Tuesday, November 10, 2009

This Belief

I don't know anything at all.
I'll make my truth
the truth
you have written on the wall.

Take charge of my
Hold my hand
Lead me on or
Drive us both off
the cliff.

I'll burn with the anger
you seeded my heart with
I'll make myself hoarse
with the words you taught me to speak.

And as I raise my arms
along with yours
I'll do it with your reason because...

...I don't know anything at all
My truth is the truth
you have painted on the wall.
you are in charge
of my weakness.
There is no strength
for me
and, because whatever you do

I have no other choice
but to believe you.

Thursday, November 5, 2009

kape lang sana ang katapat.

madaling araw.

walang maaninag
ano bang tinatanaw?

asan bang pagkaantok,
ba't nakalimutang dumalaw?

sa gitna ng dilim
at katahimikan
anong nakakubli?

ilan ang payapang natutulog
ilan ang hindi?


ilang oras pa kayang
hihintayin ang liwanag?

pinupuno ang isipan
ng pagkabagabag
sa mga bagay na
kung anu-ano.

hay, sana
natulog na lang ako.

magandang umaga.

Wednesday, November 4, 2009


Dito ka
Heto ang hinahanap mo
Kapalaran? Andito

Sa dami ng tumatawag sa pangalan ko
Kanino ba sasama,
kanino lalayo?

Lahat sila tama
lahat sila mali
at di matukoy kung ano ba talaga
ang para sa sarili.

Kaninong kapakanan ang uunahin ko
kapakanan ng lahat...
eh, bakit may hindi kasali?

Anong kulay ang dapat na nakapinta
pula, berde, asul
may ipinagkaiba ba?

Kanino makikisigaw
kanino makikisama
Kaninong katotohanan
ang aakapin at ipaglalaban?

Eh di rin naman kasi
pwedeng mag-isa.

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Heart Issues

Red. Not.
Conversations like the one I had a while ago always leave me confused and feeling inadequate. As ate Marj talked and showed me photographs

of almost naked natives working in mines in Cordi,
with no insurance whatsoever,
with ridiculously low wages,
their sustenance choked with river water suffused with mine tailing
of native people displaced from their lands
men with strong hands and able bodies
yet powerless against the giants that rob them

about high school students not daring to hope for a college education because of astronomical fees

of inept politicians
of corruption

among other things

I do care. But I wonder, is it enough? Where can I summon the rage, the reason to go and raise my fist with the rest of them? And while I see what they see, and sometimes feel what they feel, and believe as well that you can't change the world sitting down (and you must; at least you must try)... somehow, I know red isn't just my color.

Help (less)

Why should it matter to me
That a boy as young thirteen
had a cigarette smoking between his fingers?

What should it be to me
That a man as old as seventy
lay shivering in the streets, and nay a blanket in sight?

Why should I be thinking about
a forlorn old lady as young as seventeen
and her frail infant;
the promise of the future lost to their eyes?

And why should I care about
the three rugby boys I saw on the street
who looked younger than ten?

What are they to me?
Strangers. People I see as I go about my way
People I do not--
and try not to-- know
Their suffering and pain
The hunger and cold
and the loneliness
and hopelessness--
Should be alien to me.
Yet my heart knows them
with heartbreaking familiarity.

There must be something more than
That I could offer.

More than prayers each night
that seemed as distant to them
as the galaxies...

More than the helpless rage
More than these uncomfortable thoughts
More than the ink on this paper
More than (hopeless) hope...

I care, but I wish I could do more than that.

Somebody once said: "You must grow calluses on your heart . . . otherwise you will bleed to death."

I know.

