now....
then!
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Why Princekulas?
There are so many questions why am I using this alias?Some of my friends at the social network Facebook often ask me the same question over and over again, and I would answer them the same thing over and over again. Why the name Princekulas?
It has been olenty of years ago when, way back to my former working place in Al-Qassim, Saudi Arabia, that I have met plenty of friends, whom, I have been in contact until these recent years. It is quite a simple notion that I was so amazed with the name Nicholas, somehow it just come into my idle mind, I am doing anything that time (but I am sitting at the shop), looking at the things that we are selling, and thinking of the next customer to come in and look for our goods. Suddenly, the name Kulas came into my mind, out of nowhere. And all the while I thought, yeah, I will be better off that way. Kulas seemed to be and exotic name. Kulas... male form. Kulasisi... female form. I might as well have that. So i thought a little bit deeper.
Why the prefix Prince? I was not born a royalty to be called such a title. I was born not on a silver platter, for actually why did I become an expatriate working in a foreign land if I had all the means to live? Prince is such a noble title... and why should I not? And when the time that I came back home for good, I used the name Prince, in honor of the royalties way back in Saudi Arabia, and the Kulas, well, to describe the simple person in me.
I always make sure that I am still the simple person like the way I had been 40 years ago. I was born a simple life, raised in simplicity, without the cravings for the things that in return I could not have. All I had are just simple cravings, nothing more, nothing else. Foods that are just sold on the streets, no fine dining please unless otherwise that I was invited to have one.
I am always the simple man with dignity. I might not be a royalty, but still I am. we all have the capacity to become a royal- with dignity, with poise, observing the etiquette. Some people were born with a silver spoon and yet they don't have the respect of some members of the society. Needless to say, that some people were born out of corruption. I am proud to say that I was neither of the two. It is the same me. The ME that I used to be. The alias may have been royalty-sounding like thing, but hey... I AM SIMPLE, HONORABLE, PROUD AND DIGNIFIED.
It has been olenty of years ago when, way back to my former working place in Al-Qassim, Saudi Arabia, that I have met plenty of friends, whom, I have been in contact until these recent years. It is quite a simple notion that I was so amazed with the name Nicholas, somehow it just come into my idle mind, I am doing anything that time (but I am sitting at the shop), looking at the things that we are selling, and thinking of the next customer to come in and look for our goods. Suddenly, the name Kulas came into my mind, out of nowhere. And all the while I thought, yeah, I will be better off that way. Kulas seemed to be and exotic name. Kulas... male form. Kulasisi... female form. I might as well have that. So i thought a little bit deeper.
Why the prefix Prince? I was not born a royalty to be called such a title. I was born not on a silver platter, for actually why did I become an expatriate working in a foreign land if I had all the means to live? Prince is such a noble title... and why should I not? And when the time that I came back home for good, I used the name Prince, in honor of the royalties way back in Saudi Arabia, and the Kulas, well, to describe the simple person in me.
I always make sure that I am still the simple person like the way I had been 40 years ago. I was born a simple life, raised in simplicity, without the cravings for the things that in return I could not have. All I had are just simple cravings, nothing more, nothing else. Foods that are just sold on the streets, no fine dining please unless otherwise that I was invited to have one.
I am always the simple man with dignity. I might not be a royalty, but still I am. we all have the capacity to become a royal- with dignity, with poise, observing the etiquette. Some people were born with a silver spoon and yet they don't have the respect of some members of the society. Needless to say, that some people were born out of corruption. I am proud to say that I was neither of the two. It is the same me. The ME that I used to be. The alias may have been royalty-sounding like thing, but hey... I AM SIMPLE, HONORABLE, PROUD AND DIGNIFIED.
My Thoughts For The Day
Today is the birthday of my mother, and I would like to say happy birthday to the only woman I had ever loved... I just hope she could hear these words.
I always remember her as the simple one. She was full of sacrifice, full of hardships, and yet she never complains. I never heard her say her monologues, I mean, I never heard her telling her woes to us, her kids: against the simple life that we have had before, against every facets and realities of harsh life that we have had known. Still she remained calm, giving us the daily nutrition, not just for food that nourishes our bodies but food for thoughts for our soul.
I always remember her as a religious woman, a prayerful lady. A woman who sang Ave Maria on a high pitch, or the Salve Regina singing it to me like a lullaby. dozing me to sleep, for I don't know yet, as a child, the essence of the song. The song keeps on ringing to my ears up until now, it never faded. I always remember too when she and father sings their favorite song No Other Love. One of the sweetest songs I ever heard, the notes seem not to fade until now too.
