floating, fleeting

I'm so busy as usual, hence here I am, procrastinating lolz. 

I don't know what's with today. Almost three cups of coffee and things are still not kicking in. Well, I already wrote one article, two out of the required four for the month in my usual gig. But other work? Ewan ko ba. The more I know how to finish the damn work, the more I delay doing it. Not that I don't want it to finish but...ewan ko ba. 

Sometimes my mind just flies and wanders around, somewhere in the universe. It takes a special dose of energy to pin me down and write, and my usual discipline will latch me down hard naman anyway. It's the energy that's fleeting lately, to finish this specific project I have. I think my soul is yearning to write something else na kasi. But of course, kabuhayan package comes first, as always.

Was going through my cloud repository of concepts to kill time when I stumbled upon a short poem I wrote last year. Ewan ko ba, bigla lang itong lumitaw, like parang bula mula sa gitna ng karagatan or something like that. 

Kasalukuyan akong nasa Leyte-Samar trip ko noon, para sa ocular ng Yolanda devastated sites ng isang environmental NGO na producer ng librong sinulat ko para sa kanila. Ang dami siyempreng thoughts at feelings na pumalaot sa akin sa three-day trip na iyon, grabe lang, sa lugar pa na iyon. Isang araw, I have to write those down pa rin. 

In the meantime eto 'yung tula, share ko lang dito.

Laot 

Minsan kailangan kang
Pumunta sa
Gitna
Ng kawalan
Para makahanap
Ng tamang lugar
Kung saan may
Bunga
Ang pagsagwan. 

 (28aug14 touchdown to Tacloban)

Tacloban: Sa gitna ng kabihasnan at kawalan. (August 2014)

I am by nature a storyteller, and I have said that here many times. But there are times when poetry just springs forth from my mind. Rare ito lately, actually, maybe because my life lately is full of good heartfelt stories that are better to retell. But of course, I can't control my muse if she wants to produce this way. So hey, what the hey.

So many travels, so many musings. Sometimes I am paralyzed and unsure if I should even share them. But of course, some are raring to be told. 

And we will. soon.

Officially real

And this is how I determine that I am in love, for real: I write poetry, about how I feel. For her.

--------
Thank you, you're here
(for j.)

If I were to choose
In which time should I exist
I would choose right now
This time, here
Because you exist, now,
With me.

If I were to choose
In which space should I exist
I would choose right here
This place, here
Because you occupy it
With me.

Right here right now
Seems like an ideal concept
A tangible reality
For being, just to be
Because it's real
Because you're real
Because we're real

We are real
We are...

But things could also be
Just for now
And things could also be
Just for here
So I capture it
Lovingly, affectionately,
Delicately, desperately,
Before our time runs out
Before another space recalls you
Away from me
Away from us

Away, from us
From us...

But I don't mind
Your leaving
I don't mind
No, I shouldn't
Because I already accepted
From the beginning
That part of being with you
Is not being with you
At the same time.

Yes, at the same time.

So right now, here, is good
Yes, we're good. We are.
If this is as good as it gets, for now,
Then I accept it
Without reservation
But with a little fear.

No, don't worry. Don't.
My happiness is defined
By these snatches of moments
Precious and rare, like you are.

As long as you consider me yours
As long as I am relevant in your life
And as long as you give me honest love
Then I'm in it for the long haul
Mighty long haul wherever
Time and space be damned.


25march2012sun 3.55p

this is not about me

When it's rough, things come out....raw.


Fortify

when everything's made
to be broken
i just want you to know
who i am
- "iris," the googoo dolls

How do you build
a strong wall
that does not crumble
impenetrable
as of a fort
shielded from elements
that corrode?

You can't.

How do you live
in a deserted island
uncharted by friendships
unmapped by experience
whether intended or not?

You can't. You just can't.

So now,
how do you fortify
yourself
from the longing
and the absence?
How do you fortify
yourself
from the tangible distance
and the mental presence?

You don't. You just don't.

In the end,
the end of it all,
perhaps you're just
that comet
that never came
to pass.

- 10Oct2011Mon

What's the matter here?

Another one pulled out of DL just now.

This is for all of us who over-think. May our vibes decrease... and get re-channeled to things that matter most. Like living.

----

Slap you, slap you silly
make me say
oh what's the matter here?
-- 10,000 Maniacs, What's The Matter Here

I know the song has a different context but just the same, the lines above may as well refer to me.

