A Collection of Poems

025: Manila

Literally, this poem is inspired by Manila, but to be specific, it is Quezon City. This poem is just a spark of my idea when I was travelling along the NLEX on a bus, and when I incidentally saw three things, billboards, graffiti, and street children, I was quickly flooded with ideas that have been articulately woven in these stanzas.

XXV

MANILA

Of dusty dawn and shrouded cloud

And wander through the dewy glass

And meet with metal towers, proud

In course to million-sheltered grass

A store, a store, a store, a store!

O, so commercialized in peak

And more, and more, and more, and more!

O, never-ending line doth speak

In fancy curves, she grabs a stare

And showers you with precious gems

To give it all, and none to spare

A fading smile in gaudy hems

Continue, and a notice makes

A story; darkness set in gold

With ev’ry detail, rainfall wakes

A deeper eye in writing bold

Inhale, and picture something like

A swirl of red in black and white

And taste amazement through a dike

Of youth, chaos immersed in light

A face, a word emotionless

Conceals reality inside

And open gates, unconsciousness

And see the world, and worse to slide

Thus, common show, a smile, a frown

And ev’ry little piece of truth

To lift it up, or put it down,

Or ripen such a bitter fruit

In steady motion, there a beat

Of urban vibe, the worst of good

And notes of smoky shrills and heat

All etched in stone, iron, and wood

In charcoal feet and sandy voice

And pity, pity! Single tear

With some bare-footed tread, and noise

To hear the word of kingly fear

And there spit violence and pain

And shed the blood of scarred disgrace

Thus, anger coats the soul in vain

And drew a throne of coins, in maze

Of polygons, flip heavily

And weigh the sins in Ma’at’s hand

Through feather and heart, heavenly

So wasted, cold and barren land

In midnight roses, thorns of vice

And creeping shadows, drowning trance

Such crooked fingers throw the dice

And slash of dagger, thrust of lance

Come; wake me up! I need it now!

So suffocated in her touch

Come; write for me a bending vow

To bring me back, and missed so much

In point of view, and sprint of soul

Whoever must, in love or hate

But oneself should, the perfect goal

Before the time, the hour, the date

And she will be, ever in twice

Beholder’s thought of radiant smile

And shining sparkles, priceless price

Or choose her path, walk back the mile