But I'd rather have a bleeding heart than a callused one.

bus ride

a chilly night
and the cold, hard cement
and perhaps last week's paper
or some old box
that's all that they have
and back at home
i had
more blankets
and pillows
than i could use in a week

the person beside me
wrapped up in the bubble
of her own troubled existence
lost in the labyrinth of her problems
while all i had to worry me
were some stuff from school
and other minor things

and that peddler of nuts
immersed all day
in cacophony of blaring horns
and babble of voices
in overcrowded streets
back home
my younger brother's noise
seems too insignificant

and this bus ride that's been stuck
in this traffic
for 10 minutes
is but a fraction
of the driver's day
a day of
unreasonable passengers,
and unbreathable air
and overcrowded streets
and blaring horns
and traffic.

dare i complain?


sept 28, 2008

i tried to paint the face in my mind

but it just wouldn't form
the color had faded.
it's not even black
i tried to hold on to the smile
but it just slips through my hand
i tried to remember the feebled voice of agony
and the sadness of inevitability
and the sound of the fading

but only silence remained
and then nothing.
i tried to recall the happiness of the earlier time
and the ghost of the joy
from the bruises of guided learning
or the trace of gratitude
for the balance gained from guidance
but nothing
i tried to feel the last touch of the hand
the tightness for a moment
in the fruitless attempt to hold on.
but there wasn't
no sadness
no wistfulness
only the feeling that i should have remembered
more than just the name.

*wherever you are, maybe we will meet again.
and then perhaps you could tell me those stories,
like you did before (did you?)
or your dreams if you had them.
i guess i'm kinda sorry i
never did try to retain the memories
but you see, i never really expected that i would forget-
or that i would try to remember someday*

*happy birthday - that is, if you still count the years.*

What's After Victory?

After the battle has been fought
and won
and the wine had been drunk
and the songs had been sung
and the laughter had ceased
what's next?

when the speech that has
been written and memorized
had earned it's applause
what happens in the silence that followed
when everyone had gone home?

and the plans that were carefully laid
had already materialized
and satisfaction was gained
what happens to the hand that
after it touched success?

what's at the top when you reach it?
and the tears and perspiration
had dried,
and the burden that was carried
had been put down and...
the climb had been put to rest.

what's after victory?

Why Does Heaven Cry, Father? (and) Why Don't You Cry, My Daughter?

Why Does Heaven Cry, Father?
Why does heaven cry, father?
Why does he weep?

He, who had thunder for his voice
And lightning as his eyes...
Why does he
Why can he
Why, why does he cry?

If his heart is too full
That it overflows...
But he is strong!
He should keep it inside
He is strong, isn't he?

He is high.
Even the birds can't really touch him
And yet, he couldn't hide his tears?
Why would he cry?
Why can he cry?

And... If he can,
why can't I?

Why Don't You Cry, My Daughter?

Why don't you cry, my daughter?
Like Heaven
Why don't you let your sorrow flow
With your tears
Why don't you let it go?

My daughter, even someone as strong
as heaven needs
To open up his heart
Why do you keep the floodgates
of your tears and the doors of your heart
Closed to me?

My don't you cry, daughter?
Let your tears flow...
And my comfort is with every drop
that comes from your heart.

Cry to me.

Psalm 22:24
For he has not despised or disdained the suffering of the afflicted one; he has not hidden his face from him but has listened to his cry for help.

Jigsaw Puzzle Life

He made my jigsaw puzzle life
with the pieces in their proper places
Everything fitted. It was perfect.

but what i did was
I turned it upside down
so that I
could "build" it on my own
and lost little pieces as i did.