I always remember her angelic smile, and her contagious laughters. I always remember her patiently sewing clothes for our keep. I always remember her not getting angry to us. I always remember her chicken tinola, which me, as the youngest in the family, would she give the best parts of the chicken.
Suddenly though, when father died, it is as if she died too with him. Her memory regressed. And when I come back home from a five year work abroad, she never recognized me as her son. Although, way back in my workplace, I always call her, and remind her that her youngest is still alive and well, loved her so much. Suddenly, I found myself crying. Where is she? Where is my Nanay now? Why has time taken the most important person in my life? Why did time rob my mother from me?
I don't know where will I get the answers to my queries. But I have to make a start to win her back, and know that I am at her midst. Patiently, i took care of her, singing her favorite songs. And there are times, say in just less than ten minutes, the lucidity of her toughts come back and she recognizes me already, and those were the few minutes that I am happy, contented that at last she comes back to her senses. But the rest of 24 hour grace periods, I am a nobody to her.
There are so many things that I remember in her. I always bite her ears when I make lambing to her, Or smell her armpit. Or embrace her so tight. How I missed her terribly! How I missed her....
Happy birthday Nanay. I hope you could see your son, crying because he misses you so much, while encpding tis mesage on this blog. I hope that you still could see me on my downest moment, and on every triumph that i have and will have. I hope to see you, and Tatay, and Manang Carling, soon.....
Soon...
I always remember her as the simple one. She was full of sacrifice, full of hardships, and yet she never complains. I never heard her say her monologues, I mean, I never heard her telling her woes to us, her kids: against the simple life that we have had before, against every facets and realities of harsh life that we have had known. Still she remained calm, giving us the daily nutrition, not just for food that nourishes our bodies but food for thoughts for our soul.
I always remember her as a religious woman, a prayerful lady. A woman who sang Ave Maria on a high pitch, or the Salve Regina singing it to me like a lullaby. dozing me to sleep, for I don't know yet, as a child, the essence of the song. The song keeps on ringing to my ears up until now, it never faded. I always remember too when she and father sings their favorite song No Other Love. One of the sweetest songs I ever heard, the notes seem not to fade until now too.
I always remember her angelic smile, and her contagious laughters. I always remember her patiently sewing clothes for our keep. I always remember her not getting angry to us. I always remember her chicken tinola, which me, as the youngest in the family, would she give the best parts of the chicken.
Suddenly though, when father died, it is as if she died too with him. Her memory regressed. And when I come back home from a five year work abroad, she never recognized me as her son. Although, way back in my workplace, I always call her, and remind her that her youngest is still alive and well, loved her so much. Suddenly, I found myself crying. Where is she? Where is my Nanay now? Why has time taken the most important person in my life? Why did time rob my mother from me?
I don't know where will I get the answers to my queries. But I have to make a start to win her back, and know that I am at her midst. Patiently, i took care of her, singing her favorite songs. And there are times, say in just less than ten minutes, the lucidity of her toughts come back and she recognizes me already, and those were the few minutes that I am happy, contented that at last she comes back to her senses. But the rest of 24 hour grace periods, I am a nobody to her.
There are so many things that I remember in her. I always bite her ears when I make lambing to her, Or smell her armpit. Or embrace her so tight. How I missed her terribly! How I missed her....
Happy birthday Nanay. I hope you could see your son, crying because he misses you so much, while encpding tis mesage on this blog. I hope that you still could see me on my downest moment, and on every triumph that i have and will have. I hope to see you, and Tatay, and Manang Carling, soon.....
Soon...
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
THE PRINCE AND HIS DESERT OPUS
DESERT EXPERIENCE
and
Other Works
Mario G. Barlolong
“without an honest encounter with one’s self,
there can be no real encounter with God”
Tulang Halaw sa Kantang Kinompos in MV Francisco
Ilang hakbang pa ba Ama ang aking lalakbayin
Daan upang ang tahanan mo ay aking marating,
Ilang araw pa ba itong aking bubunuin,
O oras na lang ba ang aking hihintayin.
Sagot Niya’y huwag kang mabagot at ‘di mangamba,
Sa iyo’y hindi pa ako nagsawa sa pagkalinga’
Paraanin ang panahon, ng hindi mamalayan
Na Ako pala’y kumakatok sa iong pintuan.
Oo ng’t ika’y handa pero hindi pa sapat
Minahal mo ba Ako ng lubos at tapat?
Nagbukas ka ban g pinto nu’ng Ako’y kumatok?
Nandiyan ka ba nu’ng mga hapis at dagok?
Dinalaw mo ba ako sa kulungang malamig,
O noong Ako’y uhaw, pinainom mo ba Ako ng tubig?
