See You Tomorrow

Another one that stayed as a bunch of blurbs in the vault for a while but was finally in the right headspace to complete.

What ifs are kind of a bitch.

~~~~~~~

Your smile lit up the room as you took your time to thank everyone.
Sneaking curious glances with tired eyes, forced to stay awake.
Asking me to rescue you from this mess you got yourself into.
I hand you an iced coffee with a soft smile as if to say:
“We still have a long way to go, darling. Just a little bit more.
Don’t give up just yet. It’ll all be worth it in the end.”

We part ways just a little bit past midnight.
With big hugs, we say our goodbyes, good jobs, let’s do this again tomorrow.
Turn off the lights and close the doors.
Yes. Let’s do this again tomorrow.

It became a little routine,
even from thousands of miles away
The promise of tomorrow
Cheering each other on wherever we were
Missing each other, but not too much
We never really committed to anything

Conversations then became short sentences
Then one-liners,
Then emojis,
Then just the double checks.
Replies more sporadic as the days passed.

We just
Keep
Missing
Each other

Now, I see you.
Smiling sleepily through the screen halfway across the world
The beautiful cherry tree you always talk about is now in full bloom
right outside your window.

You look, happy. Content. Enveloped in all the love that she has for you.
I too am happy and content. Enveloped in all the love she has for me.
But I still can’t help but wonder what if we got all our ducks in a row
and chose each other instead.

Maybe if I’d taken that chance, I’d be closer to where you were.
I’d be seeing your face bathed in soft spring sunrise,
bundled up under the comforters, asking me to come back to bed.

Tonight, I’m not sure where you are.
You might be sound asleep or wide awake.
You might be dreaming of me the way I dream of you,
or I might be the furthest thing from your mind.
I just want you to know wherever you are, whatever you might be doing,
I hope you are safe.
I hope you are happy.
I hope to get to see you again.

I hope.

Goodnight, darling. Let’s do this again tomorrow.

4 Seasons

Hello! It’s been a while. How are you? I hope you’re well.

Around 2-3 years ago I wrote a love poem to recite in a wedding. I’ve never really performed it anywhere else other than #WorksAtSaPusoMo earlier because it’s not really something I do often but I’m sharing it here in time for Valentine’s Day.

The original poem was written and performed in Filipino, but posting a very rough English translation as well for funzies.

~~~~~~~

May aaminin ako.
Hindi ko alam kung naniniwala talaga ako sa pag-ibig.
Maraming beses ko nang sinubukan.
Pero kitang-kitang mas sanay ako sa pait at minsan lang nakaranas ng tamis,
Mas kilala ko ang mga umaalis kaysa sa mga nanatili.
Kaya nung dumating ka sa buhay ko hindi ko naisip na possibleng ikaw pala ang katuwang ng puso ko.

Nakilala kita sa gitna ng tahimik ng Taglamig.
Sa ilalim ng bumabagksak na niyebe, kung kalian halos walang kulay ang mundo.
Sabi mo sakin tatakbo ka ng nakayapak dahil gusto mong maramdaman ang ginaw sa iyong talampakan
at hayaan itong dumaluyong hanggang sa tuktok ng iyong ulo.
Natawa lang ako.

Pero ang bawat halakhak ay nagbigay ng kulay sa mundo at dinala tayo sa panahon ng Tagsibol.
Dito natin mas nakilala ang isa’t-isa, kasabay ng paglago ang mga halaman sa paligid.
Hanggang sa tuluyan na tayong nabalot ng init at Tag-init.
Sumasayaw sa saliw ng kantang tayo lang ang nakakarinig.

Nandito na ang panahon ng Taglagas
Kung saan sanay na akong nagiging pait na ang tamis at ang karamihan ay umaalis.
Pero ikaw ay nanatili.
Pinili mong lumagi kahit unti-unti nang nawawalan ng kulay at tumahimik na ulit ang mundo.

