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Posts Tagged ‘sugar’

Love they say,

is an alchemy.

As for sugar is to coffee

of white and black,

sweet or bitter

in the cup of life

intertwined.

 

By the teaspoon,

measuring. Mixing

a palette of taste-

dissolving crystal.

Drowned in a tornado

of its brewing desire.

 

Heat dissipates.

Simmering scent.

Until that golden glint

fades into that

smoldering fog.

And the lip of this cup

met yours.

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A Moth In The Flame

Idealism is one glorious

iridescent flame-

a magnet to young blood

swathe in innocence. How

with our simplicity,

our winged resistance-

singed and burned. Died

 

until our ashes will mix

in the wick, obliterated

by mediocrity and irrelevance.

Our lives wasted and fading

to wisps of smoke-

in a country where poverty is

a usual sight. Everyday

 

like cockroaches,

we swarmed the sewers of society

and its livid pavement. Of placards-

waving vituperatives.

Flaunting invectives for a change

we vaguely understand. We

 

solicit publicity.

We paraded wearing black

signifying protest. While

those frigid walls, we painted red

in grafitti seeking sympathy-

disguising under the mask

by being a pro-masses. A peasant.

A proletariat. Civil

 

disobedience. We clasped

our fist imitating Che.

We lined up first against

tear gases and waterbombs,

provoking a phalanx

of uniformed men.

Maximum tolerance.  How

 

dangerous, how close

we have trodden

by knowing so little.

We advertise poverty

as a face to a cause,

bannering struggle for

autonomy, sugar-coated

manifesto of national democracy.

A sovereign common rule. Blindly

 

we morph

into mouthpieces. And fronted

as cynical puppets,

high decibeled in echolalia-

against powers in the high places.

Contending reasons

constricted within the bounds  

of our manufactured rhetoric

on utopia. We are

pre-conditioned

 

to see the world

as our oyster. We read

in our books a twisted history

of our beginnings. Taking

a stand by that rostrum

endlessly kvetching

the capitalists.

We became subservient,

as willing subjects to-

 

a coward. Who

shielded himself in

the backdrop of its

Nordic friends.

An ailing lion,

such an imperialist-

remotely controlling

his serfdom, extending

influence. Like a poison

to the minds of the horde

of pseudo intellectual-

moth as we are.

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Fish crackers, salted

peanuts, chicharon

and Coke in can.

Five peso and fifty cent

fare to a jeepney ride.

I  inhale the pungent

breeze of the balmy bay.

As I watch the murky water

when the sun walks away,

its face hiding down.

 

The lamp post aglow

to your face, a pale moonlight.

Do you remember-

when I cuddle you

on this lonely bench? Together,

neophytes to tender love

leaning into each other, teeth

cracking watermelon seeds,

choc-nut, lukewarm Zesto

in tetra pack.

 

Do you remember-

Zagu and popsicles,

banana chips and chiz curls.

Love seems a butter

and salt to a popcorn.

A pink sugary cocoon

to a cotton candy. Sweet

melting, artificially

flavoring our infatuation.

Intertwined as alchemy.

 

The image of your smile,

glossed in tutti-frutti glitters

and sparkles like stars.

My tongue rolling

Halls mint, holding mild

mannered gasps of breath.

And there I was, restless

at your side, wondering.

How this kismet, a make-believe,

our promises, shall we keep?

 

Fish crackers, salted peanuts,

choc-nut and chicharon,

lukewarm Zesto in tetra pack.

Seven peso and fifty cent

worth of jeepney ride, I came.

Back  here in the bench

our memories of love

littered as wrappers.

Such is our promises we left

bobbing and drifting by the bay.

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