Tag: poetry

the deafening of a heartbeat.

Reading Time: 8 minutes

ie: something that we have come to be familiar with in so many ways.

We are used to the dawning of hope, inceptions of promise — something bland and stupid like love or things that last. Let me tell you that we have seen little bits and pieces of the end, captured the procurement of nihilism and antagonistic self-hatred. We are the beginning of the end, in the stories that should have never been told.

i. in the coffee shop. her name is scrawled on, it is generic and placid — just as the life that is reaming within the lines of creamer. her order was taken wrong but she doesn’t say anything against it; the apron-donned mass serves it with apathy, accent ridden from the dwellings of a hundred miles over. stir, the window is tinged with a hue of emerald. stir, the marbling of the floor reminds her of the corner tile she had grown to memorize in her mother’s home. stir, the eyes of the lone student in the corner are as brown as the earth, downtrodden with the miserly await of the future. they are just as scared as she is, she proclaims in her mind. tap, the liquid flickers and stains cream white tops, antiquated floral transparencies fly off from seams of lace and string. the humming of the air conditioner overpowers her mind. the apronness harbinger shifts from corner to corner, and she thinks she has counted the number of bricks on the back wall completely right this time — 152.

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all the words we could sow

Reading Time: 4 minutes

I was supposed to join a spoken word event called Words That Matter, but other things got in the way. I wrote these pieces by asking my friends — “what’s your favorite word?” and  having them expound on it a little bit more. They were all pretty much penned on the day of the event itself, but never got to leave the confines of my phone and the almighty internet cloud.

Your favorite word speaks volumes about you. Your favorite word, out of all the other possibilities in the English language — just thinking about how you can isolate a single one and deem it as your own is kind of mind boggling. There are stories. Promises. Memories. All placed behind these words, that people just dare toss around — not knowing how much it can inflict on you, affecting you, taking you. Language is something that I’ve always taken for granted, but have learned to love in a new special way the more I’ve aged. Language is a gift, and to come with words to describe every single thing and every single thing that cannot be described — it’s something that only we can do, really. Figuring out favorite words is like unlocking hearts, and stories. It shifts, it changes, molds, adapts, but nevertheless — in the instant that it is uttered, it is a strength that wavers forevermore.

Here are four of my friends favorite words. Here are some other words that I strung about together for those friends. Here is language, in its purest.

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Sunlight

Reading Time: 14 minutes

Normally, I would begin this with talking about exhaustion. My deflating belief in the world and everything within; every single moment, every single person, every single heart that roams across this planet. That is a lie, however. Beyond it all, there is always the underlying sense of the fact that: I know this world can do it. We are made of tearstains of fight, of the galaxies and beginnings, of lies and the end; but for now we will keep on living.

I am set to leave on a flight for a robotics competition in less than twelve hours. The airport anxiety never ceases to get to me — and the perplexing situation that I am in is further giving way to my unwaning fears. This is set to be for a robotics competition held in Inner Mongolia – an inner district in Ulanqab/Wulanchabu. Maybe it is how used I am to seeing information and details in the grasp of my hand within a few mere moments; but there is literally no information available towards this so called international open event when you google its name. Recalling the fact that literally of the information about this event was given to us through emails and haphazard word of mouth from the Philippine robotics organizers — I can’t help but to worry a bit.

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