“Aren’t we just like curtains?” I say
“How?” you ask

Well, curtains
We never really appreciate them
Until they’re gone
Not until we feel the bustling heat
Penetrate our skins during summer
Or when we can no longer hide ourselves
From the light and the world around us
When we’re already too tired to deal
With anyone, really
Because we took off
Those **** curtains

We speak of lines that spell diamonds
Majestic cars and palaces
But we fail to realize how this ordinary object
Can make a whole difference whenever
We wake up in morning
Sitting in bed, tiredly remembering what
We were going to do today
A small choice, packed with a lot of meaning
Whether we want to stay inside
Or go out and meet the world


Serving as a doorway
To the possibilities each day brings
These curtains show us the days worth living (and hiding from, if that's what you want)

And if you don’t find that ordinariness beautiful
If you don't find those moments where we stand up and try to survive the long day ahead of us
Often just waiting to see those familiar curtains again amazing
Nor can you see how curtain-like we all actually are
Then try having no curtains for a day
And see what I mean

There aren't many good things to say about mornings
A dire lack of coffee
And a groggy feeling that stays with you
Sometimes throughout the day
Telling you how lovely it would just be
To find a bed and immerse yourself once again
In a dream where things would be better -

There aren't many good things to say about mornings
The sun bustling through your windows
Hitting your face annoyingly with a
"Wake up! There are things to do."
And you check your phone and the ring it makes
Buzzes through your ears and you just want it to stop, stop, sto-

There aren't many good things to say about mornings
When you wake up to birds which poems say to appreciate
But really, you're not in a Disney movie
They chirp too much and it hurts your brain, unlike what the poems say
And it doesn't help when you wake up to urban noise pollution
And you can only wish you didn't have to wake up to this at all
To responsibilities, checklists, and a living hell -

There aren't many good things to say about mornings
But there are indeed a great few
What I found out recently, what loving could do
To this sleep-deprived heart of mine
It seems that coffee, darkness, a lack of birds, and silence
Are no longer needed to get me off this bed willingly
Because I've found the reason to

There aren't many good things to say about mornings
But when you realize you're waking up to a reality that holds this great few
You begin to see the beauty in tiredness, light, birds, and sounds
That you've never seen before until now
Because just like how there will always be bad things in life
There are good things too

Love.
Hope.
Cookies.
Cats.
Smiles.
Your favourite songs, books, and poems.
Your favourite shows.
Your favourite poetry site.
Your favourite coffee.
Your favourite food.
Your favourite voice.
Your favourite people.
Your favourite jokes.
Your favourite smile.
That certain somebody you're thinking of right now -

I know.

And it takes waking up to see that.

So although there aren't many good things to say about mornings,

I suppose...there are enough to get us through next one, don't you think?

My previous school’s canteen had a treat
called Custard Bun, just worth 20 pesos
One of the cheaper snacks, amidst a variety of 25s and 27s
There were times I skipped lunch due to a meeting
But during the five minutes left going up to the fourth floor,
I would dash towards the canteen, just to buy Custard Bun,
and pair it with the classic Calamansi Juice
What makes it special, you ask?
A cheek-like bun, whose only design
was a yellow custard swirl on top
Soft, and
Filled with a pale yellow cream
That isn’t too sweet, unlike its choco-bun rivals
What made it so different?
Perhaps it reminded me of the olden days
Which I sometimes reminisce about, between fits of silence
In this unfamiliar place
I remember, how like its sweetness takes me back to when I was a child
When I loved eating this bread called Graciosa, which was just a loaf of bread topped with
sugar and butter
How simple it always seemed then, how it never needed more
How in times when we get distracted by life’s complexities
Sometimes an ordinary treat is what we need to get by

I remember writing articles for a sports event —
it was night at school
And someone offered us a big box of abandoned swirl-topped buns
Still in their plastics
Untouched by the athletes they were meant to serve
I thought, how lonely they must be in the night
So I took one, and another, which turned to five,
Brought some home, ate some along the way
It felt like I finally found consolation, eating the bun,
Whose taste I could never put my finger to
And afterwards, whenever I passed the canteen
I always looked for it, for the bun that felt like home
And often see one hidden amongst others, just waiting to be
Found
The bun which I discovered,
Was named Custard
And I realized, even if I never tasted Custard in my whole life
It was like a forgotten friend, who came back from a long journey
And I just remembered its name

So if you ask me,
Why I love Custard Bun so much,
If you ever had that feeling of remembering something
Seemingly long lost, from eons ago
And you find it in the most unexpected of places
Bringing with it the most precious of memories
You’d understand so

In a new place, I hope to find it once again.

