Jun Ducat

Ano kaya ang tumatakbo sa isip mo ng mga panahong iyon?
Ano kaya ang nilalaro ng iyong pagal na pagmumuni-muni at pagninilay
Ng piliin mong igarahe ang bus sa tapat ng monumento ni Bonifacio
Bitbit ang iyong nakatikom kamaong galit na kay tagal mong tinago at binusalan.

Ano kaya ang tunay na dahilan?
Ano kaya ang sadya mong layunin?
Ng isara mo ang pintuan ng bus
kasama ang iyong mga mahal na musmos
Upang magbukas lamang ng panibagong pinto
ukol sa isang partikular na yugto
na wala halos nangangahas sumilip o panandaliang pumasok.

At ano ang yugtong ito?
Ano ang iyong binabanggit na realidad?
Ano itong katotohanan na sadyang pilit pinapagpag ng marami
At pinagdadamutan ng pansin?
Ano itong luma at inaamag na istorya na iyong nais muling ikwento
At ilathala sa panlipunang libreto ng tao?

Ito ba yung sumisigaw na realidad na kailangan mong gawin ito?
na kailangan pang mangyari ito?
Upang maipaabot at mairehistro ang sugat ng marami,
Ang lalim ng peklat ng mga binusabos at inapi
sa mga nahihimbing at kinakalyong damdamin ng mga walang pakiramdam
sa hanay ng mga kunwaring inosente at walang alam
sa mga nagbabalat-kayo at mga swapang.

Ito ba yung katotohanan na sadyang binabaliw tayo ng bulok na sistemang ito
Ang paulit-ulit na kwento ng mga pamilyang sama-samang nagpapakamatay
nasisiraan ng bait dahil sa gutom
Kahirapan at kawalan ng pag-asa
Ang araw-araw na pagpapatiwakal ngunit walang pangako ng kamatayan
Ang taon-taon na kalbaryo
Ang minu-minutong paghuhukay ng sariling libingan
Ang paghahanda ng mumurahing nitso.

Ngunit ano ang sinabi at ganti nila sa iyo?
Ikaw daw ay sira-ulo, anarkista
Bayolente at terorista.
Silang mga hipokrito, mga bulol na verbalista at mga sinungaling,
Silang mga mahilig ngumawa at magreklamo
Habang komportableng sumisipsip ng kape sa malalamig na coffee shop,
Silang mga hungkag at duwag na usisero ng buhay.

Alam ko at alam mo rin,
Muli ka nilang ilalagay sa piitan,
dudurugin,
wawasakin
at pilit lilimutin.
Ngunit huwag kang mag-alala,
Huwag kang malulungkot.

Darating ang araw tunay na sasabog ang mga granada,
Darating ang araw mabibingi ang lahat sa putok ng mga gatilyo,
Susuntok sa langit ang milyong mga kamao
At sasaya ang mga musmos gaya ng pinapangarap mo.



Emmanuel Hizon Marso 2007

"Comfortably Numb"

Beginning tomorrow
everything will change
I will start dying assiduously
wisely optimistically
without wasting time

-Tadeus Rosewicz


I woke up early, decided on things, closed a lot of doors and contemplated on almost everything my mind can think of during that moment. I just woke up and I'm tiring myself already. Anyway, the sun shines differently now in my bedroom. The morning seems pleasant enough. My old lady neighbor got a new hairstyle. A girl across the street gave me the most beautiful smile ever. And I am chewing gum.

The morning seems pleasant enough.

Sick and Tired

I'm so sick and tired of writing every song and poem about you...

Time to Move On

A piece by Paulo Coelho entitled ‘Closing Cycles’: (Salamat Bonn)

One always has to know when a stage comes to an end.

If we insist on staying longer than the necessary time, we lose the happiness and the meaning of the other stages we have to go through. Closing cycles, shutting doors, ending chapters – whatever name we give it, what matters is to leave in the past the moments of life that have finished.

