Debris,flotsam, jetsam, garbage, wreckage, floating trash,
Corrugated metal folded like paper, a book destroyed, all junk.
Carcasses of trees, shards of glass, iron rods, a refrigerator door, a hand,
A shoe without its pair, unidentifiable things, soggy rubber, clothes off somebody's back,
Dogs, cattle, pigs that could not swim, a child's plush toy, a bench, a lucky charm,
Somebody's father, a neighbor, a stranger from another village, a lot of stuff.
What used to be a roof, a student's backpack, now all useless crap.
Uprooted crops not ready for harvest, a teenager not ready to die,
Shanty dweller, man, woman, child, elder, sister, enemy, friend, someone's lover,
She who lived in a concrete house, he who had two cars, they who had none,
Business man, kanto boy, tambay, police man, priest, a convicted thug,
The village gossip, the righteous one, the one reviled, and one well liked.
Residue of a life that was
Remnants of days that now seem so long ago
Of that quiet time before the storm
Wreckage of families, separated, decimated,
Bodies of children who escaped their parents' grasp,
Corpses never given a chance to say goodbye,
Drifting to the sea,
Washed away from home,
Swept away, then gone.
The angry water did not choose.
The storm surge had no favorites.
The howling force of the wind did not discriminate.
Yolanda was blind; she took without regard to who or what.
The fury vengeance of mother earth simply struck everything on its path.
Everything, everyone was equal, all fair game.
It wasn't the clever nor the richer who survived.
Not the braver, the stronger, nor one more deserving to die.
Just whoever, whatever, whichever.
Random and impersonal as can be; they're all debris.
She struck, swept, smacked,
Stole, swiped, slayed.
And then just as abruptly, she left.
And in her stillness, the shock.
The deafening stillness after the roaring waves.
And the last struggling leaf fell on the littered ground,
Waking up those who did not die.
And they stirred, and they moved, and they searched
Through the debris, the flotsam, and the jetsam
Searching for hope, for nanay, for kuya, for remains of life.
Debris, detritus, sludge, scrap, and crud
Cover the earth for miles around.
Under the garbage, signs of life.
Under the rubble, somebody rises.
Behind the glazed eyes too tired to weep,
Remnants of a heart ready to fight,
To eat, to lash back, to survive, to fight for what's left behind,
To move on, to forgive, to forget, to flee,
To find a new place, a new reason, a new season, a new cause,
Amid the debris, the vestiges, the leftover matter, yes, hope remains.
Tuesday, November 19, 2013
Debris,flotsam, jetsam, garbage, wreckage, floating trash,
Posted by gege at 10:37 AM
Friday, September 27, 2013
September is the saddest month
When a sister sighs
When a mother cries
When her man reaches out to empty space
When a child grows another year older
Without a mom
When the wind whispers her name
And hearts remember the pain
When years are counted
When the nightmare of ten days
Of the longest goodbye
Flashes slowly in the mind's eye
When memories of a sweet, innocent past
Of living oblivious to loss
Untouched by death
In the bliss of ignorance
In the happy shadow of denial
Are relived and achingly replayed
When fervent, hopeless wishes
Are whispered to heaven
To please, please go back to that time
Before naive peace was shattered
This saddest month
When a father hugs the air
And best friends stifle tears
When dreams are haunted
And photo albums revisited
When songs awaken
When questions are asked
And secret regrets surface
When wrinkles deepen
When the the rifts in my soul widen
When the anesthesia wears off
And the numbness turns into
A smarting tender sore
September, sometimes I hate you
Posted by gege at 6:28 AM
Saturday, July 6, 2013
Posted by gege at 8:29 AM
Sunday, June 9, 2013
Posted by gege at 8:37 AM
a conversation in my dream,
a gap in my soul,
a universe of memories in my mind,
a tear in my eye,
an ache in my gut,
a hope in my spirit,
a yearning in my chest,
a never disappearing presence in my life.
