“Confessional Poetry” by Krystal Paulino

I only know how to speak plainly.
I write confessional poetry.
Harsh honesty.
I don’t know how to gloss anything over
and I never want to.
I prefer the rash and concrete.
The palpable.
The ushering of reality.
It’s vulgar.
It’s written on my face,
insanities on display.
I’ll tear open the wound,
stretch it out,
rake up what’s inside,
leave you the remnants
for exhibition.
I never have to ask,
“May I speak plainly?”


“Where I’m From” by Joey Tan

Where I’m From

I am from a happy place,
with songs, foods and gifts.
People are singing, drinking and laughing.
There are beautiful lamps on the top for lighting people who want to have fun.
Where I’m from the rice is the main menu,
the foods are all tasty.
I am from New York, Manhattan, Little Italy for now
from old wood stairs to the fourth floor.
I am also from GuangZhou, PanYu, QIFU,
from rock stairs to the sixth floor.
Where I’m from
has a big TV, big bed, and a medium size desk.
The reading light is the best
with yellow color to make the room warm, pleasant and sweet.
Who else is in the room?
My dear mother.

Poem in memory of George Truman Gaston (JBS) by Ryan Lugo (HP)



Happy soul,
Full of color,
Full of light,
Giving positivity to the world,
Never asked for a hand,
Never once disrespectful,
Happy soul,
Full of good vibes,
Full of laughs,
Full of smiles,
Happy soul,
Why’d you have to go?
What was the reason,
Was your purpose to hep us be better?
If so, you were nothing less than perfect,
Once so down to earth, now so far away from it,
Why’d you have to go? Happy soul…?