Reading A Book, Being The Book

I've been to Wonderland, Neverland, the Galactic Empire, and Mordor.
I've met Alice, Peter Pan, Obi-wan, and Hodor.
I'm not an astronaut but I'd been to outer space, and different parallel universes.
Flabbergasted as I watched different lives and stories intersperses.

I've seen declarations of love and war and everything in between.
I've smelled the sweet aroma of success and the pungent odor of betrayal.
I've heard the boisterous laughter of children, and the mournful cry of someone from Lorien.
I've tasted the visceral fear of change and the bittersweet symphony of different plot twists.
I've felt the excruciating pain of being excluded, and the elating sensation of belonging.

I've solved puzzles and mysteries with intricate network of triviality.
Traveled a land untraveled  with such passion, fervency, and and great whimsicality.
Flew the skies of great horizons and deep realizations.
Swam the seas of muted communications and unending interactions.

I've been to Wonderland, Neverland, the Galactic Empire and Mordor.
I've seen declarations of love and war and everything in between.
I've solved puzzles and mysteries with intricate network of triviality.
All these I've done, a book in my hands, slumped down on a couch.

Read a book. It's a story with a soul.
Read a book. It's an open window to someone's thoughts.
Read a book. It's the metaphor of metaphors.
Read a book. Be in the book. Be the book.

Love Is...

The heart cannot know what love is in its solitude of atrophy.
Love cannot and should not be contained in the words "I love you".
Love is felt.

Love is being content with what you have.
Love is the joy of sipping the foam of your morning coffee.
Love is feeling a part of you has died right after reading a really good book.
Love is watching three seasons of your favorite series... in one night,
And the feeling of being left hanging and wanting to see more.

Love is hearing the words "It's gonna be okay" from your mom after handing you a cup of hot coco.
Love is seeing the joy on a face of a father after glancing at the face of his newborn child.
Love is apologizing to your siblings after having a petty fight.

Love is holding the hands of the one dearest to you.
Love is wrapping your hands around that person with the purest positive emotions.
Love is holding on to a broken promise.
Love is believing in forever, regardless of how many times you've been hurt.

Love is being nailed to the cross of sin.
Love is being pierced to the side with the spear of mocking and disbelief.
Love is ressurecting and fulfulling the promise of the prophecy.
Love is respecting Jesus, Muhammad,  Buddha and whatever name other people call their God/s.

The heart cannot know what love is in its solitude of atrophy.
Love cannot and should not be contained in the words "I love you".
Love is felt.

When I First Met You Up To this Morning

One
When I first met you,
I fell in love with you faster than my foot can thump the ground to the tune of rock music.
I've written you letters and scribbled poems before I even know the ink of my own love letters.
I wanted to impress you, I wore my heart on my sleeve.

Two
Your smile reflects the light of the sun brighter than a crescent moon.
Your voice, a melody that's never off tune.
Your beauty, as still as a coastal lagoon.
I wish I could steal your heart by playing my bassoon.

Three
Secrets written all over in wandering eyes pleading for understanding,
I was an old piano in the basement, housing dust and cobwebs.
You're that great musician who arrived just in time,
Dusted me off, fixed my broken strings, and played me like a dream that has never been forgotten.

Four
Your voice is the only alarm clock I'm willing to wake up to.
Loving you was the first thing I really felt right about.

Five
I know that it's wrong to have this much feelings for someone I've only known for months.
I know that I should stop ruminating what I feel.
I know that I shouldn't have acted in a rush.
I want to apologize,
but my heart refuses to say sorry for acting on what it really feels.
They're so real I can touch them.

Six
I know I'm not a strategist, nor am I a love poet.
I'm just someone telling stories that my heart keeps on shouting with words louder than loud.

Seven
I fell in love with you faster than my foot can thump the ground to the tune of rock music.
With great effervescence I shouted at the sky how much I feel about you.
But the sky's ears are numb with all the shouting my heart has done in the past,
A poignant reminder that it's never going to be that easy.

