Motel Exam


A motel owner and his receptionist in an argument:

“What, are you out of your freaking mind?! Why did you let them in when it’s already obvious that they are minors. And they’re even in their uniforms for crying out loud! Do you want to get us into trouble?!!!”

“They said they will be having an exam.”

“Exam? Exactly what type of exam?!”

“Oh, they said oral and fill in the blanks…”

“Annoying Dad” & “Annoying the Kids” Games

In the game of “Annoying Dad”, my firstborn continually upgrades his skills such that he always breaks his previous record. All he has to do in the game is – well, annoy me.

Don’t get me wrong. Children are a bunch of joy. Period. And part of raising them will inevitably involve moments that your only defense in order to maintain your sanity is to laugh at how they can trigger your nerves.

The game is one way obviously. There is only one giver and one very lucky receiver, and that’s me. That is until I finally figured out a way to level the playing ground.

Right after watching the evening news, I chimed in with the intro of a TV program a high pitched “UW-WEH!, UW-WEH!, UW-WEH!,” while key events from the previous episode are being replayed on the screen.

Embarrassed, he put both his hands on his ears while shouting for me to stop. But the more he demanded for me to stop, the more I chanted the silly “UW-WEH!, UW-WEH!, UW-WEH!,” until he finally ran away, his hands still on his ears while laughing and cringing, all at the same time.

Ooooh yeah!
Direct hit
Mission accomplished
One point for Dad.

Forsaking Something Worth Forsaking

“If there is any instance where infidelity is to be welcomed and encouraged is when you ditch your sacred matrimonial vows with your old familiar feelings of emptiness, sorrow, unworthiness, despair, anxiety, and depression and to finally possess the courage to walk away in search for something better.”

(The) Name’s Not At All Relevant

To the fellow lost soul from hither yonder

Wherever you are, I hope you are doing well.

It’s comforting to know that whatever you’re currently doing, you are seeing another reality and perhaps living a similar or a different story altogether. I pray that it is a beautiful story. That flipside of reality in relation to mine must be very beautiful indeed, magical even. Is it really? Yep I do hope it is. Not that everything I have in here sucks but I’ve always pondered on what lies in there on your side, but you know, things here are mundane given this time of a pandemic. So if you are currently in a time of a great lull, well at least it’s kickass compared to dealing with a pandemic threatening to wipe out the population.

How am I doing? Fine I guess. Maybe because I finally found the courage to write you something instead of just floating around your formlessness in the bounds of my mind. I hope you wouldn’t mind but I’d really love to talk about how you are doing right now instead of flooding this precious space dedicated to you, of things about me.

So howdy? Having a nice adventure somewhere? How’s the weather? Happy people you have there? How is the other side of the world? May not be in this world that I’ve grown into but somewhere in the vast expanse of the cosmos.

I don’t think we still need introductions, do we? Finally we get to meet, so yep, here we are finally bridging the gap…

The only reason I know you exist is because of a melancholic piece that I am listening to right now. I am extremely certain that you are not only a figment of my imagination. You are not just conjured out of nowhere. Our past is tied, and maybe as such is our future. I know and believe that you already figured that out yourself a long time ago and that it pestered you in as much as it pestered me just as well. I’m sorry if the thought of me annoyed you for a lot of times. I too, am bugged by the thought that there is someone like you somewhere out there and I just cannot fully comprehend why. But I’m certain that someone is linked to my soul in which even quantum shit and all that cannot explain.

I know you are out there. I just don’t know where. Maybe it will remain as such until, well until who knows when. But if I were to ask God I hope you are currently in this world, at this very instance that I am keying all of this on my keyboard, offering a silent prayer to the vastness. Yes, to pray is all I can do even if it may just be another one of those doomed to get lost into nothingness, but I hope this small prayer of mine will find you and let you know that I am here, and I’m thinking of you. Yes I have you in my mind.

And I hope you are thinking of me too.

Each stroke of the key hits my soul, a different vibration, a slightly different twang that is yet to be discovered and added to the particle zoo. Can you feel it too? Does it send you the same feeling? The feeling of nostalgia, something pleasant but at the same time heart rending. Do you happen to know Stockholm Syndrome where you build some connection with your captors? The captor is this music right here. It is hurting me and yet I keep coming back to it to feel the hurt, because it’s only then that I can keep coming back to you to feel you.

I’m curious as to how you look. Flowing hair? Short hair? Fair complexion or colored? Bouncy or flat busts? It doesn’t really matter because I’ve already touched your soul as you already did to mine. I just hope I’d have a tangible face to remember, a face I can hold, a body I can share my warmth with, lips that I can press my lips with, a parcel of my soul so dear and so loved that I cannot really fathom how God blessed me with everything.

