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jooh

JOHN IS JUDE

Hiroshima,

Nagasaki,

St. Bernard,

Ruptured,

Dilated

The iris

Resting,

Waiting

For the mushroom

Clouds to

Engulf,

Eat

Me alive.

Did you see the rain?

F

a

l

l

i

n

g

From my iris

Just in a split second?

When your holocaust

Fooled the whole

Hell out of me?

SLAVE SONG

if love is a song
what song would it be?

is it the tears?
from the piano keys
slowly, tormenting
through the pressure
of your fingers?

is it the slamming
of the sticks?
wildly, confusing
hatred from melody?

is it the plucking
of your rough fingers?
painfully, lulling
my pride-drained heart?

or is it you?
the song, the voice
who make this cold glass
sweats with tears
all along?

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...