She will mince through life
as though it was a catwalk bathed in halogens.
Wear her troubles like haute couture,
and sashay under stares harsher than flashbulbs.

 She will bare her flawed beauty,
coifed head held high,
back unbent, gait proud.
Face devoid of all
but sheen and glitter, matte and gloss.

She will flaunt her dreams
like silly pink stilettos
that pinch and don’t quite fit. 

an electronic ditty
heralds your hello

our little exchange
commences

the meter begins counting
seconds and minutes

our voices drift
in and out of static

while we talk of everything
and nothing in particular.

finally, our soft goodbyes
punctuated with sighs

you once more,
disappear into the dialtone.

Once our words grew
like green tendrils creeping,
and laughter blossomed
on our lips.

Long after What Once Was withered,
I sit before you now,
hands folded like sleeping doves
in my lap.

My hesitant speech reaches out
like bare branches grasping vainly
at frail syllables that fall.

Words have become dry leaves
that curl in my mouth.

Between us,
silence blooms.

Tilt your face slightly and make buildings bend,
Like heliotropes tracking the sun.
Look down as the asphalt bulges
And pedestrian lanes dance the twist .

Squint at the world through clouded eyes,
See everything in an impressionist’s blur:
Faces bleeding into pale blue skies
A palette of moving colors with arms and legs.

Dutifully don your prescription frames
And note:
Things look much prettier
When not seen as clearly.

No, not me. This blog. Although the previous template was very pretty, it wasn’t really me. (It looked more like a template that a sweet little old granny would have used for a blog about her fifteen cats. But it was pretty. heheheh) I wanted this to look just right, so I spent one whole evening geeking out in front of my PC until I was happy with the look.

The theme is still basically Random Image by Mike Cohen. But the banner images are a bunch of photos I took. (Note: thanks to Gani for taking that picture of my nose…which looks more like an odd-shaped pastry when viewed close up)

Now back to writing.

This room grows more cluttered by the minute. Small scraps of paper with random scribbling accumulate in corners like detritus. My mind sheds them like dead leaves.

Funny how seemingly pointless things often have purpose.

Headed home, anticipating a nice cup of coffee and an hour or two with a good book. When I finally reached the front gate, I rummaged through my bag for my bunch of keys. I shook the bag, hoping to hear the familiar muffled jingle-jangle. I emptied out my bag. Nada.

So I sat down on the curb, and sent a text message to the folks. My dad was at work and wouldn’t be home for another hour, and my mom wasn’t replying. So I decided to wait at my grandparents’ place next door. Just my luck, no one was home.

So I walked back out of the subdivision, waited along the highway, got on a jeep, got stuck in twenty minutes of traffic and headed to my father’s office, hoping to kill some time there and catch a ride home. Just when the jeep was a mere two blocks away from said office, I got a belated text message from my dad saying that he had to go to a meeting elsewhere.

I got off the jeep, muttering darkly about misplaced keys, wasted time and jeep rides through traffic. Then I looked up and saw Freedom Park.

I spent another hour or so perched on a park bench under a tree watching afternoon turn slowly into dusk. Which isn’t so slow after all if you’re enjoying yourself.

They say that nothing is random if you wait long enough. Even lost keys*.

(*I found my keys when I got home later today by the way. They were hanging on the key rack where I left them last night.)

Woke up one early morning, to the sound of voices whispering.

I crawled out of bed, stumbled over several (neat) piles of books on the floor, nearly tripped over the beanbag and narrowly missed getting a mild concussion on the UPS. I fumbled in the dark and found the light switch.

There was no one in my room but me.

The whispering continued, slightly louder this time. They seemed to be coming from my writing desk, from a fat, worn brown envelope. I slowly pulled open the flap and peered into the envelope. There were my poems. Seven years’ worth of secret scribbling. They were whispering something.

I leaned closer and pressed my ear against the wrinkled envelope. And I listened. And I heard.

They wanted to be read.

So I picked sixteen of the bravest little poems, cranked up my PC and put together an e-book.

Since I’m still trying to decide where to upload it, if you’d like to see what became of the sixteen, send me a message with your email address and I’ll be happy to send you the pdf file. 

I noticed it for the first time today, when I pulled up my shirt. (No, this isn’t one of those articles, so you can pick your minds up out of the gutter.) I don’t know how it got there. It wasn’t there the last time I checked. Sometime during the past five or six years of wanton snacking on proven, pearl shakes, french fries, pancit canton and Dan Eric’s ice cream, it crept up on me like a silent, stealthy…thing. The ring of pasty-looking flab around my midsection that I now refer to as the Mighty Ab. (thanks to Roy for the term) It hasn’t quite made up its mind about whether or not it’s a lump of baby fat or a full-fledged pot belly.

*sigh* must exercise.

Malinis-linis na ang kwarto ko. Sa wakas. Nag-discard ako ng mga papel-papel at nag-organize ng mga files (syempre may mga label na cute at color-coded at nasa kahon na may design design pang nalalaman.) Hindi nakuntento doon, kaya nag-ayos pa ng mga libro. Itinabi ang mga librong hindi na binabasa, at inayos yungmga naiwan sa bookshelves. Syempre magkakabukod ang iba’t ibang genre at classified pa according to author. (Halata bang madami na akong free time?)

Nang matapos sa pag-aayos ng mga libro, sabay banat naman sa mga papel na nakatambak sa study table ko na nagmistulang maliit na Smokey Mountain. Pinagtatapon ang mga bolpen na wala nang tinta at mga business card ng mga taong matagal nang nakahanap ng iba nang trabaho,o di kaya’y matagal nang lumipad sa ibang bansa.

Pagkatapos ng lahat ng kawindangan at nag-settle na ang alikabok, winalis ko ang sahig. First time akong nakapagwalis sa kwarto ko sa loob ng isang buwan. Kaya ayun, pwede na sigurong ibenta por kilo ang ng alikabok na naipon ko sa dustpan. Siguro kung inabot pa ng dalawa pang buwan yung makapal na alikabok sa sahig, malamang mga Marso pa lang makakadiskubre na ako ng mga bagong life-form na nag-e-evolve sa mga siwang ng sahig at mga sulok ng kwarto ko.

Na-realize ko din na ang dami ko palang mga school supplies. Pero dahil malilimutin ako, (May ADD daw, sabi ni Angela) at hindi no na naaalala kung saan ko naitago ang mga ito, bili pa rin ako ng bili. Parang may time-space warp kasi ang kwarto ko. Feeling ko, lahat ng mga bolpen at yellow pad at notebook at plastic hanger, pati na ang mga kaliwang medyas ko, nagte-teleport doon sa time-space warp pag di ako nakatingin. Kasi kahit na abutin pa ng katakut-takot na paghahalungkat, hindi ko malaman kung saan nagsisisiksik yung mga gamit ko. Nakakabano talaga.

Nung nag-general cleaning ako, biglang nagsibalikan ang lahat ng mga nawawalang gamit. Kaya tuloy, meron na akong tatlumpung bolpen, sampung lapis (yung iba mahahaba pa’t bagong tasa, yung iba pungok na’t puro ngatngat), tatlong pad ng yellow paper, tatlumpu’t-limang slightly used na notebook, at di mabilang na plastic hanger na mukhang nagreproduce ata sa loob ng closet (sinabit ko na lang yung iba sa sampayan kasi hindi na nagkasya sa closet).

At masasaya na ang mga medyas ko kasi reunited na sila sa mga ka-partner nila.