Hello Blog!

It has been two years since I last visited my site. I am happy to share a poem I have made for YOU.

LIMBO

the songs remind me of her,

when she cries at night.

my heart weeps as I share

the night I long to bare

my soul, out from hurt

and my heart , out from curse.

the lights turn to dusk,

darkness engulfed me in a limbo.

my mind meanders fast

from dreams i left from my past

and I feel the fiery lust

of my blood wanting for trust,

the bad sound stopped my thought,

out of this limbo I am caught.

i touched you at your back

and felt my obvious luck,

a gesture you never resisted

neither had you reciprocated.

the chat was better

as I tasted the coffee was bitter

for once I have felt again

to abscond and regain

the life I once shared in dreams

with you in this filthy streams.

the morning was heavy as I felt forlorn

from the night's prurient sojourn,

of two spirits in limbo.

LIBERATING

LIBERATING

by Philip Vasquez

"Hide nothing from me, however hard."

-Sigurd -
(for PLM)

You were alone.

The tumultous traffic conceals
My intentions, my longing.
Obscured by the hustle and bustle
Of my own heart beat.

I stopped.

You took a glance,
From a distance,
I feigned innocence
Timorous of nonchalance.

It was the same feeling long time I last felt.

The feeling that tickles yet incites,
The love and fear at the same time.
Frivolous gestures of two souls
Devoid of yesterday's hurt and tomorrow's sorrows.

Tonight I neglect that feeling.

In tonight's veiled moon,
I remember that of nightingales' dare.
To emancipate this soul from broken dreams --
The one hurting is now

Liberating.Waiting.Dreaming.

