A Million Little You (A Million Little Me)

Look at me.
I said, Look at me!
What do you see?
I see you through a glass.
And is there any difference? He asked.
None at all, I replied.
I see a person wanting to be seen, to be heard, to be cared for and loved.
But I see something real. No pretensions, no qualms,
Powerful, destructive in force, gentle in honour
I believe in the dreamer, the soul-searcher, who travels to lands unknown
only to come back empty.
What’s wrong with you?
Why do you think such things?
Because there is nothing more real than the truth
That you are too blinded to see.
And what truth is that?
The truth that you are no one.
I am someone.
I am passionate.
You are borrowed.
I am someone.
I am love-crazed.
You are conceived in my mind, moulded into no one.
Generic.
I am someone,
An individual.
You are a reflection. A mere magic trick of light.
I am someone,
Defiant,
Who wants to change the world,
Who wants to succeed because he can create.
You are to be shared.
A gift for no one.
I am someone.
Given to everyone.
A jester to all but yourself.
Ha-Ha-Ha! I hear them laughing.
Mocking you ridicule yourself in front of them.
Why do you do such a foolish act?
Humiliating yourself so that others can.
I do this for them and not for you.
Not for you but for them.
Listen. They are still laughing at you.
No. They laugh with me.
And what you hear is music to my soul.
It’s nothing but noise to drown the truth.
Be kind to yourself.
Do not inflict any more pain.
The truth that you are no one,
Everyone will not like you and you,
You should not even care.
But I do.
You do because you want more than you need.
Shut up.
No.
Stop.
I don’t want to hear any more of this.
You must listen and accept what is coming.
HA-HA-HA! Laugh more, cry even.
You are Narcissus who sank on his own vanity.
Loving yourself was never a sin.
But too much is a crime.
The mirror shatters
Into a million broken little pieces lay on the floor.
I knelt down.
Now, look at me.
I said, LOOK AT ME!
Who is it that you can see?
I see you.
A million broken little pieces of you.

Bopis and Valentine’s Day

“Noel, you’re wanted at the Principal’s office,” my teacher said. At first I thought it was something I did wrong but then I quickly realized that being sent to the office for putting gum under my desk wasn’t enough reason. I knocked and slowly opened the door to the office. I entered and saw my father seated. I was surprised to so him and wondered what he was doing there talking to my principal. “Get your things, we’re going home,” Papa said. He thanked the principal and signaled me toward the door. I asked him what he was doing there and he just said that we’re going to my grandparent’s house. The news of me going there filled my heart with delight. I got to leave the school early and I would get to spend time with my cousins playing. I couldn’t be more excited. We reached our house and I dashed to my room to change. I kept thinking I would get to see my cousins, aunts, uncles and most especially taste my Lolo’s bopis again and on a school night. What more could a stressed-out little boy want? It was quite a long drive from our house to my grandparents’ but I didn’t mind. I was just so happy to see them all. It was a quiet drive and Papa wasn’t talking. All I could here was the music on the radio. We finally arrived and I immediately jumped out of the car and dashed toward the gate. I saw a lot of unfamiliar faces at the porch but I was too fervent to even ask why. I began looking for my cousins so we could start playing. I got to the kitchen and there I saw my mom and aunts immersed into conversation. They stopped when they saw me. I kissed my mom and went around the table to do the same to my aunts and uncles. “Where’s lola?” I asked. “She’s in her room,” my mom answered. I ran to her room and found my other family members huddled around her crying. She wiped her tears when she saw me and I hugged her. I asked why everyone seemed so sad but no one replied. I shrugged and went back to the kitchen. I was hungry and I was craving for my favourite delicacy which my grandfather cooks so well, but to my dismay it wasn’t there. My mom suddenly took me by the arm and asked me to sit with her. The next few words I heard from her shocked me to my very core. I was immediately filled with so much pain and grief that tears filled my eyes and ran down my cheeks. I rose from her lap and went to the wall near the bathroom. I started kicking and punching the wall vigorously as if it was all to blame. I shouted and cried harder and when I grew tired I fell on the floor and cried even more. My heart was pounding and I was grasping for air. And after a while I became silent and rose from where I fell. I walked slowly toward my cousins’ room and at the corner of my eye saw my sister crying. My mom tried to stop me but I freed myself from her hand and ran toward the room. I wanted to be alone to dwell on the grief I was feeling. I locked the door behind me as I entered. I cuddled up on the empty bed and began crying again. Suddenly, I was filled with memories of my grandfather, Apo Ben. I remembered his antics and other fond memories of him. I remembered he used to jokingly touch me on my privates saying that he wanted to check if it was growing faster than me. He always said that I was chubby and unusually small for my age.

