You, the wisest of all fools
To whom whose love has turned so cruel
You dare inflict your morbid pain
And fine us for your selfish gain?

How could you pierce somebody's heart
With that silly game you wish to start?
Toying minds with an arrowhead
And shoot us all at point blank dead?

Why do you make somebody fall
And drag them down from heights so tall?
While you watch there, hovering above
With those weightless wings as white as dove?

Tell us what there is in store
We leave all behind for something more
Show us what there is to see
In this world of pure insanity.

Would we all turn mad in love like you?
Who defied all rules for a fate so true?
Who took a shot to his own heart?
In Psyche's gaze you fell apart.

You are the systole to the diastole
Of my four-chambered cavity
You are the pulmonary rhythmic control
That fills air to my capillary.

You are the Pituitary Gland
That drowns my bloodstream in dopamine
You take my brain to a wonderland
Drunk and overdosed in Seratonin.

You are the only Mitochondrion
That powers all cellular activity
My Cytoplasms are in motion
For the sexiest Golgi Body.

You are the ultimate synapse
In my every granule of neuron
That gives an involuntary prolapse
To both my dendrite and axon.

The hardfaced queen of misadventure
Dressed in a robe of insecurity
Seated on a throne of infidels
Ornate with misled hearts of a thousand men.

The resenting mirror of insidious lies
Confessed all the ugly truth
Of all those swollen eyes and wrinkled cheeks
Concealed behind a facade of smiles.

The incongruous pair of unfortunate heels
Tells a thousand stories of her exploit
In worn out stilettoes of faded red
By the futile resistance of those frozen feet.

Playing god on the hellbound streets
Her thighs bewitching weak and drunken hearts
In a fiery throng of mutilation
For a decisive battle that shall claim no victor.

Overborne barrels
Rolled out in weights
That God knows how much.

Down the bottomless pit
Of unredeemable darkness
Where desire laid unrest.

The hounds of greed
Stripped off the barks
But hid the naked truth.

Where pigs are kept
For the coming slaughter
By the hungry crocodiles.

Only brittle bones
Shall be thrown and fed
To the ignorant river.

But the water saw blood
And soon the tide will rage
To drown the narcissists.

A tiny speck of dust
In the celestial clump
Of infinite space
Merely consubstantial
With the ocean of stars
In a cloud of galaxies.

Began to move
Began to feel
Began to think
Began to dream
Began to live.

The wisdom of a thousand lore
Bore a tapestry of culture
That danced to an endless music
And read a myriad of poetry
Which spoke in different tongues.

Began to play
Began to wage
Began to rage
Began to hurt
Began to war.

Clashed beneath the smoke of dawn
But saw the piercing ray of light
That spun the thread of harmony
To cage the animosity
In the hymn of a lasting peace.

Began to build
Began to climb
Began to fly
Began to soar
Began to see.

The limitless possibilities
In the sleeping distant worlds
Of the vast depths of truth
Waiting to be explored
In the sunken days of youth.

Began to want
Began to greed
Began to lust
Began to feed
Began to ****.

And cast forth the entropy
For the triumph of the few
To the carnage of races
In the verge of selfishness
An insatiable desire.

Began to cheat
Began to lie
Began to cry
Began to end
Began to die.

In a cloud of galaxies
With an ocean of stars
Merely consubstantial
Of infinite space
In the celestial clump
A tiny speck of dust.

You grow apples in the orchard
And tomatoes in the backyard
Both will be sown in the days to run
To ripen underneath the sun.

Come the season of the harvest
When your heart is at its earnest
You will pluck the morsels from the vine
And climb the tree 'til you swell your spine.

But winter, like the raging horses
Goes creeping like the darkest tempest
And let you do what needs to be done
To bring home just a single one.

It's quite funny but it's true
What these two things will do to you
They will just lie there side by side
To give you freedom to decide.

Which is which? You'll start asking
Here and there they'll go beguiling
Both are succulent, both are red
Both are fruits in the book you've read.

You will put one in the basket
And throw the other in a casket
To rush back home without a track
And leave the guilt behind your back.

An apple rolled on the table
It was the choice that you made able
It looked sweeter, that's what you think
It's bigger and would never shrink.

But as you took a bite it bled
The rancid juice it ever shed
And worms crawled out to sing your death
As you grappled your one last breath.

Alas! You lay in that coffin
While the soil crawled down and mud crept in
Seeds will drink your blood and sprout again
Red tomatoes you wish you would have taken.

If I could steal Saturn's ring
Or paint the sunrise in Mars
Tie the comets to a string
Or maybe pull down the stars.

Wish I could fly to North Pole
And ride the great Polaris
To make the constellations roll
Under her divine orifice.

I'd walk the whole universe
And ride the lunar crescent
Sail the heavenly rivers
To find a fitting present.

For a celestial being
Brighter than Andromeda
Among the stars outshining
In the streams of Aurora.

The Virgo on Earth descends
Zodiac to a sister's birth
And in her heart she transcends
A treasure of greatest worth.

Earth is a pretty
Messed up equation
Of quite hastily
Made up solution.

