Dumlao Baby #9

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You don't write poems Because poems are written About you, my dear.

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The waves come crawling Towards me, kissing my feet— Finally, I'm home.

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Shivers down my spine.

Goosebumps. Butterflies. Those shit.

You give them to me.

             And I take them, take all that you have to offer, take them without hesitation, take them like they’re the oxygen that’s been keeping me alive. I take and take and take and you watch how they decorate my altar, how they, eventually, turn it into your home.  And you have been welcome since your first visit. You’ve made your mark on me.

 Scratches down your back

Bitemarks on your arms, and neck.

I give to you, too.

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I like to move it, move it

You can’t turn back time

And undo what has been done

Life just moves forward.

           No matter how the regret keeps you awake until the sunrise, no matter how the guilt eats you up from the inside for breakfast, no matter how the pain stings your heart like the poison you’ve just swallowed this noon creeps its way into it, nothing in this world, in this lifetime, can alter the events of the past, for it is already cast on stone, already written in the stars. Maybe that’s okay.

 And here you are now

At the end of the damn line.

It was a good life.

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Attempting to be cute

Five syllables here

And then in here, seven more

This is a haiku.

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Polished Brass Allowed The Rope

Teres sere eret reste Meron na lang konting oras Konting oras na lang, konti Etser tere eres seret

Just so you know, when I made up the first line in my head, I had zero idea it meant “ polished brass allowed the rope “ in Latin. Who knew, right?

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I N T R O D U C T I O N

I suck at intros so let’s kiss (keep it short and simple) my homies.

 For some reason, which I am not at liberty to say, I am to post at least five different poetry entries for this blog, and that’s exactly what I intend to do. I may be inclined to post more in the future, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, yeah? Yeah cool.

 Alright. Here we go. Ready your red ballpoint pens and paper; we’ve got some criticizing to do!

 Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you, my final output…