My grandfather died February 14 due to a heart attack. It was his third. I never tasted his bopis again and I don’t even remember the last time I did. But I remember all the lessons he taught me. He taught me so many things. He taught me how to laugh out loud. He taught me to love cooking. He taught me that art is beautiful and that creativity comes not from the hands of the maker but from his heart and soul. He taught me what beer tastes like. He let me taste my first when I was 9. He was strong and strict but compassionate and loving. He taught me about death for the first time by dying. He taught me that it was ok and that the life we had on this earth was only borrowed and can be taken away anytime. He taught me that crying was nothing more than expressing pain and to weep because when someone leaves you, you are allowed to mourn for a while. But then you have to let go and remember fond memories you have that will last for a lifetime. I never tasted bopis the same way again and Valentine’s Day was not only the day of hearts but the day when my great Apo Ben taught me how it is to cry and to weep then let go.

Love and San Mig Light

I wanted to write beautiful poems and wonderful essays, about love and every story behind its sheer power. I have always considered myself a love-crazed person. It was all I could ever think about, and for a time it was all I could ever write about. As one movie I saw clearly illustrated, they say that there are different kinds of live. A love that’s blind with one being more engagingly attractive than the other. A love that fades when two people have grown too far apart brings you spiralling down. A love that’s lost when one dies. A love found even in just one night—at a bar. And then, there’s the cruellest kind of love, the unrequited love. A person doomed to watch the love of another blossom in silent tears and with sweet goodbyes. And so, here and now I decide to write about love and San Mig Light.

A lit cigarette and a cold San Mig Light
An idea of a near perfect night
A quiet spot in a crowded room
Loneliness made by choice

Sweet nothings and cruel words
My heart and thoughts run amuck.
There so much beauty coupled with pain
I see in your face.

You loved and you lost, you lived and died.
In the passing of the day and the coming of the night
With your silent tear and sweet goodbye
We part.

Passion, depression, lies and fears
On giving up and holding on
A pen, a paper, a coaster and alone
Me, with love and my San Mig Light

My Body's Not Mine

You gave me this body
But it is not mine
You moulded me into something
In the image and likeness
Conceived in your mind

My body is borrowed
A gift to be shared, but
Scarred and tainted
With feelings of pain and love, happiness and tears
And of all things failed

You loaned me this body
For me to use as I please
But I decided unwisely
With vices, I destroyed it slowly
Cigarettes, alcohol, sex and vanity

My body filled with passion
You alone can feel
Undying, deep and giving
Stolen from a figure unreal
Copied from a shadow with your seal

Other bodies I envy
For they’re muscular and big
While mine, small and lean
Sickly and thin
And somewhat unclean

Youth and beauty
Things my body clings in desperately
But I know it shall fade, wither and decay
As certain as the sun, as mysterious as the moon
My body like all others will be gone soon

“Take care of me,” it said.
Love me like a mother would a child, it pleaded
Unselfishly, undaunted and without disregard
My body, a place for my head
And the heart that seemingly plays dead.

My soul cries, “free me from this cage!”
A vision of me on the edge
My body is different
Different from my heart
It was shaped, given, borrowed, full of passion, and it is not mine.

A Lesson In Dancing

Dance as if no one is watching: close your eyes

And picture no one but you and I

Surrounded by music that only we can hear;

Trust me. Believe. I tell you; soon I shall teach you how to fly.



Dance as if no one is watching: embrace your freedom

from a world full of pain

of man unjust, I offer you peace and a promise to live

and to dance to keep you sane.



Dance as if no one is watching: follow the beat

And feel its rhythm. Hear the sound getting louder

and faster, taking you higher and higher.

I am your guide and this your heart shall remember.



Dance as if no one is watching: across time and space

Share your love and release your passion,

Raise your hand and reach for mine.

This is a dance of our own creation.



Dance as if no one is watching: open your eyes

And look beyond what you can see. Listen

To your soul: “I am you and you have become me”

We are as one as heaven intended us to be.



Now, let's dance as if no one is watching.