Written Contusions

A very disturbing text message found its way into my cellphone. My cousin had a message for my mother to prepare documents related to the lot that I bought for some court matters. The issue isn't clear yet but I am very anxious. I don't know what to think but I am very much afraid.

A silly thought occurred to me while I was smoking with my friends just outside of the office. My friend, Donna, was saying that she wanted something sweet to eat. I started thinking of sweet things to eat so I paced around. While pacing, I noticed that the floor was sticky and there were ants walking all over the sticky floor. That was when the thought occurred!

"I have a question," I said.

Chiqui responded, "What?"

"Do you believe the saying that you are what you eat?"

Chiqui thought about it for a bit before saying, "Yes, I guess so."

"If that is true, should it follow that ants are sweet too since they love to eat sweet things?"

After saying that, of course, there was thunderous laughter all around.

Say it softly
after cleaning the crystal cabinet;

While opening the door,
certain things drop
into consciousness. At every remembering,
ripples of sorrow stir the air.

Dust settles on glass and crystals.

It almost sounds like a prayer:
wiping specks off, using a rag moist with tears.

Softly,
try to forgive Forgetting
for trying to covet,
in layers, memories
stacked on shelves.

After restoring everything into the sparkle of grace,
turn to leave them all,
saying softly

amen.

The full moon rising.
Fingernail clippings are thrown
into the darkness.

Sorrow is present
in between the faint moanings
of tall bamboo stems.

A man's open palms.
Appearing into the sky -
fiery thunderbolts.

An old scab is picked
revealing the bloody moon.
Dark clouds separate.

Silver boughs glisten
as sun rays penetrate clouds
after a night's dream.

March 14^th, 2007

"Whatever did happen to our elementary classmates?" This was the topic that we were discussing while walking through Imus Public Market. Judy was telling me about this friend of hers from grade one. As it turns out, that friend of hers got stuck with just telling stories about their past - the long gone past. That was when I blurted out a lot about my elementary days and how I was a friends with our class president and valedictorian.

"Why is it that when we were kids, the class president is also usually the valedictorian?"

"I guess its because of previous experience," I explained. Trying to think more about it, it seems that kids have a knack at remembering who their past first honor student and back then, we always admired the intelligent and the academic achiever. In a way, it is some form of popularity.

The conversation moved a few more dialogues when I suddenly blurted out, "When we were kids, we voted for the most intelligent kid to be class president. I wish that people remember that when they get older; when we get older, it seems that most Filipinos have forgotten that!"

Judy just nodded in agreement. It really seems that it is true - and rather sad that some people could get stuck in the past but totally focus on the wrong things. We get hung up on who was cute, dirty, ugly or funny but we totally forgot some important lessons. When we gather together, the usual topic is who became somebody or who did not make it. I even chirped a lot about things like that with my valedictorian/class president friend. It also our constant topic. We enjoyed the gossip!

Perhaps, it is the time to look back on some grain of wisdom in kids. We knew how to tell who was good and who was rotten. We remembered that last year, our class president was great and smart. She did everything to make the class orderly. Naturally, since she is smart then, she'll still be smart this year and we'll vote for her again. It's simple logic, right?

Looking back, we made sense. We were smart enough to know what to do. Growing up must have taken away that sense. Perhaps, it may have even been forgotten but since I felt that spark of revelation tonight, I'll remember that conversation come the next elections.

De Sade beams at you

-delighting at the sound of dead leaves crunching
underneath your taunting feet;

-gulping in deep breaths, wonderment,
when blowing away dandelion down, shrieking
as you scattered them into disrememberment;

-giggling at how a brook bitterly bottles up tears
while it sulks;

and yet, I still stay, yearning
as empty bottles and blank sheets of paper

-clinking to stall being abraded by silence
-flipping at the slightest breeze
so that dust won't bury me under your conciousness

deep

next to crushed leaves,
bald dandelion heads,
and wet choked sniffs

as Masoch applauds.

I just thought that mice playing with a cat is a cute concept so here it is. It seems to be an anti-thesis of "when the cat is away, the mouse will play." By the way, the cat looks freaky... I know.