Truth

Follow me then if you dare,
As I grope in the corridor of my anxieties.
To you I lay my heart open and bare,
In the place where my dreams,
And uncertainties kiss.

In the sound of my laughter,
Hear the resounding echo of my fears.
Try to halt my perpetual masquerade,
And behold that I am nothing more,
Than a face that’s scared.

A Plea for Reprieve

Was it suicide Muse,
The day you died because I killed you.
Were you all the while a part of my soul Muse,
And if you won’t ever wake up, then that part will never too.

From your slumber Muse,
What will it take to rouse you.
A kiss from my pen Muse,
With my blood for ink, will that do.

In case you really are dead Muse,
Will you come back if I beg God to let you.
Will you let me to pay my debt Muse,
And let this fool attempt to from now on stay true.

Solitary Pilgrim

At my funeral,
They will grieve.
They will cry.

Sad tears,
Wistful tears,
Sorry tears,
Polite tears,
Perfunctory tears.

For they have loved,
As hard as they could.
Loved with affection,
Loved with obligation,
Loved with guilt,
Loved with resignation.

But they will not die,
A thousand deaths.
Nor hear their heart,
Break into pieces.
None will feel a melancholy,
So incurable.
Not one heart
Will bleed forever.

I am not,
What I seem to be.
Not a daughter,
Not a sister,
Not a lover,
Not a friend,
Not even an enemy.

I am a lost soul,
A passing pilgrim,
Through this life.
Not theirs,
Not mine,
Not the world’s,
To keep.

Peace Offering

The Muse is calling. She hates me but can’t abandon me. She is punishing me for not listening. She is making me depressed with the craving to please and appease her and even more depressed by not knowing how to. She is my best friend whom I have yet to know. She is my angel who is right now angry as hell with me. She is punishing me by making me commit, almost involuntarily, an unforgivable crime – HR policy violation: using company resources for personal gain. Haha. Notice to explain coming up? How do I explain that I am at the mercy of my unforgiving Muse? Here I am, forcefully banging down on the keyboard, fingers commandeered by Her who’s mad.

My job description is telling me to set up a meeting with a vendor for tomorrow. Finish work instructions for a product. Complete the documents for 2 product launches. Monitor products. Compute gross margins.

She responds -

“I curse you to crave for writing but not be able to do it. I punish you with ideas swimming in your head but not being able to string them out coherently. I curse you with the envy you will feel whenever you see your friends on Facebook happy because they appear to be living the lives they’re meant for. I curse you with a job you cannot afford to let go of even if your crazy heart tells you it’s ultimately the right thing to do. I curse you with the guilt you will always feel whenever you try to seek your happiness before that of your family’s. Above all, I curse you with the endless, incurable craving to write for a living while feeling all these.  I curse you with the gift and the fear both whispering in your coward ear. The only way you can pay me back is drop everything and start from the ground up and I know that is scaring the shit out of you. I will forever be shouting inside your head with a defeaning noise that only you can hear. I can’t get rid of you, you can’t get rid of me. I live in you. I am you.”

Here it is, Muse. My peace offering. Along with it  a list of things to do in the office today – all undone. Happy now?

Idol

Alang-alang sa paksa ay sususbukan kong sumulat sa wikang Filipino. Ang paksa: ang bago kong idolo at idolo ng bayang minsan mas nakikinig king hindi matino ang payo: si Bob Ong!

Nakilala ko si Bob ong dahil sa kaibigan kong taga-UP pero hindi aktibista. Pinilit niya akong bumili ng Stainless Longganisa para mahiram niya. Nagpauto naman ako. Simula noon, ako ay nalulong sa isang bisyong hindi naman masyadong masama. Tulad ng adik, hinanap-hanap ko ang mga akda ni Bob Ong na napakadaling maubos sa maga bookshelves ng National Bookstore. Selling like hotcakes, man! Siya na marahil ang sagot sa dasal ng mga NGO na nagsusulong mapaunlad ang modernong panitikang Pilipino (naks, ang lalim!) at bigyang pansin ng mga kabataan. Sa impormal niyang istilo, marami ang nahihikayat niyang magbasa, lalo na ang mga kabataan at mga paslit 4 years old pababa.

Mula asa paghihikayat sa mga Pinoy na imulat ang mga mata sa mga sakit ng ating lipunan hanggang sa pagsusulat tungkol sa mga walang kwentang bagay kung saan nakaka-relate tayo at nakakpulot ng gintong aral, alam lahay ‘yan ni Bob Ong.

Isinusulat niya ang malalalim na isyu ng ating pagka-Pilipino sa likod ng mga walang kwentang bagay tulad ng nagtataeng bolpen at nagsasalitang talangka. Sa pagsulat tungkol sa mga karanasang nararanasan din natin, makikitang kaisa at isa siya sa masang Pilipinong nagsisikap na maging tunay na proud Pinoy. Hindi siya National Artist o bigating pulitiko (maliban na lang kung matuklasang siya pala si Nick Juoaquin o si Erap sa totoong buhay). isa sia marahil sa milyun-milyong Pilipinong di sapat ang kinikitang sweldo ta nabubuwsit sa buhol-buhol na trapik (maliban na lang kung siya pala si Lucio Tan in a pseudonym).

Iba si Bob Ong. Dahil hindi siya iba sa ating lahat. Gets n’yo? Ang kanyang mga akda ay nagbibigay-inspirasyon, nagpapamulat, nakakatawa, nakakapraning, nakakabilib! Idol man! Kung sino ka man.

Isa lang ang pinanghihinayangan ko. Na hindi ko nakilala si Bob ong noong ako’y nasa hayskul pa at sumusubok pang bumuo ong pangarap. Kung noon ko siya nakilala, nagkaroon siguro ako ng lakas ng loob na sundin ang sinasabi ng puso kong pangarap ko. .Hindi sana ako ngayon nagpipilit mag-Ingles with an americanized accent at nagmumura sa bawat bobong ‘Kanong tumatawag sa aming 1-800 toll free number (hulaan n’yo kung ano ako?! Tama!) . ‘Yon o narealize ko sanag mas cool maging jologs kaysa mapasama sa honors list. Joke:)

Higit sa lahat, idol ko si Bob Ong dahil mura ang libro niya. Di tulad ng Harry potter o ng The Truth About the da Vinci Code. Napilitan tuloy akong mag-collect. Sa ngayon ang kulang ko nalang ay ang ABNKKBSNPLAko?! (na nabasa ko na pero gusto ko ng sariling kopya) at MacArthur na palaging out of stock (ang tsismis ay subersibo at inciting to sedition kaya mahigpit na binabantayan ng otoridad sa hinalang si Bob Ong ay walang iba kundi si Joma sison. Joke lang again.). Sa ngayon ay hinihintay ko ang dalawang libro mula sa aking manita sa kris kringle.

Magsilbi sana itong isang karapat-dapat na tribute (ano sa Tagalog ang tribute?) sa henyong walang mukha o puwede ring mukha ng bawat Pilipinong mula sa katotohanan ng ating lipunan ngunit ikinararangal pa ring maging isang Pilipino.

Nawa’y hindi n’yo mapansin na makapal ang mukha ko at sinusubukan kong gayahin ang istilo ng idolo ko. Nawa’y hindi n’yo rin mapansin na sobrang palpak ko sa layuning ito.