He patiently picked each one
and placed them where they fit.

i thought i did everything
i thought it was me.

something jarred the puzzle
and the pieces scattered
all over the place
i picked them up...
and picked them up...
and picked and picked them up;
until i got tired
until i lost the little pieces
once more

He picked those little pieces up again

but i already replaced those
little pieces with others
that seemed to fit
but didn't.

and for a long time
my jigsaw puzzle life
had pieces that didn't belong.

inside, i ached for the little pieces
i thought i had lost
i tried to look for them.
i tried... until i got tired
and looked for them no more.
but i hid the unhappiness
because weakness was not
something to be shown

and then He called.

because i was busy
trying to build my life on my own
i did not hear Him call.
i was trying to make those
that didn't fit the puzzle
look as if they did.

and then He reached out his hand.
to show me the pieces that truly fit.

but i was looking for other pieces
so i did not see.
and i looked all over the place
but all i found was pieces
that didn't fit at all.

and so He put His hand on my shoulder
He told me to rest
He told me not to look for other pieces
He had them in His hands.
and if only i would remove the pieces
that don't fit
i would be whole again.

but frightened and hurting and broken
i was afraid to let go
of any part of the jigsaw-
the jigsaw puzzle life
that looked whole but was not.

He said let me replace the pieces
that hurt
let me put back the little pieces
that mattered
and you will be whole again.

and so reluctantly
and so hopefully
one by one...
i removed those that didn't fit
for the ones that were in His hands
for the ones that did.

and one by one
... piece by piece...

i'm being made whole again.

by the same hand that created
my jigsaw puzzle life.

The LORD is close to the brokenhearted
and saves those who are crushed in spirit.
Psalms 34:18

Why Happy?

Because I found what I was missing all along
in the most unexpected place
was reminded of it by the most unexpected people
and a pair of broken wings.

Because I asked a question and got my answers
and a purpose as well.
I'll live for today
and remember yesterday
and hope for tomorrow
with the pair of broken wings.

And while waiting for the stars
to shine behind the clouds
I'd toil and live and laugh and cry
share the happiness--
and live
with the pair of broken wings.

With the sure and steady hands of the Lord as my guide
I'll see each half an angel's wing fly.

ok, mejo malabo. tsaka na ang malinaw na kwento. basta masaya ako. 0:-)

Now Only A Whisper

once, it was her language
that every creature understood
once, there was a time
when every poem that was written
was written without words.

long ago it was her voice
that was heard
and heralded throughout the world
and everyone knew
what they were hearing
'cause it was her language
that they understood.

but as time pass
they had learned
to speak differently
in a language
that was not hers

and her voice...
that gurgle of the brook
and chirps of the birds
and the rustle of the leaves

was replaced by the roar
of his mechanical monsters

and her voice
so soft, so sweet
was drown by the noise
of his engines as they
stripped down the lushness
of her green

and those who
still want to hear
her voice
would hear none
but only a whisper.

and to remember her,
to remember is in vain.

from there

friendship - pure and sincere
no strings attached
no looking back
to whatever may have
happened in the past
let's take it from there.

coz' i've gotten tired
trying to move our galaxies
when you're moving
them too.
we just can't meet at
a point yet.
so let me just be
friends with you

and if fate holds
for us
something more than that
then, surely
fate will let us know.

but for now
that's all
we could ever be.


alam mo bang
dati (nung bata pa ko)
kumakain ako
ng (sunog o hindi)
ulo ng posporo?
Yuck, no?
pampatapang daw,
sabi ng nanay ko
pero, tumapang ba ako?

alam mo bang
allergic ako sa math
at ayoko ng nagkocompute.
pero ComSci course ko.
Ang labo.

alam mo bang minsan
nakakausap ako kahit
tulog. (nanay ko pa rin
ang maysabi. kaya maniniwala
na ako. haha)
kaya ang hirap ng may sikreto
baka masabi ko.

alam mo bang
asar ako
sa mga nagpapaypay
sa mrt
lalo na't katabi ko...

at mas lalong asar
ako sa mga patalastas
na paulit-ulit
kaya nakakabaliw?

alam mo bang
pangarap kong
literal na
maabot ang buwan

at makita ang mga tala
sa malapitan...

at pangarap kong isulat
ang kwento mong
di ko alam
ang kabuuan?

alam mo bang
gusto kong
maupo tayo minsan
at ikwento 'to sau.

para alam mo.

kaso abala ka at
ayokong maging abala
sa 'yo

kaya isinulat ko na lang

at dahil di mo naman
(o babasahin) 'to

sa huli,
ano bang alam mo?

