Tag: Allen Samsuya

In hopes of building
a happier character
as a nation, the public

has recently adopted
the general elements
of sitcom as its own

new way of living.
Responsible, law
-abiding, citizens

Continue reading Sitcomstitution

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.

1.
You will move
past the pedestrians
and think of me
and the past
and how I had basked
in your breath
-lessness, once.

Continue reading The Running

We spent our evenings afloat under the stars,
quietly drifting across auroras. This was before
you were lonely. This was before you left
for the rest of the world. Now, elsewhere

in the atmosphere, I am afraid that I too have
grown fond of gravity, of the Earth, of the down
-ward spindrift of streetlights. Love, I am fearful
that when I finally fall, I will whisper your name
far too often, far too many times until all my breath
escapes me and I disappear completely before I hit
the ground.

—
Allen Samsuya hails from the Creative Writing program of University of the Philippines Mindanao. He was a fellow in the 2009 Davao Writers Workshop, the 18th Iligan National Writers Workshop, and the 50th Silliman National Writers Workshop.

The professor wanted to wield a katana
many years ago. But even then, he understood
that the world has long since moved on
and that a sword is a thing of the past.
He adores olden blades that are kept undrawn
inside their scabbards. In his sleep, he dreams
of himself in battle, unsheathing a blade
that is as bare and as inconsolable as rain.
He crosses swords with a hundred warriors
in the heart of his moonless slumber. Later,
when he awakes, the professor can only
jump out of bed. Outside, the sun is vengeful
and daylight shoots through the window
like ancient arrowheads.

—
Allen hails from the Creative Writing program of UP Mindanao. He is a fellow of numerous regional and national workshops, and is a regular contributor to this section.

The astronaut is dreaming of Earth in zero gravity.

Tucked in the weightlessness of space, he free floats

across the cabin and softly bounces against the walls.
He is dreaming of old alleyways and of older nightclubs

and of the girl he left back in the city a few million miles

away. She is lovely. It is nighttime and she is looking
at the stars, wondering what it feels like to sleep alone

in the sky. It feels like it is never morning, he would tell

her. It feels a little cold but the weather is not that bad.
The astronaut is awake. He blinks his eyes into dreams

of rain.

This time, there are only your eyes.
Your gaze, fixed intently into space
as if searching the air for lost light
waves, digital owls, a revelation
of vagrant angels. I turn my laptop
towards the window so you too
could see a band of moonlit clouds,
some apple trees, and at a distance,
a pack of griffins.

—
Allen Samsuya is a creative writing major from the University of the Philippines Mindanao. Instead of a dislike button, he hereby proposes a “throw magic tomato button” on Facebook.

Moonlight was our perfect alibi for breaking
this quiet darkness. Ancient nights when olden
rooftops made for a dozen water beds
and we had no need for mattresses and pillows
beneath our backsides and our heads. Back then,

we spent our nights learning how stars unravel
the direction of our home. Back when our eyes
were keen enough to watch snowfall from halfway
across the globe. Now, old and bitter as those cheap

wines we used to buy, I can’t climb a tree house
to save my life. My Love, I have my eyes squinting
skywards all night long. I swear I will see you soon.

Tonight, I chase your footprints across the surface
of the moon.

—
Allen Samsuya is a graduate of Creative Writing student from the University of the Philippines- Mindanao. He was a fellow for poetry in the 2009 Davao Writers Workshop, the 18th Iligan National Writers Workshop, and the 50th Silliman National Writers Workshop. His works have appeared in Philippines Free Press, Philippines Graphic, Sunstar Davao and the Best of Dagmay Anthology.