It could be dusts
suspended in air,
tracing the lines that
invisibly connects me to you,

or it could be bombs imploding,
tearing down my reasoning
encased in a magnetic shield,

or it could be dinosaurs
pounding on my doorstep,
wailing for shelter,

or it could be a shower of arrows
landing on a human turned porcupine,
wondering, of all the
unassuming targets,

or it could be elephants
dancing above my room,
shaking tails until the ceiling breaks,

or it could be laser swords
slicing all suppression,
until I'm ripe to let go.

Maybe.

Or it could be this feeling
that I'm ready
to share with you.

. . .

Lawa(ng) Bahag Harida
101508

Dalawang kalabit at isang panunuyo.
Dalawang taon ng musmos na kahibangan.
Dalawang subok bago bumigay. Dalawang hinga ayoko na.
Dalawang buwan hiraman ng (ka)ibigan.
Dalawang buwan naging laruan yaya parausan ng isang negrong pabling.
Dalawa pala kami, ayoko na.
Dalawang linggo nabuhay sa alaala ng musmos na pag ibig.
Dalawampu't pitong rason kung bakit hindi pwede ibalik ang nakaraan.
Ayoko na. Dalawang malalim na balon, ang isa'y sa apostol na hindi ko matarok.
Dalawang butas ng ilong may tumutulong dugo.
Dalawang mefenamic acid para sa sakit ng ulo. Ayoko na.
Dalawang linggong pag aayuno sa gitna ng murang nakaraan.
Dalawang pahina ng habag na pamamaalam.
Malaya nako sa bigkis ng kahapon, ayoko na.
Dalawang araw mula noon, nag multo ang negro.
Dalawang gabing naguluhan sa di inaasahang pag aasam sa kanyang kalandian.
Dalawang mala-teatrong sampal sa sarili, sabay pagmulat sa gayuma ng pabling.
Dalawang isip, ayoko na.
Dalawang taon nang umaaligid ang maamong usa.
Dalawang eksena na nagpamalas ng aking kakayahan magmukhang tanga.
Dalawa't kalahating minuto hinawakan nya ang kamay ko.
Dalawang taon naghintay ang tigang na puso.
Dalawang sabit bago tuluyang nahulog.
Dalawang taon bago tuluyang natunaw ang bato.
Dalawang buwan at dalawa na akong tahimik at masaya.
Dalawang medyas pantapal sa bibig ng babaeng
nagpupumilit na hindi pwede ang isa higit sa dalawa.
Dahil ang nagiisang siya ay napatunayan kong higit nga naman sa dalawa.

. . .

Tanga
060908

You don’t go to a poetry reading. You don’t go to a poetry reading to let out brain farts and scream emotions draped in dust. You are not short of breath. You don’t hear vowels and consonants and ooh’s and aah’s inside your head. Ooh’s and aah’s should never never be entertained. You don’t squint and giggle while you imagine him whispering something in your ear. While you squint, while he whisper. You can’t imagine things like that. You don’t think of giving him a massage. You can’t give him a massage—be it Swedish, Thai, or tongue. You don’t bite your lips as if you’ve just been kissed. As if you’re waiting for more. You don’t feel bee stings with drips of sweet wine crawling down the corners of your mouth. You don’t go to a poetry reading. You don’t wonder of the cause and effect of your stares. You don’t wait for him to look back. You don’t gaze at him in blankness. You don’t wait for his guts to inflate and finally call an end to this vagueness.

You don’t expect a shallow wood to talk.

You don’t go to a poetry reading. You don’t fall for someone in a poetry reading.
You just don’t.

. . .

Aeiou. ‘Di mo ba ako narinig?

Ito ang tawag ko sa iyo. Nanlilimahid sa banyagang anyo pero ang ating kultura’t bigkas,
bakit hinahayaan mong kumupas?

Aeiou. Sino ka ba? Sino tayo?

Kumikita ka nga ng pera sa salitang inggles. Ngunit ang paligid mo naman’y puro pwet ng dunhill at west ice na nanggaling sa nakakadiri mong bibig.

Aeiou. Ito’y isang hamon. Ito’y isang tanong.

Hanggang kailan mo ibabaon ang iyong kayumangging dila sa ilalim ng mga katagang "uhm, like you know..."

. . .

I am the thinly veiled insult slapped right in your face.
I am the drug that will lure your five senses towards a celestial state.
I am brazened by human tendencies and life mishaps.
Led to effrontery by the cruel world,
defended by a sporadic rubber sword.

I am not your metropolitan glee.
I am not yours, you don't know me.

Do not stereotype.
Do not expect.
Do not assume.
Do not predict.
Do not conclude.
Do not anticipate
with outlined bullets
as if you've got me all figured.

Just don’t stupify me.

Await my glory.

. . .

Masculine pelvic
Gyrating slowly
Slithering to the fore

You maneuvered me
Pumped me
Enthralled me

With your
treacherous smile
Unrelenting charm

Latex flavored words
Candy coated lies
Low voice lead on

Lecherous paws
Stroking all over
Poking more and more

Your body worked on me
Like a beautiful
Piece of machinery

Rapids of your intense thrust
An opera of croon and moan
Soft velvety rush

Heavily panting
Beads of sweet sweat
Pleasure and pain textures

Beware, beware
Of the flirt panther

My moist body lies forlorn
This was just a game
Nothing more

. . .

. . .

All poems by Charisse 'Chung' Padilla © All rights reserved.

Charisse Padilla Poetry is licensed under a
Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 Philippines License