Dahil hindi na yata kita kilala*

Malayo na ang nahakbang
ng mga paang tinatangay lang
ng pagkakataon
at (baka ng) tadhana.

Kaunti na lang ang
natira sa mga unang
na mula't mula'y

Ang iba sa kanila
napalitan na
ng mas higit na maaabot
o mga itinakda.

Hindi na namalayang
nag-iba na nga pala
kung sino noon.
ano ngayon.

mabuti? masama?
mas may patutunguhan
... o wala?

Wala namang reklamo
o pagkabalisa
maliban lang sa

Di na nga yata kita

eto ang pinili ko

di na ako nakaalis
sa kinatatayuan
kakaantay sa 'yo.

nangalay na ang
mga paang
matagal nang nakaabang
sa pagdating mo.

at nanlalabo na
ang mga matang
hinahanap ka.

ayoko na sana.

kaya lang...

di pa pagod ang pusong
bumibilis ang tibok
pag may narinig na papalapit

di pa sawa sa pag-asang
baka ikaw na yun
kahit na
madalas ay hindi pala.

at kahit sabihing wala
na talaga

ayaw maniwala ng diwang
piniling antayin ka.

kaya dito lang ako
hanggang sa pagdaan mo.

Ang Daya

Marumi na ang kagandahang
inabutan ko
Mabahong amoy na
ang iniwan nyo
Basura ang nakalutang
At hindi mga isda...
At kung anong di sinasakal
ng water lily ay
tinambakan naman ng mga bangka

Wala nang itinira sa gandang
minsa'y pinagmalaki niya
kundi ala-ala
at panghihinayang.
naranasan ko sanang
pagpalain ng tubig niyang
minsang ring nagpala sa inyo.
narasanan ko rin sanang
ang ilog na dati'y ipinagmalaki niyo.

Sa ngayong pagtatangkang
buhayin siya
Di ka ba tutulong para naman
ang ilog na nagkanlong sa 'yo noon
ako naman ang kanlungin ngayon?


wala na ang tanikalang gumapos sa nakaraan.

nabura na sa isipan ang mga alaalang pumigil sa paghakbang.

naisara na ang pintuan pabalik sa pinanggalingan.

ang paglimot pala...

...ay paglaya.

sandali lang.

ang hirap talaga
sumabay sa pagmamadali

nakakapagod pala
habulin ng tingin
kapag masyado nang malayo

pero kahit na
nakasunod pa rin
kahit di na makasabay.

kelan mapapagod ng kahit kaunti
ang mga paang laging naghahabol
sa oras na di naman maabutan?

hindi ba nakakasawa ang
tibok ng pusong
palaging nag-uunahan?

teka nga.
kailan ka ba hihinto
para lingunin man lang ako?


Hindi ko madama
ang mga pader na
pero andyan sila.
di ko makita kung
pero may pumipigil
sa paghinga.
gusto kong
pero san ako
di maihakbang
ang di naman
nakagapos na paa.
ang diwang
walang malay
kung anong
nasa labas...
Paano ba
gagawin ang
sa hawlang
pero parang nakasara?


Di mabuo-buo
ang mga katagang
sa sulok ng isip.
Gaano man ang
pilit palayain
Sadyang nakagapos
pa rin
Walang susi
ang hawlang kumukulong
sa mga salitang
nais pakawalan
ngunit di magawa.
Saan napupulot
ang lakas na
bigyang tunog
ang mga tauhang
ayaw mabuo
kahit sa papel man
kailangan ko
ng kasama
Maaari bang
hayaan nyo nang
malikha ko


hindi patas na hilingin ko
na samahan nyo ko
sa pananatili sa alalang

hindi patas na pigilan ko
ang pagtahak sa daang
dati pa'y pinili nyo.