We are but numbers
Of different values
Every sign matters
In this set of issues.

Many were born real
Physiques built evenly
Few quite look odd and
Imaginary.

Some are but factors
Serving evil's loots
Denominators
Of ungodly roots.

There are radicals
Who've got point of view
So are rationals
To speak a word or two.

We're discriminant
To other religions
Differential rant
To other opinions.

Can't we simplify
This complex squirm
And instead unify
To a common term?

We're just variables
Merely dependent
On the valuables
Of our environment.

We were given one
To be shared by all
Equality's gone
And this is our call.

Slowly, idly, lackadisaically
The clock ticks to a thousand degree
Crossing angles of my obliquity
An eternal wait of pure agony.

A mind game is but a child's play
In these four walls of cream and grey
And the heart could easily fall prey
To this pointless introverted decay.

How time flies by so fast
But its wayward wings can never last
It can only cry a regretful past
How soon is soon, this I shall pass.

The future is an elusive plead
Of the tattered hearts and scornful greed
That the mind will try to sprout a seed
And sow a tree to bear the deed.

Tomorrow lies my judgment
That will either end or start the torment
And all these myriad of seconds spent
Will all turn a fraction of a fleeting moment.

The ceiling becomes a painted mirror
Of pure monochromatic colors
My veins enrapture in this cold terror
As my heart relearns this familiar horror.

They say, in the wheel of life, you'll spend half your years rising to the top and the other half tumbling to the bottom. I guess they got it all wrong. I believe life is a crooked tire that can never roll up and down. Pretty sure, it is nailed to the ground where weeds could grow to entangle it forever. Until now, what they keep trying to say remains a puzzle to me. Perhaps I can never understand what they mean. Or maybe I just won’t. Why? Because from the moment our eyes opened for the world, we’re already stuck down below and I’m afraid we’re trapped here in this limbo for all eternity.

We’re just simple people living an ordinary life. Like every family who seeks refuge from the storm, we do have a place we call home although it’s not much of an architectural delight. However, for some reasons, I find our roof appealing like a real work of art. Patches of cardboard embellish the underside while a combination of tarpaulin and ad posters works in harmony to provide an extended shelter. On bright mornings, we’ll wake from the sunbeams piercing through its many gaps. On rainy days, however, the sound of raindrops falling from the gaps down to our water containers serves as our wake up call.

To jumpstart ourselves for another day’s challenge, we could either eat breakfast (if there were any), or just sing our skipping meals away and spend the rest of the day with sacks of scraps and rubbishes on our back hoping to make a good deal with Mr. Gomez, the junk shop proprietor. He reminded me so much of my father but without the alcohol problem and violence, though. During nighttime, we bring with us our drum to sing carols on the lonely streets. If our feet become too weary to walk, that’s the time we head home. We rush all together, eager to count the coins we’ve collected that night. We make sure to put a plastic cap underneath two of our table’s feet so that it won’t lean uncontrollably and spill the tiers of ten, five and one peso coins we’ve dedicatedly piled over. Then the next part does the trick. A portion of our collection for the night goes straight down a big jar and joins in the many others which fill more than half of the container. The remaining part is used to buy supper to save our hungry tummies from
shrinking again. However, during slack nights when drivers and busy people decided to become miserly, we’re fortunate enough to have a pack of noodles for supper. But if we ran out of luck, we just set our untidy beds ready and drown our raging stomachs to sleep. I know there’s not pretty much but this is where our lives revolve. And as they say, life must go on no matter what.

Together with the three most important persons of my life, I continue the journey for a better living. Along the way, we try to search for the good things out of life’s bitter truths. We never let misery **** our hopes and dreams. Instead, we work harder and tougher. Take Islay, for example. She’s cheerful,
clever, aggressive, talented, a model of hard work. She’s got most of everything. Well, except for height, probably. I wanted to be a doctor so I could help the needy. Islay dreams of becoming an elementary teacher. She said she really likes kids and teaching them would surely be a more exciting thing to do.

Then there’s Nova. Her looks may require you a little more time to think and consider, but she has a good heart. However, she gets a little, uhhm, what term do we use for an unsociable person? That’s it! She’s a bit of a Killjoy!

Islay and Nova caroled a store swarmed with drunkards. It was always Islay who’ll find every creative idea and propose it convincingly to Nova, who in turn hesitates and rejects it but then ultimately respects it in the end. Islay always has the winning edge. Maybe that’s one of her abilities. Her convincing power deserves a credit to the list.

The two didn’t mind the ***** that welcomed them. Inside her mind, Nova asked herself how many people could waste their money on a doze of liquid or spirit that can poison their mind and bring them to imminent danger. If only they have given it to the poor and needy, they could have saved a lot of lives instead of ruining their own.

But Aling Nena, the wicked storeowner, unleashed her witchy wrath to the two. She looked at them with eyes of contempt, of prejudice and disgust. She accused the two as jinxes and blamed them for the
store’s unprofitable end. If only she could look at herself and discover a chest of shimmering blame, she might shrink into shame. Islay and Nova ran off not because they were afraid of Aling Nena or the drunken men but because of what Aling Nena said to them. They cannot defend themselves from such
an attack. How could they when they were surrounded with eyes of ridicule?

