“One More Spin?”

‘One More Spin?’ ALAN VILLANUEVA JR.

Today, my body knows nothing but the sun pulling me out of bed and the moon ramming me back to sleep.

Now, I seek the gleaming chunks of copper, sheathing me from the rains pouring, hushing my rumbling stomach, and quenching this thirst—strangling me, even for a little while.

A bow-tied gent steers a wheel and for some change, he moved the earth, spinning until I lost track. And when it stopped, I held the golden glimmer in my eyes.

For days, his grace doubled my offerings, but for some, he was quite greedy, denying me my pining. With my sight dimming, I reckoned my faith measly.

To regain his love, I wagered my all. With senses waning, I nailed my eyes to the wheel dancing its grand pirouette. It was life, swinging one with the wind, and slowing down like ripples. And my heart stampedes like a horde of horses as this beauty settles to its last stance.

My feet, itching to jump, froze and screams of victory went down my throat—I fell, but no sound was heard.

My head recalled the spinning wheel, every coin stolen, and my eyes racing against the wheel’s every turn. It was time to close down— curtains were drawn, lights were put out, and the tranquil night remained unbothered.

As I move, a single glint from the wheel swears to meet me again, though I pray not. My head recalled the spinning wheel, every coin stolen, and my eyes racing against the wheel’s every turn. It was time to close down— curtains were drawn, lights were put out, and the tranquil night remained unbothered.

As I move, a single glint from the wheel swears to meet me again, though I pray not.

‘v’ for ventriloquy HANA PATRICIA RAJ HAUTEA

“If you don’t have anything nice to say, Keep your pretty little mouth shut. Read my lips from far away, Lest your tongue gets cut.

If you don’t have anything nice to say, Lay your volume low. God forbid, you offend someway; Just play us a dumb show.

If you don’t have anything nice to say, Cast yourself aside. When grins and laughs could be delayed, What use is silly pride?”

Yet my wily mind whispers Of its own right and wrong. Amid blaring, fervent streets— that is where you belong.

Silence invites smiles—yes; But my voice demands to be heard. Tomorrow—I swear, when twilight strikes, “Farewell” shall be my first word.

Well, mother, the time is ripe To do what must be done. A brand new act I will perform For now, an audience of one.

Homo modernus JOSHUA MAHILUM

Tao ang pinapakain mo ng hangin tuwing umaga. Tao ang binababad mo sa ilaw hanggang umaga. Tao ang ikinakadena mo sa telepono at kama. Tao ang pinakakagat mo sa bampira.

Tao ang ipinakasal mo sa mga libro. Tao ang minamadali mo laging maging matalino. Tao ang sinusubuan mo ng aralin kahit busog na. Tao ang ginugutom mo ng pahinga.

Tao ang inuuhaw mo ng lambing. Tao ang pinagtutulakan mong maging napakagaling. Tao ang tinutukso mo tuwing umaayaw. Tao ang nilalason mo ng perpektong ikaw.

Tao ang kaibigang ‘di mo na nakakamusta. Tao ang batang pinagbabawalan mong kumanta. Tao ang magulang na ‘di mo nasasabihan ng mahal kita. Tao ang sarili mong nakalimot na siya’y tao pa.