What’s giving me assurance is the thought that you are also thinking of me. Like myself, I know you can barely picture my face as I can hardly do to you. But I rest in the faith that we both are unconsciously longing to know each other. That time will come I know. And I know that you feel it too.

But even if I am longing so much to see you right now, I regret to say that I cannot take your hand right away and take you in haste to the stars. You see, I’ve already made my choices, and I am never gonna regret nor forsake them. But when my life is over and after serving my time, we’ll have our chance. I hope by that time, through God’s great mercy it will be our chance to be exclusive to one another.

But for now, even a glimpse of you will give me enough hope and faith to look forward to the next lifetime hoping that I’d finally get to meet you there.

Wherever you are right now, at the seashore, atop a skyscraper, overlooking valleys and mountains or great plains, please be strong. For yourself and for both of us. I know that someday, God would allow me to meet you finally. Maybe not in this world and neither the next. But I know there will come a time where we can fill each other with our essence and love. I cannot do so much but to write this to you while waiting for that blessed day that I will finally lay my eyes on you and we can hold each other. Two lost souls in the cosmos. Separated by distance or even time but connected with love and this melancholic melody.

It’s crazy but I hope I can catch some glimpses of you either in person, photos, or even in written pieces, because I know we would know each other by that.

Till then. Wishing I’d look into those eyes of yours one day and see all that love that had been waiting to bind us forever…

Something you need to know about your dad, or dads in particular

Nothing gets a man quicker to his knees other than the thought of his wife and children.

It’s not the imminent crisis ahead, and definitely not the adversity that looms before him. He can welcome them with open arms and a smirk on his face.

But when he realizes how helpless he really is when it comes to the assurance of providing and protecting his family, at present and in the future, is an entirely different story. Man is limited, and he knows it but is sometimes adamant to admit it.

In as much as he would like to cover everything for his loved ones, he realizes that he cannot. Yet he does it, nevermind that he misses by a mile for the sake of his family.

But he can do one more thing, the best thing that he can and the best thing he will ever do: pray.

There is boundless power unlocked by a mother’s prayer but a father’s supplications are no less potent. And he knows that.

Recognizing this, he will bend his knees and will implore to the Ultimate Infinity which is God Himself to fill the huge gap that he himself cannot fill.

Behind his brute strength and full masculine bravado is his need to commune and replenish himself from a greater power. God is his rock of comfort. And there he finds solace.

I Don’t Play Basketball, So What?!


With a height of 5’8″ they said I should have been a basketball player.


I’ve already had enough hearing what a waste am I for having such untapped gift of height which is the envy of many. However, what’s more vexing are the words that are left unsaid: how lame am I for not playing basketball; that I am doomed not to have the prettiest cheerleaders for a girlfriend; Class B; the Beta male.

Succumbing to this standard definition imposed by society, I pushed myself to play basketball despite my awkward moves and maneuvers lacking skill and authority. I already knew back then that I didn’t have the natural gift that only needs enhancement unlike Lebron of today, or Iverson back then. But I enjoyed watching PBA, so I was thinking maybe, that was enough to begin with.

I persevered despite the frequent humiliation and taunting hoping I would amount to something.

One day, I played basketball with some peers. God knows I poured my juvenile heart and muscles into it. I thought it all went well, just another forgettable play until the following morning when my cousin told me that someone remarked that I looked pretty much like a cane toad when I jump during rebound or while shooting.

That’s it, I told myself with the finality of a death sentence. I’m done. I’m outta here.

To hell with the ball.

From then on I’d totally murder even the slightest thought of playing basketball.

Fast forward to more than a decade. I was already an engineer working at a construction site. I related this story to a friend the safety officer, a middle aged man who happens to have an Ilocano father. He has the skill in listening and full of wisdom. What he said next left me dumbfounded:

…you should have not listened to it. If you really wanted to play basketball then, imagine where you would have been right now if you just kept playing.”

How true.

I may not have qualified to play at a prestigious university or any professional basketball associations, but who would have known? Had I learned to shut people’s negative opinions towards me and persevered ’til I got better, maybe I would still be playing?

I have nothing against basketball, not even to those who found comic relief in my “freak show” version of playing ball. I still don’t play but I still do love watching NBA especially the finals where the action and drama blends into an intoxicating concoction.

