"Poet writes beautiful filth"

"Poet writes beautiful filth"

by paolo macariola

I ruminate endlessly

on the grotesque

concepts

of my self inflicted

methods to madness

trying to decipher Venus

is to dismantle

its equations

into bite sized smidgets

a piece of sanity at a time

but i dare not swallow

this beautiful filth

as one could never

challenge to regurgitate

a rock

on the other hand...

possibly in another dimension

i may have been

just like you

rapidly spewing

trite distractions

but in the meantime

i shall go on

ruminating venus

and dismantling madness

on a piece of paper

stenciled endlessly

with grotesque metaphors

i dare you to swallow

my beautiful filth

somewhere at the tip

of your tongue

will scatter the taste

of my madly concocted delusions

laced with bitter nectar.

-- and if somehow

you manage to swallow it

you would feel

a disruptive cramp

as though you've ingested

a rock

that your mere cliche'd existence

could never regurgitate

Mariposang tala

"Mariposang tala"

by paolo macariola

sa dulo ng sigarilyo

mariposa'y tumakas

pusong apoy ang sumibol

naupos ang tala

binurda ang mga ulap

sa aking kalamnan

mula sa pulso'y tatakas

lalangoy ang mariposa

sa kaibugturan ng tala

hinimlay ang upos

nagnulo sa lupa

nalunod sa mariposa

Reciprocating gravity

"Reciprocating gravity"

by paolo macariola

i held her

the same way

a child would hold his mother

so as not to be

frightened

by fireworks,

she was days my senior.

for me she was the ocean

where all of my

unhampered emotions

flowed.

her voice, the gong of stars.

i knew i loved her

after the earths gravity

pulled my body

not knowing

if she could ever love me back

she held me

the same way

i held on to my mother

whenever i grow scared

of fireworks,

she was years my junior.

for her i was the ocean

that gave meaning to the sun.

my arms, the sky that cradled her stars

i knew she loved me

after she stood ground

in the shadow of an eclipse

but the earths gravity pulled my body

and somehow i knew

how i could never love her back

Scarlet twilight

"Scarlet twilight"

by paolo macariola

You listen

to the twilight of tarots

and sculpted a dark horizon

of meaningless stars

for you, it was the will

of the gods

written in the palms

even before our souls

found flesh

you depart

invisible like starlight

reflecting moonbeams

in the wake of April.

I listen

to the voices in my head

seeking flesh

but for you

it must be

the will of the gods

as i sculpt scarlet patterns

that bleed

twilight

screaming at irrelevant stars

i depart

(for the one residing in some far galaxy, making the stars meaningless)

Forever in silence Pt.3

"Forever in silence Pt.3"

by Paolo macariola

Silent is the river

of our immortal defeat

i now fall upwards

into voiceless oblivion

six feet under the sand

is our borrowed existence

together we embrace the shadows

millennia's apart

We spent forever like this

in silence, in defeat

we wither in the dry flowerbeds

under the dying galaxies

ours is but a trickling memory

rain falls upwards

i cease to believe

-october 6 2009 las pinas city, Philippines

Oda

"Oda"

by paolo macariola

Tulad ng gabing di matapos tapos

ang ginaw ng mga palad nating di nagdadaop

samyo ng pangungulila'y humahagod

sa mga labi nating di nag aabot

tulad ng gabing di matapos tapos

ang pag andap andap ng mga anino

diling sa braso mo ay maigapos

hiling doon ang dilim ay maubos

tulad ng gabing di matapos tapos

ang yakap ng di maririnig na pagsamo

salamin ng iyong mata ay aagos

ako ang hangin na sayo'y yayapos

Ikaw Cotabato

"Ikaw Cotabato"

by paolo macariola

Ikaw Cotabato

ay isang batong

bumulwak

mula sa karagatan ni bathalang

hinumla ng matalim ng dunong

iyong sinukat ang hanganan

ng iyong imortalidad

nang iyong tinawid

ang apatnapung araw ng mga ilog

at binagtas ang mga gubat

ng makabagong pamumuhay

Ikaw Coatabato

ay isang batong

araw araw bilanggo

sa mga gusaling bakal

na sumusubok sa iyong

inipong dunong

doon ka natipak at nagalusan

na parang aspaltong nilublob

sa ilang talampakang putik

Ngunit ikaw Cotabato

ay isang batong nagsisimula pa lang makita

ang hanganan ng iyong imortalidad

nang ikaw ay hiniwa

ng matalim na hangin ng dunong

ni bathala

(For a friend)

