Sunday, December 13, 2009

Pinay Poems

You Bring Out The Filipina In Me

Maiana Minahal

 

you bring out the Filipina in me

the language born of blood in me

the p instead of f in me

the visayan the tagalong in me

the ancestors in me

 

you bring out

the Magellan in me

the revolution of seven thousand islands in me

the survive 500 years of colonizers in me

 

you bring out the guerrilla soldier in me

the olongapo bar hostess in me

the mail order bride in me

 

you bring out the ‘bahala na’ immigrant in me

the god they’re so America in me

the yes, i do speak English in me

the tnt green card in me

 

you bring out the pinay in me

the sass in me smartass badass in me

the proud walker shit talker

third world girl the majority in me

 

you bring out the ‘barkada’ in me

wolf among sheep in me

the danger the desire in me

the drink til i’m drunk

fuck til i’m good and fucked

 

you bring out the queer in me

the duke in me

the brave beautiful butch in me

coracious femme in me

the ‘bastos’ the ‘bakla’

 

the ‘walang hiya’ in me

 

you bring out the wake up

laughing laughing

not crying

in

my brother

my brother

‘mahal mahal kita’

 

yes you do

oh yes you do

 

R

Angelina Feril

R

You used You abused

You took for granted

And always expected

            You requested You implored

            You so subtly demanded

            (for gas money, cigarettes a free meal or two)

            You made everyone feel obligated

            (to give and provide everything for you)

And if they didn’t

If they wouldn’t five you what you wanted

Guilt was a good way to go

For when you insisted

It was your way or no way at all

            You betrayed You violated

            You assumed someone would get your back

            And you always resented

            When your expectations were not met

You “were hurt” You “were wronged”

You “were persecuted for no reason”

You “were dishonored and victimized”

But truth is not once did you show appreciation

            Appreciation for support—

            Physical, emotional, and material

            Nor the fact that the love and care I

            Showed was virtually unconditional

 


Magellan’s Got Nothin’ on My Lola

Pia Cristina Infante


My lola

Swings

From Fullerton to the Philippines

In stories told

From a green lawn chair

 

My lola

Wears

Skin soft and dark

A ripe avocado ‘bulaklak’

Plucked from the Bulakan

Where the carabao

Speak only Ilokano

 

My lola

Smiles

Baptisms of brown

Spilling secrets even lolo never

Knew

Like how to wrap ‘suman’

Smooth

In velvet leaves from banana trees

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Or how to run laps

‘round a fast flood of ash

In the race against Mt. Pinatubo

 

My Lola steps

Between lives crosses thousands of Blue Ocean

Miles

Swims to Pampanga and back

In two seconds flat

Same trip

Took Magellan

A rough ten years

But you don’t read about

Maria Juanita Francisca del Oro Misael

In the ‘History of the Pacific’

 

Magellan’s got nothin’ on my lola and if that sucker ever reads this poem

He better blush when he says

My Lola’s name


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


A Response to the Queer Sister of Color

Pia Cristina Infante


Contrary to what

You may have heard

About Asian women

I am not always nice

Contrary to what

Images may come to mind

About Catholic raised Filipina

Women

I am not necessarily patient or

Forgiving

 

Contrary to what

You may think you know about

Politically active Filipina dykes

I refuse to further participate

In a minority politics

Which perpetuate

The Myth: American racial

Consciousness in two-

Toned / black and white

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

If you are another sister of color

/A queer sister of color/

contrary to what you

may expect from a queer Asian-

ambiguous sister

I cannot embrace you

Until YOU

                        SEE

                                    ME

And that means

It is your job

Not mine

To educate your self out of

Ignorance

So, please

Figure out / before you ask

Me / that

No,

I don’t read Mandarin

And neither does my sister


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Maré is a Diva, di ba?

Emily Porcincula Lawsin

We call her “Maré,”

As in “Comadré,”

Our sistahfriend.

Not “SIS-TER,” my friend,

But “sistah-friend,”

Said all-in-one.

She’s the womyn

Who defies us—

U – S –

Of A – stereotyped popularity,

Of a bubblin’, babblin’

B – I – T of a Chiquita

Banana yellow-face white bread

MEN-tality

In totality,

It ain’t no Wonder.

She crushes the violent patronizing of

Miss Saigon-like lyrics and

Flushes them down the toil—

It’s not enough.

So she conquers the street,

Telling wart-nosed cop that

“Under Municipal Code Number 2-6-5-6

we can wage a massive protest”

provided she keeps us on the move.

Maré is a diva.

So instead of walking us in traditional circles,

She sends us in lighting movin’ spirals,

Like tornadoes whipping unshielded storefronts.

She is a diva, di ba?

O-o

Maré is more than a

 

W – O – M – B – man.

 

With her saber-like tongue, gleaming brown skin and charcoal eyes,

She burns fire into

The souls of Pinoy folk,

Makin us look back

At womyn ledengs of the P.I:

(NOT including Imelda, the crooked show queen, of course)

so we study Maganda,

meaning “beautiful,”

who was stronger than Eve,

the first diva of all divas,

who killed a bird that mocked

at the bamboo of her man.

And Gabriela (Silang)

Of yesterday and today,

A true revolutionary,

The real, live Womyn Warrior,

Before Kingston made it fiction.

But Maré is more than a teacher, di ba?

She’s the Mother of all lands

That resist using our bodies

As bases of war.

She is like a book of ages

And time that can’t stand still

She is roaring river

Who don’t need to beg to be heard

She’s the strong waves of HERstory

Of our revelations,

Of our liberation.

Maré is a diva,

Yes.

 

My Pinay Nanay

Emily Porcincula Lawsin

My mother has many names:

            “mama” “Mommy” “Lola” “Grandma”

            “Tia” “Chang” “Manang” “Lisa” “Isang”

            But i just call her: my “Pinay Nanay”

 

My Pinay Nanay,

            She can speak

            Ifigao, Ilongo, Ilocano, Waray, Cebuano, Pampangueno,

            Spanish, Tagalog,

            AND English,

            Thanks to the three Pinoy men she married

            And the thousands of U.S. troops stationed in her island province.

 

My Pinay Nanay,

            She can whip up a dozen lumpias—vegetable and Shanghai

            Roll it/paste it/fry it/see you joke with it like a cigar

            Or boto/penis

            And whirl a boomerang bakya/slipper at you

            AllInOneBreath.

 

My Pinay Nanay,

            She can cook a feast for seven in as many minutes.

            Spread the table with

            Fresh mongo beans/seafood/pinakbet/chicken/beef/pork/adobo

            Plus towkwa/tofu/chicharon sizzling on the side/lasagna trays of pancit noodles:

            Bihon/Canton/

            Lug-lug/AND Malabon/vats of tomato-pasty menudo/machado/

            Peanut kate-kare/dinuguan (chocolate meat—ha ha!)/

            AND for desert: platters of steamed puto/suman/cutsinta cakes/baked   bibinka/biko/deepfriend cascarron/donut holes/

            Bowls of sweet ginataan

            With ping-pong-sized-bilo-bilo dumplims

            JustLikeYouLikeThem/and STILL ask you,

            “Are you hungry? You better eat!”

 

 

No comments:

Post a Comment