Friday, July 13, 2012

That Little Thing They Call Change


Life is a plethora of endings and new beginnings. Just like how a green being sprouts out of the ashes of volcanic lava. Just like how the pupa morphs into those fluttering butter beauties. Or maybe as simple as that haircut you got this morning. 

Change is beautiful. Accept it. Rejoice with it. Change with it.


Thursday, July 12, 2012

Old House


What lies beneath your cobwebbed doors?
A house in full abandon
Tortured etchings on the wall,
each stroke, a story, I reckon.

Shattered windows, shy of light,
alley cats that littered
Empty patios, gray and blue,
its once upon a time splendor
muted by oblivion.

Old house, old house
Whatever are you now?


Sunday, July 8, 2012

Dreaming of Water


Last night I had a dream of brown murky waters. It was a flood that me and my friends bravely passed through. We were riding a truck, like the ones they use to collect garbage, and I remember the strong currents filling it with more water. My bag fell, the messenger, sopping the paper innards. 

The vision changed and I see a car stuck in clear blue mud. I hear someone say that you'd have to dig a particular number of inches to successfully save the car. From my peripheral vision, I could see him, a working scholar of our school tattling about with his yellow shirt on. 

It's strange but the next thing I remember was that I was accompanying my aunt to another aunt's residence. The house was located atop a hill and on the edges of its crevasses was a spring. The same rusty spring we had on our elementary school. It was bubbling-or it bubbled, dunno, the details seem too blurry, and I saw my aunt touch the water and I see the ripple gliding on the surface. I remember wooden monkey bars and the faint color of varnish on its dusty surface. 

The scene shifted to a coffee shop and I saw Superman singing. Maybe it was a school program, the students filled the space outside. He exited the cafe when the song was about to hit the chorus, it was Tagalog and I seem to know the tune but all I can remember were the lyrics. "Ikaw ang pinapangarap ko", he'd look at me, discreetly but with matching gesticulations. I suppressed reacting-but I put my tongue out to react anyway. This was the only waterless part of the dream. 

Then we were in a house, a classmate and I. I remember being in front of the urinal. My classmate was beside me and a strict spinster lady was monitoring us from whatever could happen. I grasped for the tub filled with tap water, dark in my sight, I knew it was clear. The handles were broken so I reached for the pail beside it. My classmate unzipped his pants but before I could see it, the spinster came in. I went out and I remember her face, my Grade 4 teacher.

And then I woke up. I'm not superstitious but the gravity of water images on my dream scared me that I remembered rebuking all of the bad things that could happen. It was 3:00 am