Ocean deity

"Ocean deity"

by paolo macariola

whenever i pass by the ocean

i would like to imagine you

picking up seashells

minutes before sunset

your skin dusted pearl

drenched in rivers of hair

weaved by the careful hands of a sea goddess

immortal as sunset

and just before the first stars appear

i would think of you

as the deity

from whose breast

flowed the coral sky

whenever i pass by the ocean

that lulls me to dream

The coming of war chariots

it was almost 15 years ago when i last saw
the bluest sky of manila
the buses then did not resemble the war chariots they are today
nor is the mud after the rainstorm
the sludge that it is now
the sky then was empty
like an imaginative nirvana
i was 5 years old then

it was almost the same sky a year ago
when rusty heaven stroke your cheeks
with the rouge you never used
you were asleep
and so i thought that you must be searching
for the most prosaic explanation
why in our own poetic versions of imaginative nirvana
do we feel the coming of emptiness
how did our sky
drift into the shadows of war chariots
scorched like dying brimstone

the sky is full of smog tonight
that filled my head with the madness of war chariots
so i drift into the shadows
into emptiness
poetic like the imaginative nirvana of your memory

where i shall wallow in the slidge
under the same sky
waiting to be trampled by war chariots

Shadow eater

by paolo macariola

Ours is a dangerous hunger
that feeds
on the shadows that linger
within the unnamed creases of the body

carelessly
we descend into the doom
breathing in the shadows
of our bodies' unnamed creases
with nothing else in mind
but to feed

we remain breathless by sunrise
exhaling
hand in hand
we surrender back into the light
we collect whatever darkness remain in us
and guiltily tuck back
our own shadows

The poets unsent postcard

by paolo macariola

here is the country
where i was born
where there are storms most of the time
and where we observe the passing of months
counting sunsets
here is a country of war, of schizo priests and dead journalists
where statues of virgins
are worshiped on the streets
the devout leaving their homes barren of food for the children
here is a country of torn jungles
where the origin of man
is the trunk of a tree
where there are shamans and witchdoctors,
where saints and soothsayers never differ
here is a country of rain forests and seashores
of saints and superstition
of guns and schizophrenia

this was your country too,
where loved ones leave through the horizon
and poets die waiting for airplanes
by the sunset

Sepia, grain and old movies

by paolo macariola

you are just like a mirage now
blurred at a certain moment
but vividly clear the next
i watch you
slowly appear and disappear
to the rhythm of flickering screenlights
you are there
like a transluscent curtain
in front of a fast talking yellowish movie
and slowly
as i inhale another pound of poison from my menthol lights
i notice your apparition blur
not only from the residue of my habitual smoking
but also from the haze of my foggy persona
and as the smoke thinned out
the way it should
as seen in old tagalog movies
you disappear
unexplainably fading out with no credits
no applause
no popcorn
just a sepia tone
that has lingered in this room
yellow enough
to be mistaken for the nicotine stains
in my fingernails
from sleepless nights
of smoking soggy cigarettes

Kitil

i wrote this at a time i hated my mom so much... its kinda personal though

"Kitil"

by paolo macariola

sa luob ng isang sementadong drum
mananatili ang aking pinagpirapirasong katawang
hindi na muling lilisan
dito sa kanyang kinandadong libingan

ikaw ina ang kumitil sa aking kaluluwang buhay pa man
ay nakakulong na sa isang selyadong drum

dito sa aking huling hantungan
ay di na muling titibok
dinaluyan na ng sementong
hinalo pa ng mapagmahal na kamay ni ina

dito sa aking sementadong hantungan
sa luob ng selyadong drum

Menthol Lights

Menthol Lights
by paolo macariola

Hinubog ko ang usok
para doon makita
ang maganda mong mukha
at humithit muli
para maramdaman
ang paghagod ng lamig
na nakakapagpaalala sakin ng inyong ngiti
namula lalo ang baga
na tulad ng iyong mga palad
ay papaso lamang sa akin
ang pag iisip sayo
ay katulad ng paninigarilyo
na ang pangako lamang ay sakit

