Hearse of Death

You were the promise that enticed
My soul to fly across the
Vast sky of cloudlessness
Toward forgetfulness;
Along landscaped fantasies.

You were the smile that lured
My spirit to swim across the
The vast ocean of weightlessness
Toward unrestrained waves
Of freely floating dreams.

I hugged the fleeting ecstasy
Of your warm embrace.
I basked in the ephemeral music
Of your haughty grace.
Because I lived for the thrill
Of staring at your hazy gaze.

But now, as you drag slowly by
In this procession of mistakes
I wake up from my trance
And finally see you as you are:
The lie that seized my spirit;
The hearse that carried me to my death.



[seb; 02 July 2008; 10:04pm]

Dayasadas ken Tarakitik

(Dua a Daniw a Maymaysa't Kaipapananda)


Dayasadas
(iti tawa ni sherma)

Dayyengnaka’t naumbi a nakaparsuaan
A kumkumpasan nalung-ay nga angin;
Is-iseman apagapaman a dariwanawar
Ti saguyepyepen nga agsapa.

Samiwengka a makaila; mangitunda’t
Alinegneg ti karayan ti agay-ayus a rikna;
Lagip bumangonda manipud mananglilipat
Nga isip; inaprosan nalamuyot a pul-oy.

Saibbeknaka’t naliday a nakaparsuaan
A dangdanggayan makipagrikna a palayupoy;
Im-imdengan pumakpakada a sipnget
Ti napuyatan, linammin a rabii.

Saning-ika a makauloy-rikna; mangitulod
Mangliwengliweng a yuyeng ti napaksuyan
A barukong; dagensen rumekkasda manipud
Nakaitalimengan a siled; puso a simked.

Ritmom, di agpaltos, agingga di agsarday
Bayakabak a mangsibug nagregkang a daga;
Kas met la bitek ti barukong; di umingga
Agingga adda anges ti napuyotan-a-tapok.


//Sherma E. Benosa
17 October 2007; 1:48 am



Bayakabak, Tarakitik
(a mangmangngeg ni VF iti kuartona)

Kansionka’t naragsak a lubong
A salaen ti naumbi a palayupoy
Palpaludipan dumteng nga anaraar
Ti agdudungsa a nasapa a bigat.

Musikaka a makailili; mangiturong
Alinsaed ti waig ti agar-aruyot a bitek;
Nagawan a ladawan ni lagip, nagsubli;
Dinuayya’n pug-aw naimnas nga ulimek.

Saning-inaka’t nakaiyanakan
A salsalaan makidanggay a palayupoy;
Dengdenggen agpukawen a riwet
Ti di nakaturog, nagkutimermer a kaltaang.

Ibitnaka a manggudas-rikna, mangiturong
Gayung-gayong a kalawakaw ti nabannog
A barukong, im-impen rumkuasda manipud
Nakaidulinan a sagumbi; bimmato a puso.

Kumpasmo di agriro, agingga di agtunged
Bayakabak a mangep-ep mawaw a rengngat;
A kas iti arungaing ti puso; di agpatinga
Agingga nga adda anges, pinarsua iti pitak.

//Clifton Pascua
18 October 2007

Cavern of Death

Echo the strangled moans
Of the shadows lurking
In your bottomless pit
Where dried tears of broken
Hopes walk with the fallen
Leaves of the dreams I
Once nurtured in my depths —

Now dried and breathless:
Just mere remnants of what
Could be that did not become.


Let go of the dark, thick liquid
In your crevice, threatening
To burst anytime and flood
The abyss of your nothingness.
The once-pulsating optimism
That fired at my veins and
Lighted my waking moments —

Now still and lifeless:
Just mere illusion that acquired
Flesh; already beaten and dead.




For those who perished in the Glorietta Blast and everyone who died in the hand of political injustice.


I first read some updates on the Glorietta blast before reading one of the novels in my collection: a somewhat romantic but definitely political novel (Of Love and Shadow by Isabel Allende) set in a Latin American country on the grip of dictatorship, and this is what I’ve become — utterly DEPRESSED. As the main characters in the novel discover the cavern into which the bodies of the desaparecidos (missing people) were thrown, images of those who died in Glorietta and the skeletons of the dug bodies in the novel kept flashing in my mind. So grotesque the sight I conjured that demons started beseeching me to write this depressing piece. Sorry…


//Sherma E. Benosa
27 October 2007; 3:37am