Eight
Your voice is the only alarm clock I'm willing to wake up to.
But this morning, with heart cracked under the sad gaze of loneliness,
I lift my chest lowered by longingness,
Throat strangled that almost all talking is impossible,
I mumbled for the first time... and the last time,
"Yes, I love you...
And yes, I'm now willing to let go."

Happily Never After

One
You were looking at forever,
She was staring at never.
You realized you've been chasing a shadow,
In a misery you just can't help but wallow.

Two
"Time heals all wounds", they say.
But the hands on your clock are limping their way.
Trying to figure out what to do on such a day.
Wishing the pain would just simply go away.

Three
You feel the numbness of your body.
Everything just stops.
You stare blankly ahead.
A hole in your heart.
Thoughts empty.
A gap in your breathing.
Lips trembling.
Heart pounding.
Body shaking.
Your mind refusing to accept.
You die for a second, and live only to realize the emptiness.
You smile, only to hide the pain.
You tell yourself it's gonna be okay,
You know it won't now that she's away.

Four
Your heart is stomped on the ground.
You dusted it off and handed it back to her.
That's not the right way around,
Let go of your feelings, let it wither.

Five
You wish your eyes would just weep and all,
When colors changed to a lifeless hue.
Tears just won't start to fall,
Even though they're way past due.

Six
"Time heals all wounds", they say.
But the hands on your clock are limping their way.
Trying to figure out what to do on such a day.
Wishing the pain would just simply go away.

Seven
You had your gaze at forever,
She had a fixed stare at never.

A Draft Of Poem

You're this draft of poem that I've tried to write,
The metaphor of sorts that I tried to bring to life.
A draft of poem written and rewritten,
Until I felt beaten and lost all the rhythm.

In the threshold of rhyme and silent thought,
You're the draft of poem my heart really ought.
I never thought I need your heart as a proem,
So I can finally finish this draft of poem.

Politicians

People are starving here and there,
Can't you feel the weight on your shoulder?
They are the ones that got you there,
Your indifference is worst than murder.

Don't act as if you're bemused,
Denying everything when being accused.
Nations' resources your hands abused.
Scoundrel of society with conscience calloused.

A Pair of Eyeglasses

You’re the pair of eyeglasses I wore to clear my vision,
but your lenses didn’t match my eyes.
I couldn’t see anything but blur.
I guess I really just can’t see thru you.
I guess I really must let go.
Let go of what I feel for you,
so I can find another pair of eyeglasses,
the pair that will help me see the world,
the way my heart envisions it.

An excerpt...

You Are Beautiful (A Valetine's Day Poem)

I initially wanted to make this a virelay,

But words won't come like I'm drunk with Tokay.

First let me empty my ashtray.

You're still single and it's Valentine's Day,

Should we go ahead and shout "Mayday"?

Let's go to the bay where awaits is a quay,

Where your beauty never fades away.

And, before you end your day,

Let me just remind you to submit your "WorkDay"

How many times have I told you, “you are beautiful”?

You have insights that are so respectful,

I wish you could dance just as graceful.

Sometimes you scare me when you get all fretful,

But your smile enlightens my day no matter how dreadful.

You are one in a septillion,

Your beauty is at its truest actualization.

Not to acknowledge it is to encourage abomination.

Hope this poem won't trigger your agitation,

But instead put you up in elation.

Now enough with the rhyme,

 'Coz it doesn't really chime.

Oh well look at that, it still has a rhyme.

I said enough with the rhyme,

 'Coz it doesn't really chime.

Like a mime, now let me count to nine.

One.

I honestly thought of sending you flowers, but thought it might freak your mom out.

So I've decided to write you a poem instead.

See, you're not the only thoughtful friend.

Hope you like it and Happy Valentine's Day!

Two

I know you think you have the potential to acquire Alzheimer's,

To forget all that matters,

To look at familiar faces like they're from strangers.

To forget every beauty, marvel and colors.