I needed that friendly slap yesterday from two great friends over coffee. We shared our own bouts of our current affairs of the heart/loins/hypothalamus with each other and we just ranted and raved at the same time, also dishing out advice to each other about the situations we are in, at this point in our lives.

The quote that particularly struck me is something I already know anyway, as the other female-bodied in the trio told me that I HAVE NO PROBLEM and the male-bodied one echoed what I told him the other day, which was I AM OVER-THINKING, AGAIN. They both reminded me of a crucial bottomline to all of this: BE HAPPY. But we also reminded each other that the bulk of one's happiness should still rest on our own shoulders, and not to be dangerously transfixed to the other party, the objects and subjects of our affections, desires and longings.

You know what, my friends, CHECK THAT!!!

So again, let me ask: Leaf, what's the matter here?

And I should answer: ABSOFUCKINGLUTELY NOTHING!

Word.

and the search for the brain's off-switch continues...
(Amtrak-ing my way from Southern California to
Central California coast, April 2010)

But still, I am sometimes bound by thoughts that should not haunt me in the first place, since I still have to remind myself not to create new ghosts out of happy spirits roaming around. Of course I can't help it, still, since we are still trying to regenerate the charred soul from the burning of the heart a few months back.

But the good this is, we try. And we still try. And we will never stop trying. D'accord? Oui. So yes, universe, please, send more positive vibes, interactions, support, and best of all -- self-confidence.

But first, this exhalation:


SHED

I am crying over things
that maybe don't exist
I am crying over moments
that may not be happening
I am crying over levels
that could not be explored
I am crying over feelings
that should not be felt, at all

Oh why am I sobbing
over fences gladly torn down?
Why am I crying
over shackles already broken?
Why am I grieving
over endings that haven't begun?
Why am I shedding
tears over smiles etched in my being?

Maybe it's because of you
and the way you interacted with me
Maybe it's because of us
and the way we connect with each other
Maybe it's because of them
and the way they try to still box us in
Or maybe it's because of me
and the way I am falling--have fallen--for you.

(19jan2011wed)


It's actually unfinished, but I think I'll just leave it like that for now. It's the product of an emotionally defective being anyways. Will repair some other time.

Soon.

the smile muscles

And since it's hard to wipe off stupid grins from one's face, might as well re-channel all that smiling since the muscles already hurt from doing too much of that lately, involuntarily :).

So we pour it out on paper. Or in the notes section of one's smartphone during regular commute.

And there you go.


------------

Melt
(for gemini)

You feel this --
me.

I feel that --
you.

Catching glimpses
from each other's
eyes:
yours, thoughts
mine, smiles.

Combined,
we're good.

And so
from a kiss
we feel --
each other.


13nov2010

and this is how we know we are alive -- we post

It's been a while. I know. There are reasons. But before the year ends, I'll pick it up again, as usual. You know me.

In the meantime, an interim.



--------------


Dip

Shatter the inkwell
Called my heart
And you get poems
Words strung together
As if they were meant
For each other, for a lifetime
Like how you envisioned us to be
Together, forever, that’s how it should be
Like the song said
But we know that songs lie
Big time.

Fill up the fountain pen
Called my sorrow
And you get stories
Events stitched together
As if they were meant
To stay sturdy, all the time
Like how you foretold of our future
Inseparable, that’s how we’ll always be
Like the singer crooned
But we know that singers
Are liars, too
Big time.

We are rock stars
A poet friend once said
We tap into the well
Of our grief
Turn them into tangibles
Something to hold on to
Since promises have no form
Since happiness has no shape
Since love has no volume
Since contentment has no weight
Nothing.

That’s what we do, we writers we
We try to make sense of our abstractions
After we have dealt with the blows
Withstood the fury of the defeat
Consumed by the wrath in our veins
Escape, retreat, recharge, whatever you call it
Burned by the sensations
Instead of hurling back invectives
We write it all down.

Write it all down.

Moments pass
Melancholy lingers
Regret hovers just above
Recognize, then ignore
Pack up the luggage once felt
Throw it to the river
Bury it on the ground
The wind will blow off
The scalding from where it burned
And soon enough
Pain is just another design
Decorating the armor of anticipation
Of whatever comes next
Whether it’s war
Whether it’s peace
It all looks the same
From the perspective of hurt
It doesn’t matter anymore
As long as you felt it.
You felt.
And you will feel again.
Anew.

This is how we know we are alive—
We feel.
This is how we know we are human—
We grieve.
And this is how we breathe—
We create.



19oct2010 Tuesday