Who said love would be easy?
Who said life would be a smooth ride?
Who said you'd never have to worry?
Who said it would never be painful inside?
Look at that wretched state of you
The flaws you don't seem to accept
The pain you've kept hidden under the blankets
The mistakes you never seem to forget
You think it'll be better when the sun rises tomorrow?
You think you'll eventually laugh it all off someday?
You think you'll never have to get out of your self-made misery?
You think, "maybe not today"?
We're all just trying to get by
And there you go, torturing yourself with cruelty
You wouldn't even want to impose upon your worst enemy

And yet

You blind yourself with blatant stupidity
Of all "I don't deserve"s and "I'll never be happy"s
Of saying "life has no meaning" without realizing
You could've just made meaning all along
All of that have kept you from seeing
How loved you were
How absolutely treasured you are
By those who stayed
And those you could make meaning with,
If you just wanted to

Still

You count the ones who left
The ones who caused you so much pain
The voices that haunt the deep recesses of your brain
Like they're the ones that matter the most

Aren't you a ******* laughable creature? You.

Someone who has so much love wasted inside her,
Thrown into a compost pit of potential joy she never realized
Because she was too caught up in writing the saddest story humanity has ever written.

Boo-hoo. The end. Sad ever after.

Welcome to life, honey
It's never going to be easy
It's never going to be a smooth ride
And it's one you only have a chance of taking once
So at the very least,
pick yourself once more,
and cherish the journey.

I can name what it’s not:
Not the likes
Not the fame
Not the power
Not the money
Not the knowledge
Not the pleasure
Not anything else
I can name what it is:
Your smile
Your voice
Your laugh
Your jokes
Your warm touch
The feeling of home
The safety and comfort to be
That is what happiness is to me.

Sometimes a furry face
Is all that you need to remind you
How lovely you are

I feel at peace when I’m with you

I look forward to the future
Where I can be next to you

Maybe just see your face
All the beautiful parts
That make you, you

And there, everything would be right
There, everything would make sense to me

And maybe, just maybe

That’s a good enough reason to try.

You don't need to be superhuman
To save someone
You, my ordinary human being,
Have saved me
From the fear of falling
By telling me I could fly all along.

things did get better
you just had to believe in it

;

on an average
we think 50,000 thoughts each day
40,000 of which are negative
dear, that 10,000 is you

I remember several months ago
I met a guard by a waiting shed
As I waited for my dad to pick me up from the pier
His name, I've already forgotten
He was around his 40s, or 50s
Childless, if I remember
Had a tough life
Graduated in International Relations
Came from a well to do Chinese family
Yet all came crashing down so soon
After a few decisions then and there
He spoke to me in English
We talked for awhile
He said, people usually looked down
On guards like him
Thinking they were uneducated
They couldn't possibly have interesting lives
And at that moment I realized
People pass by every single day
Without giving them second glances
Without realizing they're human too
With stories as exciting as those in screens.

My father arrives to pick me up.
I stand up, glance at the guard and my father, and I see -

Life is truly spectacular.

As I sit by the passenger seat and drive  away
The scenery changing before my eyes
I wonder if I was the first person to just sit down
And listen
I wonder how many sat down by that waiting shed before I did
Listening to his story
And I wonder how many have since then and will continue to
Listen
I wonder if I'll ever pass by him again
I wonder where he is right now
Is he still by that waiting shed?
Did he ever get a child?
Does he still remember me?
Was it perhaps all a dream I made up?
Who knows?

I wonder with glee and sadness
Knowing there are billions out there
With stories I will never know.

In my own waiting shed, I shall tell my story too,
Through my own fleeting life
Through the decisions I'll make
Through the people I'll love
Through the people I'll lose
Through these poems -

And I hope somebody listens.

Not at all
But that’s me


Anxiety isn’t pretty.

I wake up everyday to the sight of the New Normal
Open my ears to the sounds of the news
A black man killed before he could breathe
A child bombed before he could eat
And I think
What is normal?
What is rest?
What is hope?

