usapang zombie

der koya bags,

hello poh, am ur fan poh. kaya poh aq sumulat kc nnaginip poh aq kgabi. masama poh ung pnaginip q. dhil poh sa ah1n1, naging zombie lhat ng tao na kakilala q, ung mga frnds, classm8s and txtm8s q poh naging infected poh. tpos aq nlng daw ung hndi nagiging zombie. hinahabol poh nila aq. takbo aq ng takbo.tpos sumisigaw ung 1 zombie, sbi niya wg na aq mag-aral. sabi q noooo hndi pde kc gus2 q makita ung crush q ehh. kaya hinabol nila aq, tpos nacorner nila ako, tapos bigla na aq nagcng poh.

ano poh kayang ibig sbihin ng panaginip q?

am urs poh,
badong




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dear badong,

hindi ko alam. wag ka na sigurong maglaro ng left 4 dead.

sige sasakyan ko na tong trip mo ano. hmmm. malamang naging zombie na rin ung crush mo, kaya tama wag ka nang pumasok. wag ka nang mag-aral. kung zombie na lahat ng tao e di ok, ganito: sunugin mo lahat ng libro, mga computer, cellphone, etc, basta lahat ng bagay na associated sa human civilization tapos bumuo ka ng bagong mundo. wasakin mo lahat ng ideas na gawa-gawa lang ng society. kumuha ka ng semi automatic shotgun. huntingin mo sina gloria, manny villar, manny pacquaio, manny v pangilinan, henry sy, obama, george bush, george of the jungle, roger federer, rafael nadal, maria sharapova, maria ozawa, virgilio almario, ambeth ocampo, boy abunda, kris aquino, michael jackson, michael jordan, michael phelps, chris tiu, marami pa e bahala na u. hahaha.

kailangan mong mabuhay ha. maghanap ka ng ibang survivors. kailangang ikaw yung maging leader nila. hintayin mong magkaanak sila ng lalaki at babae. tapos isang araw, ipalapa mo sa mga zombie yung ibang survivor maliban dun sa baby boy at girl. palakihin mo ung dalawa. bumuo kayo ng bagong mundo. o di ba.

tanong: paano ka makakaligtas sa zombie invasion?


yan. wag mong gamitin sa sarili mo ha. i-spray mo sa mga zombie na hahabol sa iyo para maging chocolate sila.

mixed media

sa wakas. nakasulat na ako. ano ang mangyayari kapag idol mo
sina sir egay, kael, ayer at brandz?
mixed media. hahaha. parang artwork lang.



Heto Ang Isang Tulang Nagwawakas sa Langit


Gaano kalayo
Ang langit

Sa lupa? Naaalala
Mo ba? Noong mga bata tayo
Pilit kong tinanong sa iyo.
Ewan. Paliparin mo na lang
Itong saranggola. Alam mo,
Ginusto kong baybayin
Sa aking isip
Ang haba ng pisi
Na hawak ko ngunit napakalawak
Pala ng langit naisip ko:
Kapag namatay ako, doon
Ako pupunta.
Napatingala ka
At nakita mong nakasabit
Ang iyong saranggola
Doon sa kawad ng kuryente at ilaw
Poste. Binato mo ako noon
Ng sisi. Magmula noon
Ay hindi na tayo muling nag-usap
Tungkol sa langit, lupa, at mga ulap.

Huwag nating pag-usapan ang kamatayan.
Paborito kong linya ng isang tula.
Sabihin ko kaya ito sa 'yo mamaya?
Sanay na akong magsalita
Sa isip habang nakasakay
Sa bus. Patawad
Kung wala akong dalang bulaklak,
Wala naman talaga akong balak
Umuwi sa San Roque kung hindi ko pa
Nalaman ang balita.

Gaano kalayo
Ang langit

Sa lupa? Marahil tinatanong din
Ito ngayon ng iyong ina
Sa harap ng iyong labi.
Habang umiiyak siya
Ay may biglang dumapo sa aking labi
Na isang paruparo.
Mamaya, susundan ko ito.
Kahit na alam ko,
Hindi naman nito mararating
Ang langit.

babay summer

sabi na nga ba e. matatapos din.


...



Psychoanalysis: An Elegy
Jack Spicer

What are you thinking about?

I am thinking of an early summer.
I am thinking of wet hills in the rain
Pouring water. Shedding it
Down empty acres of oak and manzanita
Down to the old green brush tangled in the sun,
Greasewood, sage, and spring mustard.
Or the hot wind coming down from Santa Ana
Driving the hills crazy,
A fast wind with a bit of dust in it
Bruising everything and making the seed sweet.
Or down in the city where the peach trees
Are awkward as young horses,
And there are kites caught on the wires
Up above the street lamps,
And the storm drains are all choked with dead branches.

What are you thinking?

I think that I would like to write a poem that is slow as a summer
As slow getting started
As 4th of July somewhere around the middle of the second stanza
After a lot of unusual rain
California seems long in the summer.
I would like to write a poem as long as California
And as slow as a summer.
Do you get me, Doctor? It would have to be as slow
As the very tip of summer.
As slow as the summer seems
On a hot day drinking beer outside Riverside
Or standing in the middle of a white-hot road
Between Bakersfield and Hell
Waiting for Santa Claus.

What are you thinking now?

I’m thinking that she is very much like California.
When she is still her dress is like a roadmap. Highways
Traveling up and down her skin
Long empty highways
With the moon chasing jackrabbits across them
On hot summer nights.
I am thinking that her body could be California
And I a rich Eastern tourist
Lost somewhere between Hell and Texas
Looking at a map of a long, wet, dancing California
That I have never seen.
Send me some penny picture-postcards, lady,
Send them.
One of each breast photographed looking
Like curious national monuments,
One of your body sweeping like a three-lane highway
Twenty-seven miles from a night’s lodging
In the world’s oldest hotel.

What are you thinking?

I am thinking of how many times this poem
Will be repeated. How many summers
Will torture California
Until the damned maps burn
Until the mad cartographer
Falls to the ground and possesses
The sweet thick earth from which he has been hiding.

What are you thinking now?

I am thinking that a poem could go on forever.