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But I must explain to you how all this mistaken idea of denouncing pleasure and praising pain was born and I will give you a complete account of the system, and expound the actual teachings of the great explorer of the truth, the master-builder of human happiness. No one rejects, dislikes, or avoids pleasure itself, because it is pleasure, but because those who do not know how to pursue pleasure rationally encounter consequences that are extremely painful. Nor again is there anyone who loves or pursues or desires to obtain pain

Sunday, May 27, 2007

A Poem For Mama

This is a poem to my mother, Menchie
Whom I caused silent tears
With my broken promises and failed dreams
Whose strict upbringing and moody temper
Have kept us all on our toes
“Mama, Let’s talk, I want to tell you something”
She listened and understood
All I had to say
That pain was never my intention
But grief was caused by my action.
I am sorry for the way I am
And yet you love me just the same.
You are my hero
A pillar of strength to be admired
For your rare smiles and brave spirit
Have kept me going to fight
The battle I thought I lost
I won because you were beside me
For a mother’s love will forever remain
Constant and steadfast in its undying will
To keep my best interest at heart.
And so, I write this to thank you,
For your passion, your care, your love.
My mother Menchie, enduring and patient
Ageless in the heart of his son.

For You Who Made Me Cry (Again)

I write this poem to you
who made me cry
is it love I feel or but a feeling of longing?
In this world I stand alone
Waiting for a comforting hand
To guide me along a confusing path
Memories I hold
Of happiness and tears, I treasure
Not knowing when this will end
I dream of tomorrow.
Uncertainty lingers
In the crying nights and
Confusing days, I crave peace.
But like all things troubled
Solutions shall come
And soon all these shall pass.
I beg you to forgive me
For the times I wasn’t there to be with you
When the rain poured and no shelter to be found
When the scorching sun burned your back
And pierced your heart
I wasn’t there to cover you with my shadow.
And so I offer this to you
Nothing superb, or spectacular
But true, honest and pure.
And for you who made me cry
I thank you for the tears and
The love.

The Room Was Quiet part 2

I remember the room. Quiet and I don’t hear anything. Not even the dogs were barking outside. I’ve gone deaf. And suddenly, I could hear voices from downstairs. I feel restless and uncomfortable. “Not now, not again,” says the voice inside me. “Aha! Patintero. That’s what I want to play later.”
“I wish its 4 o’clock already so I could play outside with my friends.”
“I wonder what they’re doing now.”
“I don’t want this! I beg you please stop! Don’t!”
I looked at the door in the hopes that it would magically open and Bioman or Astroboy would come and save me.
“Not there, please no, not there!” The voice inside grew louder but my mouth could not utter any words.
It’s hot and I’m sweating. I’m tired and hungry. I don’t want to be here. “Superman, come and save me!”
I see outside from the window and I hear the dogs barking. Do they know what’s happening to me? I wonder where Mama is, she’s probably still working.
I feel lifeless, empty and hollow. My mind is going places but my body could not follow. I’m crying because I feel hopeless. I can smell something I’ve never smelled before. I wanted to throw-u. When is this going to end? I want to play outside with my friends.
To think I remember all these which I tried so hard to forget. When I was six, I remember the room was silent and I’ve gone deaf.

The Room Was Quiet

I remember it was quiet for a while and I could not even hear any dogs barking outside. I lay on a mattress beside my bed. I could hear it creek. I was pretending to be asleep. I heard the wind blowing seemingly whispering something to me. I heard the bed creek again, louder this time. “Not so loud,” she said. My yaya was with someone again. I saw him before. I think he was our neighbour. I didn’t know his name. He was big like a dinosaur; dark skinned and had a deep low voice. I feared him.

It was ‘Numbers’ day at school and the teacher had asked us to take out our workbooks. “I hate Numbers Day,” I whispered to my classmate. “Really? Why? Ako, I love it!” she blissfully replied. I would rather have the recess so I can play with the turtles outside. And when the bell rang, I rushed to the door and found my usual spot. I ate my lunch quickly and immediately began playing with my friends. She was outside waiting, undoubtedly gossiping with others like her. I did not want to leave school. I wanted to play all day long. She screamed from afar and gestured for me to come to her. I refused to heed her call. I walked slowly, pretending not to hear nor see her. She screamed louder. I still didn’t look and continued to walk in a pace even the turtles at the playground would admire. I reached the gate where she was and looked back at the school I was saddened to leave behind. I saw my friends still playing while apparently waiting for someone to pick them up. Teary-eyed, I sighed. She shouted at me and instantly grabbed my ear as if trying to rip it off my head. “Baket ba ang bagal-bagal mo maglakad? Hindi mo ba naririnig yung mga tawag ko sa iyo? Ikaw talaga na bata ka!” She continued to shout at me far after we got home. She dragged me upstairs toward my room and asked me to change my clothes. I undressed as quickly as my chubby, little body would allow. I did not want to give her any more reason to get angrier than she already was. It was one-thirty in the afternoon and I knew that it was nap-time. The mattress was ready in its usual place, beside my bed. She forced me to sleep. I laid there, closed my eyes and in a curled-up position I acted to be asleep. But my mind was wandering and sleep eluded me. And half-way between dream and reality I heard the doorbell ring. The man spoke and I knew it was him. The deep low voice I feared resounded throughout my body. I started to shake. There were footsteps and I could tell they were coming up the stairs. The door opened and I shut my eyes.

I heard undecipherable words. Loud whispers but I could not understand what they were saying. And after what seemed like forever, she stepped out of the room. He slowly rose from the bed and walked toward the door. He locked it. In an instant, I know what was going to happen. It was the same as before. My body started to tremble uncontrollably. I willed it to stop. I could hear him coming closer to check if I were still asleep. I felt his breath on m face as he looked. And then, he picked up my hand and placed it on what felt like a warm, rough stick. My hand immediately jerked away. He held it tighter. I wanted to chew off my arm desperately. I wished so hard that the nerves in my body would die and my hand would go numb. He started to touch me, caressing sensitive areas of my body. I wanted to vomit. I wanted to scream and run toward the door. I kept willing my mind to go to a happy place; a place where he could not follow. Somewhere far from where I was then, where I was held hostage. But my body refused to move. Fear had paralyzed it. My mind was spinning. I was disgusted. There was no where else to go. I was trapped in the hands of a sick puppeteer. And I was the puppet, lifeless, empty. I was a mere child. I was only six and I remember it was quiet for a while.
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