Normalcy doesn’t sound normal these days
Rest doesn’t sound restful these days
Hope doesn’t sound hopeful these days
And I wish they did anyway

I wish writing, making art, cooking,
playing games, short naps, or social media
Were enough to make us forget about
Restless civilizations
These days
Heartless politicians
These days
Senseless discrimination
These days
The failures of the system
These days

I sit with my heart on my hand
Comprehending nothing at all
These days
While chaos all around us ensues
These days
And months seem to go by as quickly as they can
Yet nothing seems to change
Racism is still racism
War is still war
Hate is still hate
These days

And yet we’ve just realized
These days
How much we valued other days
And there’s no longer any returning to
Those days
Cause if it took us a pandemic to realize
How much we’ve failed those who needed us the most
On days
We’ve looked past reality
Just to see what we wanted to see
And believe what we wanted to believe in
That we chose right
That we’d never be able to fear going out
Since we’ve kept ourselves inside our social bubbles
That kept us from seeing
That everyone else had always been suffering
Before these days
I’d rather have
These days

So what is normalcy?
What is rest?
What is hope
To those who couldn’t afford to have those in the first place?

But I’d like to think that we haven’t completely forgotten
Those days
I’d like to think there will be better days
Where we’ll finally be able to settle down all our differences
That we won’t differentiate black from white
That we’ll finally know wrong from right
And we’ll see that days
Are not just days
But everyday struggles for many to live
In a world that hates living so much

So don't just wish these days
Instead help these days
So that others may be able to live their days too
And not just you
Today.

Bare bodies intertwine
Lingering warmth feels divine
I think to myself, "I would die for this"

Though now we are far away
Screens just do not feel the same
I think to myself, "I would wait for this"

Ice cold in my room
The dim flicker of a joke on your face
I think to myself, "I would smile for this"

Til I come back to you
I will wait, smile, and die a thousand times so
I think to myself, "I would live for this"

And I am stevia
Together
We’re a snacc.




Because if my heart ever sought for one taste
It’d be your love.



Interesting, I’ve never tasted peanut buttered fish before.

But I’d like to taste you more.

I wanna cuddle under blankets
As we sit beside each other in the plane
Flying to wherever
But for now, that might just be a dream
As I sit across a couple cuddling
Imagining what could be
And wake up as every second I go farther     away from        
            
you

Maybe one day my love we could be that too
But for now we shall wait past
sunrises and sundowns
airports and city skylines
blinding lights
heavy traffic

solitude

until we’re in each other’s arms again
Wait for me, okay?

Blotched
ink
blotched paper
Blotched
everything
It’s not easy to
Write
Sometimes

I’m afraid that’s all I’ll ever be.

Who do you call when the police murders?
Who do you call when the murderers rule?
Who do you call for justice and protection
in a den of power-hungry fools?

Remember the woman who sold
her body at a checkpoint just to make the bend?
Remember the war veteran who was shot twice unarmed,
even with a mind unable to comprehend?

Remember the young boy who went outside,
only to get killed by four officers, for a crime no one really knew
Remember the countless “casualties”, unfortunate "accidents"
which never really made it through?

Some as young as six
Some as young as two
Some elderly, some misguided delinquents
while some, well, they never do

Dictators and human rights violators
“too old”or “too frail” to be punished
While Jeepney drivers aged 70 and more
take the whole brunt of the "fair" mallet

As thousands pushed into already cramped prison cells
are unable to eat more than once a day
While those rich enough to buy the law
can still throw mañanitas and “meetings” every single day

Yet these blue shirted and barong-laden fools
sometimes come together in TV

to bumble about civil service with mouths still smelling of
beer and of yesterday’s lechon kawali

Because remember, compassion is only
for those who can sit in a palace-worthy chair
Justice is only for the dead or for those
whose pockets are already filled with blood of the bare

And now who's suffering for the lies?
Who’s already taking the blame?
Who will listen to the cries of the forgotten
When our voices are no longer ours to claim?

As their guns point to our heads
with the smiles of “para sa'yo itong serbisyo”
Take off your blindfolds, your change is never coming
Only hell is here, in disguise of a fiasco

I’m running out of poems

I need another reason to write again.

is a feat rarely anyone
can make nowadays
but if I try and take a step
towards making the world a kinder place
would I make a difference?
What if I can't?
What if I fail?
What if we don't know about kind people because
they turn into bitter tales?
What if it's a lie?
What if I try?
What if.... this is all just a selfish thought,
and the world would be better off
without anyone at all?