This particular door to greatness may not have opened for me but the lessons I learned from such experiences are priceless:

  • It was a test on how much I wanted something and how much I was willing to sacrifice to attain my dreams. Basketball may not be for me but there are other stuff I achieved where my sacrifices were worth it.
  • Don’t give your switches to anyone. This was my big mistake. Despite the white noise and how much you suck as they think you do, don’t let it affect you. It’s you who will live your life and not them. You will never obtain everyone’s affirmation anyway, so might as well do what you think is good for you.
  • And lastly, it pays to be kind to everyone. You will never know how far the ripples of your good deeds will go.

Office Bullies

My officemates are hardcore bullies,
They litter inside my workstation,
They loiter inside my workstation,
Deliberately make all sorts of noises,
Have no qualms in disturbing me whilst I’m in deep thought,
Interruptions spark at their whims,
They climb my chair,
Take my pens and notebooks like they own it,
Drink my coffee(!)
Wrestle for mouse control,
Ruin my documents by “ambushing” my keyboard while I’m typing,
Press the power buttons of the AVR and CPU while I’m working,
Piss behind my chair –

It’s really tough being bullied while working from home.

The Curse of the Face Mask Law


This Covid-19 stole
great times ahead
with family
and friends
But it doesn’t really
bother me all that much:
social distancing
avoiding the crowd
things as such.
Been the recluse for
yep, not that long –
only a lifetime
and still going strong.
If at all
this is but
an expansion of
us loners’ Eden

But what I can’t
settle myself with
is the thought of
your comeliness
once overflowing
now mandated to be
partly hidden.

Oh how atrocious
my erring might have been
that my soul warrants
such scourge and torment?!

How am I gonna see
your hair caressing your cheeks
or the smile
that escapes your lips
as the wind embraces you
and carries your sweet scent
on mountain highs
and valley lows
into and beyond the event horizon
and throughout the cosmos

Twas sweet a past
where I have but memories
of your lovely face
in all its immaculate radiance
and that sweet smile,
that despite of
this world right now
painfully going
through a tight rope,
puts in my heart
an ample amount of hope

The legislation
that I loathe and abhor
may still be a friend
though in a way –
if only to hide
the bitterness in my smile.

And this I earnestly pray
that it will come that blessed day
where you can take
your mask away
and so does mine
and our lips would meet
in due time


Photo by Gustavo Fring on

Humanity must have been doomed
its fate sealed:
you fuck nature,
it fucks you back.

Gasp after gasp,
the succeeding more painful
than the ones before,
for life left in the air
if anything’s left there at all
or anywhere.

You may still be alive, yes.
Barely though.
“Never mind” you say.
“There is still a chance.
A small glimmer of hope
and mountains of ashes
to build the new upon.
And being half dead a man
is better than
a dog altogether
dead and damned.”
Or is it?

Practice What You Preach

A lady saw a pastor whose right butt cheek is showing from his worn out jeans. When the pastor saw the disgusted reaction of the lady, he immediately turned his back. Completely appalled, the lady left. The pastor’s companion who is with him, saw it all, turned and asked his friend:

“Hey what’s the big idea?”

“Oh this (points to his exposed butt cheek)? Practicing what I preach.”

“Practicing what?!”

“What I preach. Which is why I willingly turned the other cheek.”

(ctto for the image above)

What If I Meet the Anti-Me?

What if I meet the anti me?
The once I thought
obliterated during Big Bang
long lost then found
the volatile concoction
the catalyst
the critical mass
the same badass

They said he’s me
and I am he
It’s just that we have
opposite charges
What does that even mean?
Is this the Yin and Yang
of Oriental origins?

And from where is he exactly?
How can he
just pop out of nowhere
from nothing?

By who’s authority
is he summoned
into existence?
And in the same way
be gone in an instant
in a fraction of a second?
Can he just leave
and come back no more?
Is he even aware
that when we meet
the borrowed energy
by which we both exist
will return to the Source
and cause us
to cease just being?

Is he my evil twin?
Or am I the evil twin?
Would he embody
the things I envy?
Will he complement
my imperfections?
Will he turn green
of what I already achieved?
Or will I be the one
to flood the Himalayas
and turn the desert green?

Shall I punch him
to break his nose?
or will the anti-me
give me a hug
and a pat in the back?
And end up
releasing energy
and obliterating ourselves
in the process?
Or will it spark
a new cosmos
same as what
we know today?
Or maybe it already did?

The Goddess of Tactical Interrogation and Cross-Examinations

Daddy and son, both cops, talking to each other:

Son: Dad, can you shed me some light on tactical interrogation and cross-examination?

Daddy: (without even looking up from the broadsheet he’s reading) You’re barking at the wrong tree son. There’s someone more skillful at that, better than anyone who wears the badge. Go and ask your mother…

“In God’s name, I command the fires of hell for your soul’s eternal damnation!”

