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I am so tired of being tied to “pretty”
As if all I am is nothing but a mere face.
A delicate mannequin protected behind glass
A porcelain doll to be ogled at from afar…
Until you find a prettier one.
A thing stared at until you walk away—
My face vanishing from your sight.
Forever forgotten the face that caught your attention moments ago.

Always treated as if my only purpose is to shut up and smile
Pose there as they auction and sell me off.
Pretty.
Pretty.
Pretty.
Pretty is not all I will be.
Onward, soldier.
Onward.

That’s what they all
tell me, but
let me
slow down for a moment.
There’s a little something I gotta
say,

Thank you.

To that swing set in Greenhills Music Studio
San Juan City,
without you,
I’d never have learned that sometimes
it’s the other way around—
feet in the sky and head on the ground.

Mrs. Arambulo, the swing set’s owner,
who made sure I was well versed in
sonatinas and arpeggio scales
before I found out they’d already made
a piano that didn’t need tuning, and

Ma, who’d test my memory by
asking me if I
could recite
whole paragraphs at age four,
she’s why I remember things like
the smell of pilmeni,
the color of our first house’s carpet,
and nine page spoken word poetry,

to everyone behind that old kids’ show, Bayani,
watching it in my
second grade HEKASI class
would bring me to tears each time — no kidding,
you all paved the way for my homeland’s history
to make its home in my heart,

my English teachers from
sixth all the way to eleventh grade,
who all believed and still believe in the words I put down on paper
and spew out on dark stages armed with imagery and the Spirit,
you made me fall deeper in love with the way words can be waves
or flames,

Dad, who taught me
to climb mountains, to read books,
to let myself run free among the nations
but to always remember to leave a part of my heart at home,

to the four little boys I met in Hong Kong,
if we meet again, I owe you a better explanation to your question,
“Why do you dance?”
thank you for asking me that, and I’m sorry for my cowardly answer back then
but I’m braver now, and
I promise it’s for more than just fun or exercise,
it’s for this God I hope you get to know,

and to every Philippine history teacher I’ve ever had,
keep teaching like that,
we need more young ones who’d be willing
to die for their homeland,
you taught me that there is so much more to this country
than its own people tell me, so
burn on.
and make sure they catch fire.

Onward, soldier.
Onward.*

I’m not sure where I’m headed,
but I’d rather be uncertain of the road ahead
than forget
where
I started.
I’ve told you mine, now

tell them yours.
A poem I wrote for the #TellMeYours challenge. Video here! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IT8mUL8MZCw&feature;=youtu.be
Love trusts, lust twists
Love reins, lust rains
Love reaches, lust catches
Love couples, lust combines

Love retains, lust detains
Love relies, lust relays
Love cares, lust caresses
Love binds, lust blinds

Love floats, lust flees
Love belongs, lust longs
Love ascends, lust descends
Love fames, lust defames

Love creates, lust recreates
Love commands, lust demands
Love chooses, lust chases
Love boosts,  lust boasts

Be aware of love
Beware of lust
That comes like
wolf in sheep’s clothing
 Nov 2014 Marge Redelicia
Jordan
You're the sea I've been swimming in.

And I'm drowning.

The oxygen I've been breathing is too heavy,

And I'm sinking.

I see you struggling to swim beside me, "Help me!"

And I'm screaming.

But instead you chose to push me away.

*And I'm dying.
 Nov 2014 Marge Redelicia
lulu
my first thought was nothing
for that was what you left me with
as blank as a canvas
with no colors to fill it in

you were suppose to be the rainbow
that i looked for, after the rain
but instead,
you became the dark cloud
that took my sunshine away.
co-written by one of my bestfriends, Camille.
I'm tired
I'm torn
I'm broken
I'm worn out
I'm shattered into pieces

And for what?

For being kind
For showing compassion
For forgiving
For choosing to be selfless when a part of me didn't want

I didn't want much
I didn't ask anything in return!

And that's exactly what I got
Nothing.
It is no wonder that men choose to be bad.

Because in a world like this
being bad is easier than being good
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