I’m not alone
I never have been
You were always there waiting
To hold me in your arms
As if they were made for just this moment
And my heart is now in pieces
We let it shatter
For a new beginning
The lifetime we’re spending together
For months
For weeks
For days
For hours
For minutes
For seconds
Just for this
Just for... you
Cause you’re not alone
I was right here waiting for you too

The next time we meet again will probably awkward as frick
Like if Jupiter and Uranus collided
In which they'd probably pass by each other because they're gas giants
(Or fuse into one big gas giant planet, but I'm too tired to explain)
And being in one room we'd might as well
Be two unmoving pieces of stone each waiting
For the other to make a move
After all the years without touch
(Cause a pandemic had to happen)
I guess we'd be stiff like that.

I mean, can't you see the stiffness in the way my hands
Wave at you wishing yours could just come through
The pesky screens holding us back
Just wishing they could make a crack at all the ice
My hands have been gathering throughout these years?

Cause it seems holding you will take ages
And I'm now left to read hundreds of pages of young adult couples
Huddling beside bonfires
Making it look so easy to move closer and closer
While realistically, we're stuck here miles and miles apart
Only huddling beside this hurt we call distance

By the gods, I pray to be a gas giant so I can permeate
Through all these physical walls
And give you the one long hug I've been saving since fall
Cause I badly need the body warmth right now.
Do I sound too hypothermic? I hope not.


...


But anyway, still and awkward hugs will do
I've noticed it's a bit cold here --
Is it cold there too?

I know you might've grown accustomed to it, you might even like it, but for just one night
Let me imagine what it's like
To warm you.

An old man begged outside the car
Under scorching heat
I didn’t know if by keeping the windows closed
I kept the cool in
Or kept the heat out
As  the smoke billowed around me
Blinded me from the poverty
And only coldness remained in my heart
Never to come out

Today, I will cool my heart with a bottle of patience, compassion, kindness, and love.

Repeat this when you feel the anger bubbling up.

I mean, don't we all get worked up sometimes?
Doesn't the world get too frustrating sometimes?

It's okay.
I know how that feels.

But remember that anger is the enemy of the heart.
Anger destroys all that you've worked so hard to create,
so accept the reality that you cannot change the world.

You are merely a speck of all creation,
so why make an enemy out of it?

Be its friend. Be part of it.

Love against all odds, even when the voices tell you otherwise.

Let love cool your heart and mind like the ocean shore.
Allow it to heal all your wounds.

Rest. Smile.
Laugh at the world’s absurdity.
Live in all of life’s simplicity and beauty.

You don't have to be Buddha or Jesus to do this.

Just breathe.

Breathe in

Patience
Compassion
Kindness and
Love

Breathe out hate.
Breathe out that what does not heal you.

Only with all of these can you begin to make a positive difference in the world. No matter how small.

So start with your heart.

Be patient, be compassionate, be kind, and most of all, love.

Hold that bottle close to your heart.

All else follows.

One time I saw an intricate bouquet of blue roses by the garbage room
I wonder how many other roses have been thrown out
Because of our human tendency to hope, to love
Or to hurt, with or without meaning to
It could have been a couple fighting
A rejected somebody
Someone who simply hated blue roses
A frustrated florist
These are stories I will never know

We leave parts of us in the words we write
For our present selves to live and believe in
For our future selves to wonder
For our past selves to be remembered

-- Isn't that beautiful?

Writing lines like conversations
That live on as long as they're read
Never washed away from the imprints of history
The greatest things left unsaid

Reading minds from long ago
A place no one else will know
But see, in writing you get to be
Yesterday, today, tomorrow and forever

-- A legacy.

In love with sleep
In love with books
In love with pillows and blankets that protect me from the
harsh and cruel outside world


Oh, and of course --

In love with you.

Is not written by the victors
History is being written by
The ones who rule
The ones who follow
The ones who shout
The ones who choose to become hollow
The ones who live each day with dying breaths
The ones who bear themselves in gold
The ones who fight, the ones who fought
The ones who try, the ones who don’t
The ones who share
One flag of blue, white, and red
Three stars around a sun
rise from the shadows of the dead