Did you lose your job? Has a loving relationship come to an end? Did you leave your parents’ house? Gone to live abroad? Has a long-lasting friendship ended all of a sudden?

You can spend a long time wondering why this has happened. You can tell yourself you won’t take another step until you find out why certain things that were so important and so solid in your life have turned into dust, just like that.

But such an attitude will be awfully stressing for everyone involved: your parents, your husband or wife, your friends, your children, your sister, everyone will be finishing chapters, turning over new leaves, getting on with life, and they will all feel bad seeing you at a standstill.

None of us can be in the present and the past at the same time, not even when we try to understand the things that happen to us. What has passed will not return: we cannot for ever be children, late adolescents, sons that feel guilt or rancor towards our parents, lovers who day and night relive an affair with someone who has gone away and has not the least intention of coming back.

Things pass, and the best we can do is to let them really go away.

That is why it is so important (however painful it may be!) to destroy souvenirs, move, give lots of things away to orphanages, sell or donate the books you have at home. Everything in this visible world is a manifestation of the invisible world, of what is going on in our hearts – and getting rid of certain memories also means making some room for other memories to take their place.

Let things go. Release them. Detach yourself from them. Nobody plays this life with marked cards, so sometimes we win and sometimes we lose. Do not expect anything in return, do not expect your efforts to be appreciated, your genius to be discovered, your love to be understood. Stop turning on your emotional television to watch the same program over and over again, the one that shows how much you suffered from a certain loss: that is only poisoning you, nothing else.

Nothing is more dangerous than not accepting love relationships that are broken off, work that is promised but there is no starting date, decisions that are always put off waiting for the “ideal moment.” Before a new chapter is begun, the old one has to be finished: tell yourself that what has passed will never come back. Remember that there was a time when you could live without that thing or that person – nothing is irreplaceable, a habit is not a need. This may sound so obvious, it may even be difficult, but it is very important.

Closing cycles. Not because of pride, incapacity or arrogance, but simply because that no longer fits your life. Shut the door, change the record, clean the house, shake off the dust.

Stop being who you were, and change into who you are.

The Eternal Flaw

Let’s just say that I’m tired. I’m tired of all the wrongs and the occasional rights that I have done and will continue to do. I just want to stop. Halt and rust until time forgets all about me. I just wanted to end whatever life is breathing, beating in this dung heap flesh held together by a tattered and worn out soul. How I yearn for a car crash, an accident that does not want to be rescued, jammed traffic intersections where I can just lay still, go deaf and oblivious.

Have you been at the edge of the roof? The eternal flaw is so profound that it is impossible to fix it. You are left with nothing genuine, nothing true except the feeling of being alone and empty. It is always raining in my mind. And I am flooding this barrenness in me. The dam I built a long time ago now stands in ruin, proud no more. The craving of deliverance is unsatisfied, unfulfilled. Dearth of everything I miss. My seasons are leaving without any particular reason. My demons I try to exorcise in a ritual of sincerity and mendaciousness. However, they come back. I know they’ll come back. They always do. How I wish I could talk to an angel and tell him, tell her, tell them that I am here, there and nowhere all at the same time.

Sometimes I wish for a sunburn. Walk indiscriminately in a white shoreline and bask in the radiance that never was. I wish I could touch the horizon and see what is beyond the fixated stars that shine best when nearing death. My ever-gazing star. You shine best now.

I wanted to drown together with you because last night you were the sky and today you are the moon. But you are not there. Can I ask you where are the fireflies that make your slit eyes glow like fire in dark caverns where I hide my sorrows? I almost miss your fragile hands. I can still hear how it makes beautiful music like how a piano makes a filthy bistro the most beautiful place in this fleeting world with her melody of black and white keys.

Let’s just say its over. The start and the end are fast closing on us. Like a faded black and white film, you have seen the reruns but you still fall for it everytime. You fall into a thousand pieces. You are scattered like unmindful pieces of glass waiting to cut and slit some wrist, some vein, some drifting life. You and I are the shards of my former self.

I am tired. But I am fine.

sashaninel may182006