Mazinger: technobeat Memorya
“The purpose of the poetry is not to try to dazzle
us with astonishing thought, but to make one moment of existence
unforgettable and worthy of existence.” –Milan
Kundera, Immortality.
How do you handle tears?
Long ago, I lost my pet. She's not a puppy, not a fish.
No! Not a komodo dragon, either. She’s a Marshmallow.
Mazinger’s her name. Met her in Elliot Smith Avenue under
the techno-grayscale sky of Metropolis. I don’t
remember her face; it’s like a dream. A beautiful dream;
like Poetry. MORE |
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Daimosigh
Minsan na kitang nakita sa may talampas ng Burog. Nakaupo
ka sa nakatumbang puno ng akasya, hindi alintana ang mga
langgam na nagmamartsa sa iyong paanan. Papalubog na ang
araw nun. Malungkot ang langit. Umaambon. MORE |
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Simstim Reality
Bemused, I glimpse a faint light across the horizon of
M31 galaxy. Forever, this spaceship is trap in a geometrical
space. Supernovae out there are like neon of light painted
in empty canvas of curvature space. I wonder what lies beneath
the finite space. Stars are like words in poetry and songs,
hidden optic jewels in the dark, a metaphor of dreams. MORE
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September Ballad
How can you forget the past if it happens only in your
Dreams? How can you escape its stigmata?
Her memories are hunting me. Erika. She’s stranger.
I met her once in my Dream. It was September were Ballad
songs are oxymoron of eulogy and despair. (The songs of Beatles
kept recurring in my mind like a repetitive mathematical
numbers.) MORE |
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