kite sounds like
A concerto
Of one-legged violinists
All ninety-nine of them playing
For the last time
Crying for glory
And roses
And canned applause
And maybe even a goodie bag

My kite beats all iPods
And all Tower Records
My kite is a symphony
Created by strangers and sweethearts
Under the white and blue protection
Of the trusty transit

My kite beats hers.
My kite is unlike any other.

I need not worry.
You’re already mine.
Smile.

The Meek Man Who Could
September 29, 2009

By Pol Arellano

DSR

He’s meek, this man; the man who could

And all who walk like he be should

He captures light and traps each beam

And puts the Lord on prime esteem

Good odes he keeps in heart and mind

And teachings of the One most kind

Service, he draws on talent; flair

For those who need the utmost care

How meek! This man, this man who could

And be like he I pray I would

With works of good he mutely plods

He trusts the truth – that praise is God’s

Dedicated to a man who believes that service is sacred and for all the people who share the same faith.

Carpe Diem.
August 17, 2008

By Pol Arellano

Come smile with me on this putrid day

Smile at the blinding sun.

Look, isn’t that your mother

Holding twelve paper bags in her hands?

Why don’t you go and help her?

Come smile with me some other time

Maybe come back after an hour

Or after you see Mr. Procs win at checkers

But let me remind you that the sun won’t shine for you, love.

It won’t shine again for you.

So what are you going to do?

Mahal Kong Tampalasan.
August 16, 2008

Ni Pol Arellano

Binuksan ko ang puso ko sayo’t

Tinikman

Ang pawis mong maalat-alat

Hinawakan ko’t hinagkan

Ang agaw putik-abo mong kakisigan

Kinilatis ko ang pagtitig mo

At ang bawat kurba ng iyong pagkatao

Tumawid ako’t lumapit

Lumapit hanggang sa sumikip

Hanggang sa hininga man ng nagaagaw-buhay na sanggol

Ay maluwang pa kay sa pagitan

Ng pawisan mong wangis at ng nakadukwang kong dibdib

Gabi-gabi’y inaawitan ko

Ang larawan mong

Umiikot sa aking hapag

Tinitingala kita

Habang lantad sa iyong harapan ang

Mababango kong mga kandado

Kandadong kalag para sa iyo

Ngunit sa paghaba ng leeg ko

Upang ika’y mapagmasdan

Hinatak mo ako at ako’y

Napatitig

Sa iyong mga nakaunat na palad

Nakaunat

Nakatikom

Nakaramdam ako ng pagsikip

Pagsikip ng hininga

Nagkaroon ng marubdong pagtutunggali –

Nagpapaunahan ang dugo, luha ko’t pagiisip

Sa paghimlay sa nakadukwang kong

Dibdib

At nagpapadausdos

Sa lupang kinasasadlakan

Ng hubad kong likuran

Ang puso kong binuksa’y

Niyapakan mo, mahal ko

Ngunit

Ang luha kong tuyo

Ang malansa kong dugo

At ang isip kong hapo

Ay patuloy na titingala

Titingala

Baka sakaling maramdaman mong

Ang pagangat ng leeg ko’t

Ang pagdukwang ng dibdib ko’y

Para sa iyo, mahal

Wala ng titikim

Sa iyong maalat-alat na pawis

Alalahanin mo mahal ko

Alahanin mong kapag wala nang tulad kong sa pawis mo ay titikim

Hindi na magkakaroon kailanpaman ng tagapunas

Tagapunas ng pawis mong maalat-alat

Maalat-alat at maitim.

Isang tulang iniaalay para sa mga bayaning pinaslang, sa anomang paraan, ng kanilang ipinaglalaban.

Isang tula para kay Tara Santelices.
August 8, 2008

Isang tula para kay Tara Santelices.

Ni Pol Arellano
Sa masikip na dyipni
Umupo ka’t nanahimik
Doo’y pinatakbo ang isip
Sa mga tulay at daanang
Hindi kasing-dilim at karimarimarim ng
Kantong ito.

Sa masikip na dyipni
Itinitig mo ang mata mo sa akin
At sa isang perpektong segundo
Nakaramdam ako ng ligaya
Nakita kong tumatakbo ang isip mo
At hinayaan kita, dahil kay sarap mong titigan
Kahit madilim at nakakarimarim
ang kantong pinaglalakbayan nating dalawa.