Condemning, in accordance to one’s own biases in the guise of “doing God’s work” is never, not even close to God’s way.

Recall the story of Mary Magdalene and Zacchaeus. Did Jesus slap their faces with the tablets of the ten commandments and ordered the Heavenly Fire to consume their wretched souls because of their sins?

No he didn’t.

Instead, He showed them love and forgiveness which led to their repentance and conversion, finally forsaking their old sinful ways.

Love, genuine love, is what will win souls and not the fear of the fiery lake of brimstone and sulfur. If we ain’t doing that, we should ask ourselves: really, who’s work are we implementing?

Wherever You Are – One OK Rock

Gonna be Japanese someday!

(Nevermind that the intro is with an icky similarity with Aiza Seguerra’s Pagdating ng Panahon. Once you get through that, all will be good I promise.)

I’m telling you
I softly whisper
Tonight, tonight
You are my angel

二人は ひとつに
Tonight, tonight
I just to say

Wherever you are, I’ll always make you smile
Wherever you are, I’m always by your side
Whatever you say, 君を想う気持ち
I promise you “forever” right now
I don’t need a reason
I just want you, baby
Alright, alright
Day after day

Stay with me
We carry on

Wherever you are, I’ll always make you smile
Wherever you are, I’m always by your side
Whatever you say, 君を想う気持ち
I promise you “forever” right now

Wherever you are, I’ll never make you cry
Wherever you are, I’ll never say goodbye
Whatever you say, 君を想う気持ち
I promise you “forever” right now


Wherever you are, I’ll always make you smile
Wherever you are, I’m always by your side
Whatever you say, 君を想う気持ち
I promise you “forever” right now

Wherever you are
Wherever you are
Wherever you are

Violence for no one in particular

Do exercise caution
When treading on my shadow
Lest it gobbles you up
And leave no trace
Of your

Never lay a hand
To where I’ve trodden
For they are full of neurotoxins
A quark of which
And you’ll be
Laid waste

And when you whisper
On my back
Never let
Those murmurs
Leave a trail
Let alone
Reach me
And neither
Should your words

They take no responsibility
They’re just passing
Like the wind
And they’re gone

They will betray you
For they are fleeting
And they’re gone
In an instant
Poof just like that
Yet you will remain
To suffer
The wrath
In my hands

Don’t Talk to Me

Too afraid
To be vulnerable
Laughed at
Viewed with flaws
Reduced to
Something smaller
Than the grand image
We see in the mirror

Who wouldn’t want
To appear awesome
His shit
All figured out
The ultimate idol
The envy of many

Or either we ask
The world
To mind its own
Fucking business
And for it to never
Give a fuck at all
Except to tread
Ever so softly

The façade
We all maintain
We make so great a fuss
With all our might
Futilely wishing
The respect and awe drugs
To perpetually remain
And keep us high and floating

Or that which
We have worked
For so long
Not letting anyone
Or anything
Not even ourselves
Destroy the
Old and familiar comfort

The scars we hide
Too afraid
That the other being
Before us
Will conjure
The ghost of the past
Out of our scars

Aversion of such
Is human
But to face them
Armed with all
The goodness
One’s heart can muster,
Is the virtue
Of the divine
Warrior god
That found
Its home within

The Man on Fire – A Tribute To The Black Mamba

The round leather
on fire
not put off
by any bounce
on the floor
or its sojourn in
or hitting the boards
the rim
and eventually
the ring

One thousand shots missed
meant 10 thousand sinking in

The fire in the leather
borne of a flaming hand
from a heart ablaze
which can only come from
no less than the divine

That fire
might have
succumbed to the sky
but it found its home –

In thousands
Hundreds of thousands
Millions upon millions

Rest in peace brother

Halimuyak sa Madaling Araw

sa kinasasabikang umaga
na tigib ng ligaya
ang bumungad
sa aking diwa

Basa sa hamog
ng madaling araw
mga talulot na nakalukot
sa masidhing dampi
ng haring araw

Ramdam ko ang
init na nagbabaga
na di maikubli
ng mala-nyebeng
ihip ng hangin

Aking hinawakan
ang nagbabagang apoy
mga daliri’y di napaso
ni nasunog ay hindi
Bagkus ay naramdaman
ang mainit na pag-agos

At aking narinig
isang sigaw na
walang tinig
sa kagubatang
makipot, madilim
na aking sinuong
habang nilalagari
ang kableng
sa lahat ng
kamalayan sa mundo
ay nagdurugtong

Ang kalaliman
ay binagtas
upang di malunod
mahigpit ang kapit
ng aking mga kamay
sa matatayog na

