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Poetry
My heart, wasteland
By Rachel Salud
My heart is a wasteland
Of cigarettes smoked to the hilt,
And walls that bear the shadows of rain;
Of tree stumps that never grow,
And seeds that don’t bloom over the concrete earth.
I hide where ants feast over dead roots,
Where broken bottles take the...
The Measure of A Man
By Jonathan Aquino
I.
Any fool can carry a weapon
and even a coward can kill.
I told the warrior as he rose,
drawing his sword as I sat still,
unmoved as death draws near.
II.
He told who he was and how dare I,
I did and there is no need,...
Visitors
By Sigrid Gayangos
When nights simmered like a lazy summer day,
and months went on without rain,
the ancient ones of Samboangan swim up
to the shore, take off
their scaly clothes, fins and tails,
and tested the land’s hospitality.
But these ancient ones, these fish-folks,
always felt vulnerable on land,
confused...
Revolution
by Earl Carlo Guevarra
Back when I was a child
I thought revolution was a product
Of blood, sweat, tears and steel
I thought that it was about rallies
And rousing speeches
Laced with tales of bravery and defiance
Maybe a column of tanks here and there
And someone blocking the...
Wired
A picture of yourself
Standing on a locked door
Hand dives in that shallow bag
Which can barely move in the
Seafloor of wires.
Strangled with thick and thin
Chargers that actually drains
Black and white chords
Which disconnects from reality
Earphones that shuts the noisy mind
An escape, you said
Yet...
Admit one
I have never been to a general hospital
alone before: sitting on one of the plastic benches
shoulder to shoulder with faces stuck on the Now
Serving sign above all four counters I can see
it is I am a no big deal I am. Just another...
