Fun Run For Progress
They run, moving forward,
as gazelles, jumping over mountains,
past oceans of agriculture, near lakes
of suburban shacks, temporary Roman villas
that can vanish in smoke,
a badly positioned fart on eyes
deaf and beyond description,
running, steam locomotives, lost
in the provincial sunrise, hostage,
those ignorant fidelities in hill camps, embers
of an infantile disease, covered,
dressed in bourgeois Teflon coatings,
unchanged within, nihilistic newly colored rose,
undeniably native, a steamship in two decks,
decades ago, still not throwing its anchors,
flying over graveyards, subdivisions,
with their customary chapels, without
the cemented crucifixes, engines running
methamphetamine photo galleries,
snapshots, advanced artificial intelligence,
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poem by Artchil Daug
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Unpoetic Rumblings For An Unpoetic Age
They told me I cannot write
something remote like the sand and pebbles
of a secluded beach in Siquijor
stranded in isolation by the tides
that push the island away from the radar
of conscious speculation or
those waterfalls and caves in Rogongon
that remain a mystery to those accustomed
with the slums and maggot-infested corners
of a Capital with no passion for the idyllic
instead I must write of the realities of life
and quit imagining the heavenly fog
that bearded Mt. Apo one Tuesday afternoon
as I found myself marching to its peak
cradled with the silence and whispers of nature
away from the disturbed realities
that gripped the lives of the inhabitants
of a Manila that is giving way
to the intellectual high rise that
reach the poisonous smog in Makati and
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poem by Artchil Daug
Added by Poetry Lover
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