December, 2000 Volume 3, Issue 3 Past Issues About dis/content Editorial Collective Contributors Contact Us Submissions Links Home   Two Poems [continued] Wanderlust in Makati, Philippines Whirling in the maniacal traffic, you’re still jobless and traipsing here and there. Counting posts and stars, you arrive at “nirvana.” Unable to catch time, you hear Madonna’s “Like a Virgin.” Worms in the guts or in dirt? You know the twisting innards of the rich, but their advice is for you to bear the pangs and convulse. Eluding caresses when you’re up the wall . . .  . “New World Order” is here, they say, to hell with your rage. Drag your cloak while fuming –  Meteors and mud shroud your whitening eyeballs. Pushed up your wazu are the machinations of bourgeois society, but what can one do? “Sir, alms . . . ” (Pluck it out, bad luck.) Dispossessed, disinherited, while the ghouls of democracy feast on . . .  . Though your tongue’s hanging out, your navel and anus are still stuck . . .  . On your footsole is inscribed the hieroglyphic of those          fried in their own fat while tempted by Saudi juice. “How much are you, miss?” (Sell yourself so as not to lick the salt of contempt.) Tripped by the grass, your sharpness will sensitize the rock. Beware . . .  . You don’t want to scratch your belly. Can the turtle overtake the monkey? Skeletons of tanks and bones of the killers and the victims crisscross the deserts of Kuwait and Iraq. Autonomy? Or each one grabbing for one’s self? You wandered up to Ayala Avenue. With eyes shut swallowing your balls down your throat. Prawns dreaming, carried by the waves . . .  . You rush on the train in Dr. Zhivago but we only reach Tutuban Station. Previous section     Next section     Table of Contents