"mortido"

this is about death or wanting to die

"mortido"
by paolo macariola

ngayon ako ay paulit ulit na matutulog
mananaginip
at matutulog muli
papunta sa mas malalim pang panaginip
sa mas malalim pang pagtulog

doon ko gagawing haigaan ang mga ulap
at ilalim ng lupa
ang liwanag at dilim
ang langit at impyerno
doon ako muling mahihiga
sa mga malalim na panaginip
ng ilan daan pang panaginip

ngayon
ako ay paulit ulit na
matutulog
mananaginip
matutulog
mananaginip
paulit ulit

masilaw man sa liwanag
o kainin ng kadiliman
sunugin man ng impyerno ang mga ulap
malunod man sa bulate itong langit

akoy patuloy na mananaginip
sa mga ulap man o sa ilalim ng lupa
sa liwanag o dilim
langit at impyerno
paulit ulit

dead cats

"dead cats"
by paolo macariola

there are dead cats
that hide within the
urban jungles of manila,
some peep from the tires of unsuspecting jeep
while some swm amongst the dead fishes
in manila bay.
then there are the more fortunate dead cats,
i heard that there's a dead cat just under rizal's foot
at luneta, and another one hiding somewhere
between the stitches of the presidential couch.
of course no one knew their names
or where they came from,
no one knows what made them dead cats,
or why their owners left them in the first place
i never even knew how i became a dead cat myself
or where my owner is in the first place
how about you?
are you a dead cat yourself?
or are you one of the past owners
who never even remember owning and losing a dead cat?

bahagharing laot

its my first time writing something with a somewhat political theme hehe lolx

"bahagharing laot"
by paolo macariola


bahaghari kang dumapo
sa pinakataimtim na dalangin sa paglalayag
ng isang marinerong pumapalaot
sa madaling araw

bitbit ang lambat na
mangangahas sumisid at mang akit
ng mabibigat na isdang ipambibili
ng mga pangarap
sa lupang kailanmay di nagbigay
ng sapat na ani
para sa kumakalam na sikmura
diligan man ng pawis o dugo

ikaw ang bahagharing
inaasahang magpakita
matapos bumaha ng
magsasaka, marinero at mangagawa
sa bukid ng karapatang
kinakalbo sa sapilitang pag ani at marahas
na pagbayo sa boses ng mga pangkaraniwang tao

bahaghari kang hangang ngayoy nabubuhay lamang
sa mga taimtim na dalangin
ng isang marinerong bansang
nalulunod sa di maiwasang pagtalikod
sa takipsilim ng pangarap

"CigarEtteS"

"CigarEtteS"
by paolo macariola

Your embers
are crimson butterflies
that fluttered into the far side
of the moon
leaving a dead stub of nicotine
to drown in the secretive gutter of memories

Kape para sa magdamag

"Kape sa magdamag"
By paolo macariola


Binuhos ko
ang isang paketeng nescafe
sa kaldero ng kumukulong tubig
sa pagbabakasakaling
ang pagsasama ng pait at init
ay mas may kakayahang
pumaso at lumapnos ng labi
isasama ko na rin
ang isang basong asukal
sa kagustuhang mapagtakpan
ng tamis ang kumukulong pait
huli ko namang ihahalo ang gatas
kahit na alam kong
kahit kaila'y hindi nito mapapaputi
ang mga bagay
na likas ng maitim

mabilis ko itong hahaluin
pakaliwa
pakanan
pakaliwa
pakanan
hangang sa mapagisa ko
ang nescafe, asukal at gatas
hangang mapagisa ko
ang pait, tamis at pagpapangap

tapos na akong magtimpla
ng kape para sa magdamag
ngunit wala ka na
sarili ko nalang pala
ang siyang kukumbinsihin
na masarap ang pinaghalo halong
nescafe, asukal at gatas
mag-isa ko nalang rin pala
sisimulang ubusin
ang tinimpa kong pait, tamis at pagpapangap

Side glances

"The unravelling"
by paolo macariola

role
playing
as a
mathematician
i try
to unravel
the
secrets
of our
fractional
side
glances
that spawns
galaxies
and blackholes
that will implode
into
a
massive
big
bang
created
by
the
void
of the
moment
you
start
to
look
away

