man in the fridge

may bahay ba na walang kubeta? meron, pero lahat gumagawa ng paraan upang magkaroon ng kubeta. merong bahay na walang kwarto, o kusina, pero walang bahay na walang kubeta.

kadalasan ang mga pinaka nakakadiri na bagay sa mundo ay ang mga bagay na hindi natin puedeng malimutan.

madalas noong highschool, sa mga term papers at sa essay tests madalas magtanong kung ano ang daw ang mga bagay na sobrang nagpapasaya sa atin? madalas kong sagot noon eh pamilya, laruan, bulalakaw, si magmaman, si batman, ang nanay kong balikbayan, ang aso naming parang laughing hayeena, yung kapitbahay namin na bading na nagtatatrabaho sa military barracks, at kiamoy. pero sa takbo ng panahon, naisip ko yung mga panahon na nasira ang tiyan ko, o yung sobrang najijingle balls na ako, or kung nasusuka na ako, o yung gusto ko lang magbasa ng text message mag isa… kubeta… wala nang mas masayang pakiramdam pag umabot ka sa kubeta nang hindi mo pa naiiputan ang salwal mo.

nakapunta na ako sa ibang palasyo na natayo nung medieval ages, napasok ko na rin yung kwarto noon ng mga royal blood, grabe, kahit noon eh, specific na pala talaga na magkaroon ng kubeta. kahit na minsan ang disenyo ng kanilang kubeta eh sobrang weird, dahil yung butas eh diretso na sa labas and take note kitang kita mo yung labas. parang bintana na ginawang inidoro.

umabot na rin ako sa mga liblib na pook na rural, kung saan ang mga bahay  ay sawali, at kung minsan puro butas pa ito. pero resourceful at mga tato sa rural, basta necessity, provided yan…at may kubeta. although more of a jungle setting yung kubetang yun. parang kanta ng eheads dati sa alkohol "CR MO BUONG MUNDO".

no offense, pero bakit ba kubeta ang napili kong isulat, simple lang ang sagot. gusto ko lang ibalik ulit yung punto na medyo nalimutan na natin, na lahat sa mundo pantay pantay. walang mahirap at walang mayaman, pare pareho tayong humihinga at kumakain. sana naman itrato natin ng pantay, lalo na se serbisyong gobyerno, o maging sa mga malls o sa jeep. lahat tayo tao.

mahirap man o mayaman, alalahanin mo, lahat tayo ay tumatae.

-darkmau

malaya!

watching the plane leaving,

and starts to learn counting;

through the calendar skimming.

days and night of uncertain waiting.

.

learned to understand physics;

by a matter of miles and timezone,

read through geography,

and day to day agony.

.

learned world history,

by holding dollars and foreign monetary,

the numbers add up,

to years of being lonely.

.

started to understand love,

through words spoken,

and all the words written,

carried by stamps….fading.

.

patience of waiting,

started to taste blank,

days, months and years,

gone to fast, seems like they are forgetting.

.

the children of the heroes

pay the price,

for the economy of tragedy

brought by poor economic policies.

.

wrote by the educated,

who cant decipher life from death.

as they call them heroes,

they children call them…parents.

.

noon, minsan

nalimutan…

babalikan,

tatawa, iiyakan.

bukas,

iisipin.

mabagal,

kapag inaabangan.

kanina,

lumipas,

parang noon,

matatandaan,

pero malilimutan.

na tulad ng bukas,

iisipin,

pero di pa nakakamtan.

parang ngayon,

na sadyang lumilipas,

pagkakataong lumalagpas,

saan,

kailan,

bakit,

kanino…

higit sa lahat.

PAANO?

while waiting for the sun to rise

with coffee in a cup,

sitting on the front porch,

patiently being there for nothing.

.

as the rooster cracks its sound,

morning is here,

but am still sitting,

what’s next…to where?

.

while the coffe turned cold,

my eyes are tired,

waiting, sitting, not knowing;

who or what is coming.

.

a thousand dreams unrealized

here in the front porch,wasted.

waiting for nothing,

still feeling that something is coming.

.

darkmau

MAlaya!

the last train left me,

and i was alone

at the tube station..

.

i went upstairs,

hoping to catch the night bus,

but nothing came.

.

it was getting cold

and it was getting lonely,

how could this be?

.

i took the last cigarette,

but i had no lighter,

and so i had to save it later.

.

walking home,

with nothing, with no one,

lonely… tragic comedy.

.

to make it perfect,

the rain came,

and it completely covered me.

.

and just when i thought,

things would end,

i came home.

.

you, were not there,

leaving me a note,

"i had enough"

.

darkmau

MALAYA!

"i dont want anything more but a normal life. i want to write about anything and everything under the yellow sun. who needs more, who wants more?" as omar said this he left and closed the door. marga was silent, she never knew what happened, she felt as if the person whom she knew for all her life suddenly became someone else.

omar was never like this, he was always passionate about thingsm he works hard for the things he like, for the things he love, for the people he loves, for everything he believed in. he went over his boarders to seek new fields in life, a greener pasture and another staircase to climb. but things did not go right for him, suddenly he lost control of what he used to be. he became an alien with his self.

marga, however is the unknown girlfriend, they had their on and off relationship for five years, they had been close yet too far. marga was always there for omar, but omar as a guy of uncertainty always find a reason to forget marga. and when things fail, marga is always there waiting for omar. she knew that omar loves her, she understands the lack of trust of omar in love.

their circle of friends would always say that omar is not a man from this planet. he finds reason to every single thing. he deviates from what we see, he is deep, artistic and cold. but marga knew the truth, inside omar is a shallow man, with so many fears, and waiting only for death to take him. and she would never allow that day to happen.

