Sunday, 25 November 2012

Choco Float


I gotta fix this terrible mood. That's why, I got myself one large chocolate float. The mood almost wanted to explode finding that there was no empty table for me. Crowded malls and restaurants, a sign that Christmas is nearing. I went to a four-seater table and shamelessly asked the two old men seated if they'd be willing to share their table with me. They seem not to mind at all. And I f****n' don't mind too. It's not cool to sit with two grandpa's? I'm not after babysitting my false ego right now.

I watched one of them clumsily pick up each piece of french fries, while the other one was making all effort in directing the burger to his mouth. They were taking their sweet time having their snacks as they talk about deep and old things. Across our table is a girl who keeps smiling at me. I keep smiling back at her too as if it is the only way I could respond. Maybe she's met me in the past, but I don't remember. When the old men were finished eating and are about to leave, I suddenly felt lonely, as if I'm gonna miss them. Even though they didn't even give a single drop of attention to me, it felt like I've enjoyed my entire chocolate indulgence with two grandpa's of my own. I checked for my smile-mate girl, but she too, has already left.

How I pitied myself, staring at the chocolate float glass I emptied. I felt some bright colors twirling inside me now, but I'm sure it isn't from the monochromatic chocolate float. It was from the smile of the stranger across our table. It was also from the company of the other two strangers who were kind enough to share a table with me. I realized that although we are strangers to each other, we opted to exhibit the human characteristic of kindness and warmth.

I learned my lesson. I'll never resort to a chocolate float again...

By the way, my two grandpa's are still here with me. They didn't leave yet for they heard that Garfield is about to come on stage. We are now like kids of the same age mocking that tall Garfield mascot dancing to the song "Oppa Gangnam Style."

Friday, 16 November 2012

Today Writer

As early as 10 years of age, pen and paper were her best pals. She didn't write poems. She didn't write essays. She wrote fictional stories. She wrote stories about adventure, tragedy, fantasy, drama, about friends, families and even young love.

More than 10 years later, the girl found her old scraps and notes. She read them, and laughed heartily for she finds them immaturely compelled to step up from innocence.

She stopped writing. Today, she writes again. Fictional stories are not on the list. She'll make poems and articles. Was the little fiction writer yesterday different from the trying hard poet today?

No, they are the same person. Yesterday was a daydreamer. Yesterday was a wishful child. Today is a woman, a woman trying to live in the real world. Same writer. But today, after many years, maybe she has had many experiences. Today, maybe she has more prolific, profound, and realistic or true to life stories to share.

Photo credit: http://ingridsnotes.files.wordpress.com/2011/03/girl-writing-in-journal.jpg

Saturday, 10 November 2012

Defense of the Ancients

Takbong-lakad.

Nagmamadali.

Sa ika-sampung computer shop,

"'To na dapat ang huli."


Pawis na pawis,
Sa pagod ay baon.
Sa tonong tuyo't sa pasensya,
dagliang nagtanong.

Salamat hindi na
pinataas aking altapresyon
sapagkat magandang balita
ang kanyang tugon.

Colored ink,
sila'y mayroon!

Matapos silipin
dokumentong ii-imprenta,
"Hihintayin niyo po ba,
o babalikan na lamang?"

Kunwari'y nag-isip.
Nais ko'y magpahinga
kaya
"Hihintayin ko na lamang."

Ilang beses umikot
kamay ni Ginoong Orasan.
Bawat tanaw sa kanya,
si Inip nagbabadya.

Hanggang sa may pumasok
payat na binata.
Kapansin-pansin,
mga labing pulang-pula.

Kung umasta'y
'sang dalagitang suplada
na tinapunan ang mukha
ng pulbos na luma

"Dalawang oras po, kuya!"
Nakakagulantang niyang salita.
Dumikit aking mga mata
sa nagpapakadalaga.

Tamang-tama,
kay Inip, paalam na.

"Marahil, magfe-facebook siya
mga gwapo'y hanap niya.

Kung hindi naman, magpo-post siya
ng mga litratong ipapahusga."

Iyan ang nagmamatalino
at walang pasintabi kong teorya.

Matapos okupahan
pula ring salumpwet,
ibinaba ang mga gamit
at nagsuot ng headest.

Tila matindi
inihandang konsentrasyon.
Mga daliring bayolente
hampas dito, hampas do'n

Ginuhit na mga kilay
ay pinagsalubong.
Mga labing gigil,
pait ang umuusbong.

Ilang minuto ang lumipas,
hindi ako nakatiis.
Dahan-dahang tumayo
at marahan lumapit.
Sa nagpapakadalagang
may pantalong pitis,
tumaas ang isa kong kilay
at sa sarili'y nanliit.

Ang dala-dalagahang hinusgahang pilit
Sa larong DotA (Defense of the Ancients) naaakit...


Photo credit: http://www.freewebs.com/dota-stk/

Thursday, 1 November 2012

For Sale!

Business. Everything in today's world is FOR SALE. Yet, nothing had enough price or value to be irreplaceable.

True love, true life is next to extinction. Everything is humorous, especially city life. Elusive, transitory, exhausting. Everyone and everything is about speed, as if stopping means death. So nobody stops to reconsider, to be human again. It is so unreal, illusory. They've become robots -- dead and walking.

Overlapping of words, failure to finish a sentence. "Life is too short, have to move to the next stage." Citizens know harmony no more, living parallel lives like disconnected universes. Everyone simply strives for their own space.

Along with advancing technology and industrialization, we have made the supposedly simple life more complicated and expensive. But we are, by nature, connected. We are, by nature, gentle, tranquil and free.

Aren't we aware, that this world and this life were given to us
without price tags?



Photo credit: http://www.spencersundell.com/blog/_img/movies/



It is both beginning and end of a novel-in-progress, filled with multilingual poetry impossible to repress...

Nothing in this world or its neighboring planets, nothing in this lifetime or next lifetimes would be any better than gazing at that smile and uttering the nectarean name.

Yet seeing myself, is no less than seeing an ethos of ambiguity. Mind unmade up between being selfish and selfless, between denial and honesty. I pray to find and immerse my heart in nothing but truth and love,
and truth and love only.

Photo credit: http://nanoblogmo.blogspot.com/2010/11/deadline-frenzy-writing-novel-in-30.html