Hele

"Hele"
by paolo macariola

hinel ka ng kadilimang
di maikubli sa lihim
ang mga aninong
kumukumot sa gabi
kasama ang mga natuyong rosas
o durog na paru-paro
na siyang namumukadkad
sa mga panahong hinabi
ng aking pangungulila

malamig ang hanging
naghele sayo
pabalik sa aking ala-ala

ikaw ay isang kathang isip
na di nakadaragdag
o nakababawas sa aking pagiisa
bagwis ay isang
pagheleng nabuo mula sa ritmo
ng mga sinok
sigaw
at buntong hininga

hinele mo sakin
ang lihim ng pagiisa

marahan

patungo sa isang bangungot

Random Thoughts 2

empty are the streets of neon
that once reflected your face to a universe anew
into spiderwebs of light
besides the shadows of streetlamps

i miss you like the sky
misses its colors

when it rains..

i cant seem to write anything good lately
maybe im too sad

Princess Dacles: Isang malayang pag-agos

"Princess Dacles: isang malayang pag-agos"
by paolo macariola


ngayon ko lang naintindihan ang tunay na kalungkutan
hindi pala apoy ng metapora ang dala nito
kundi ang kawalang laman
at pagka bakante ng emosyon

naglalakad ako sa lupa kahit pa ako'y wala na

wala na akong maisip na mga ibang bagay
kungdi ang palad mo sa aking pisngi
ang iyong pawis sa aking balat
ang ating pagpapalitan ng hininga
ang malamig mong boses....

ganito pala ang kalungkutan
maihahalintulad sa isang malayang pag agos
sa isang malayang pagkaubos ng nilalalaman
ang masakit na pagkamanhid
ang iyong paglisan

hangang ngayo'y iniintay ko paring marinig ang yabag mo
sa labas ng aking pintuan

malayang umagos ang kalungkutan
gumagalaw sa aking ugat
ang mga lubak lubak na ulap ng kahapon
na hindi maubos ubos
tulad sa tubig ng talon

makulay ang mga panaginip ng pisngi, labi, paghinga

at tulad sa tubig ng talon
ang pag-agos ng luha
ang mabigat na pagtibok ng puso
ang sakit
ang ala-ala

hindi maubos ubos

Mumbaki

mumbaki is another word for witch doctor in the philippines


"mumbaki"

i would like to believe that we are a song, you and i
the same song of ifugao and ibaloy shamans
chanted in lush sacred mountains
of lost ancient texts
that our footsteps are echoes of gongs
resounding across cliffs and mountainpaths
all carved by the hands of god
of light and shadow alike
but we cant be more than ghosts now
that haunt dark industrial alleys
far from the cordilleras
where i listen for echoes
that sang of your palm imprints on my cheeks
indelible like the blood of god
of pain and darkness alone

Blood and water

waves of absence run
deep within oceans of solitude
this absence, yours
fill the torrents with
shades of doubt
sparkling like a pink sea

airplanes take you away
to the farthest corners of belief
where you wont even hear
the faintest echoes
of my deepest sighs
but the clamors of desperate oceans
pink with blood and water

you were always beyond my horizon
even then
so i should not forget
this imprint of your memory
running deep within roads of flesh
sparkling like a pink sea

eve leaves zion

"eve leaves zion"
by paolo macariola

i pray to the heathen gods
the sanctity of your untruth
my divine nonexistence
-- our myth of zion

hence a lost divinity
i call myself a pagan
left in zion
to worship idols of your untruth
of you leaving
under the traitors moon

tomorrow burns the heathen gods...

The tryst of the desert flower and the midday sun

like
the desert sun
i shall
hang myself
on
the afternoon
sky
where
shall i
burn
the petals
of
your cheeks
and wonder
why
despite
such
radiant heat
you
still
fail
to burn

this aint finished yet..

