M A K A T A
January 2001
Issue No.1

Generation Spokesperson I am the eye of my generation. I see through the perception of the teenage girls and the teenage boys. I watch through the vision of the country and the nation. We are the adolescents. The animal behavior is like the human behavior of the world. The animal manner is like the human manner of the world. The animal nature is like the human nature of the world. I am the ear of my generation. I hear through the sound of the teenage boys and the teenage girls. I listen through the noise of the country and the nation. We are the juveniles. The animal ability is like the human ability of the world. The animal habit is like the human habit of the world. The animal skill is like the human skill of the world. I am the voice of my generation. I speak through the mouth of the teenage boys and the teenage girls. I talk through the lips of the teenage boys and the teenage girls. We are the delinquents. The animal instinct is like the human instinct of the world. The animal tactic is like the human tactic of the world. The animal life is like the human life of the planet. As in death, we are the same. The Bullet Man Have you seen the bullet man? The one who breaks your eyes into tears? The one who makes your brave soldiers into cowardly traitors? The one who takes your strong arm with weak fingers? Have you not seen the bullet man? Have you heard the bullet man? The one who shoots your guns to lovers? The one who stabs your knives to friends? The one who hits your bats to family? Have you not heard the bullet man? Have you touched the bullet man? The one who tries your patience into oblivion? The one who lies your trust into severance? The one who flies your beliefs into frauds? Have you not touched the bullet man? Have you felt the bullet man? The one who denies your soul into dust? The one who destroys your mind into combust? The one who employs your body into lust? Have you not felt the bullet man? Because he is so much like you and me. © Gabriel Serrano http://www.geocities.com/richiexus USA   Fly before you disappear ashes to ashes dust to dust i look at the wooden box that holds you now. you now cold and hard like that stone which will shut out all the light and sun you used to love. the street you used to walk on that court we used to play on all deserted for now. no more hoops and baskets no more Kobe to fancy no more cold and chilly mornings no more fish crates to carry nor rich kids to envy. before you disappear, now i know you are happy. nothing hurts now. no need for fancy shoes to fly. even i can't reach you now. Kay Tomas ginising ako ng tandang, bago sumikat ang araw. nakahain na sa mesa ang sariwang gatas. malalanghap mo ang bawang sa nilutong sinangag... malutong na mangga, humiga sa dayami at maglublob sa ilog buong maghapon. siyempre, kasama ka. ngayon, mag-isa na lang ako malayung-malayo sa 'yo. tanging ang de-bateryang orasan ang gumigising sa akin upang pumila sa pagligo ng tabu-tabo. 'di na ako kakain ng agahan dahil baka isuka ko lang sa paglanghap ng usok ng tambutso. magbabasa na lang ako ng peryodiko. baka sakaling kahit sandali'y, ika'y malimot ko. (España, Manila 1994) © Katrina Rebueno Van Nuys, California/ Quezon City, Philippines   Spoons I stir my life clockwise, add small doses of insanity to sweeten. But to dissolve I have to stir the other way, bending spoons in the process. Inkwells Love, silent finger tracing its arch listens for words, a sleeping infant collects innocent murmurs in deep inkwells hungers like sharp hands peeling skin clings lightly, eyelash to cheek Another Leaf 25 hours left. Your leaving a shake of maracas. I listen to shattering vases. Omnipresent In My Own Mind I use words Round alphabets into corners where ellipses rule To keep moving is the key Swinging opens up acrobatic possibilities To balance on my head gives me a rush Jumping rope with lines stretches the imagination To tide with the flow It all comes down to the glass of water on the table Are you thirsty enough © Jill Chan Born in Manila, migrated to New Zealand in 1994.   ang mga pulis na parang mga walis sa zurich ang mga pulis ang mga pulis ay parang mga walis na naglilinis at nagliligpit ng mga mang-aawit at mga artistang nagbibigay-buhay, kulay, at saya sa mga iskinita at kalsadang dinadaana't pinapasyalan ng mga taong may labi ngunit di naman ngumingiti. ang nais yata ng mga pulis sa zurich ay panatilihing sementeryo ang syudad na pinamumugaran ng mga taong may isip nga at puso ay malimit namang nakakandado. Paalala ng Babae sa Mahal na Lalaki Walang kahulugan ang mga katagang "Iniibig kita O, mahal kong asawa" kung sa bahay ako'y parating nag-iisa kapiling ang gabundok na labada. Walang kahulugan ang mga pangakong "Sa hirap at ginhawa tayo'y magsasama" kung ika'y nagseserbesa kasama ang iyong mga barkada samantalang ako'y nagkakasya sa kakarampot na tinapa. Walang kahulugan ang mga salitang "Iaalay ko sa 'yo natatanging puso" kung sa kaldero ko lamang matatagpuan ang aking kapalaran. Walang kahulugan ang mga linyang "Iyong-iyo lamang ako" kung sa araw ng suweldo 'yong mga babae sa San Pedro ang iyong kalaguyo. Hoy, Adan ng buhay ko Huwag mo akong handugan Ng 'sang pumpong pangako Kung ayaw mong mabato At mapako Tulad ni Kristo! Akala ko Sa mula't mula pa ang akala ko lahat ng lalaki sa mundong ito ay tulad ko, nakilahok sa isang ritwal kaya nasugatan at nasaktan ang katawan at marahil nakantiyawan pa ng mga kababatang kalaro dahil namula at namaga ang balat na hiniwa. Ngunit nang maghubad ka at pinagmasdan kita wika ko, namalikmata yata ako. © Edgar Bacong Zurich, Switzerland makata 2001 january february march april may june july august september october nov-dec