Four Verses of Travel

We all yearn for that foreign land

of which we might call paradise.

 

As if our land is not big enough

to find an excuse to explore.

 

How I wish I had traveled more

— my feet should have walked some more

— pedaled my way to unknown places

that my mind has never crossed into.

 

Let me have those wings to fly

despite my fear of falling down.

My dreams will catch me on my drop.

They’ll always catch me, this I know.

 

Return to me — ghosts of places,

where I can still feel you

in my arms, your hands

that reach my consciousness.

 

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Nostalgia

You

You alone know the difference between sentimentality and nostalgia –

Through the houses you’ve lived, loved, and left

and shared ice creams on the store two blocks away from the park.

And sometimes there are days when you’ll find your old video tapes,

tapes about when you first tried your hand in making stories,

stories with toys you’re old enough to have and enjoy,

toys that lived with you through thick and thin.

 

The good old days,

The lonely nights;

The walks you didn’t need to do but you do it anyway,

and the smell of snacks in the afternoon;

The hanging of wet laundry in the balcony

and days when you look at the sun and wish every hour is sunset;

 

And sometimes you climb those roofs not meant for climbing

and endure the eternal fear of heights just to try to reach the blue sky

with your hands.

You lay there and you reach out wishing you could fly,

Not away, but from there and back.

 

 

Then and back.

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Skyscrapers

I face the eternal ocean sky

yearning to fly like free birds;

but chains, they clip on my ankles

and I fall to the concrete ground.

 

On some nights, I dream

of mountains I will never climb.

And on some nights, I fear

the universe comes crashing in

 

on me. Never, I am, on the edge

of cliffs. I dare not walk on

sudden drops. And these mighty

giants standing on city blocks,

 

I dare not look in fear

of the concrete and glass

come crashing down on me.

They will fall down on me.

They will fall down on me.

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The Phoenix

The Phoenix bursts into flame. At dawn, he awakes. He awakes with a cry, try as he might, he will never shed a tear. His scars will shed and tear and bleed. He sits on his perch as the old sage looks and marvels but never notices. Blinded by beauty – The howl is a song. The bow is of pride. The spread of the wings, a stretch in the morning. He’s mourning. And all he does is stare and marvel. The Phoenix has traveled more than you had. If only you can burst into flames and think.

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Masquerades

With a single name, my journey was over.

Ended, like water on spark.

Maybe I knew back then that it won’t last long,

but I never dreamed it would be this soon.

Soon, like sunflowers at night time,

and reduced to skins, I merge into water.

Floating. Drifting Away.

From you. From you.

 

Fake conversations.

They’re all I can give.

And the touch of my fingers on keys that fake words,

they shake. I stumble from my bed.

Continue with my lies

as I lose you somewhere deep in the shadow of my soul,

heart-aching soul.

 

Should-have-beens have become never-beens.

I-have-beens are now has-beens.

 

I’ll bury you with wild flowers of blues and violets;

small stemmed and big petalled;

ground scented masquerades.

 

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News Article got Published

I’m currently a trainee at the Philippine News Agency, an agency under the News and Information Bureau, which in turn is under the Presidential Communications Operations Office.

Yesterday, I had the opportunity to cover an event at the University of the Philippines. The seminar was for Media Literacy and the participants were teachers from different schools all over the Philippines.

On the same day, my story got published on different web-based news. The article is entitled: Teachers tackle “New Media as voice of the people”

Here are the links:

PNA: http://www.pna.gov.ph/index.php?idn=2&sid=&nid=2&rid=520241

Philippine Times of Southern Nevada: http://philippinetimesofsouthernnevada.com/news/the-philippines/ph-provinces/teachers-tackle-new-media-as-voice-of-the-people/

Zambo Times: http://www.zambotimes.com/archives/news/65204-Teachers-tackle-147;New-Media-as-voice-of-the-people148;.html

US News Las Vegas: http://www.usnewslasvegas.com/provincial/teachers-tackle-new-media-as-voice-of-the-people/

Thank you for the opportunity NIB-PNA OJT Program and to the University of the Philippines

 

 

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Metastasis

You’ve changed, altered –

Spilling out the circle,

out the bloodstream.

 

Free, maybe too free

that you inject me with your

pestilence. Out of sense,

metastasized out of control.

Greedy self, multiplying,

getting down, malignancy.

Dancing sea, evolving mass,

sheltering oblivion

that grows and knows

evil spread, fighting cells.

Man down!

Man down!

Take my hope

and let it grow

You have me here.

You’re not alone.

 

Inside your veins,

I’ll flow

and save you,

never leave you.

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Stalkers

Blue dream refuge

Don’t you want to know me at all?

To wait for messages I’ll never receive

To wait for hours you’ll never give

Am I alarming you?

You’re just ignoring me.

Small notes and stalkers –

just what we’ll ever be.

I see, maybe

for just a little while

you’ll bury me

on things that swings

and keep our hearts apart.

Field themed deluge

Don’t you want to know me at all?

 

 

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Drayber

Maghihintay ng pasahero

kahit alam na walang darating,

si Manong, tumabi sa kanto

ng Lepanto. Sa tapat,

buto’t balat,

nagtitimpi, nagtitiis,

hindi umiiyak,

hindi naluluha

si Manong na nasa kanto.

Tinutubuan na

ng puting buhok siya.

Kulubot, pumulupot

ang bituka sa kaluluwa.

Magpapalit ng pwesto

tatlong kalye mula Lepanto.

Primera, Segunda, Primera

Tingin sa salamin

-si kamatayan pumara.

Kanan, sabing kanan,

ikot manibela

sabay sa tama

ng bus sa unahan.

Unahan

ang mga tao sa pagtakbo

paalis. Panis

ang laway sa pagsigaw

“Saklolo! Saklolo!

Tulungan po ako.

Ang kaluluwa ko’y

tumitingin sa inyo.”

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Wings

Standing overpass

I pass the time

conquering my fear

of heights when lights

begin to dawn on me

my eyes, they blur

of everlasting flares

that melts the inside of my

soul. I go

to grow my wings

and rings of halo.

May I know

the feeling of breathing

cold air, mist,

that pits my head

to bliss?

I missed

the sound of falling,

as I hit the ground

with broken wings.

 

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