Laiya Beach in San Juan Batangas

A Day With Sam

Ulan at si Juan

Bata pa lang ako ayaw ko na sa ulan. Una dahil maputik sa bukid pag umuulan. Pangalawa, malungkot -- at pangatlo, natatakot ako. Aba, mantakin mo naman sa kalawakan ng bukid eh humahagupit din ang kulog at kidlat. Isipin mo pa lang na nakukuryente ka ng lintik habang nababasa ka ng ulan - keri mo kaya yun? Ulan din ang nagpapaalala sa akin sa maraming bagay. Wag mong isiping umuulan nun ng ma-divirginize ako! Malaswa ka! Naalala ko nung nasa college pa ako, pag umuulan bumabaha sa UST, at siyempre pag baha 'alang pasok. Nood sine na lang. at pag uwi alipunga na ang katapat ng kabulakbulan ko. Sabi ng professor ko: "Mr Vasquez my room is in UST not in your house." Sabay lakad paalis na di man lang ako tinanong kung bakit absent! Bakit, kasalanan bang maging emotionally affected ng ulan? Parang dysmenorrhea lang din yan ng mga babae, di ba apektado ng sakit ng puson ang tamang pag iisip kaya naman pag meron ka nyan absent din ang mga babae. Isipin na lang sana na dysmenorrhea ko ang ulan. Magkaroon kaya ng batas na ang ulan ay ideklarang non-working holiday. Im sure pag umuulan maraming mga mall ang tiba-tiba sa benta, pati mga fastfood box-office sa pila. Masarap kumain pag umuulan. Dahil may nagrarasyon sa amin tuwing umaga, ang pagkain di problema. Champorado na may tuyo ang dala ni manang. Todo kain na. Minsan lang naalala ko sa boarding house namin, kasi yung may ari may alagang aso kaya pag umuulan, lumalaban ang baho ng ihi at tae sa may dirty kitchen namin. Gosh so bantot talaga, at ang mga bwisit na aso super pooo-pooo pa sa bed ko minsan, eh umuulan, so di matutuyo ang bedsheet ko. Syet na malagkit talaga, ulan! Pag gusto mong magpunta sa mall, agawan pa sa taxi at dyip pag umuulan. Sabagay kahit naman walang ulan, pero mas malala pag may ulan. Nariyang uupo ka na lang sa taxi eh may aagaw pa sa yo, at dahil maraming audience at nakatingin, give way ka boy kasi girl sya eh. Girl baga! Ayan double standard na naman. Pareho lang naman kayong gustong makapunta sa pupuntahan nyo pero dahil girl sya, sya na lang mauna. Magroon kaya ng batas na kung sino ang maunang kumapit sa door na kotse eh idedeklarang panalo sa agawan ng taxi. Pag umuulan din, dahil sa alam ng mamang driver na maraming pasahero, uupo ka pa lang tinatanong na ni manong kung san ka pupunta. "Sa Espana, manong." Sagot ng driver: "Naku trapik dun.". San ba walang trafffic? "Aba manong alangan namang dalhin mo ako sa ibang lugar dahil traffic sa amin!" Ginoong mahabagin! "Di po kasi ako dun papunta eh." At lulusot pa! "Manong, hindi ko kailangang pumunta sa pupuntahan mo. Kaya ka nga taxi driver eh." Kamot ulo na lang si manong sabay drive. Dapat lang naman di ba? Aba alangan namang dalhin nya ako sa pupuntahan nya. Im sure pag ganun lahat eh siguradong punong puno ang bahay lahat ng taxi driver. Balik sa ulan. Nung nagkapamilya ako ulan din ang hassle sa buhay ko. Wala pa kaming sasakyan nuon kaya pag gustong mag-mall at umuulan, kawawa si baby Sam. Tiis sa pila sa paghihintay ng taxi. Ako naman basang basa sa kakapara sa taxing may mga laman na pala. Sana magkabatas na ang lahat ng taxi pag may laman eh may malaking billboard sa taas na nakalagay na MAY LAMAN para yung malalabo ang mata eh makita agad. Kesa naman sa excited ka at lahat, wagayway ka na and everything tapos dadaan sayo may laman na pala sa loob. Frustrating di ba. Basa ka pa ng ulan. Nung mabrokenhearted pa ang lolo nyo eh umuulan din! Nasa labas ako ng bahay ko ng madaling araw, oo madaling araw po, kasi di ako makatulog, at nage-emote mag isa. "Bakit ba nangyari eto... huhuhu" Sabay cry to death! Balik ng kama habang basa at cry ulit! Hahaha. Dramatic ano? kaya kinabukasan habang mulat ang mata mo sa puyat at singhot ka ng singhot dahil sa sipon, trabaho pa rin. Yan ang ulan. Sana magkaroon ng batas na magbabawal mabrokenhearted pag umuulan. Kasi malungkot na nga ang ulan, brokenhearted ka pa. Nasan nga ba dito sa kwento ko si Juan. Nakalimutan ko. Si Juan laging gusto ng batas na kokontrol sa mga bagay bagay. Maririnig mo ang mga senador at congressman napakaraming batas na pinaggagagawa, pero ano? Nasaan ba ang mga Pinoy ngayon. Parang wala pa ring batas na sinusunod. Maraming walang disiplina. Ulan pa lang ang pinag uusapan dito pero ilang batas na ang gustong gawin. Yan si Juan, gusto maraming batas na kokontrol sa sariling kamalasan. Sana may batas na magtitigil sa paggawa ng batas at halip na gumawa eh ipatupad na lang. Si Juan, ayun umaasa sa batas nyang gusto...

One Memorable Friday with Sam

A DAY IN TOUCH WITH MY EMOTION

October 12, 2008 Dear Blog, I don't know what I had for lunch today but I am having bad emotional conciousness today. I just wrote a testimony for my friend for almost 18 years. Ma Paz Goco. There are realizations today which I just hope would be my long-term guiding principle. Any way let me just share few things for the last two days. My daughter Sam is requesting for her dentist. She wants her teeth fixed. I just love how she insisted for a visit on Sunday! How vain! She's feeling insecure about how her teeth look. I would be visiting her dentist to set appointment. We had a good time going to Robinsons yesterday. She played again and had some items for her weekly groceries. She loves buying milk and chichirya. She even said: "Honey, basta chichiya ako ang tatanungin mo ha alam ko lahat ng masasarap!". She had good chat with her mommy last night. And she said what I secretly told her! My God, Samantha! Signing off now becasue I need to do my reports.

More and More

Billboards

Here is Samantha's latest Billboard - Vicky Belo - KIDS




Father - Daughter Campaign of GAP Philippines

Summer and Casual - Armani Exchange

My Daughter Samantha

This is my daughter Sam who I love so much. She was born September 29, 2002 which makes her almost 6 years old this month.