It's a horrible idea,

Alzheimer's is colorless.

We might not be able to find the algorithm to solve it.

But if in any case you forget,

And you start angling your way to a patch of shadows,

Where it'll be a straight sprint towards the fence of forgetfulness,

I'll always remind you that “You are beautiful”.

 Three

You keep saying that your handwriting is ugly.

It isn't.

All the wonders and awes that your hand writes,

Drowns whatever imperfections your scribbling has.

Like thorns in roses,

Present but barely noticeable.

Keep writing.

Four

I'm no Ashton Kutcher and don't have a mixed tape for when your day is red,

But when your day is calendared,

I'll make sure to get out of the way until all things are ciphered.

I don't want to be caught in a situation that's flustered,

When linings in your uterus are utterly dismembered.

Five

Yes, number Four is about PMS.

Six

This is no longer sounding like a poem,

But an Invisible Dialogue like a blog we both know.

Seven

Eyih, Eunice, Paolinn, Preky, and Chesca are all lucky to have you as their friend.

And you are lucky to have them.

Keep the friendship.

Eight

I honestly thought of sending you flowers, but thought it might freak your mom out.

So I've decided to write you a poem instead.

See, I'm not even sure how to give this to you.

But I hope you like it and Happy Valentine's Day!

Nine

Don't ever, ever forget that You Are Beautiful.

How You Smile

The Worst Way To Miss Somebody

Click HERE to listen to the worst way to miss somebody.

"I want to be your ex boyfriend’s stunt man. I want to do everything that he never had the courage to do like… trust you."

Love poem medley by Rudy Francisco at Mira Costa…: http://youtu.be/MR1_2lFXJI4

Real Love

Real love has a flavor,
And it tastes a lot like you.
I see you beyond your surface.
I see you thru your soul.

Missing Her, Doubting Myself

I’m floating on air when we’re together,.
And I dread the times when we’re apart, like now, despite having just spent the last couple of hours with her.
I know that I have the worst way to miss somebody.
When I'm right beside her and I miss her anyway.
I miss her from the time she says her Hellos, because I know that Good Byes are inevitable.
The price of the memory is the memory of sorrows it brings.
I have been trying to drown my sorrow, only to be made aware that my sorrows know how to swim.

I hate what I'm feeling right now.
I hate the feeling of saying how I feel for someone,
The same nervousness that quickly segues to dread, that always causes me to walk away.
I told her anyway.

After telling her how I feel about her, I have yet to get a response.
Everyday I'm hoping that she'd give me an answer.
To remove awkwardness as days pass,  am now down to pretending I didn't tell her how I feel.
But I know that pretending something's not there, doesn't make it go away.
I feel like asking her upfront for an answer.
And I can’t take not knowing what the next day will bring us—the uncertainty is sawing me in two.
Everyday there's a nervousness that’s hard to imagine time will ever assuage.
” The only limits of tomorrow are the doubts we have today.”, I remind myself.

Haunted

I killed my pride.
I buried it six feet below the ground.
Now, it has found its way back to me.
It has crawled it's way out of the grave,
And now, grabs me by the throat.
Haunting me,
Daunting me.
Shoving it's very existence in my face,
Showing me thousands of reasons why I shouldn't have abandoned it.

A Letter To My Future Girlfriend

I don't know who you are... yet.
I don't know how or when we will meet.
I don't know if you'll even notice me the first time we meet,
But I do know this,
that I'm sure I'll introduce myself to you and won't waste my chance to get to know you.

I don't know what you're doing at present.
I don't know anything about your past.
I don't know what the future will bring us.
But I do know this,
that I'll forever be present in times of success and difficulties in your life.

I don't know if you like books.
I don't know if you read poetry.
I don't know if you like to write,
But I do know this,
that together we will write the best love story ever written.

I don't know if we will have a lot of things in common.
I don't know if you'll hate my imperfections.
But I do know this,
that I will accept you for who you are, regardless of your imperfections.