Ako ba’y pinakinggan mo sa mga problema,
O pinagsarhan mo lang ng iyong mga taynga?”
Hindi Ko naramdaman ang iyong pagdalaw
O Amako, kalian kita natanaw?
Mula pa sa sinapupunan ko hindi na kita nakita
Hanggang ngayon at maging sa pagtanda.
“Dahil ikaw’y aking anak, kita’y aking inalagaan
Kinarga, kinalinga, inugoy sa duyan
Lahat pala nito’y parang walang saysay
Ang ginampanang tungkulin ng buong husay.
“’Di ka ba nagtataka kung saan nanggaling
Ang buhay na ngayon ay malayo na ang narrating,
Ang saya at lumbay, pag-ibig sa kapwa
Ang dunong na ‘yan na sa Aki’y tumutuligsa.
Kailan mo ba Ako huling kinausap,
Hindi mo na matandaan, bakit hindi mo naharap?
Dahil bas a masyadong mabilis ang takbo ng iyong buhay?
Kaya hindi mo nakita itong puso Kong nalulumbay?
Buksan mo ang mata’t tignan ang iyong paligid
Ang hangin, mga puno, mga batang umaaligid,
Buksan mo ang mga taynga upang iyong marinig
Ang mga hinaing, at matamis na tinig.
Iyong isipan anak ko, palawakin mong tunay,
At tuluyang damhin itong Aking salaysay
Ang uso ngayon ay iyong buksan
Upang makapanahan Ako magpakailanman.”
O Ama ko, kapag nagawa ko ba
Ang mga ito ay muli tayong magkikita?
“Oo anak, makakaasa ka
Na mapapasaiyo ang tunay na ligaya”
Onaizah, Qassim
January 28, 1999
Pebrero Noon
Nakatunganga ako’t nakatingin
Sa naglalarong mga butiki
Sa may kisame…
Buti pa sila, enjoy araw at gabi.
Ilang araw na rin bang
Naglalaro ang isip
‘Di mapakali, sa kalikutan ko’y
Naisip ko tuloy ang mga eksenang este.
Huwag nga lang magalit
Sa mga eksenang R-18 without cuts
Dahil ngayong Pebrero ay uso iyan
Lalo na at Year of the Rabbit pa naman.
Hay naku ang buhay ng nag-iisa
Magkakasya na lang ba ako sa palad ni Maria
Hindi naman mairaos ang init kasi kumbaga
Uso na ang sakit ng mga babaeng nakapula.
Heto nga ako’t nagsesentemiento
Wala pa akong card galing sa iyo
Hindi mo ba iseselebreyt kahit diyan ay wala ako?
Ako nga dito’y parang maloloko.
Mabuti nga lang at may picture ka sa akin
Nasa wallet ko pa rin iyon, at ‘di ko tatanggalin
Alam mo ba’ng katabi pa niya iyong condom na bigay mo
Regalo mo sa akin, isang piraso, naalala mo.
Ganito na lang ba palagi ang buhay
Hindi mapakali sa tuwing mahihimlay
Nag-iisip ng kung anu-ano na lang
At ‘di namamalayang ang isip ay pumapailanlang.
At tuluang madudukot ang isang bagay
At maglalaro na nga ang mga kamay
O anu’ng luwalhati ang dulot nito
Lalo’t nandito ka sa tabi ko.
Nakatunganga ako’t nakatingin
Sa mga butiki sa kisame
Pero naglalaro naman ditto sa aking isipan
Gusto ko ring maging butiki kahit minsan lang.
Pebrero na nga ngunit hindi pa makaiskor
‘Di bale na lang
Ako’y magtitiis na lang sa sulat ni Labs
Pero…. Basta….Tiis tiis na lang muna….
Onaizah, Qassim
February 3, 1999
Pebrero II
Umaalon yaong ating higaan
Habang tayo’y sabay na naglalakbay
Patungo sa kaluwalhatian
Halos sabay nating
Narrating ang rurok
Sa pagbilis ng indayog
Sa saliw ng iyong iyak at impit na tawa
Nagkalasug-lasog ang iyong kalamnan
Nabasag ang salamin pero hindi ka nasugatan
Ngunit ang sakit nito katumbas ay ginhawa
Sa ating pangalawa, at pagpapakasawa.
Sumisid akong pababa
At natagpuan ko ang kweba
At ang mumunting perlas na tinatago
Ang sabi mo pa ilabas ang aking dila
Para daw maalis ang sumpa
At iyo’y aking ginawa, inikot ang bungad
At halos gumuho ang lupa
Sa tuwa ng mga anitong nagbabantay.