Sa masikip na dyipni
Naramdaman ko ang bigat ng hangin
Matalim na hanging sumasampal sa pisngi ko
Nakita kong lumingon ka
At hinampas ang mabigat na hanging sumasampal sa akin
Hinampas mo ito
Hanggang sa humandusay ka sa sakit.

Nakita ko ang mukha mo
Ang mukha mong maamo
Ang ngiti mong mabango
Ang isip mong tumatakbo
Nakita kita, sa gitna ng masikip na dyipning ito
.
Lumamlam ang mata ko
Sa pakikipaglaban mo
Hayaan mong buhatin kita,
Iangat ka sa pagkahandusay
Kahit magalaw ang dyipning ito
Magalaw, masikip, umuusad sa kantong madilim.

Sapagkat nakita ko ang mukha mo
Ang mukha mong maamo
Ang ngiti mong mabango
Ang isip mong tumatakbo
Oo, nakita kita, sa gitna ng masikip na dyipning ito

Hayaan mong buhatin kita
Hayaan mong hangaan kita
Hangaan ang ngiti mo, ang ngiti mong kay ganda.

On the eve of her 23rd birthday, Tara Santelices was shot in the head during a hold-up while riding a jeepney along Imelda Avenue, Cainta, Rizal. Joee Mejias, who was with her at that time, rushed her to Amang Rodriguez Memorial Hospital in Marikina City. The parents of Tara and Joee arrived at the hospital shortly thereafter. When morning came, Tara’s parents finally decided to transfer her to the Medical City, Ortigas Avenue, Pasig City. Since 8:00am of August 6, Tara has been in the ICU fighting for her dear life. Her parents have decided not to push through with the operation.

Although it might seem that there is nothing else that we can do but wait for Tara to wake up from this horrific nightmare, we, the friends of Tara, have decided to raise funds for Tara’s hospital bills. This is the least we can do to ease the unbearable pain her family is going through. We have been given the go-signal from Tara’s dad, Tito Larry, and here are the details:

The temporary bank account is under Anne Marie F. Santelices, Banco de Oro, SA 2140-062201. For direct cash donations, please proceed to the ICU Waiting Room of the Medical City (Ortigas Avenue, Pasig City). Please look for Joee Mejias or Lila Santelices.

Any amount will be gratefully accepted. Anonymous donations are also welcome. Please spread the word. Forward this to your family, friends and even to everyone else you know. Please post this on Friendster, Multiply, Facebook and wherever else you can think of. Please send group messages on Yahoo Messenger. This will mean so much to us, her friends.

Please continue praying for Tara, for Joee and for both of their families. If you want to come see Tara, visiting hours at the ICU are at 9:00 am to 11:00 am and 5:00 pm to 7:00 pm.

Thank you so much for your time and kind consideration.

For inquiries, please contact Joee Mejias (09228154987) for calls and Jac Ledonio (09167243071) or Myka Francisco (09163695148) for text messages.

Maraming salamat kay Erick Calilan para sa impormasyon at sa paguudyok.

http://earthmedicine.multiply.com/

Mahalaga ang pirma mo.

http://www.gopetition.com/petitions/justice-for-tara-santelices.html

Oaths are Tasty.
August 1, 2008

This poem was inspired by the vile thoughts running around my head on the 30th of July, 2008. Oaths are tasty. They just didn’t cook it right.

Oaths are Tasty

By Pol Arellano

I’ve always thought

That oaths were something that you cannot

Trap under

Beautiful effigies and numbered claps and that

They were tasty beyond belief.

More intimate than red hot kisses

Underneath damp mattresses that

Rumple and cringe

To the very thought of intimacy

“Not again,” they’d think with their mattress minds.

But, sir yes sir, they are damn tasty.

Oaths are tasty

Tasty beyond belief

Tasty beyond damn belief, sir

Oh, you beg to disagree?

You must have been cooking them the wrong way, then.

Kings are sweet all the time
July 31, 2008

By Pol Arellano

If you could defeat me

You could count on my sweet, splendor-filled promise

That the sun between the moving valleys

Belonging to the lazy giant you’ve stoned

To infinite irritation

Shall be yours to keep

You can count on that, dear friend.

If you could pin me to the ground

And rip my rusted crown

Out of my bulging head

You can be sure to enjoy

The graveyard my people have been nursing

For years plus a thousand

Yours will be the green vastness

That turns into a lovely shade of black and gold

When treaded by the right footsteps

You will have dominion over their

Dead myths and hopes

Their fantasies and dreams

Their weaknesses and lusts

Buried

Six to seven feet below the

Sweet, sweet lips of the ground

Yes you can.

