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Sa Kumbento ni PadrePio

Abandon sanity, all ye who enter.

Lamentations of a Dying Star

A falling star blazes in the night
Rushing and hurrying, fast as light
With joy and love it drops to earth
Then lands on you and laughs with mirth
The star was I — Oh yes, indeed!
With heart and soul, I gave you all
Yet — like darkness you could be cruel
Because you left me in this world
My light extinguished, my fire grown cold

My fire grown cold, my light extinguished
How fool I am to still have wished!
To still recall your warm caress
Your lovely touch, your sweet sweet kiss
A star was I — a fool, indeed!
That even if you broke me so
My voice won’t shake — ‘STILL, I LOVE YOU!’
Though now, I have, grown stale and old
My light extinguished, my fire now cold

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Murdered by Cliche

TUESDAY. 1:20PM. That particular Manila afternoon was killing me. The rainy season was supposed to have begun a few weeks ago but there I was, sweltering in my room and cursing for all I was worth because the damn freaking weather wasn’t helping me write something. The heat was unbearable and it was eating up what little stored energy I had. It didn’t help that my PC was also having one of its seizures — restarting itself even if I was in the middle of a program.

Banging the mouse forcefully on the table, I got up, strode to where the airconditioning unit was installed, and turned it to full blast. I decided to discard my t-shirt, free-throwing it to the corner where the laundry basket was placed. I missed my mark, the sweat-stained shirt ending up lying rumpled on the floor. I would have wanted to take off my blue jersey shorts too but thought it awkward and downright disturbing to be writing with nothing but my briefs on. Continue reading “Murdered by Cliche”

On Mining

According to a research done by the IBON Foundation, regions with biggest mining activities are among the poorest in the Philippines.

I can attest to this.

I have lived and grew up in a heavily mined island and I have yet to see my fellow islanders’ quality of life improving because of the mining activities.

What have we got instead? Continue reading “On Mining”

Boredom, the Silent Killer

There’s a new killer in town and Boredom is its name. In today’s age where instant gratification is the norm, it thrives. . . it feasts.

Boredom is the silent killer. And once you get stalked by it, you’re screwed. Life for you will become a chore, even the things that you use to enjoy. Apathy and indifference will come to you, walking hand in hand. And as they get closer and closer, that feeling of unusual tiredness of the soul and body will start to creep in. Finally, when boredom has you locked-in inside her tight embrace, evil and good will become indistinguishable to you because you will feel nothing. You will stop caring and become numb to the sad plight of others and yourself. Even while you breath, you are already dead inside. Your daily corporeal existence will become unbearable, to the point where you will eventually realize that the only reasonable thing left to do would be to end your life and sleep for all eternity.

So you took a shortcut. You ended your life. But did you finally become free from the oppressive clutches of boredom?

No, you didn’t. You just came full circle. You killed yourself because you felt nothing. But now you have become nothing; nothing but a distant and painful memory. . . a lingering dust on the face of the earth waiting to be swept away by the winds.

You are now nothing. And so boredom claimed you.

Are You Collecting Butts?

Back in the day when internet was still an alien concept, opinions used to be widely repressed. If you had lived in the Middle Ages, telling your neighbor that you saw the town priest rolling in the hay with the tanner’s wife would have cost you your tongue. People back then were so used to being subjugated by a higher power that they would instantly cower at the thought of even voicing something out. The town baker’s bread is moldy, you say? Don’t even think of telling it to his face. He might not let you buy bread next time; quite a quandary since he’s the only baker in town. Grumbling about the high rents set by the lord? Don’t you dare whisper it. Before the sun sets, you’re sure to have a heavily tortured limb. A lord is usually not a forgiving man.

The advent of the 20th Century heralded the era of revolutions and counter-revolutions. Rebellions and oppositions against established rules permeated the air. At this point, ordinary people began to think that their own opinions actually mattered; that they have a say on almost anything under the sun — from how their country should be governed and to what color of undergarment they should wear. And so, kingdoms fell, empires collapsed and the mighty kings and emperors were cast down from their golden thrones and generally buried six feet under the ground. And it’s all because ordinary people began to give importance to their own opinions.

From then on, with democracy and freedom spreading through the winds, ordinary people started to exert influence on the order of things. Corporations, politicians and businesses paid obeisance to the common person and his opinion. They became dependent on the whims, tastes and moods of the masses.

And then came the era of the internet and social networking. Continue reading “Are You Collecting Butts?”

Nakausap Ko Si Padre Damaso

Noong nakaraang linggo ay merong ipinatawag na Synod ang simbahan. At bilang isang pari, isa ako sa mga dumalo. Ang lahat kasi ng mga lingkod ng Dyos dito sa Pilipinas ay ni-require na mag-attend. Kahit yung mga prayle noong panahon ng Kastila ay imbitado. Nag-provide ang simbahan ng teleportation machine (courtesy of Engr. Dinggel) para lamang maka-dalo sila sa Synod.

Nagkaroon ako ng tsansang makausap si Padre Damaso noong break time. Tama ang paglarawan ni Rizal sa kanya. Pandak ito at mataba. At ang ilong niya’y mamula-mula, na para bang hahatsingin anumang oras.

Sa maikling panahon na iyon ay naikuwento niya sa akin na meron daw bagong dating sa kanilang bayan na anak ng isang mayamang pamilya. At malakas daw ang kutob niya na may masamang pakay ang taong iyon. Nang mabanggit niyang Crisostomo Ibarra ang pangalan ng taong ikinukuwento niya ay di na lang ako umimik. Continue reading “Nakausap Ko Si Padre Damaso”

Ba’t Ganun si Pablo Neruda?

Ba’t ganun si Pablo Neruda?

Dapat ba ang love parang commandment sa Old Testament? Yung ‘an eye for an eye’? A love for a love?

‘Ang tawag dito ay selfish love,’ pagdedeklara ni Mang Paking.

If I gave you a kilo of love, then you should give me a kilo of love as well. And no, don’t even bother to cheat me a few grams or the deal is off. Love me and I’ll love you back. Tit for tat. Quid pro quo.

‘Sad but true,’ dagdag pa ni Mang Paking. Continue reading “Ba’t Ganun si Pablo Neruda?”

Project Alexander – Chapter I

Fact 1:

In 2011, a manuscript written in a strange code was found beneath the ruins of a castle in Barcelona, Spain.

Two years later, a group of archaeologists from the Loyola University in America was able to decipher parts of the manuscript. To their surprise, it was written in colloquial Tagalog, a native language of the Philippines using the baybayin script.

Until now, they still have no idea how it came to be, nor how it got there in the first place.

****

Fact 2:

I know how it came to be and how it got there in the first place.

~~~ Continue reading “Project Alexander – Chapter I”

The Curse of the Trencavels – Chapter II

The Man Without a Face
Montpellier
April 1067

The man without a face couldn’t find the right word. And it made him uglier. His withered face, remnant of a once handsome face ravaged by the plague, was twisted into concentration.

Querabin?

He couldn’t find the right word that he knew succinctly described the beautiful creature frolicking naked by the river. Those infernal priests and their Latin! He cursed. The creature was a boy child of about eight summers or so. The boy was breathtakingly beautiful. Golden locks which were naturally curled on their ends. Skin almost as pure as snow. And the eyes. They were the bluest eyes he had ever seen.

Serubin? Continue reading “The Curse of the Trencavels – Chapter II”

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