Sunday, November 17, 2002
: . Playing with Words:
by Paolo Manalo
Misunderstand the initial
there is no I.
Ay tell you, the mispronounced
with the wayward
Bus on its last trip: no matter
How you say it, as long as you get their
Please, allow me to outtalk the obvious:
An epol is still an apple as long as it’s read
speech not centered on the reaten
In Russian that red fruit
be our tongue’s devil
In disguise, yabloka/diablo ka,
the root of evil
truth was, the moment
when either epol or fig
Or figment of epol was partaken,
the tongue sharpened
Into the serpent’s form.
Food for toot: the tongue knows they serve no apple pie in fastfoods.
It cannot be tricked, servant to substitution, it knows sayote as (its filling/it’s feeling).
The gap where the teeeth should be.
And then biting the fruit pit:
The bale borrowing lost meaning.
Bale, all my friends’ kuwan
begins and ends with bale:
It’s more kuwan than habit, more
kuwan, you know, bale.
Bale, I can get your kuwan whole-
sale from Kuwan, bale.
Bale, but if it’s free, it’s free:
hindi bale, size doesn’t matter
it’s the toot that counts.
Anong toot? What do You take me for,
Granted? You think I don’t know
Anything? Now I know everything.
What do You think of me,
Thinking of You? I can think
Of many things now. Before You toot
Of the moon, I invented the moon
Buggy, the yo-yo. Now you can’t look down
On me. I invented the dictionary.
Look me up. I’m somewhere
Between agnostic and idiot.
I’m catholic (“Of broad or liberal scope;
comprehensive”), Filipino (“The Austronesian
language, not the people”), Ano?