Posted by gege at 8:01 AM
Saturday, May 11, 2013
Nothing can comfort like
Nothing will replace
Posted by gege at 11:15 AM
Sunday, April 28, 2013
When it's summer in the Philippines, it sizzles. So much so that I've been inspired to write poetry. Two poems, in fact. One in Tagalog and another in my version of Shakespeare English.
These are just poems for fun.
Kapag tag-init, payatot, tabachingching pantay pantay
Normal lang na ang mga outfit nating pambahay
Ay saksakan ng nipis, iksi, at kupas ng kulay
Mga tisert na sobra nang gutay-gutay
Napagkakamalang basahan ng kasambahay
Mga perpec shorts na super mahalay
Kasi naman ang ineeeet, haay!
Shakesfear (written after reading some Shakespeare)
Praytell, what's this mefeel
Raging heat from head to heel
Burning innards, sweating crook, oh dear
Yet still, I need to wear a brassier!
Posted by gege at 8:12 AM
Thursday, April 25, 2013
Posted by gege at 6:49 AM
Thursday, March 7, 2013
The prhrase "Whay you see is what you get," from which the acronym derives, was a catchphrase popularized by Flip Wilson's drag personal "Geraldine" (from Rowan; Martin's Laugh-in in the late 1960s. Geraldine would often say it to excuse her quirky behavior.
*end of quote*
And what do you know, my other name is Geraldine.
Now, tack to the poem.
What you see
Figures of speech, I shun
And their friends of friends know about
What I had for dinner
Snapped and posted
Liked and commented
My innards exposed
My heart bared
Every little pang of emotion documented
You see, I’m in the in the business of sharing
Distributing the little that I know
But really, the need to be clear
Far outweighs the need to be sublime
Metaphors confuse me
The metaphysical can never trump
Hints flummox my simple mind
Just hit me with the truth any time
And I’ll say thank you for telling it to me bluntly
Your irony will probably escape me
Look at my face
And you see pretty much the wall behind me
Transparent like cellophane
Predictable like August rain
So the question is
Why rest from prose
Why deviate from paragraphs
It's just that sometimes
When I least expect it
A word gurgles out
A bubble of a thought
And the enter button insists
To form narrow columns
I don't even know
Posted by gege at 7:11 AM
Monday, February 25, 2013
The walls confess of hearing confessions
Of people alone in rooms
Of pains shared in the stillness
When nobody else was listening
The walls sing of hidden joys
Of the smiles one hides
Of hearts being punctured
Egos being bruised
Of brothers and sisters fighting
Not talking, pretending not to care
Of love unspoken
Because it's uncool to be sweet to your sibling
Of dirty linen kept where they should be
Parties, preparing for parties
Dreaming of parties
Parties that went too far
Of drunken people sprawled on the floor
Of cleaning up after the nights of reverie
The walls will miss
But more than anyone,
The people who lived, slept, breathed, dreamed, grew, gave, loved in it
And then the walls grow silent
Concrete, immobile walls
But they speak
Those walls did talk
Posted by gege at 7:59 PM
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
Do you remember the twenty first day of September
When I grew up and the child in me died forever
When my heart broke into tiny gooey pieces that could never be put back again
That now it’s all patched up and cracked, alive but barely recognizable
On the twenty first day of September
My sister went into coma
Because that stupid tumor just decided to erupt to flood her brain
And all that gray matter just could not be fixed again
On the twenty first night of September
The floor beneath my feet collapsed
And I crumpled into a kicking, writhing ball of denial
Screaming the truth away, bawling the undignified howl
The days after the twenty first of September
Were engulfed in pain that turned to fear that turned to pain again
That turned into a numbness pretending to be strength
That turned into silence pretending to be peace
Ten days after the twenty first of September
We were one less sister
A million joys poorer
Wondering about the meaning of forever
So here we are
A year after the twenty first day of September
Healing, but not quite there
Better, but never like before
I weep without tears.
I just want this day to be over.
This twenty first day of September.
Posted by gege at 6:51 AM