Ambot Lang

Poetry by | December 8, 2013

Dili ko kasabot,
Walay mahatag nga hinungdan.
Kung uban ko siya nga naa ka,
Kasingksing
hunahuna
di gyud magkasinabot.
Kung ang utok musulti.
Ang kinabuhi ko
Siya na.
Sulod
sa kasingkasing
ug ang kita…
rosas
wala namiyuos.
Apan misiyagit ang dughan,
Ikaw
Ikaw gihapon.
Laraw
Gitinguha
Pasalig
tumanon
bitoon
abuton…
Ngano man ko?
Dautan nga dughan!
Sauna siya,
gihigugma siya
Karon napul-an
Nawad-ag gana
Oh gihigugma ko ba siya?
o gipahimungtan lang?
Kay magpa-ambit kanimo
Sa gugma ngatim-us
Dili…
Dili mabuhat!
Nagdaot nga dughan.
Di kaila ug
gugma.
Unsay buhaton?
Di ko buot
Siya pasakitan
bisan kasingkasing ko
gikumot-kumot
Unsay buhaton?
gipangga niya
ako pag-ayo
labaw sa kinabuhi
Unsay buhaton?
Murag gihigugma taka…
Apan ikaw
Nahigugma ka ba?
Unsay buhaton?
Gihigugma ba gayud taka?
Nakita ba ko nimo?
Di ko naba siya mahal?
Wala nako kabalo.
Kasingkasing…
Hunahuna…
Buang…
Hangal…
Gago…
Ngano?
Ambot lang.
Kinsa?
Ambot lang.
Unsa?
Ambot lang…
Ambot lang…
Ambot lang!!!

—
Rodulfo is a student at Xavier University Ateneo de Cagayan.

Unta Matarong pa

Poetry by | December 8, 2013

Skandalo na pud?
kanus-a man mo magsawa?
gipuno ug bakak
among kasing-kasing ug panghuna-huna.
abi ba namo ma tul-id ang dalan,
ngano sa kinatungaan ningbaluktot man?
unsa ning kalokohan amigo?
nga wala man unta ta nagyabag-yabag.
ayaw hulata mawad-ag pagsalig
mga tao sa inyo gadapig
kita sa among mga mata,
maling binuhatan, ngano man na?
ipairal unta ang spiritu sa pagbag-o,
kbalo man ko nga naa pay tarong sa inyo.
kumbinseha mi pag-usab sa pagbalik
aron kamo among saligan ug dayegon.

—
Michael is from Davao City. studying at University of Southeastern Philippines taking up AB Literature.

Dead End

Fiction by | December 8, 2013

He leans his back on the wall, his hands gripping his gun tight. He wishes he could shoot the moon and tear the dark sky into pieces. He wants the night to end, that in the morning, he will forget everything about this, and all the nights before. He is tempted to light a cigarette, hoping it would take away the agitation he feels. Flashes of thoughts and images of people he knows, and even seemingly strangers keep pounding on his head, causing the lines on his forehead to be more visible. He throws curses into the air, almost whispers but in a profound tone.

The rules are clear. No cigarettes on the field. Don’t leave any trace behind. Finish the task as quickly and silently as you could. Focus on the target. No resignations. No spitting of information. No getting out.

He closes his eyes for a few seconds and regains composure. He knows he shouldn’t permit his thoughts to affect his assignment. He has been trained to think and feel less so he can focus and act faster to get things done. He has been waiting for Kulot to pass by the street, the same Kulot whom he never knew, but whose picture he has been glaring at every night for about a month now. He knows that Kulot has multiple records at Agdao Police Station for theft, illegal carrying of fire arms, and dealing of illegal drugs. Kulot is five-feet tall, has round eyes, dark complexion, five piercings on his left ear, and a tattoo of a skull, smiling on the back of his neck. That’s all he needed to know, as if two sentences can summarize thirty years of a person’s existence. Kulot could be a father, or a drunkard, or a rapper, or a pedicab driver, but no matter what, Kulot will be his eighteenth kill.

Continue reading Dead End

At Kumbakit Ko Minahal Ang Pagsusulat ng Dagli (Part 2 of 2)

Fiction by | December 1, 2013

ang nakaraan…

III. Ibang Diwata
Dumating ako sa bahay nang palubog na ang araw. Tulad noong nakaraang taon ay hindi ko ipinaalam ang eksaktong oras at araw ng pagdating ko. Kusa na lang akong kumatok sa pinto.

“Kumusta na? Kumusta man ang imong seminar didto?” Tuwang-tuwa na bungad ni Mama nang makita niya ako. Ipinaalam ko sa kanya ang pagdalo ko sa Ikalimang Palihang Rogelio Sicat kaya hindi ako agad umuwi ng Cagayan de Oro nang dumating ako galing Saudi.

“Maayo man.”

Inabot niya ang aking bitbit na bag. “Kabug-at gud ani.” Binuksan niya ito nang mapansing mabigat at tila nagtaka kung ano ang laman.