Hindi na natin namalayan ang patuloy na paglipas ng panahon,
Ang papalit-palit na mga kulay,
pati ng init at lamig.
Nananatili tayo sa isa’t-isa,
patuloy na sumasayaw sa saliw ng kantang tayo lang ang nakakarinig.

Ha. Ganito pala ang umibig.

~~~~~~~

I have a confession to make.
I don’t think I believe in love.
I mean, I’ve tried so many times.
You can see that I’m used to the bitter more than the sweet,
I’m more familiar with those who left than the ones that stayed.
That’s why when you came into my life, I never thought you could be my other half.

I met you in the middle of the quiet Winter.
Under the falling snow, when the world was monochromatic.
You told me you’ll run barefoot because you wanted to feel the cold from the bottom of your feet
And let it surge to the top of your head.
I laughed.

But each laugh gave the world some color and brought us to Spring.
This is where we got to know each other, grew together along with the plants and the trees.
Intertwined in the heat and Summer.
Dancing to the songs only we can hear.

And then came Fall
Where sweets have become bitter and everyone begins to leave
But you chose to stay.
You chose to remain even when the world began to quiet and lose color again.

We begin to lose track of the seasons
The changing of colors,
even the transition from heat to cold
We remained in each other,
dancing to the songs only we can hear.

Huh. So this is what it feels like to love.

Three Fifty Three

cw/tw: depression, unintentional self-harm

It’s 3:53. 
Here I am, back on my shit, less than an inch away from a full-on breakdown.
While the rest of the world is silent, 
My lover’s soft snores mix with the hard-hitting K-Pop I blast from my earphones to keep my heart pumping like it’s the only thing that’s keeping me alive.

Today is World Poetry Day

Today, March 21st is World Poetry Day! Yay!

I haven’t written anything not work-related in a while and it has been really rough. But in honor of WPD, I am sharing with you a piece I wrote and performed 2 years ago. It took me quite a while to decide to post it anywhere but here goes:

cw/tw: depression, self-harm

Lol U R Sad Stop Lying

I’m happy. I know I’m happy. I am happy.
This is what happiness is, right? This. This is happy.
I’m happy. Ecstatic. Blessed beyond belief.

Press Play

cw/tw: depression, self-harm

With the push of a button the madness starts.

Start with Y on the search bar, commence the adventure.

Begin with the leftmost square.
Explore…
Beauty!
Fashion!
Gossip about forgotten 90’s icons!
Oh let’s not forget about the algorithm’s suggestions!

Things Worth Fighting For

🌈🌈🌈🦄🦄🦄 Happy Pride Month, Beshies! 💯💯💯 🎉🎉🎉

Though we can celebrate and march openly, there are still many that can’t. We still have a loooooooooooong way to go.

In honor of love, openness, visibility, all things that are beautiful, and fighting for the right to have this, I’m posting this poem I wrote and performed specifically for Metro Manila Pride March and Festival 2016. Yes, I needed 1 year to be brave enough to post this publicly. Ok ang dami ko na namang kuda. Lols. Here it is:

cw/tw: homophobia

CHAMELEON
I spent most of my life trying to blend in.
Try to fade into the background.
Try not to be noticed.
Shhh. Be quiet.
No one wants to hear you speak.
It wasn’t always like that.
I wasn’t always like that.

As a child, I am vibrant and full of life.
Armed with big and colorful wings that you can see from a mile away, telling everyone,
“I don’t know what I am yet, I’m not sure what I’m going to turn into,
but look at me. I am here. I am beautiful. I exist.”

But when I look around, I see that there is no one like me.

So I try to be brave, stand alone, unafraid.
Sticking out like a sore thumb in the sea of black and white
I see all eyes on me.
Some fascinated, some curious, some mocking, some disappointed, some disgusted, but mostly afraid.

They look at me like what I have is contagious
As if my existence is like a virus that can spread like an epidemic
So they try to cure me
Inject me with doctrine
Quarantine me until I’m better
Tell me over and over again that I am sinful,
That God made Eve for Adam and everything else is incorrect,
That this is just a phase, I’ll grow out of it.