I don't know how often we will argue.
I don't know what we will even be arguing about.
I don't know why arguing is even part of this poem.
But I do know this,
that I'll never let any argument break us apart.

There are a lot of things I don't know,
But I know that I will love you forever and will cherish every second we will be together.
Together we will be the best tag team, duo, friends, lovers, family that the world will ever see.
I have been sending my letters to cupid hoping he'd deliver them to you.
When his arrow hits you with all the letters I sent him,
Please don't be mad, for I have written so many.
I only have two requests,
First, please come sooner, I have been waiting for a long time now.
Second, I know that love is not perfect and will sometimes forget,
So if for whatever reason I forget, please show me this letter.

Honest Poem (My Version)

I have a good speaking voice,
but with a self-confidence you can find 6-feet underground.
I talk a lot when I'm with my friends,
but can't find a word to say in front of a girl I like.
If I try to strike a conversation with her,
I begin to stutter and eat all the words as if there is a scarcity of it.

I like pizza and sleeping.
I know they don't go together, but first, who doesn't like pizza?
And second, although I like sleeping, it's the thing I'm most deprived of... aside from proper body mass.
It's obvious how skinny I am,
But why does skinny jeans make me look dumb?
I work eight hours a day, but can't seem to find the right position for me to sleep properly when I'm at home.
Or maybe, I'm just too afraid that when I sleep my nightmares will haunt me and will consume my entirety never to wake up again.
Or maybe, I'm scared of waking up and be back to this nightmare of a reality, where people whom I would take a bullet for are the ones holding the gun.
I honestly don't know which I am most frightened of, the nightmares I get when I sleep, or the nightmare of a reality I'm currently stuck in.

Unlike other people, I hate traveling.
Traveling just makes me feel tired and I don't want to tire my body for something I hate doing.
I play a lot of video games,
Because video games take me to a make-believe reality.
A temporary escape from this reality, where chicks dig assholes and friendzone nice guys. --Shout out to you nice guys out there.

I spent five years in the seminary, but had to leave because it was the right thing to do.
I had a girlfriend when I was there.
I never laid a hand on her, but her heart was bruised by every punch that she had to bear with every minute I was in the seminary.
My mom taught me never to hurt a girl.
Not because their heart is vulnerable,
But because women aren't toys that you just can set aside anytime you're done playing with them.
I take care of women just like my mom took care of me.
With respect, decency, and with all honesty.

My name is Arcy.
I was born on the year of the rat,
And I honestly don't give a fuck what that means.
Just like Rudy, I've been trying to convince my shadow that I'm someone worth following and have been hiding through metaphors.
I've said a lot about me, but please don't judge me.
Those things are crumbs of who I really am.
I just turned 30, another reason to celebrate the gift of life.
I say it's a gift because it was gratuitously given to me, not because I asked for it, nor earned it like a reward, nor do I deserve it.
I may have moral and political right to life, but I do not have a metaphysical right to it.
I cannot demand that I deserve the right to come into being or to deserve to exist for another day.
It was given to me freely by a higher Being whom I call my God.

*Inspired by Rudy Francisco's My Honest Poem.

On Boldness

Tons of things I want to say, My mind keeps telling me "nay". Been longing for the day, I'd man up with great array. Have courage is what they all say, Or else you'll end up in great dismay. A coward never wins the day, Stand up, be proud like the beautiful flowers of May.

My Law Aptitude Exam (LAE) Experience

Written November 29, 2012

I took the Law Aptitude Exam (LAE) of the University of the Philippines last Sunday, November 25, 2012. It was a walk in the park--Jurassic Park. It was the hardest exam I've taken. In the test, we were to answer 400 questions in 4 hours without a break. The exam consists of seven part: Language Proficiency, Verbal Reasoning, Non-verbal Reasoning, Quantitative Reasoning, Critical Thinking, Reading Comprehension and General Information. The questions were hard and what makes it more harder was that we were also under intense time pressure. If only we had enough time I'm sure we'll eventually get the best answers to most of the questions, but it was the clock that killed us during the exam. Well I guess the saying is true then, 'Time is gold'.

