Long Incubus Poems
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written just a couple weeks before the lease at prior abode would expire, and no affordable habitat....just by happenstance and a thankful invisible hand of destiny.
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To avoid the pitfall of prospective homelessness
which near future prospect
induces existential angst i confess.
Today, i wanna die and bid god riddance grandly
going gamesomely gra grave,
de deum, and cymbal crash
to Bing mulct emotionally, physically and spiritually -
all the grinding hardships would be gone in a flash
how tempting to seek a solution sans hemlock
or other deadly potion,
whereby toothless mouth need not gnash
boot simply swallow and drink from the goblet of
mortal freedoms renting psych ass under
with purposelessness mine hash
tag, which bout with suicide
while n the edge of thirteen -
Anorexia nervosa defeated -
then as now experience
10,000 banshee maniacs whip lash
lacerating, flagellating,
and repeatedly rousing thoughts
shin to circle back to why
death be not proud when life on par with a mash
up of ennui, futile gobbledygook housing incubus
analogous luft Waffe bombardiers quash
the joie de vivre per je ne sais quois spritely spring
in step happy jollity,
and levity attempt to make light
of psychological me's mental illness rash
whence thru the lvii roam min years
as chief garbage taster of trash
hurled my way gnome matter
gremlins dwelt within the Wabash
distance to inflict din er of dissonance
targeted this mortal for'er abash
as soon as he got expelled from the womb,
his reddened ears did bash
from sonic screaming boom causing astir the nurses
into the maternity ward of me late mum sped like dash
her, and fast as a comet Prancer doth emulate
a con vixen dancer, cuz ova this rude half
re: that came a boot
from genetic chromosomal DNA wash.
‘Krasue’
(A woman’s head with viscera hanging down from her neck.
She paralyzes like ice-cold lightning).
Where will you be tonight when the moon is shut?
Woman hater, where will you be
when the womb of your soul is shut tight?
Krasue will chant these lines over your stunned body,
her incubus birthed in you.
She will keep you pregnant until
your male belly bursts.
Then she will come out of you,
and the moon will open and shine again,
but not for you.
~~~~~~~~
‘Mae Nak’
(She's a female ghost who died at childbirth
and can extend her arms).
Mae Nak loves you.
She wants to carry you in her limbs
to the birthing couch. There she will
stretch her arms to the dawn.
Mae Nak loves you,
but you are a ghost to her,
she sees only an endless umbilical cord.
She believes you dangle at the end of it.
She believes that one morning
she will hear you mewing like a kitten
at her door.
Until then she lengthens her arms
like a sea anemone at a watery reflection
of the morning star.
~~~~~~~~
Nang Mai
(Lady of the Woods’, ghost-fairy related to trees).
Texture and grain are her domain,
but she will appear
if you are near her spider woven eyes.
She harms none,
but she can break the ties
to your own self,
make you see the mask
you’re wearing,
then she will send you home
weeping
until you break a thousand mirrors.
~~~~~~~~~
Drowning in our incubus sleep,
phantom enemies are devised.
Easy answers for night terrors.
Social purgatory for the stranger,
Our river Styx for the brown ones.
Our fortress must wall them out.
Brown poverty is culpable.
Starving families must be criminals.
Racialism winking and nodding.
Jingoism sneering and taunting.
Everyone knows the words.
ICE round up the suspects.
Our delirious sorcery making police raids.
For us wall builders, it is always midnight.
For us distracted, there is never safety.
We are detainees of our nightmare,
POWs of our wraiths.
The smeared tirades offer glaucoma.
The duplicitous liars supply our slumber.
The scapegoating harangues support our night blindness.
Yet, we always awaken sweating
in our witless twisted sheets.
69.
My Memories of Las Piñas
Las Piñas - memories sweet
Soul was innocent and neat
I miss the friends of childhood
The closeness of neighborhood
It's where I learned ABC
Twinkle Stars and 123
I miss the townhouse playground
My afternoon hang around
With Jay, Fritz, Toto, Len-Len
Yobi, Cyrene…more than ten
It's nice when night was brownout
My friends and I would play out
After church mass, family
SM Southmall was hobby
When Holy Week was around
Night film showing on playground
Also on time of summer
Neighbors resort together
When it's Christmas eve and night
Flood the gifts from left and right
Best is every New Year's eve
Night's merriest street party
Visit kin both side parents
Those another excitements
Oh Casimiro Townhomes
I should have never left you!
