Tongues (Poetry)


This poem is about you
your big nose
your perfect teeth
your heavy eyes
your humble lips

I miss you.
On quiet nights
when your legs
were wrapped around mine
when our tongues
spoke a language,
only lovers could mime

What happened to us?
to you, my solitude?
solace of every passing summer
the peace of every dreary winter
are you there?
do you still care?


Words and photography by Teegee Villanueva


Dyck Cediño


“We seek and we find; merely to find and then seek. For every beginning there’s an end, but what end brings is a new beginning. We are the essence of creation and the embodiment of destruction: this is the duality of our existence. We create in order to make sense of our own destruction. We constantly seek to find meaning; only to discover that we are meaning itself; mirror images of the vast infinity found within every single being. And the only consolation we get for this life is our own death. This is mainly the reason why I create art, cuz I believe that as much as we are representatives of destruction (physical or ideological), we must also create to make amends with this duality of existence. And this is how I move forward.”–Dyck Cediño


Prints by Dyck Dedino.

The Collective


We spoke about ideas. It was ideas–and authenticity–that mattered in art (let me remind you). He told me his was about human suffering, trauma from past experiences. Those were the things that fueled his drawings, his ink-on-paper pieces, his baggage…basically. Mine was about honesty–about the state of things. Capturing life on film. It was simple. It wasn’t complicated. We spoke for twenty minutes.






Artworkd by Dyck Cedino, photography by teegee Villanueva

Thoughts on Art


I figured it out. Art is about authenticity. Not beauty. It’s about expressing what you truly feel, it’s about being honest about something: an emotion, a thought, an idea, and expressing that in some way. That’s art. Beauty is completely beside the point.

Or is it?

 Photography by Teegee Villanueva, 2016.

The Poverty


  1. There is so much poverty in my city. It’s like walking into a bin. People who are starving and homeless litter the corridors, the alleyways, the secret passages…they exist in their secret worlds, sequestered forever, cursed ad infirm by a cycle that never ends.
  2. I’m going to make it my mission to raise awareness and to ensure the redress of their grievances…through art and photography. I don’t know how yet; how precisely to communicate this message in an artistic language, but I’ll get there.


Continue reading “The Poverty”

Love Strokes (Poetry)


I think about you

I thought about you in my sleep last night

yet you were not where you were

in the waking hour

and so I was left to wander.

The halls of this house

half-naked, half-awake,

I look for signs of life:

a smell, a voice

a string of your hair

a body, your body

hanging from a precipice

why are you hiding?

what are you hiding?

you, are the love of my life.


Poetry and photography by Teegee Villanueva. Photographed in Bacolod City, Philippines. July, 2016

Sweet Love (Poetry)


I have a feeling in my gut

stomach in funky knots

words I want to vomit but I won’t.

I would rather listen.


Hardly a woman I make

I’m hardly a man at all

but I know when I am being tested

I know when I am being duped

I can tell when your sentences are warped

into fractured phrases,

when your lie becomes God’s honest truth


Sweet love, are you cheating on me?


Words and photography by Teegee Villanueva. Photographed at Bacolod City, 2016.



  1. I like cigarettes…a lot…I like it with my coffee, with my tea, with my juice, after my workout, before classes, after classes. I smell like an ashtray and I love it.
  2. I write, like, a lot…on my notebook, in longhand, and I am soooo not intend with current trends.
  3. I go to school, but I feel like I inhabit a different space…the four walls of a classroom remind me of a prison. Your thoughts are contained, and everything feels constrained to a single subject. I hate it.
  4. But I am at the top of my class. I have 3.86 QPA and people don’t care. Apparently, I don’t matter.
  5. That’s a picture of me in my boxers by the way. Enjoy.

Voices (Poetry)


Do you hear me?

Crying alone in the wilderness

For my mother

For my mother’s mother

For her sister, her brother


My soul


Are you there?

Do you hear it? My voice

Can you hear it?

Lurching in the dark

Crowing and yearning

For nothing;

For it never meant anything

To anyone

But me


Poetry by Teegee Villanueva; Photography by Teegee Villanueva. Photographed at Bacolod City, Philippines.


Nicotine Lips (Poetry)


Black tar

Nicotine lips

Lips as fine as sand.

I long to kiss

Lips like mine

I long to feel

With my thumb, with my thumb

With my own bare hands, the history;

Or just a pair of lips to rub against

Whenever the moon turns blue


Poetry and Photography by Teegee Villanueva. Photographed at Bacolod City, July 2016