Days before the exam, one of my friends who is already studying law in UP lent me his reviewer. I browsed it just to familiarize myself with how the questions were constructed. After browsing it, I put it under my bed and told myself that I really don't need to review since I'm just taking an aptitude exam anyway. I was wrong. I should have reviewed it. So to those who are planning to take the LAE in the future, I suggest you go grab yourself a reviewer and for crying out loud don't just browse it, review it. It's a reviewer, not a browser.

On the day of the exam, I saw a lot of people waiting outside their respective rooms and buildings. Most of them look young, so young that they even came with their parents. And some of them are just like me-- not old, but a working-law-student wannabe. I was not really in the mood to talk to anyone so I wore my earphones and relaxed myself by listening to my playlist while waiting outside the School of Economics' Auditorium until they called us only to find out that we were to transfer to a room in Malcolm Hall since the auditorium was under construction.

After the exam, I let out a great sigh of relief, thankful that it was finally over. The exam was so hard that I felt mentally and physically tired. I felt all my energy drained down to the last bit that when I got home, all I could do was sleep.

Aside from the results of the exam, the Admissions Office will also consider the applicant's undergrad General Weighted Average (GWA), which I'm really thankful for since I know that my undergrad GWA is really good. Hopefully my GWA will help me pull up my chance if the LAE results will not be in my favor. Out of the thousands of people who took the exam, only the top 200 will be allowed to enroll. And if the College of Law will do what they did last year, another 70-100 people will be given their chance subject for panel interview. After all that's been said and done, it really is now up to the hands of the One above. All I can do now is pray. If ever I'll pass the exam then to God be the glory. If I fail, then it just means that He has something different planned for me.

Dear Self

Dear eyes,
Stop staring at her, she won't be yours no matter how long you stare.

Dear nose,
Stop sniffing her hair.
Her scents linger that it breaks my heart every time I'm not with her.

Dear mouth,
I know you've been longing to taste her kiss, to lock your lips with her, but there are things in life that causes repulsion that they tend to move away from each other every time they meet.

Dear ears,
Every word she speaks vibrates to you like music,
Every time she speaks, you take each word and keep it in your treasure chest, your chest made of every bit of muscle your heart has.

Dear hands,
I know how much you want to hold her and to never let her go,
How you suck at fighting, and dribbling the ball with your left.
How drunk you are with all the alcohol-spraying I had to put you through.

Dear brain,
I hate how you suck at giving love advice.

Dear heart,
I know you've been through a lot.
I know you hate how irresponsible cupid is 'bout making you his target practice.

Dear self,
Before you start loving her, or any other person, please love yourself first.

Mask

 "Kung may problema ka, magsuot ng maskara",
(If you have a problem, wear a mask), the song goes.
That mask consumed my identity, munched on it like a savage with an insatiable hunger for covering up.
I looked at the mirror and see a man I do not know.
A man with a familiar face but with an identity I cannot fathom.
What happened to you? What happened to me?
What happened to the man I once knew who feared nothing and didn't give a shit.
Consumed by the standards that society dictates, my personality vanished. My identity morphed into something people can relate to, but an idenity I loathe.

 "Kung may problema ka, magsuot ng maskara",
(If you have a problem, wear a mask), the song goes.
My sorrows hidden by a fake smile.
My burdens buried to a grave I dug myself, hidden to the eyes of other people, but weigh twice as much when I'm alone.
I'm a sad man, portraying happiness and making people happy. Throwing punchlines here and there, but is now bound by the lines I drew to make the illusion.

 "Kung may problema ka, magsuot ng maskara",
(If you have a problem, wear a mask), the song goes.
I want to remove this mask, the mask that has trapped me in a make-believe reality. 
I want my identity back, the identity I threw so I can fit with society.
To hell with the standards society has set. I want myself back.