Exam Something

Today

Nothing feels right

To the not-so-righteous.

She feigns joyfulness to strangers

To stop them from looking past the face.

Tumultuous emotions. The world is one big maze.

She suddenly screams and gets the urge to throw something

Then she smiles at the thought of sunlight on fields.

Not everything’s that better—but She figured,

What the heck.

Tomorrow’s a new day.

-date unknown... august 2002-
-Miko's house-

Wanna eat lunch?

from here, i can see the back of your neck
how every hair moves as you nod
how your eyelashes sweep the air which smells of you
how your foot taps to the rhythm of a song playing in your mind
from here, i notice everything there is
but not once did you turn to face me
don't worry, all's fine
i'm content being behind you all the time
when you look back, all you'll see is me
ready to smile in case you wonder why
i am still here.

-july 25, 2002-
-10:30 AM-
-g211, distru time s11-

An uncommon scene

downtown parade
people cheering people on
confetti thrown unto the semi-rained on street
bald old man in a small apartment singing Perry Como on top of his lungs
dancing with the make-believe woman of his dreams.

the band kicks in
the trombones and the cymbals and the rest of them players
the baton twirlers in their shimmering, white skirts
smiling at strangers like there was no tomorrow
thinking of the men who left them behind for others.

parade goes on and on
halts in front of a massive stage of lights
what do you know, on it was Her
getting ready for the performance to top all performances
wow, what a time to ponder about Him.

hey, the show must go on
so, let's give it up for Jam
sing us a song, dance to the Lambada
act like you're on top of the world
instead of pretending to be someone you no longer are.

-july 15, 2002-
-9:41 PM-
-PC-

Hanging on

the scent of boredom
is too thick to ignore--
the sweat and its source become one.
no matter how cold the water
you splash on your face to keep
from falling into slumber,
your lashes slowly flutter...
making it impossible for me
to escape the depths
of your eyes.

-June 17, 2002-
-10:32 am-
-g207-

Which one's real?

Surely, you wouldn't remember a thing--
for it's something not shared.
All happened so quickly, yet vividly.
I was sure it happened, and you knew it did.
We walked barefoot on the wide expanse of sand,
just when the sun was about to bid its farewell on
its worshippers.
The Pacific breeze sang us a lullaby in falsetto.
I was freaking out, for I had no one
to go home with.
You took my hand and gave it a soft pump, and
whispered, "You're going to heaven with me."--so lovingly,
it gave me goosebumps.
You noticed and draped your shirt which smelled of
the ocean on my back, killed me with your
smile all in the same time.
We stayed there till it was the stars' turn to put
on a radiant show.
We named a constellation after me. A planet after you.
We laughed gleefully at the idea of being the
only two people on Earth,
where we would be treated masters, even by
the smallest of ants.
You danced with me to the tune of the waves
crashing on the jagged rocks.
I looked up, and saw the powerful moon beam
play around in your eyes, as if you
were blessed with its perfect feature.
I put my ear against your chest and I heard
the "boom-boom-baroom" it was saying, only to me.
When we stopped, you pulled me down to sit on
the shore, with the water lapping at our feet.
Nobody said anything anymore--
We didn't need to. We knew. We always have.
We knew our way home.
I fell asleep on your shoulder.
When I did, I dreamed that
you, didn't remember a thing.
You weren't even sure that it happened.
Then I realized--
maybe because it's something not shared.
I never woke up.

-may 7, 2002-
-8:55 AM-
-goks lobby, DLSU-

Some Kind of Mania

truth unspoken
offense-- none
taken
silent as a lamb

waiting, even for
a slight echo
to be certain
you comprehend

passive, forlorn
eyes-- not a
tear, nor its stain--
in sight

truth unspoken
not at day--
nor even
at night

-may 5, 2002-
-4:10 PM-
-Mt. Banahaw-

Gone ahead?

hey, look--
colored my fingernails
with a purple
crayon. it's weird,
uneven, but creative.
it's like i'm
always freezing
cold. like i need
my hands held.
like i had gone
mental and pounded
on them with a
hammer. sort
of like nail polish,
but not dark.
tomorrow, it'll fade.
it'll be gone. i
would've rinsed
my fingers well
by then.
tomorrow...
i think i'll try green.

-april 29, 2002-
-9:55 PM-
-living room-

Hallucinations

you, a champion
unicycle rider--
with your silly grin
pasted forever on
your fair-skinned face,
are nothing but
a memory.
your sense of
balance, a mere
idea from the
back of my mind.
your courageous efforts
to make the world
laugh--
just hopeless dreams.
your hair smells like
sandalwood, shining,
golden locks straight
out from a fairy tale.
my hands long for it
like a lover would
for a passionate kiss.
you, my chavatah--
a vision.
a dream.
a memory.

-april 28, 2002-
-10:50 PM-
-living room-

****? ick.

everything seems fine now.
gradually, you don't exist.
you DON'T.
but, it's certainly not enough
to stop pillows
from being tear-soaked at nights
it's not enough
to make me forget
the lies, the egg-ons--
that infatuated look in your eyes.
love is never an interesting
center of poetry.
it cramps up my style!
so, better you don't exist.
you DON'T. i guess...

-april 24, 2002-
-9:00 AM-
-g205, DLSU-

Nonsense

even i--
a silly old string
hanging from your
favorite shirt,
wonder why this
is a big deal...
you wear me like
a fashion trend.
as if very soon,
people will start wearing
strings from their shirts.
but hey, don't think
you can't pull me away.

-april 14, 2002-
-8:11 AM-
-pc-