At matapos
ang mahabang sandali
muli kong narining
ang sigaw na
walang tinig
habang nasasaksihan
ang pagbulwak
ng kalawakan

A Thousand and One Reasons to Be Thankful For

The Sun woke up
this morning
to see me outta my bed
Took over from the Moon
my sentry
the instance the Darkness
gave way to the Light
I exhaled yesterday
as I breathed in tomorrow
All revved up
my engine
in full chime
Ready to
take possession
of another
historic day

Dream Past The Nightmare

We don’t hold tomorrow
Such a pity
We have plans
grand as the heavens
Funny thing is
tomorrow has got
her own plans as well
which usually
screws us like hell
Which is why at times
I don’t make any plans
to save myself
from disdain
of life as I know
But how will I relish the future
if I can’t savor it today
And how will I know if my wishes are granted
if I don’t dream of it
at this very moment?

Change, Whether It Is A Friend or An Enemy, Is Completely Up To Us


In dealing with changes, we can:

  1. protest all we want, violent or otherwise, day-in and day-out, and
  2. pound the pearly gates ‘til kingdom come, begging for the inexorable change gods currently knocking at our doors to reconsider and be back on a more convenient time.

Or if we know better, we can stay calm instead of going bananas.

It is completely understandable if we are tempted to think we can argue with it and have our way in the end. But we know all too well that in offering resistance, we are only prolonging the agony, unnecessarily.

It is either we welcome change with flying fists up until the last ounce of our blood and die without seeing the dawn break, or, we can make a good friend out of that motherfucker.

Fortunately, we get to choose our battles. Let us then choose wisely, shall we?


Lakay: Apay siasinno mət dayta baru nga nubyu dayta anak mo Ribeyng? Kasla nagdulpət kən nagbuyuk mət ti langlanga na?!

Bakət: Anya kan lakay, baam kadin uray ta Amirikanu mət suna. Ti nagan na kanu kət Tim Macky T. Paul-Teet

Lakay: ‘Su mət lang a!!

(The) Name’s Not At All Relevant


I yanked a string too strong
that made the church bells chime
and the fabric unraveled:

And there she stood
just her and nothing more
nothing between my eyes and
her golden skin and
succulent curves
in all their glory
set free from whatever
covered her
and thrown
onto my outstretched hands

She doesn’t like sopas

You don’t like sopas
and I don’t know why
Puzzles the hell out of me
Who doesn’t want a hot pot
of chicken soup
made creamy with evap
made colorful with
cabbage and carrots and
made gut-heavy
with elbow macaroni?

Detest is a word too strong
least priority maybe
but then, I could be wrong

Yet you made
one for me
just the same

“I still don’t
love sopas.
May never be.
But I’m
to learn
to love
the things
that you love.”

More than the
hot pot of sopas
before me
I thank you
my sweet balm
for all the love
and for keeping
me warm
For a thousandth time
again and again
to the heavens
I implore
good favors
for you
my lovely woman
who cooks sopas
for her man

Screaming Sanctimony

A condescending attitude is often mistaken as piety. Removing that illusion however, will reveal hypocrisy at its finest, the main reason Jesus reproached the Pharisees for being like whitewashed tombs that are beautiful in the outside but filled with dried bones and rotting flesh inside.

Now that paints an ugly picture especially when viewed from the outside. Because in as far as witnessing is concerned, nothing comes off as a surefire “turn off” than a hypocrite pretending to be a saint.

If we as Christians are to convert the gentiles and bring the wayward sheep of Israel back into the fold, we should instead come from a place of love.


Recall the story of Mary Magdalene and Zacchaeus. Jesus did not cite the 10 commandments to condemn them right then and there of their sins, nor did He summon heaven’s fury to devour their wretched sinful souls. He instead showed love and mercy through forgiveness, as His standpoint which eventually led to their conversion.

Out of love came forth mercy and actions within the context of love.

But a condescending attitude is begotten from a sanctimonious “holier than thou” mindset. And that, is the exact opposite of our mission as children of God which we claim to be, which is to spread His message of love to a lost world.

Whores are Words, and Words are Whores

Some words
I used sparingly
I abused
But alas
despite of which
complete strangers
their conclusion
have all become

I clothed them
in regal poetry
gave them purpose
through grand prose
which countless I’ve told

I, the maker
accorded them
their place in the cosmos
in the known universe and beyond
ergo, I own them
and they are mine alone

But what a joke
the muse played on me
for the wholeness
I granted them
defined them not
I got mocked.
For the pieces
defined the whole
which the whole
on them do not

As I established my kingdom
with them and their duty
to kiss my feet ever after
The whores were gone
prostituted themselves
in another’s hands

Conversation vs Fishing, There’s a HUGE Difference

When initiating conversation with a friend, avoid dodging reciprocated questions such as ‘how are you’ and ‘what’s keeping you busy’. It is both impolite and downright annoying.

