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Literature Text
Train rides and walking long distances,
A little bit of rain and broken umbrellas,
Riding jeepneys faster than mach 1,
Oh, you know if you call us,
We'd drop everything and just run
To you, we would,
We'd run, I tell you;
Our high school humor that
No one else understands,
Having the tendency to call
The teachers Ms. instead of Ma'am
Collecting stored value cards and
Drinking truck loads of coffee
Contacting our friends at 2 am
And praying the rosary
You know if you need to vent,
To talk about that Math exam,
To find good places to eat or to
Simply talk to someone who understands,
To you, we would,
We'd run, I tell you;
And if you're in the verge of collapse
And there's no way home,
(Literally, wala ng jeep or ubod ng
Haba ng linya sa LRT/MRT)
If you're at your wits end and you
Feel like the universe just
Hates you,
Remember to call us because we'd
Listen even when you're
Half-crying, half-laughing,
Even when everything you say
Pretty much sounds like incoherent blabbing,
Remember that you're golden,
And that you're royalty,
That we'd do all of these and more
Just to let you know we love you all
Really, truly, unconditionally.
A little bit of rain and broken umbrellas,
Riding jeepneys faster than mach 1,
Oh, you know if you call us,
We'd drop everything and just run
To you, we would,
We'd run, I tell you;
Our high school humor that
No one else understands,
Having the tendency to call
The teachers Ms. instead of Ma'am
Collecting stored value cards and
Drinking truck loads of coffee
Contacting our friends at 2 am
And praying the rosary
You know if you need to vent,
To talk about that Math exam,
To find good places to eat or to
Simply talk to someone who understands,
To you, we would,
We'd run, I tell you;
And if you're in the verge of collapse
And there's no way home,
(Literally, wala ng jeep or ubod ng
Haba ng linya sa LRT/MRT)
If you're at your wits end and you
Feel like the universe just
Hates you,
Remember to call us because we'd
Listen even when you're
Half-crying, half-laughing,
Even when everything you say
Pretty much sounds like incoherent blabbing,
Remember that you're golden,
And that you're royalty,
That we'd do all of these and more
Just to let you know we love you all
Really, truly, unconditionally.
Literature
grow
To the dandelion,
In this part of the world,
the heart of July is frigid.
Frost renders the clay-earth firm as concrete
while gusts from the snowies
raze any hope of warmth.
Things do not thrive here,
yet this is where fate cast your seed
and you, unwillingly, grew your roots,
and became mangled
by what should have nurtured.
But spoiler alert:
survival is no pretty thing.
You are no spring tulip,
no summer orchid,
no autumn rose.
Though it shames you now,
the day will come
where you are proud
of having grown
out of a crack in pavement.
Literature
sandpapered
even after I polished myself again
and again I still
splinter. by now I am flatter than I ever
planned, but I guess that's not enough
(the last time someone stepped on me they
still bled. they told me that saying
sorry wasn't going to fix the wound so I
swallowed it back, ran sandpaper through again because
what else could I do?
and now I'm not sure if I'll ever stand up again)
Literature
the greatest poem
The greatest poem I’ve never read is lying in a notebook somewhere, probably in Bangladesh, written in a language I can’t speak by a person I will never hear. I’ve never seen it nor heard of it because this person doesn’t know what they have and no one knows to dig where a mosaic is laid. And in the silent space that poem leaves I tremble. I ache, like an untouched woman. The greatest poem I’ve never written is lying in my heart right now, it's gatekeepers grief and shame. It’s there because of emotions I can’t give names for fear of unlocking too much and it all flowing out like a broken dam. You have never seen flood; you have not known storm. And in the silent space that poem leaves I cry. I bleed, from my fingers and from my palms. The greatest poem that never was must be in a dead man’s heart, or a woman’s, and I think of hiring grave robbers and a necromancer but the past is a torn sheet that can’t keep us warm. Although, some things can mend. I think I could revive this
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Dec. 17, 2014 | A message to the Assumption Antipolo Seniors Batch 2014.
These are my roots. These are the people I've come to know.
Their beauty is something beyond compare, to put them into words, do I even dare?
These are my roots. These are the people I've come to know.
Their beauty is something beyond compare, to put them into words, do I even dare?
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