….can you finish this… i am tired.

she, the indifferent lover, broke her heart.

from promises unkempt to the future she dreamed.

she, the indifferent lover lost faith,

to the meaning of life and love itself.

.

she who watched the sun, the moon and stars,

dreaming well of happy and blissful evenings,

serene and calm over the rushing sea,

she, the indifferent lover, needs to flee.

.

he who watched her cry on countless nights,

over hours of agonizing pain,

hovered across by bitter pill of memories,

haunting her to depth of sanity.

.

they were lovers on plains of sands,

but they are maps of what used to be,

a record of flame gone to ashes,

and in the dust of the earth can not be retrieved.

darkmau

malaya!

I have forgotten him many times,

when im on the bus, or in the trains,

when im winning and everything is my gain,

when im eating and drinking that wine

while smoking and talking about being fine.

i have forgotten him, while i was busy,

doing the things that make me crazy,

girls and all alikes, i even not mentioned him in my poetry.

i am bored when people talk of him,

i hide to the lines when people try to know him.

slowly i am losing him.

mondays to saturdays are for the world,

and on sundays i try to fill him in,

at most times, i still drop it for some more rest,

i have traded him for hours of sleep,

more lousy than the the 30 pieces of silver.

and on times of trials,

i always try to make him in,

as part of my team.

and when things go wrong still i blame him.

wait til my mind clear, and lean on my so called brain.

and then i forget him.

but when he suffered back then,

when he was insulted, mocked, did he complain?

when he died in the hands of the cruel soldiers,

did he forget us?

the third day where he rose from the grave,

was the day of liberation.

and forever should be cherished.

a miracle of resurrection… i am blind.

i keep on forgetting.

forgive me.

darkmau

malaya!

hating the rain is one of my hobbies. i think i got it from watching the gremlins… not! maybe the reason is, i just hate it. i hate the cold, the damp streets, the cold wind accompanied by the gush of this miracle water coming from the atmosphere. its simply insane. although water is life, i just cant contain myself feeling down when i see the gloomy clouds and umbrellas all over, and the flood, and the traffic and not to mention the rush. everything is wrong when its raining. especially if it is raining hard, with thunderstorms and typhoon, and chaotic rupture of nature. i see these things as bunch of friends coming from the university of insanity, testing people of their endurance to brave the negativity.

when i thought that everything was going wrong while its raining, i forgot things. how many times do we blame the rain for ruining our dates, our schedules, and even our special occasions. we(not only me) blame the rain for the traffic, for the flood, for the erosion, and for the lives that have been caught by the element of water. but we also forgot the fact, that this is part of what we are, rain is constant, like tears in our eyes, like the saliva in our system, like the water in our bodies, we are one with the rain.

the constant testing of rains, is a reminder that the RAINMAKER would not give us of what we could not bear. we  grieve and complain about the things, we always say that it is just the way it is, but no. we might not be able to control the rain or the chaos it brings, but we can be prepared for the tragedy it would bring, enough with reasons, while trying to evade for the mistakes we never accept.

i am weak, and so are you. we remain weak because we need to be weak to find strength. we could not find the things we need if we find it inside us. its the science of economics, its the way of life. we collide with the rain, to remind us that we are all alive. we are alive because we have a purpose, a direction, just like the rain, it moves down, sometimes sideways, but still it hits the direction where it should be. there is no coincidence with the rain, and so with life.

darkmau

malaya!

i came to samal island not as a visitor, but a BWISITOR!  the reason wasn’t for fun, it was part of my job, to document the development of the project for Barangay Villarica, primarily on the comprehensive housing program of the LGU and the problem of the settlers in dangerous areas. i knew less of what Samal is, all i could think of was the scorching heat of the bloody sun, and the sticky air brought by the shores of their mini port. but deep inside the island lies more than heat and the uncomftable feeling of being a visitor. Samal is a sanctuary, a garden island which needs nurturing and of course respect.

the culture inside the island thought me so much on life, the simplicity of life, the simple dreams of the people and of the local government was overwhelmingly felt. alhough there are some who still "demonize" for their own personal gain(politics). they have some swell headed politicians who talks and walks like demi Gods for the island, and there are  people who truly works for the good. its a mixture of everything, a little of bad,  a little of good, a little of paradise, a little of hell and everything in between.

i have heard stories about, sorcerers and aswangs, and those stories kept me awake each time i am required to stay overnight to finish some paper works. the mixture of coffee and cigarette adds tension to this paranoid feeling that something is watching you. and shem, my friend who is my artist knows the experience. 

along the way i met people who accepted me as part of their community, i discovered different religions and traditions and not to mention the food. i fell in love with samal, and each time i am fucked up with things, i always want to go to the island, hide my fears and search the asnwers over he limestone roads and breeze of the sea. too bad, i wasnt able to finish the project in Samal, but in my heart i am forever hooked with the place.

samal is not just a tourist spot, it is a gem. a diamond that needs to be protected from multi million capitalists, it is a treasure that needs to be respected. samal you will always be remembered. thank you.

darkmau

MALAYA!

-on half full, half empty thoughts-