Remember, it’s a conversation you’re trying to have, not a tactical interrogation.

– (The) Name’s Not At All Relevant


Leaves of Autumn

I will whisper it
to the autumn leaves

I will tell them why
the trees slumbered in a lullaby
I will reveal to them
how all tears have gone dry
it was when
you promulgated my verdict:
“good bye”

It was still the sunshine’s reign
as I recall like ‘twas but yesterday
but before I can brace my self
for that mortal dagger
driven to my chest
the chilling sun
and the freezing moon
started to sing a melancholic tune

Nurtured in the soft breeze’s caress
and nourished in dew
brought forth colors
that are changing in hue
for what seemed the start
of a colorful show
marked the end of the summer glow

what else is there to say
but to let the light leave with the day
and this darkness that had befall
be there to stay while bells they toll

I will whisper its dismal moan
to those in twigs still holding on
oblivious to the truth
that it won’t last for long

I will whisper it
to those caught in midair
as they drift farther and farther away
from their beloved they just left bare

I will whisper it
atop the mounded heap
which to earth
did terminally cede

fool’s show it is indeed
for the varied colors that abound
speaks loudly
of the end
without a sound

Reverend Joke

One day came good ole Reverend Father Joke
Grinned as he saw past some bloke
“Say son, I pray, give me some of that toke
For you see, my boy, I’m a bit broke.”

“Heaven have mercy for I almost choked!
Pardon Reverend, is this some kind of joke?”
“That’s my name alright” said ole Reverend Joke
With eyes closed sniffing the smoke.

Let me be the wind

Let me be the wind
that will whisper in your ear
“relax, it’s me my dear”

Let me be the wind
that will pass by your cheeks
to give them a sweet light kiss

Let me be the wind
that will meet head-on your lips
as in love my fingers dip

Let me be the wind
that will sway your hair
and expose your shoulders bare

Let me be the wind
That will caress your thighs
And carry your scent
In the valleys and heights

Dealing with The Embodiments of Pure Evil in the Workplace

I must thank God
and probably
so should you –

that instead of diabolical plots
and rhapsodic images
of your sweet affliction,
He manifested Himself
through reason
before anything
I envisioned
would irreversibly
come to fruition

I must thank God
and probably
so should you –

that instead of regrets
and abysmal sorrow
or that fiendish grin
and gratified puffs
at the sight of
a gasping prey
and the smell of blood,
I uttered a silent
wailing plea
Supplicated for restraint
within my inner sanctuaries
And stabbed my journal
‘til its blood filled the oceans
as it is tossed to and fro
by tempests and billows

The Curse of Blessings

The Curse of Blessings

What good is my art
if instead of
care and
vainglory and
come forth of which?

Is my quest
to be
intellectually extravagant
if my eyes
forsook looking up
and espoused the
delectability of looking down?

Is the by-product of
the disdain for
both ignorance
and the ignorant?

Shouldn’t it instead
beget forgiveness
and understanding
despite that
some people
are unforgiving
of your luminance
that improved
their blur
into shadows?

– (The) Name’s Not At All Relevant

The Ultimate Collision Course

In blinding speeds
and accelerations faster
than the speed of light
I orbit the innards
of a particle collider



Propelled by
the natural order of
who the hell knows
or who

without warning
lo and behold
my quintessence
millions, billions, trillions of them
laid bare
right before mine
very eyes

Then it dawned on me
I got smashed into God!

In the Face of Adversity, Don’t Run Away from God. Run Into God

Adversity and conflict
isn’t always
to opportunity
It will forever be
a thorn
in my soul
Yet, that
has caused me
to not run away but
to run INTO

Sure there is adversity
in daily existence
that you need
to keep slugging with
in spite of
being bored
to death
And while
I am
busy living
I am also
busy getting myself
to make that
daily existence
at least

Nevertheless, there
is always something
to be thankful for:
beautiful family
being fucking alive
and this art
that has become my
saving grace

But there
is something
special about those
nut-cracking moments:
You let loose of
your grasp
off yourself
and your advantages
both tangible and illusory
and find yourself
clinging instead
to the Rock of Ages
Only when you
do so
can you
tap the power
Power that
is greater than
anything earthly
or mortal
The kind of
power that
keeps the galaxies
afloat to light up
the vast depth
of nothingness

Adversity causes
one to
It yells at you
at the top of
it’s lungs
to get the
fuck out
of the ordinary
before you succumb
and watch the
best of you die
without seeing the
dawn break

But I haven’t
totally lost
my sanity
by asking
for my
share of
uphill goings
just to
always experience
God’s grand

With much
I ask that
I would instead meet


from highs and lows
and most especially
the mundane

500 Miles

This reminds me of tatay (God bless his soul) who introduced me to immortal songs. Songs that doesn’t respect any year or age or social class. Still haunting, still has the potency of thousands of onions.