Sam is one wonderful gift from God which I and my wife cherish. A product of what could have been love long time ago. Sam calls me Honey, an imitation of her mother's and mine terms of endearment. 'Honey' was one of few words she first learned to speak.

Everybody loves her antics, her ways of getting my attention when I was just too busy with something - slumping her body on the floor, making that chicken sound to indicate her wanting for a poultry sojourn.

Sam is my life on Fridays when I need to fetch her, on Saturdays when we spend time playing together and on Sundays when goodbyes meant another weekend.

Life Is Simple

I still remember the lazy afternoon chats I had with my siblings while my mother prepared for our afternoon choco fiesta. I can still recall the cold, rainy days when my father would till the land while I stared blankly and sadly into that bamboo window we used to have in the farm. While I remember them poignantly, I cherish those days when everything was just simple – in the eyes of that five year-old boy that I was.

Growing up in the family of five, I saw how father was burdened with providing us the decent meal, the pleasure of having new clothes to wear and the sacrifice of personal achievements for the family. He was hardworking, but life’s atrocities and hardship always fall badly on him. Tending five children is in fact hard to imagine. My father’s simple notion that we may after all live despite not having everything was my mom’s horror. He believes that being a full time farmer would give us the education that we need in the future, the luxury of life in our generation..

It was a choice he would put up forever.

It was my mother’s incessant, notorious nagging that would give father his horror too. And soon everyday quarrelling would transpire. My mother was my father’s polar self. She was disciplinarian and undiplomatic. Vivid to my memory was when my brother came home one afternoon crying, telling my mother his elementary teacher pinched him and dragged him through his hair. Mother was so enraged that only a good, mouth-slashing tirade would make her feel good. The teacher got her lesson – thru my mother. Her childhood disposed her of how she managed our childhood naughty antics. Not once do I remember how mom would get that old branch of tree to give me a good whipping. And another. And another. Mom’s discipline would not give me bad memory of childhood though. Because more than the whipping I appreciate the discipline she teaches, the manners she has instilled and the toughness I discovered in me. I cannot imagine them learning, anyway, the easy way.

These are the basic inspirations of my life – how I dreamt of making it different - entirely different from what I have experienced. I pursued my college education in a Manila university believing that with good school to back up my self-esteem would make me doubly successful. With my parents barely not earning a cent daily, my aunt would bring me where I wanted to be in college. It was in UST that I felt I should do best.

My mother died 10 years ago. Not seeing us as we fulfill the dreams she had for us. The results of her unique disciplining – a legacy I want to give back to my daughter Samantha. My father is now residing in our old farm house, still making his life the simplest that he chose. My marriage has just fallen apart right in front of me as I search for the life and dream I made – the dream entirely different from what I experienced.

I now remember that five-year old boy as he stares blankly and sadly into that bamboo window, in that cold, rainy day while a man, not too far away, tills the land. That boy who weaved his dreams, amidst life turmoils and travails, still believes that life is simple. It is only man’s bad decisions that make it intricate – and poignant.

The Librarian

It was the color of tree I remember,
More than the smile and the flirting
of guys,
of lovers,
of those astrayand
of those in between.

Amidst the deluge outside
and wrath that Frank can only bring,
there were news of heavy thunder.

Putting into halt
the transport,
the plans,
and the flirting.

On stage I see faggots in changing colors and hues,
You admire the changes of colors and hue.

Wonder where they were from?

The colors,and the hues.

Like a nightingale you sang,
And made my swirling mind swirl much more.
I feel the spirit that only YOU can give.

I saw the emotions and smelled the leaves
of Acqua de Gio,
of cigarettes
and of liqour.

Then Frank, the librarian brought more havoc
and turned day into night.

The faggots stopped.

The fun halted.

You said we have to leave.
My heart yearnedfor more days like this.
If not for Frank, the librarian.

We may have not met.

Poem of My Heart

We said it was forever.

We thought it was.I thought it was.

I am a man of my ambition,
of fulfillment,
of dream.

You are a woman of your own self,
of world,
and all it's infallibilities.

But it was fate which brought us together,
and it was her which torn us apart.
I once thought life is how I make it.
It wasn't.

It is how fate plays with us
that shapes it.

Life is imperfect. Oblivious.Uncertain.

No matter how much I convince myself
That life is mine alone to meander,
Life will always be

Someone else's dream to batter.