If you could slit my throat

And free my screaming crimson

Out of its obedient frame

You may keep the Dancing Swans of Eden

Who will dance unceasingly

Till your eyes vomit salt-trimmed manifestations

Of grief, greed and gusto

You shall listen

And move your bloodied fingers to the rhythm

And swords and bayonets

May not disturb your solace

You may.

If you could puncture my fist-shaped beater

With your indispensable spear

You shall bed my lovely daughters

The princesses of my land and life

All seventy-nine of their milk-like complexions

And strawberry dispositions

They will line up

All in their best gowns and perfumes

To give you their chastity belts

And persuade you to spend

Some saccharine sweat

On their majestic mattresses

But you better watch your back, my lad

Daggers are easily hidden

In maddening whispers and soft light

But all of these

You may have

Yes you may.

If you could cut my thinker off

In one swift motion

With your ambitious sword

Hold me by my golden tresses

And raise me up high and proud

Let my blood flow to the clay-colored earth

But be sure to silence my mouth

For I may just praise you without apparent end

And proclaim your courageous victory

To the uplands and lowlands

So that they could bow

And asphyxiate you with their stares

And you might just feel

Like you would want to sew me back in place

Sew me like a milk-maid would her daughter’s

Beaten-up rag doll

But the deed is done

The deed is done

And you can count on it

Yes you can

And you may

Yes you may

For you shall

Oh you shall

If you behead me

Then the crown is yours to keep

Until another behead-er

Beheads you

Of your glorious state

Or you could always defend your crown

If it fits

If it fits you like your favorite Levi’s.

Perla N. Silangan
July 28, 2008

Ni Pol Arellano

Ako

Ako ang mahiwagang bukal na nagbubuga

Ng kayamanang higit pa sa walang-hanggang kabataan.

Pinalakpan ako’t pinapurihan nang

Tagurian akong bukod-tanging apoy sa gitna ng

nagmumurang galit ng

Mapanghusgang yelo ng aking ligid-ligiran.

Ako

Ako nga, akong dilag na may ‘di matatawarang kagandahan,

At may alindog na humahabol sa pinakatagong panaginip ng sinoman,

Ay nababalot sa walang dungis na kaputian.

Maputi pa sa yelo? Maputi pa sa abo.

Ako

Ako ang nagliliyab na lambak

Kung saan pinaslang ang mga tunay na hari at reyna ng lipunan;

Ang saksing tumatangis sa nakahahabag na paglaya,

Hindi ng tao at kultura,

Kundi’ng paglaya ng sumisirit na buhay

Mula sa mga mapuputla nang mga

Bintana ng mga

Aping anak-lupa.

Ako

Ako ang pinagkamalia’t pinagnasaan

Ng mga hayop at animal-asal;

Tinanggalang-puri at binaboy ang

Nakakaakit kong laman;

Nilatigo, itinali’t pinagpasapasahan

Ng malulupit na hayop na nanggigil sa kayumihang puro at dalisay.

Ngunit

Matapos ang panlalaban ng mga mapagmahal na anak-lupa –

Matapos ang pagkapugot ng mga banal na ulo –

At ang walang-kupas na pagsigaw ng mga sanggol –

At ang di-mabilang na mga babaeng gumamit ng kanilang mga luha bilang lampara sa

Bawat nakakatakot na hatinggabi –

Nakalagan ako’t nakalaya mula sa aking masamang panaginip!

Kalayaan! Kalayaan!

O sing-tamis ka ng gintong pulot sa aking labi’t lalamunan!

Ako

Na nakalaya na sa magagaspang na galamay ng mga

Mapang-api’t hukluban

Ay nangangapa pa rin sa maputla at nakasusukang dilim.

Ang mga anak-lupa

Na nag-alay ng ginto, pilak at ng kanilang dugo

Sa aking mahalimuyak na dambana

Nasaan na sila?

Nasaan?

Nasaan na ang matamis na kalayaan?

Ang kalayaang sing-tamis ng pulot?

Tunay nga bang ang tamis ay hindi sa pulot lamang nalalasahan?

At tunay rin bang sing-tamis din ng pulot ang malamig at mapang-akit na serbesa?