While my penchant is rock and alternative music, these are the type of songs that tell me I am one with the universe.

Baby Talk

What others
Can only perceive
As gibberish
Is what glued Orion
In his place
And saved the Pleiades

‘Tis what holds
Neutrons and protons
When they would’ve
Repelled one another
And everything we knew
Disintegrated into molecular dust

What the mind in the dark
Held as prattle
Is responsible for
Nuclear fusion
That fuels the
Ball of fire
In the sky
Which radiates warmth
And illumines
The darkened soul

They cause strings
To vibrate
Where songs emanate
To hush a child
Enrage the oceans
Or bring together
The evil twins of Eta Carinae

It is what makes
The heart skip a beat
On that glorious moment
That two lips meet

‘Tis the language
Of the gods that
The rain
The breeze and
The dewdrops speak
Which Newton
Maxwell and
Failed to uncover

So shut up you stupid ghoul
And ask the heavens
To save your wretched soul
For what you mistook
As needless existence
Is what gives substance
To your very essence


The Piercing of Teresa

I came to execute
The verdict of Teresa
On that appointed eve

Like a soft breeze
Pounding the curtains
I entered unseen
As a pup she laid
Duped that her
Satin and laced sheets
Would get her covered
From the judgement
That would befall her

Then braced myself did I
To enforce her sentence
Cold and swift

Arrow in hand
Steadily aimed
Dug deep in her skin

This I did
Over and over again

Instead of her body
And eerily silent dead
I heard
Her forceful

As the steel bored deeper
I heard a
Slapping sound

Was I amused
Where the blade had been
Not a trickle of blood
Nothing did I see
But it got more crimson
Like ripe tomatoes
Begging to be picked free

I turned to her face
Contorted it was
Her eyes blocked the faint light
Mouth’s an open vessel
Begging for the rain to trickle
In the dead of the night

American Hotdog

American hotdog she has got
It’s what the other ladies have not
Hotdogs of different races
Australian, Hungarian, Italian
Canadian, British, or German
But the most famous of them all
Is the certified all-American

Never mind that these hotdogs are
With large tomatoes in the face
And who the hell knows where else

Even the gramps
Who has trouble getting up
Let alone keeping it up
They are completely irrelevant:
The stench of death reeking in him
Nor that he is 4 decades her senior

Scorn her as much as you like
With much gusto until you relinquish life
I’m warning you though
You’ve been long dead before you make her cry
Whatever drug she took that made her numb
Anesthesia of hardships
Sedated in BS or whatnot
She’ll cling to her hotdog
Until he runs out of fortune
And that, she’ll tell you
Is a valid reason:

“I got an American hotdog
You dirt-poor dicks
Whatever says my kababayans
I don’t give a shit
Aint gonna toil anymore
Gonna buy me an I-Phone
Premium bags, and shoes
Bear the coffin-dodger’s child I will
Gotta be laid in bed of cotton
Gotta let him fuck me
Till he passes out and die
Gotta suck him hard
Till he bleeds dry
Fuck true love
What can you get out of which
If your stomach is empty
And you can’t buy all your impulses
So what if he smells putrefied
So long as I lay in bed of greens”

Thus she clings on
To his horrid face
So long as he gives her
A queen’s privileges

The Old Man And His AM Radio


One old man
When he is around
He’d sit by the porch
A cup of tea in his hand
In an idle afternoon
While the scorching sun
Retires after burning rice paddies
Mountains, dirt roads, and faces
At times it leaves torrential rain
That reminds us of its promise
It’s sure to be back in the morning

But what I remember oh so vividly
That while he sips his bitter tea
He’s all ears on the stereo
Not on music stations
But tuned in on A.M radio

I didn’t understand
His penchant for the agony of twiddling thumbs
With the occasional curses
Murmurs, smirks, and grunts
About politics in all its
Nobility, hypocrisy, and bullshitry

It was a mystery how he could bear
Listening to news
On what transpired from within and without
And listening to the host
And repetitive commercials
Peddling lies and whatnot

But he didn’t mind
Just looked far away
With the all-familiar grin
What he labelled as circus
Worked out fine for him