-11/27/2011
(Dumarao)
*First Incubus Collection
74.
My Sibling
When she was born, they think I'm jealous
I used to pinch her skin like pillows
Maybe I am really abnormal
Her screwed up face sometimes makes me smile
Since a baby until she's teenage
I fill her days with frivolous rage
I hope her misery would end soon
I think to her I am not a boon
In deep reality I feel sad
Everytime when Angel's not around
Although I cursed her million times
I never regret her birth sublime
She's God's blessing whom I should cherish!
-11/28/2011
(Dumarao)
*First Incubus Collection
Set to the Albatross, by Fleetwood Mac. (Hum along).
On love and astral travelling,
Through the stars we're wandering,
On the Universe we're pondering,
My eternal love, Napoleon,
Intangible man, but full of fun,
Our jewelled cloak of stars,
We've journeyed from afar,
Shape shifting, glittering,
On love and astral travelling,
I'm no Carlos Santana,
I have no scarlet bandana,
I am the oestrogen,
Old Josephine,
Where haven't we been?
I have no testosterone,
You're my "Yes, master," Napoleon.....
On love and astral travelling,
Sentimentally wandering,
Are you Angelus or Incubus?
Reminiscing, reflecting-----
Comical groupies for loving,
On love and astral travelling.......
63.
Three Charms of Luz-Vi-Minda Against Spain
She's Luz-Vi-Minda
Priestess of Asia
When incubus harms
She takes out her charms…
Behold! Jose Rizal
Our hero national
Poet, doctor, researcher
Farmer, herder, school-builder
Fought Spaniards with paper and pen
Luzon's charm – noblest of our men!
Behold! Lapu-Lapu!
Defender of Cebu
First terror of invaders
Famed Magellan's death renders
Rammed Spaniards with native bolo
Visayas' charm – quaintest hero!
Behold! Purmassuri!
Awesome Muslim lady
Wise heroine of Sulu
Foreigners cannot subdue
Disturbed Spaniards so tribesmen won
Mindanao's charm – enemies thrown!
-11/27/2011
(Dumarao)
*First Incubus Collection
71.
What I Missed from School
If I've been not in school
Surely I missed a lot
Not only the brain tool
I'll point to the people
Whose influence could make
Life more valuable
Were they my teachers?
And/or my classmates
Or other superiors?
They could be among them
Those whose passion, talents
Skills, likes – with me the same
They were also the ones
Whose dreams and ambitions
Could be also my wants
Was afraid to reveal
What are truest in me
Harder still to conceal.
-11/28/2011
(Dumarao)
*First Incubus Collection
68.
I Want to be One with Nature
I want to be in paradise on earth
Free from all disgusting man-made dirt.
Roll on grasses
With no itches
Soak in water
‘Til I'm cleaner
Breathe the fresh air
Shun all despair!
Make me one with God's prior creations
Filtering all worldly pollutions.
Sleep with the beasts
Feel them at least
Swim with fishes
Cleanse blemishes
Fly with the birds
Clouds we traverse!
Because I want to be one with nature
Making slower my mortal rupture.
-11/27/2011
(Dumarao)
*First Incubus Collection
I filled the night’s chalice
with knots of desire,
ribbons rinsed
with watered secrets
of the snake stars
I drank the charged blue
of the soul’s sapphire,
brushed the salt-laced air
between heartbeats
named the pining patterns
of crystal lanterns
your sacred fire
and you drift beside me ~
femme fatale fantasies,
singing sweet, sepal soft odes
soothing aquatic angst
placing pink, perfumed petals
where I dream ~
promising I breathe nothing
but the pulse of paradise
untouched ~
as I slowly awaken
to the tulip tempest you’ve stirred
within me,
tongue-teasing
along your ring finger
while my nails roamed
the curves of your
contoured forearms,
learning the lion-mane lines
above your merlot veins
like redolent rain
thirsting to taste
the electrified essence
of your liquid lyrics
rushing restlessly
upon my rose-moon reveries
O, magnetic charmer
at the mercy of your
white-magic spell
even an incubus
shall hide in shame,
forgetting tricks to tempt
the timeless trinkets
awaiting to be traced ~
Oh, how I tremble
at the mere thought
of having love’s floral thunder
enthrall and excite me
in tremors of rolling silence
for I need you more than
the wanting waves
aching to
wash over the sands
I am the sighing sonnet
only the sea-wilderness
within the island
of your gaze can read ~
a mermaid mystery
marked with tides of truth…