"Fragment"



we are fragments you and i
that has scattered from broken window panes
along with a thousand other smaller fragments
forgotten in time
unsung by bards

but until the time is ripe
we remain no better than dust
on the marble floor

we were one before you and i
painted, unbroken

I am the little prince

"I am the little prince"
by paolo macariola


little princes watch trains of skylights
to be reminded of pain
from flowers that grow on barren planets
kept under crystal domes

now i shall be one of such little princes
travelling planets
one yard at a time

these planets
are caught inside the four corners
of my musky room
where wild animals of thought
wander through broad daylight
or shadow

here in the galaxies of my private universe
i shall wonder at simple marvels
such as the growing of petals
from every consonant formed

dropping from song

and just like a little prince
await dreams of crystal domes
pleased by the warmth of my palms

just behind the baobab trees
i have kept in my closet a lifetime ago

Spaces

"Spaces"
by paolo macariola


i have come to know spaces

as the unfilling of weights

or sometimes as the simple lack of object

or existence

such spaces exist between stars and planets

continents and stones

life and breath

my space of breath

is wide only when the space

beside me is full

and now as i struggle to breathe

i find the space besides me

a space still....

sattelites

i wrote this thinking of my girlfriends soon departure to cambodia (again)
i hope it wont be long before she comes back

"Sattelites"
by paolo macariola


counting the sattelites amongst the stars
i recount the brightness of the moon
soaked in warm silver
just before you leave

let me first cower into the darkness
with a handfull of memories

depart with my lines
for tonight shall i count the sattelites
sworn by the secrecy of lips, of skin
alone

there i would feel
the perfect loneliness

but
let me first cower into the darkness
with a handfull of memories
under the secrecy of sattelites
alone

Forever in silence pt.2

we spent forever in silence
once more
meanigless still
like dead heartbeats

trampling graves
of deaf and mutes
we fall to pieces
in everlasting nightfall

we remain meaningless
within our own caskets
soundless like the abyss
apart

Drunken Creed

"Drunken creed"

i believe in gods
the gods almighty
hailing from olympus,
india and sometimes heaven
sometimes fat and pot bellied,
wielding a flash of lightning
or nailed on the cross
i believe in the creation of heaven and earth
from the sweat of a primordial cow,
from the thigh of a titan
all before the seventh day
for that day is when
they watch their own humans
on a large t.v.
eating heaven popcorn, drinking beer,
cursing and laughing at us as we nail ourselves
to our own crosses, engage in holy wars and bathe in sacred rivers
mysterious as filth.
in between our shows
are commercials that show
who goes to whom.
leaving each god
only a handful of souls.
so i dont wonder anymore
why gods are always drunk on sundays
yet i dare not ridicule them
or their drunkenness
I believe in gods

Sinta

"Sinta"

Ikaw ang bahaghari ng delubyong
sakop sa balabal ng anino
ang siyang kadilimang
kumukuyom sa tinta ng aking panulat
at ang katahimikan
sa kalungkutan ng ambon

ikaw ang paghele ng isang libong gabing
nagbibigay liwanag sa anino ng mga oda,
ang awit at ang ingay,
ang bulaklak at ang tinik

ikaw ang tubig at ikaw ang apoy
ang pagsilab at pagkalunod sa alaala
ikaw ay ako rin,
ang langit at impiyerno
ang simula at katapusan,
buhay at kamatayan ng aking pagkamakata

The bad effects of clogged drainage

this is when i went to starcity (themepark) with my bestfriend... this is about how i miss my girlfriend when i was there..

"The bad effects of clogged drainage"

Swimming in the flood
are divisions of emptiness
stretching from each of our distant fingertips
that dissipates city lights
into lonely apparitions
just beneath the mud
which creates a growing force of gravity
as we drift further away by millenias
only put to rest by the next brushing of our souls

Fireworks from a childish God

i wrote this on new years day remembering the fireworks a while ago... missing someone


"Fireworks from a childish God"
by: paolo macariola

and in the moment of the moon
skies collapse
into lights that scatter and diffuse
into planes of scattered crayons
it was as if a childish god held them with fragile fingers
and painted streaks of explosions and destruction
bright and deafening with flame

clouds are scarred this night
as the child god blew holes into them
with the planes of scattered crayons
bright and deafening with flame

I find myself looking up
to the ellipses, streaks, lines,
dots and novas across the night sky
and remember the godchild's small and stubby fingers
drawing patterns by will
--suddenly i think of you
and wished that somewhere in the collapsing sky
shall i find your face
drawn by a childish god
holding crayons