Tahimik niyang itinupi ang ilang damit na nakasilid doon. At maingat niyang inilabas ang ilang kopya ng aking libro. Matagal niyang pinagmasdan. Sintagal ng mga panahong ginugol ko upang mabuo ang isang pangarap. Ang pangarap na makapagsulat at makapag-publish ng sariling aklat.

“Sakit naman intawon ning akong mata. Unsaon na lang nako ni sa pagbasa sa imong libro?” Ang nawika niya habang binubuklat ang hawak na aklat.

Continue reading At Kumbakit Ko Minahal Ang Pagsusulat ng Dagli (Part 2 of 2)

The Weekend

Poetry by | November 24, 2013

It seems like a lifetime
ago since I last had
the weekend all to myself.
And that includes every
Friday afternoon that went

unspent on cheap spirits,
and strangely riotous porn.
Instead, there is always
work. These days,
there is always work,

or a phone call, or a lover.
It seems like I have grown
heavier since I last enjoyed
dinner, or excessive
sleep, or a lonesome run

in the morning. Only
the alarm clock keeps
me quick on my feet
these days. Even when
I wake up on the wrong

side of the bed, I roll
out with enough patient
alertness. There are
absences I have yet
to offset as always._

—
Allen Samsuya is a creative writing major from the University of the Philippines Mindanao. He is not a porn star, yet.

Bangon

Poetry by | November 24, 2013

Maraming naanod na bahay.
Kasingdami ng mga nawasak na buhay.
Lupang dating sagana sa likas na yaman.
Nagmistulang isang malawak na libingan.

Niragasa ng baha ang buhay na nananahimik.
Binasa ng ulan ang mga batang walang imik.
Nilamon ng dagat ang bawat pangarap.
Nawalan ng silbi ang bawat pagsusumikap.

Sa pagkakadapa ay muli nating ibabangon.
Mga bayang nasalanta’y iaangat sa pagkakabaon.
Nangangaylanga’y tutulungan natin ngayon.
Upang kaginhawaa’y makamtan sa madaling panahon.

At Kumbakit Ko Minahal Ang Pagsusulat ng Dagli (Part 1 of 2)

Fiction by | November 24, 2013

I. Sir Ruel
Matapos ang apat na taong pamamalagi sa Saudi bilang OFW ay ngayon ko lang din mami-meet ng personal ang ilan sa mga taong naging bahagi ng aking virtual world. Sa Multiply at lalo na sa Facebook.

Lulan ako ng taxi papuntang UP Diliman. After lunch hours daw ay nasa nasabing unibersidad si Sir Reuel.

Naging online mentor ko siya. Isa siya sa tagabasa at nagbibigay ng mga komento sa aking mga akda. Sa katunayan, sa kanya ko unang narinig ang salitang ‘dagli’. Na ayon sa kanya, ang uri ng aking mga piyesang may anyong naratibo, mas maiksi pa sa maikling kuwento, o mas malapit sa vignette ay nasa pormang dagli. Flash fiction kasi ang nakasanayang itawag ko sa mga blogs ko noon. Doon kami nagsimulang magkaugnay bilang isang baguhang manunulat at isang itinuturing na mentor sa panulat.

Sinipat ko ang aking relo de pulso. Tamang-tama ang oras ng aking pagbisita. Tila isa akong anak na matagal na nawalay sa kanyang ama. Nag-aalangan sa maaring sasabihin nito. Nag-aalala sa maaring kahinatnan ng aming pagtatagpo.

Continue reading At Kumbakit Ko Minahal Ang Pagsusulat ng Dagli (Part 1 of 2)

Shaken and Stirred: The Adverbum Writers Retreat in Palawan

Nonfiction by | November 10, 2013

ShelllsTwo days before I was to leave for Palawan to join the first Adverbum Writers Retreat in Palawan, a 7.2 magnitude earthquake hit Central Visayas at past 8 in the morning. Soon after, social network newsfeeds were filled with initial images of the destruction it wrought. Later, television news programs provided more details. It broke my heart to see the ancient Baclayon and Loboc churches destroyed, but even more distressing were the number of human casualties. The earthquake was also felt in Davao City, but to a lesser extent, and with no reported damage. Still, I couldn’t help but feel anxious to leave my two children for a week to do something entirely for myself.

It was a palpable anxiety that I had been feeling since I learned about the retreat. Last July, I received an invitation to the writers retreat from Almira Astudillo-Gilles of Chicago, who organized the retreat to provide established writers with “time and space for creative work.” On October 17 – 22, I was to join Jose “Butch” Dalisay, Ed Maranan, Ricky de Ungria, and Juaniyo Arcellana in a private and secluded villa in Sitio Bobosawen, one and a half hours by road from Puerto Princesa City. With no mobile signal whatsoever, a two-kilometer stretch of coastline, and a view of the mountains, it did sound like a perfect writer’s destination.

Continue reading Shaken and Stirred: The Adverbum Writers Retreat in Palawan