I JUST TAKE THAT BATH

By jooh

My Nanay (grandmother) died. And as a grandchild, the most loathed one for that matter, I forced myself to go home, Tuburan, to pay homage. And home is synonym to boredom---in dealing with endless hypocrite relatives.

And upon her death, the traditional rituals reborn: no sweeping of the floor ; no taking of bath; no wearing of bright colors since it denotes happiness ‘daw’; no combing of the hair and blah…blah….

The list went on.

Being twenty and not-so-innocent in the realm of liberal intelligence, simple annoyance won’t satisfy my indifference against such beliefs. I just don’t see their logic behind. And my Mama cocked her brows for my indignation with that subject matter.

Well, why won’t I?

When I saw the ‘mourners’ (they were not wearing red shirts), yet they buhakhak (guffawed) while playing Tung-it and Majong? When my cousin listened in some music in her mp3? When my Ate sneaked out to watch her followed teleserye?

Again, why won’t I?

They are the classic models of hypocritical individuals trying to stick to those so-called traditional norms, yet, discreetly breaking them.

I wanted to break free from the rigid cage of superstitions.

“Hey, Manang Jean (my elder sister) took a bathe” I argued to my Mama.

“Lahi ang iya’ng tinuhuan. (She got a different religion) My Mama calmly replied. (She married a guy with a different religion.)

“I got a different religion tinuhu-an (beliefs) too.” I defended myself. My Mama gave me an eye.

In the family, I am the rebellious one. Well, blame it to my father’s genes. Ironically, Papa is such a conservative man, I’m not.

I don’t dwell myself in such beliefs when I don’t see a clear manifestation, that, indeed, they are a noble part of our culture, of our tradition.

The opposite is what I saw on my Nanay’s bilar.

After that conversation with my Mama, my hair was dripping with water, after a short while.

RUDE TRUTH

(a scene i saw beside the boulevard of values)

Hurling sound of the angry wind
Yearned to be hugged.
Over and over,tried to bejewel with
Crystals and diamonds, yet I saw the
Reality, raging with ripe emotion
---- a numb almost lifeless body
lurking, lying, hugging himself
In a muddy, cold earth; an incenerated
Soul in the middle of a fearless rain
Yet still, yearning to be hugged...

BLOODY PESO

A peso-dearth of change
is a million loss.
The passenger of this trek
may wrangle, may scream.
The controller of this trek
may wrangle, may scream.

They both feel the same.

A peso-dearth of fare
is a million loss to a driver.

Demanding. "Lacking a peso"

"It's enough, I'm a student"

"Enough for the pitiless one"

I wanted to wrangle.
I wanted to scream.

We both feel the same.

THE DOOR BETWEEN US

aI hear anguished sounds
from the door which separates us.
A sound that chokes my heart.
Maybe it is the weeping of the daughter
when her father came
with his mistress clinging to his arm.
While her mother is on her way to Manila.
With her two siblings leaving
her since she said: she loved her father more.
I hear another sound-----
A whisper from her father.
Trying to comfort her----
Assuring her that everything will be the same.
And then another sound came.
If I'm not mistaken,
it is the slamming of the door.
Then I see the young girl with unwiped tears
on her sullen face.
Pushing the woman
away from her sight, away from their life.
(all these scenes I see behind my window pane)
Sounds---------
no more.
I get out of the apartment.
There, I see the daughter sitting, staring
at nowhere. And then, the first door opens.
There, I see you having the same pain
in my eyes---------
Tormented by the scene behind the door between us.
I get inside------
the closing of my door echoing in my heart.

halu guys!!!!

post namn kayo nangcomment.... kahit violent reaction, i-accept ko... thanks......

TIGLATH_PILESER @ THE TWISTED HISTORY

(for Sir CC)

“Mabolo is a district in the City (Cebu)”, you said.

Yeah it is, but you’ll never know what’s within Mabolo.

You saw the squatters---the hub of
‘Lupin’ ,istambays; the dirt
Flowing above the canal-water
Disgusted your vain eyes
You clearly see them.
But you don’t see the helpless
Child crying in the old istambay’s heart
The trusses trying their best not to collapse
The moss clinging hard not to be washed away
And become one with the
Dirty canal-water

You don’t see me

The yokel child with her face
Smeared with tears
And sip-un, tugged your
Well-ironed slacks, asking for
A peso
You pushed her away since you’re afraid
She might stained your well-ironed
Khaki pants (the stain might be
Too obvious)

You simply rejected me

Maybe in your own ways
You tried to see
Me clinging hard to
The stone reaching out
Your hand to pick me up
Out from the dirty canal-water
But once your uncalloused
Hands made contact
With the dirt above me
You moved away

You’re a Great Wall of China
Perplexing
Archaeologists over the centuries
You’re composed of what elements? You’re just
Too potent who
Scared a hell of invaders
I am a Kublai Khan,
Trying to penetrate you

I badly hope, history repeats itself

P.S.
LUPIN- coined by mabolo people referring to the thieves, snatchers,
Shoplifters; he is an anime character known for being a mischievous theft