November 12th, 2009 §
Nega-star
Wallowing in grief and sadness
I didn’t realize that instead
Of being unhappy I was
Increasingly becoming
Like a pig in a pool of mud:
Oblivious and indifferent
To all the things I thought
Caused my deep misery.
Sure, I still keep my family
At bay, all my friends insist
On frustrating me, my job
Is as un-fulfilling as ever,
And my love-life remains
Bitterly non-existent, while
The rest of the world teeters
On the precipice of doom via
Wars, disease, and the effects
Of climate change.
I think, when the real shit
Hits the fan, I will only have
My Misery to shield me from
The stinking gobs that will
Soil the perkiest and liveliest
Of these damn optimists.
Because shit really happens.
And sometimes, they rule, too.
Phnom Penh, 2009
Copyright Michael P. De Guzman
October 11th, 2009 §
Gana
(tulang prosa)
wala akong sinagot nang tanungin niya ako kung gusto ko rin ba.
hinayaan ko siyang magsalita hanggang ang kanyang boses ay nagmistulang tunog ng alon na humahampas sa dalampasigan ng aking mga tainga. malamig ang tunog na yaon, parang tubig sa dagat kapag dapithapon, nanghihila sa magdamag na pagtulog. ngunit mahirap makatulog sa lugar na ito, naisip ko. ang kalansing ng mga kubyertos na kumakayod sa maninipis na platong melaware, ang pinaghalu-halong amoy ng mga pagkain, kultadong usok at pawis ng mga tao, at ang liwanag ng mga puting ilaw sa food court ay sapat upang manatiling mulagat ang aking mga mata at gising ang aking pundidong diwa.
nang dumating ang aming pagkain, wala akong nagawa kundi kunin ang aking kubyertos, ihatag ang aking plato sa kanyang pagsandok ng kanin, at langhapin ang alingasaw ng gulay na ginisa sa binurong isda.
phnom penh, 2004 (hinalungkat sa baul, 2009)
copyright: Michael P. De Guzman
July 23rd, 2009 §

Barado
Pinilit kong magsulat
Ngunit ako’y nagulat
Nang walang nailabas
Kahit na pahimakas.
Inspirasyo’y hinanap
Magdamag na nangarap–
Nagpigil sa paghikab,
Ngunit Musa’y mailap.
Utak yata’y barado
Diwa’y nakabilanggo;
Pati puso’y sarado:
May kadena’t kandado.
Phnom Penh, 2009; Copyright Michael P. De Guzman
July 7th, 2009 §

For the record,
You’re one of few whom I loved most:
I felt unique and precious each time
You held me close–your eyes
Ready to pierce holes in my soul,
Before a smile blooms on your face
And we’d laugh, and I’d lay my head
Against the base of your neck,
Where I’d smell the fabric of your shirt
And hear your heart beating vigorously
As I feel your fingers skimming gently
Over my almost-shaved head;
I would always laugh at the sensation
While the sound of my name, uttered
In your distinct manner, slips swiftly
Inside my ears, lulling me to peace.
Now you’re gone, and remembering
Doesn’t bring any peace, memories
Stir up old joy and along with it
Forgotten pain and misery, such
As this admission: ‘I miss you still.’
Had you seen your eyes each time
You looked at me, you’d realize
How much you really loved me–
Things would’ve ended differently.
copyright Michael P. De Guzman; Phnom Penh, 2009
June 6th, 2009 §

II
It seems I’ve waited for
Far too long that I have
Forgotten what or who
I had been waiting for;
I have distanced myself
From people that now
I can’t figure out how
To behave in this circle;
Seems I have unlearned
All the nuances that made
Me so attractive before–
All I have now, aside from
This quick wit, are my
Sharp tongue and insecure
Heart beating furiously
Inside my hollow chest
(not very charming).
Waiting seemed the best
Option then; wish I can say
The same thing now, what
With you hovering like
A fat clump of storm-cloud
In my used-to-be-barren sky;
No one has brought me
This much apprehension,
Euphoria and paranoia
In so long a time–my mind
Runs off like a fugitive
Every time I am beheld by
Your gaze, and I have no
Choice but to yield to this
Force, so like gravity.
My feelings swirl until
They’re undecipherable,
Like hieroglyphs or some
Other form of communication
Alien to my comprehension;
It seems that I have almost
Forgotten what or who I
Had been waiting for–
When I finally remember,
I hope that it isn’t too late.
Copyright Michael P. De Guzman; Manila 1998; edited Phnom Penh 2009
June 4th, 2009 §

I
Waking up from a dream
Of walking with our hands
Clasped and kissing you
On a deserted street,
My eyes squint against
The bright rays of morning,
Wondering for a moment
What could I be doing
Thinking that I’ve fallen
In love once again.
There are no answers
To my questions, no promises
To assuage my heart, and no
Prayers to pacify my soul;
Except for, perhaps, your
Lingering presence
In my life right now.
Yet even this seems unreal.
When I’m with you I feel
As if underwater, disembodied,
Between living and a gentle
Kind of dying, swimming
In the waves of you being you.
Like an eagle I can soar
To unimaginable heights:
Ecstatic, before plunging into
Depths where no shaft of light
Ventures, the darkness almost
Naturally permanent.
My feelings are strong, there’s
No sense denying, and all
I have to do is to fashion it
In a way that won’t make me
Lose sight of what is important
Than what our future can be:
Together, or not.
Copyright Michael P. De Guzman; Manila, 1998; edited Phnom Penh 2009