Ako’y nalasing sa ‘di katotohanan;

Nalango ang aking diwa sa pamamagitan ng mapulang serbesa

At pininturahan nito ang aking mundo ng kulay ng kahangalan

Hindi ako lumaya

Ako ay pinatakas lang ng panandalian.

Nilinlang ako.

Nilasing.

Inalisan ng kadakilaan.

Hinubdan ng kadalisayan.

Upang maging ganap nang puta

Na walang humpay nang pagpapasasaan ng dayuhang

di mapatid-patid ang karnal na uhaw.

Ako.

Ang dakilang dalaga

Ang lasing na puta.

Remembering Milk.
July 28, 2008

By Pol Arellano

I opened the door to greet the

Bottle of milk the milkman left

I stared at it for a while, looking at how perfectly opaque

Milk is.

Perfectly white and bubbly

Milk.

I took it inside and turned the TV on.

I watched Seinfeld, a re-run

And stared at the perfectly white and bubbly

Milk

I stood up and made toast.

I fried a couple of eggs and five slices of bacon

I made coffee,

Sweet coffee, without cream, just the way I like it.

I ate in silence as I stared at the perfectly white and bubbly

Milk.

I left the soiled dishes on the sink

And went outside to play with

Rover, a chocolate Labrador

My blind neighbor owns.

While he’s not looking (he’s never looking)

I would play with Rover.

My blind neighbor likes me and I like Rover.

I bid Rover goodbye and promised

To see him tomorrow.

Rover barked.

I waved at his owner too.

But he didn’t wave back.

I know that my neighbor likes me.

And I like Rover.

As I headed home I thought of my dad.

He’s quite a character.

He slaps my mother whenever he comes home and doesn’t find

His favorite slippers at the front door.

He kisses my mother, passionately while were having dinner

Of baked beans and steak.

He slaps her whenever his wine is never cold enough.

He makes love to her noisily during the

Wee hours of the night

Waking me up with their moans and sighs.

My dad

He gave me nothing worth remembering

I opened my door and went to the kitchen.

I stared at the perfectly white and bubbly

Milk.

I touched it and found out that it wasn’t cold

Neither was it too hot.

It was warm,

The perfectly white and bubbly

Milk.

I smiled.

I thought of Rover.

I threw the bottle of perfectly white milk on the floor

On the same, exact spot I

Threw the previous bottles of perfectly white

Milk

And watched the broken glass glisten once again.

The perfectly white

Milk

Painted my red floor with its opaque beauty

Like the others before it.

The perfectly white

Milk

Never fails

He gave me nothing worth remembering.

Not even a chocolate Labrador named Rover.

Nothing but perfectly white

Milk.

When would it fail?

Ang Buwan at ang Magnanakaw.
July 28, 2008

Isang pagpasok sa isip ng ng isang babaero. Sino ang mas karimarimarim?

Ni Pol Arellano

Di-kadakilaang taga kupit-sinag

Ay dambanang abo sa dibdib ng dilag.

Ang huni mo’t titig na sa’kin ay laan

Ay siya ring humalik sa pusod ng kawan.

Aping luha nila’y iyong tinitikman

Upang ipagyabang sa lahat ng kung ‘san.

Inaabangan mo ang bawat pagtangis;

Ang bawat pagdilim ng bintana’t wangis.

Balutin mo nawa ang hubad na diwa

Na nagkukumintang sa itim kong lungga.

Nawa’y ang takbo ko ay iyong samahan;

Ang buntong-hininga’y iyo sanang hagkan.

Yabag ng paa ko’y ni hindi aawit

Tulad ng pagsilang sa anak ng langit.

Aking isisilid ang tagong damdamin

Habang kaaway mo ang hukbo ng dilim.

O aawitan ko ang mabining dilag

Habang humahanga sa t’yaga mo’t sipag.

Ang iyong pagtanglaw sa lambing ko’t tikas

Ang magpapaanod sa puso at katas.

O kukupitin ko ang pusong mailap

Hanggang sa makamit, bukal na kay sarap!

Walang kapaguran na kakantahan s’ya

Hanggang sa dumating ang iba pang Eba.

Ako’y nagnanakaw ng tiwala’t ganda

Ng birheng mabango at mura ang tanda.

Ngunit ‘di lang ako ang s’yang nangungupit

Kundi pati ikaw, sa glorya ng init.

Akong magnanakaw ng kadalisayan

Ay katulad mo rin na hayok sa laman.