That people like me are lost and need saving.

Then they break my bones to fit a straitjacket, so I will begin to look like everyone else;
Put a muzzle on me so that I can’t speak.
They’ve erased me.
Made me blend in, fade into the background, no one even noticed.
I was taught that once all of my colors have faded away, I’ll finally be free.

But I guess, I wasn’t meant for that kind of freedom.
They’ve clipped my wings but they keep on growing back.
They’ve anchored me down with their words but the ropes are not strong enough.
They tried to cage me in guilt, but I’ll always find a way out.

Look at me.
Like you, I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
Like you, I am a creation meant to take up space. I am matter.
I matter.
All I ask is that you do not erase me.
Let me be here.
Let me exist.

Buratchibells ni Madame

Happy World Poetry Day! Before the day ends, I’d like to share with you a piece I wrote for Metro Manila Pride x Words Anonymous HUBAD: Katawan, last year. I think I’ve only ever performed this thrice, so wala syang video. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Sana maperform ko na sya ulit.

Sort of sensitive content, pasintabi na lang sa mga hindi mahilig sa tite or sa genitals in general.

cw/tw: body dsymorphia, homophobia, misogyny

Lipat Bahay (video)

September 10th is International Suicide Prevention Day. It is one of the leading causes of death worldwide and is totally preventable. A major cause of this is mental illness, mainly depression.

I’ve lost several friends through this. Watched them crumble and lose hope from the sidelines because I was also dealing with my own demons. I often think that maybe if I was well, I would’ve been able to do something. Anything.

This particular piece was written about someone who was very close to me, someone whose demons played well with mine. I miss him every day.

Para sa lahat ng nauna, at sa lahat ng naiwan.

Lipat Bahay — Transcript

Prince and Bowery

Ayaw kong ipost ang transcript nito kasi hindi ako matapang. Mukha lang akong matapang pero hindi talaga. Feeling ko hindi ko pa rin ito masasabi directly na siya ang rason bakit ko sinulat ‘to. Hahahaha! Pero dahil may video na, isama na natin ang transcript. Bahala na si Batman.

A short one, for the boy with the good hair. 

 

There are many things that I like to keep secret:
Like the stash of chocolates hidden behind my bookcase,
The shoebox of love letters hidden somwhere in my room,
The cherry bomb in my pocket just waiting to be lit,
The vibrator I desperately try to hide from my mother, hidden deep inside my underwear drawer.

Out of all of my secrets, you’re my favorite.

You’re my mobile phone ringing at 3 am and I’m quietly running down the stairs to open the building door, desperately trying to make sure that no one else can hear it creak.
The way you are a boxers man because you like to keep the boys well ventilated.
The way your hair looks after an entire night of binge drinking like tumbleweed being blown away by a desert storm.
The way we say I love yous in our sleep, silently. With no traces left in the morning.

I keep you hidden in my left breast pocket, closest to my heart; while I’m stashed away in the back pocket of your jeans, barely breaking your confident stride.

You said the world wasn’t ready for us.
That this was better, more fascinating, more exciting: all the clandestine rendezvous, the shoebox of love letters, the 3 am calls, the tumbleweed blown away by the desert storm, the cherry bomb in our pockets, the silent I love yous.

You’re the king of the world; I was just your 3 o’clock habit.
I’ve wanted so long to be the queen of your castle, but for now I’ll settle as the jester in your court.
Until that time comes, I’ll wait for you at the corner of Prince and Bowery every morning at 3, hoping that someday, one day, you’ll end up loving me.

Srirachapocalypse

What would you do if the world suddenly runs out of Sriracha? That wonderful spicy red paste that gives your food an additional kick, definitely addictive. Can’t even begin to imagine eating some of my favorite food without it.

Watch as Kevin Yang explores a world without Sriracha in one of my favorite poems below: