M A K A T A
August 2001
Issue No.8

Black Coffee and Cappuccino Too much caffeine can harm you. Too many words screw you. Too many people hurt you. Too much promises fool you. Too much politics numb you. Too black is sickening. Too white is kinky. Too much of these are just enough. But too much of these draw you up To an interrogative void. Until question marks are stuck onto Your skin. Sip. Drink. Relax. Ponder nothing. Then, you’ll start again. The Nightmare In my dreams, There were eight rulers That made us consume Our birthright with injustice. We bowed to them while they nail Every piece of our flesh with their Global promises. And everything was grey. Time stopped. Democracy was still a question. Tomorrow’s word was simple fiction. We can’t runaway. In my dreams again, There were a winding road Of Red flags. Maoists, Leninists, Marxists, Communists, Anarchists. Red. Everyone was red. It’s the colour Of fresh juvenile energies And the so-called hope. But the scene were filled with sweat and blood, Anger, delinquency, irrationality, death. Our comrades was lost and died in the Revolution that I never Understood. Then, I awoke and there Stood before me the two dreams. I can’t runaway. I was already confused and bewildered. Reality has always been my nightmare. The Pasts, Fate and Destiny Another day is just like yesterday- Blank, dull, empty, nothing. And yesterday was just like the other day- Nothing, empty, dull, blank. My past day’s complexity do simple- They bored me. And my days yet to come do complex- They make me dream on of impossibilities Until I desire my own death. I keep on looking back at that Certain moment when I was Asking how sensible was it to Be born as a sordid sinner, To breathe guilt and pain While I was looking to the Looming day, that I’ll sooner or later Die in the hands of bigotry. About the Author Charles Carpio is one of the in-house poets of Makata. He is a student from Florence, Italy. I'm Glad We've Met I'm glad we've met Too soon or too late, we've met When I was once gazing at the stars And wondering how unreachable they are But somehow there's one big star That shines brightly who would stoop down on me Like an angel from above Isn't it nice that somehow we crossed our paths Before I was totally zapped By the emptiness that once ruled this heart Isn't it nice that you make life a bit easier 'Cause we make each other smile each time With just a simple glance till our eyes meet Just enough to rekindle the love we always forget I'm glad we've met When each one of us seems to be contented But yet not so complete When each one of us seems to be living in a box Never thinking that butterflies too fly that far Beyond our imaginations where the air is free And breathing is never been as easy as it could be I'm glad we've met... 03July2001 Hello At Goodbye Bakit ba sa tuwing magpaalam tayo Mahigpit pa rin ang mga yakap ko? Halos pisilin ko na ang mga kamay at daliri mo Mapigilan lamang iyong unang paghakbang Palayo sa mundong pilit nating binubuo Di mo ba napapansin ang mga mata natin? Nagkandaduling na at namamasa pa Titig mo at titig ko, nagsusumamo Bukas ka na lang umalis o huwag na lang kaya? Nag-aatubiling ito na ang huling paglisan mo Minsan nga na-isip ko tuloy Ba't pa kasi nauso ang "goodbye"? Ba't hindi na lang puro "hello"? Sana sa simula pa lang hindi ka na nag "hello" Nang sa ganoon, wala nang "goodbye" 01JUly2001 About the Author Ronnie Ocate is one of the in-house poets of Makata. Visit own website at www.geocities.com/katz649 to read more of his works. haikus written while lying in bed with flu-like symptoms (february 24, 2000) mid winter morning touching the divine godhead thru non stop chanting the chirp of the birds through the tiny opening of the glass window my eyes to the sky a huge elephant shaped cloud quickly passes by a sprout of new life thriving with the desert rocks little red flowers ball of orange fire with black streak in the middle the desert sun two grayish pigeons perched on the electric pipes winter afternoon seduced by the light the young moth bravely kisses the flame of its death the crowning glory of the giant garbage truck a red plastic rose by the subway walls waiting for the express train a man drenched in rain big red umbrella its ribs broken and twisted in the autumn rain Para sa Isang Durugista Nilulunod mo ang realidad sa ilusyong nilikha ng droga habang nakikinig ka sa musika solid rock, pare (batong bato talaga) maingay, magulo ang musika pero nakangisi ka maligaya sa pagtatampisaw sa makulay na daigdig ng iyong mga pangarap habang sa paligid mo'y duguan ang mga halakhak sumisigaw,tumatangis tumataghoy ang mga anino ng katotohanang pilit mong niluluray sa iyong mga palad. tanto mo ba na sa pagtakas mo ay lalo ka lang nakukulong? duwag ka, hangal ka sa pinili mong eskapismo mabilis.pabilis ng pabilis ang paghukay mo sa sarili mong libingan. katulad mo'y dahon kumalas sa tangkay sa hihip ng hangin kay siglang sumayaw pagbagsak sa lupa'y malamig na bangkay. About the Author Shirley Cahayom is from OceanView Ave. Brooklyn, New York Mall Grazers They shop by Cosmo The frauds that they are buying this weeks nailpolish and following the flock into Contempo Casuals, so they can spend $50 on a pair of badly made jeans Each driving home in their expensive car to the same house as their neighbor they pretend to be different because it's "in" to be different though difference can not exist anymore How can they be happy starving their bodies hollow trying to seek happiness grazing the mall following all killing what's left of themselves they turn into so called "perfection" Penn Station at 2 am (from an experience on Wednesday 7/19) You'd never guess the time by the amount of people men in business suits, girls in club outfits, others in shorts the registers in the takeout places hum with business pizza, ice cream, beer it's a show of sorts police officers stand idly by we stand around waiting for this train or that one hundreds of strangers with one thing in common the desire to be somewhere at 2 am Jumbled Emotions I fell into the abyss called love, can that be a truck called lust ran over me, my heart went splat I cringe, thinking of him with someone other than me My love is gone, it should have lasted an eternity I lie in my coffin, dreaming, wearing his hat laying in silence, consulting my bear, sipping tea He has me in a chokehold, but I don't want to see I was respected, now I feel like a doormat four months of happiness with an eternity of pain as a fee going places, reminiscing times between him and me on campus, the movies, our first kiss, where he sat I should be happy, no obligations, I'm free looking out my window, I stare at a tree I'm so infuriated, I could hit him with a bat Would shouting from a tall building help him see? I saved his life, I have a scar, forever on my knee I helped him through mourning, what has he done for me the rat I'll find myself, my friends will help, wait and see I see little of the truth, does he still love me? About the Author I am 23 years old. I just completed my first year teaching high school English on Long Island. I am currently getting my MA at Hofstra University. I've been writing poetry for about 8 years now. I've been published in several academic publications and one local one. makata 2001 january february march april may june july august september october nov-dec