Ang paborito kong tula

(Ang kagandahan sa tula na ito, mas namamayani ang pakikipag-usap niya sa kapwa babae. Totoong in-love siya pero paano kung hindi? Paano kung naisulat niya ito para sa isang lalaki na hindi niya nakatuluyan? Maari ding masabi na baka galit siya sa lalaki na pinatutungkulan nito dahil hindi naabot ng lalaki ang standards niya. Puwede namang hindi lamang ang pag-ibig ang pagtuunan ng pansin dahil ang estetika ng tula ay may mas higit na mensaheng ipinapaabot sa mga kababaihan- o baka isinusulat ko lang din ito dahil wala akong sinisinta ngayon at nag-aasta na naman akong intelektwal sa pag-ibig, hahaha. Maganda ang tula na ito dahil sa malalim na kaugnayan nito sa buhay na tinahak ni Gioconda Belli, isang manunulang taga-Nicaragua at manunulat na nakikibaka sa kanilang panahon. Kaya heto na kabaro, hayaan mong kausapin ka ng tula na ito.)

The Man Who Loves Me by Gioconda Belli

The man who loves me should know how to part curtains
of flesh
Fathom my eye’s depths
And know that in me nestles
A tender, transparent swallow.

The man who loves me
Will not covet me like a commodity
Nor exhibit me like a sportsman’s trophy
He will stand by me
Loving me just as I love and stand by him.

The man who loves me
Will be strong as the ceibo trees
Solid and sheltering as they are,
Clear as a December morning.

The man who loves me
Will not distrust my smile
Nor fear my hair’s profusion.
He will respect sorrow, silence.
And with caresses, he will play upon my stomach,
As on a guitar, making pleasure issue from
my body’s recesses.

The man who loves me
Will discover I can be
A hammock on which to rest his burdens and cares.
A friend with whom to share intimate secrets.
A lake on which to float,
Without fear that the anchor of his commitment
Will prevent flight
Should it occur to him to be a bird.

The man who loves me
Will make poetry of his life
Structuring each day
With his gaze set on the future

But above all else
The man who loves me must love people
Not as some abstract category
Mentioned carelessly
But as something real, concrete
To whom one show devotion through actions
Giving up one’s life if required.

The man who loves me
Will recognize my face in the midst of a battle
And with knee bent to the earth,
he will love me
As the two of us fire together at the enemy.

My man in love
Will not fear giving himself
Nor fear finding himself magically smitten.
In a plaza filled with great crowds,
He will be able to shout “I Love You”
Or make extravagant announcements on top of buildings
Proclaiming his right to feel
The most beautiful and human emotion.

My man in love
Will not flee kitchens
Nor the diapers of our child
His love will be like a refreshing breeze
Carrying away among mists of dream and the past
Weakness that, for centuries kept us divided,
As beings of different worth.

My man in love
Will not want to stereotype and standardize me
He will give me air, space
Nourishment to grow and improve
Like a REVOLUTION
Which makes each new day
The beginning of a NEW VICTORY

Vietnam

Cambodia

Being different makes you no less than the others.

!

Bring it on 2012...

Samson

You are my sweetest downfall
I loved you first, I loved you first
Beneath the sheets of paper lies my truth
I have to go, I have to go
Your hair was long when we first met

Samson went back to bed
Not much hair left on his head
He ate a slice of wonder bread and went right back to bed
And history books forgot about us and the bible didn't mention us
And the bible didn't mention us, not even once

You are my sweetest downfall
I loved you first, I loved you first
Beneath the stars came fallin' on our heads
But they're just old light, they're just old light
Your hair was long when we first met

Samson came to my bed
Told me that my hair was red
Told me I was beautiful and came into my bed
Oh I cut his hair myself one night
A pair of dull scissors in the yellow light
And he told me that I'd done alright
And kissed me 'til the mornin' light, the mornin' light
And he kissed me 'til the mornin' light

Samson went back to bed
Not much hair left on his head
Ate a slice of wonderbread and went right back to bed
Oh, we couldn't bring the columns down
Yeah we couldn't destroy a single one
And history books forgot about us
And the bible didn't mention us, not even once

You are my sweetest downfall
I loved you first

Name Game in November 23

Death is you
Death is who
Death starts with an A
Ends with an N.

An enormous lie
A bag of money
Decays of flesh
Pencils, pens and cameras
Widows and orphans
Husbands and wives
A sister
A brother
A cousin
A friend
Lost.

Death is you
Death is who
Life starts with justice
And justice is still denied

Death is who
May Death be with you
Starts with an A
Ends with an N.

--- end impunity. Justice for the victims of Maguindanao Massacre!