Waiting


there is a certain
poignancy in waiting.

moments when you are
poised for flight,
for change,
for the languor
of beginnings
that make you believe ( finally!) in fantastic deaths.

there is a certain wretchedness
in waiting.

seconds when
suddenly, everywhere
you are alone.
and your hands that
were minutes
so lively
now are spent
and quiet,
like fitful birds that
have been shot
by the rancor of
false hope.

there is a certain
timelessness in waiting.

as if you have always been
in this exact spot.
your sighing fists, memory boxes
holding warm stars,
conversations spilling out of tainted mugs,
the broken music
of his voice.

Wastelessness of Time

Demo teach on Monday (I can taste this post in my blood... I want it soooo bad.)

Court hearing on Saturday.

Find a lawyer.

Visit my aunt who was lately diagnosed of breast cancer.

Find some friggin peace.

I wonder how I can still find time to write. But find time, I will. This is the only way I can keep my sanity intact.

Why I Prefer Lorca

I can do without tame poetry-
These ambiguous ghosts, hiding behind rehashed faces of love,
They leave me weak with
Unnecessary longing.
I'd rather poetry
Grab me by the arm and whip me silly.
I'd rather it fill me with a unique rage
Or throttle me with foreign feeling.
I'd prefer wanton abandon to your words-
Peace wrapped in wolves' clothing.

Here's is one of Lorca's poems, The Gypsy and the Wind. Weep and learn!

http://boppin.com/lorca/gypsy.html

To Lalaine, Who Dreams of Going Abroad

An immigrant, she is hesitant
about wandering too far.
She is afraid of the newness of things,
of dangers that lurk in subways,
of the sanity of strangers,
of blinking street lights.
When she reaches a stop,
she reels from the strangeness of foreign ground.
She recovers and wanders around
but she gets lost easily
for she knows the way home
but not what home is.
Only the certainty of her emancipation
Leads her to the promisesof a different sun.
Strange lands are carefully hidden
in her jean pockets.
She likes to take them out occasionally
To criticize their individual flaws-
Too hot.
Too cold.
Too smiley.
Too restless.
When she puts them back,
She wakes upand ties her hair.
She heads straight to the marketplace.
Her hands reek of
dried fish.

Confessions of a Survivor

In the beginning, God didn't just make one or two people, he made a bunch of us. He wanted us to have lots of fun together so he put us all in a playground park thingy that he called Eden and let us do whatever we wanted.

I guess he was just bored, being alone and all.

At first, we did have fun just like he expected. We climbed trees, rolled down hills, swung on vines, swam in rivers, made faces. I remember laughing a lot.

Then one day this snake told us that it'd be more fun if we kept score. We didn't even know what score meant. But when he said that we should give an apple to the person who played best and we wouldn't know who was best unless we kept score, we finally got it. We could all see the fun in that. And we were all sure that we were the best.

Things were different after that. We yelled at each other a lot. We had to make new games and we had to devise scoring rules for each game. We eliminated other activities, like frolicking, because they were hard to score.

When God found out about our new game he was very angry. He said we couldn't use his garden anymore because we weren't having any fun. But we told him that we were having fun but he didn't listen and kicked us out the very next day. He said we couldn't come back until we stopped keeping score. To make us feel guilty about the whole thing, he even told us that we would all die anyway and our scores would mean nothing in the end.

He was wrong. My cumulative all-game score is now 14,782 and that means a lot to me. If I could raise it to 30, 000 before I die, I'll know I've accomplished something. Even if I can't reach this goal, I know that my life would still have a great deal of meaning because I've taught my children to score high and they'll all be able to reach 30,000 or 50,000 I know.

Really, it was life in Eden that was meaningless. Fun is great and all but without scoring, who'd really care about having fun? God has a very superficial view of life and I am glad my children are being raised away from his influence. We were lucky to get out. We're all very grateful to the snake.

If you think this is about you, it probably is.

Do you want to know a secret?