And of course, there’s my dearest sister, Juaning. We’ve only got each other since our mother’s death. It has been months already. Juaning was still 15 when mama left us. She’s 16 now. It’s been quite a while and I know she misses mama a lot like I do.

And so they fought life’s bitter realities. They begged and implored to the unconcerned passers-by, almost falling to their weak knees for one very important thing - to live. But even if the three of them were sitting, lying, and rolling down the cold pavement, these people with more graces just pass by without even sparing a glance of concern. Wouldn’t it be happier if they shared their God-given blessings? But as the day continues, they have to endure the hunger, the contempt. Because other than filling their
hungry stomach, they have a sibling, a friend to support.

That’s my part of the story. It has been months now since I caught a serious illness which bound me
to this bed, flat on one’s back, weak, inutile, and useless. Every time they come home, I wish I was with them to taste the sweet and feel the pain, not just a good listener to their stories of survival and moments of friendship. Someday, I’ll become strong again, and this curse of a disease shall be gone.

I woke up to the longing for water. I’ve never been this thirsty before. I called out their names but my voice just echoed deep in the four dark walls of our crooked house. With no one to help me, I summoned my strength and decided to get a glass of water by myself. But my legs aren’t as strong as my will. And as I attempted to stand, they betrayed me. I collapsed and plodded down the floor. Luckily Islay came and helped me get back to bed. She scolded me for being careless. I cried. I can’t help it. I pitied myself all
over again.

The cold evening wasn’t a problem for Islay. Seeing me cry like that crushes her heart. I know, as a friend and a part of our family, she wishes the best for me. And that’s why she’s still out there in the middle of the night, working late to earn more for our better future. She ignored the chills and the exasperation. She knows she has to work harder and she’s more than determined for it.

But something happened to me while she’s away from home. I cannot move my body, not even my mouth. Tears just fell from my weary eyes. And before it’s too late, Juaning caught me unresponsive and paralyzed. My sister cried for help. Nova sprinted to get the jar. Juaning told her what to do. And wasting no time, Nova rushed to the nearby pharmacy to get me some medicine, and most probably to save my life.

But Nova’s effort was in vain. Prescription drugs cannot be bought that easily. The pharmacist closed down the only lining of hope for me. The security guard felt pity on Nova and he suggested her an alternative decision that will change our lives forever.

Islay was still busy serenading the busy streets with her chants of joy and sweet hums. But the clouds become unwelcoming. And by the sound of the thunder, big droplets of rain started pouring down the highway. She ran as fast as she could and sat on a corner where she thought of something deeply. She hugged the drum that she was carrying for five hours or so and tried to remain calm in the presence of the bad weather.

After half an hour, Nova came back with a pouch of medicine on her shaking hand. She handed it carefully to Juaning whose faith and hope were hanging to the tiny bottle of miracle.

Days gone by and my condition wasn’t going any better. It turned out that my medicine was consumed to the last drop. Still I remained immobile and my hands are going number by the days. Slowly I was losing hope. I wish they weren’t mad at me. I’m trying my best to live on. That’s why I’m still here. But Nova shared something worth listening to. She revealed how and where she got the medicine.

It was from a quack doctor on a stall put up on the corner of Rizal Avenue. She said he was well versed and very convincing. And that she spent all of our savings for a bottle of deception. But we can do nothing about it. We did not have formal education. We were fortunate enough to meet kind children on
the streets who would try to teach us something they have learned from school. We would attempt to read newspapers and the description in the carton boxes we spread beneath the Badelles overpass.

Nova cried in guilt and shame. Islay was still angry at her, and it can be understood. My sister, Juaning, comforted Nova with a promise that everything will get better in time.

December 27. It was my birthday. And more than anything else, what I wish is for the four of us to be happy. Nothing in this life is more important than seeing everyone you love smile with absolute
happiness. Juaning never forgot her job and that’s to buy me a cake. Every year, they will try to surprise me with every creative possible way. But that’s how their surprises become predictable with my age.

They sang me a birthday song. But this time, they were the ones waiting for a surprise. As my sister was about to hand me the cake waiting for me to blow the candle, she noticed something she was least expecting for. My lips are pale and my eyes are shut from the light of the world. I caught my last breath and before I gave it away, I left a smile on my face that can never be changed forever. That is how I want them to remember me. Not that heck of a frown clown whose audiences are stricken with sadness.

They say, in the wheel of life, sometimes, you'll spend half of your years rising to the top and the other half tumbling to the
bottom. Maybe they were right. It was then that I’ve come to understand what they were trying to say.

Our life’s wheel revolves around things way beyond just money, food, and shelter. It is about the moments you spend with your loved ones, friends and family that will be forever carved in your heart. We can never know when our life here on earth will be over. So let us cherish every bit of it. And for me, even if we skip breakfasts and eat only noodles for supper, I have realized in these last fleeting moments that my life has always
been on the top of the wheel after all.