hindi patas na idamay ko pa
kayo sa kahilingang wag na lang
sana umikot ang mundo.

ikinulong ko ang mga ala-ala
sa kristal na sana'y di mababasag
at itinago sa kailailaman
ng ating pinagmulan.

pero di patas na isama ko pa kayo
kahit gusto ko sana 'tong balikan.

dahil baka pagkarating ko dun
iba na rin pala ang
gustong kong puntahan.


naghintay ka ba?
akala ko hindi.
wala ka kasing sinabi
at di ko kayang magbasa
ng utak ng ibang tao.
nahihirapan din akong
intindihin kahit ang
sarili ko
ikaw pa kaya?

akala ko di ka naghintay
kaya umalis na 'ko
at inakyat ang hagdang
iba sa 'ting ginusto.
malayo na ko
di ko na kayang bumalik
at iba na ang damdaming
tangay sa pagpanhik

ayokong sabihin
dahil masakit
pero di ka na kasali
sa mga inihahakbang ko
akala ko kasi
di ka naghihintay.

umalis ka na rin
kasi kahit bigla akong bumalik
iba na ang pagtingin.


gusto kong
basagin ang katahimikang
nakabalot sa nakaririnding
gusto kong bigyan
ng tunog
ang mga hikbing pilit
na ikinukubli
sa tapang na
tanggapin ang pagkutya
gusto kong
bigyan ng boses
ang bibig
na pininturahan
ng pekeng ngiti at
ng sistemang di nakakaintindi
gusto kong
ibalik ang buhay
sa likod ng mga matang
pinadilim ng
mga taon ng pait.
gusto kong ibalik
sa 'yong mga kamay
ang laruan
na miminsan lang
yatang nahawakan.

gusto kong magsalita
magalit para sa 'yo.
gusto kong umupo at makinig
alamin kung bakit
ipaalala ang karapatang
dapat ay batid mo.

bakit ba
hanggang tingin
lang ako?

Wag na.

Kaya kong maging masaya sa labas
Pero parang laging may kulang
Kaya kong tumawa ng malakas
Ngunit hanggang tenga lang siya dinig.

Kaya kong maglakad
kahit walang patutunguhan.
At kaya kong itanggi
ang kapagurang nararamdaman.

Wag lang ako titigil
Wag lang mag-iisip.

Kaya kong ipilit sa sarili
na wala akong hinahanap.
O magpanggap
na nakita ko na.

Kaya ko.
Wag mo lang ipaalala
na hindi pala.

Lipas na

kagabi... sa karnabal.
maliwanag ang buong lugar...
mga taong nakapalibot
sa mga libangang
di umusad kasama ng panahon.
mga libangang kapalit ng barya
ay nagbibigay ng ilusyon ng saya.
di na pala
nakakatakot ang horror train.
kelan ba lumipas
at kumupas ang mga aswang?
kelan nawalan ng kapangyarihan
ang maiingay na alulong ng aso
upang takutin ang mga tao?
kagabi sa horror train
natawa lang ako.
asan ang saya?

kagabi sa cable car
nakaupong iniisip
kung kelan bibigay
ang lubid.
nasan na ang tuwang hatid?
wala na ang mahika,
nasan na ang saya
sa umiikot na tsubibo?
bakit naging plastic na lang
ang umiikot na elepante...
saan nagpunta ang hiwaga?

bakit hindi sumama
sa paglakad ng panahon
si wet joker?
masaya ba siyang
binabato ng supot ng tubig
bakit hungkag ang mga mata
sa likod ng ngiti
na palagay ko (at palagay ko lang naman)
ay peke?
at bakit ipinagpalit sa bente pesos
ang karapatang maging bata
o laro lang ba ang lahat
sa kanya?

kagabi... sa karnabal
hindi na nagawa
pang magbago...
ano ang kumulong
sa libangang naiwan
ng panahon?

o ako lang ba ang nang-iwan?