Almost three decades passed
No longer do I see him
In the rain nor setting sun
Nor his hot cup of bitter tea
That cools him down
But something remained
Which transcended him and his life
As I sit with headsets on
To the AM radio tuned
More generous in my cursing

Lady Bel

Thank God for Lady Bel
When there is none to lend a hand
She is there
A silent assassin
Coldly executing her mission

Her attitude reminds me
Of a lesson I already mastered
Or so I thought I did
But when I saw my current state
Compared to hers now
Damn, I know I already forgot
The grit of a bloodied soldier
To just be there
Present in the moment
Slugging it out
Regardless whether
The going gets uglier or not

She is in the flow
Like an exemplary soldier
Keeping at what she does
Even when it sucks
While I’m here
Engaged in a similar firefight
Albeit engaging two fronts
Banging my head
Trying to cough up a witty line
For this poem and prayer
For Lady Bel

Bless Lady Bel o Lord
Bless her good heart
Via what she is at the moment
A rock, a solid one
I can learn, relearn rather
Lessons long forgotten and gone


Bitch she was
she is
and always will be
In as much as I’d like to say:

“Bitch she may be
but there is a bitch
far better than she
and her name is spelled

But I’d rather invoke her not
for wishing another’s misfortune
is never my lot

But it was only then that I realized
bitches themselves
bitch each other around

Struggles of a minimalist who wishes to write extravagant poetry

The minimalist
Willingly calloused himself
Stripped off his senses
Scarce in words
As much as thoughts
Gets upset not with a
Few clothes
A few jeans
Or zero mobile data
Afraid he’ll be creatively bankrupted
By social media

Despite having revered as god
He has locked horns with minimalism
For poetry’s sake
Unfamiliar feelings he now writes
With inappropriate words
Of a child quivering before a dentist
The motocross rider as he somersaults
A lover whose tears from the raindrops you cannot tell
To be answered “yes” or “I do” by a lady

The things he shun
To not let his feelings run
Stoicism rivalling that of Marcus Aurelius
A layer of rock
That take eons to wear

He then realized
He has flesh and blood
He can grin
And he can fuckin’ cry!
He’s not a machine gun
That eat bullets
And spew them who the hell knows
How much rpm

Now he aches to write poetry
Vivid and teeming with life
And the feelings he trained himself to abhor
The superfluous often thrown to the dogs
Like a whore
That will make him sore
With a red carpet and open arms
He now welcomes home

Albeit, he writes clumsily
A virgin lover in a quandary
Whether he’ll
Kiss her or fondle
Screws up his words, falters and all
Still he writes some more
For non other than he can fathom
It’s only poetry that will save his soul

Song Writer’s Block

Kalangitang walang bahid ng ulap

Lupang nadurog at nangalikabok sa hirap

Hiling ay inspirasyon

Na ako’y gahasain

Pangarap maging rakrakan

Na naging ungguyan

Kinalabit ang frets

Strum lang ng strum

Mistulang sinto-sinto

Walang kapararakan

Papel na tadtad

Ng hangin at katahimikan

Kamot ulo

Suntok sa pader

Tatayo, di-dyinggel

At balik nanaman

Anong nangyari sa creative time?!

Buti pang kumain

O nagbatil nalang

Tumitingin ng walang tinitignan


Habang hinahaplos ang gitara

At ang kalyo sa daliri

Naging pigsa

Kakakanta ng “Nakarmang Pulis” ng Radiohead

I want to write poetry Lord

I want to write poetry Lord
Poetry that is torn
From the flesh and guts
Poetry that constitutes
The same
As the stars
The rotting bone clenched in a canine’s fangs
Or fart

I want to write poetry Lord
The poetry about whores and saints
Corrupt politicians
Capitalist fiend incarnates
Murderer commies
Rabid “de-most-crazies”
Of Republicans and Democrats
The proletariat and intelligentsia

I want to write poetry Lord
Poetry that will make her heart race to the moon
And back to earth
With an itch she can’t stand
Until I’m finally found

Friday Eve

Float, float in space

Goes my gray matter

In the event horizon

It lingers

Round and round it goes

Hurled with

Great force

Sustained by a child’s ardor

Fueled by

Accretion of man’s

Animosity towards his fellow

Much more violent

Than the fury

Of the deities at Olympus

Or the wrath of a million nukes

Time warped

Like buckling steel

I could dodge a bullet

Fired inches before my temple

Oh for the black hole to suck me in

Before the lead

Find its mark

But then my eyes I’ll shut

And find that rest

While another black hole

Accelerates en route

Towards me

In blinding speed