Tumirik ang mga mata mo, ako’y nag-alala
Umalon ang tiyan
Ang beywang mo’y sumayaw-sayaw
Sa ritmo ng tambol at kiwal nitong dila….
Hindi diyan nagtapos kundi madami pa…
Nalaman ko, panaginip lang pala
Basang-basa ako
Ng malagkit na…
Pawis.
Onaizah, Qassim
February 14, 1999
The Voice
I am listening
To voices of long ago
Haunting me
Now on my solitude.
The cries that I was not
Able to hear then
And the voices so long forgotten
Kept on coming back.
Who owns those voices
Really I don’t know
Faceless voices
Or a guilty conscience?
The voices talked to me
Long, long time ago.
Now, I am disturbed
About the messages.
Who or what, and which and why?
In this cold, eerie night-
No images though, just faceless voices
That linger in the darkness of my thoughts
Calling my name, talking to me
Waking me at dawn… come…
I am hearing the voice now, as it become clear
Becomes sweeter, that I could recognize
That one particular voice
Since I was born
Who created me
Nurtured… loved
Keeps calling me, but in this strange way…
And place.
“Yes, I am Thine”, I answered
And I am listening.
(Buraidah, Qassim: February 16, 1999)
For Annie
Mercurian fingers
Notes fluttering in the air
A cherubic voice
A face of beauty, so fair.
If there’ll only be
A Helen personified
Fathomless pulchritude
I so admired.
Make music! Make music and haste!
Thy music on Phoebus harp
Are Cupid’s arrow so sharp.
O moonless night!
O winged notes
Come, comfort me in this solitude!
O choir of nymphs sing me thy tune!
And play a symphony in the heart of Neptune!
O Cupid strike the heart of my beloved
And fill her heart with all these verses.
O wind, whisper in her ear,
O breeze, thou touchest her face,
My love… in a foreign land…
So far, yet so near.
Buraidah, Qassim
February 20, 1999
Lover’s Innuendo I
“when you love someone, say it outright”
Am I in love….?
That is why I ask myself
The sudden feeling that I felt
Upon seeing your lovely face.
Your sweet smile, your crisp laughters
You became the apple of my eyes
How I loved to be by your side
Just to listen…
Never in my life felt I before…
This longing for your nearness
Was there a strong force that you exude
That attracts me?
Hath Cupid’s arrow struck mine heart?
That I have to comply
If this is love for you that I feel
Then love really is here…
No one will be a hindrance…
In my quest for my princess
Just like a prince of old
To rescue a damsel in distress.
Flowers wither and songs do fade
Castles ruined, empires down laid
A love like mine is built on rocks
To be with you always…
I have found you my dear princess…
The most wonderful voice ever I heard
From amongst the voices
From the choir of angels.
I will be your knight to protect you
To rescue you from your troubles
I will be your prince to comfort you
From the challenges of life…
Enough! Enough for all of these!
Did I answer the question I post?
I am ready to offer my life
To my real joy!
Who brightens up my day
Who gives music to me
To the joy of life
This life have I to lay!
Buraidah, Qassim
February 3, 1999
Thoughts
I can’t understand
Your infinite thoughts
Your words
That kept on
Piercing my bones
Shredding my flesh
Apart.
They say,
you’re not the one
whom I looked up to
since I was born
and until now, ‘til
the end of time
still I’ll be yours.
Why, all of a sudden
They fall from grace
Not knowing that
Your infiniteness
Really in eternal
And a question on you
You could only answer.
They say
Baseless faith have I
For looking up to you
And worship you
How could I refrain
From doing so?
You have given me new life.
Only tears am shedding now
I am sorry
That I had been an accomplice
To put you n that wood.
Accept my heart, my homage
My love and dedication
This I say, and I believe
That YOU REALLY IS MY LORD!
Buraidah, Qassim
March 2, 1999
Thoughts II
There is no escaping
For the reality always come
Like a shadow that
Keeps on following me
Wherever I go.
Enough for this masquerade
Mask I no longer want to wear
Nor just play a role
Which makes me not me
Like in a theatrical play.
It’s so hard to accept
The real me
The troubled mind inside.
There’s a war of wills
And I should gain courage.
Twenty-eight summers now
But… where am i?
Looking for the infinite-
Asking questions unanswerable
A question into realities.
A wounded person that’s inside
But my mask’s smiles-
I have to remove that mask
For you to see my face
And feel my pain.
Too many sad stories to tell
That’s part of my reality
I, am your
You, are mine
Until the end of time.
The pain…the mask
I could no longer last
Tear me apart
For realities always have to comfort
Me… in reality, you are there
.
Buraidah, Qassim
March 2, 1999
Thoughts III
for Hazel, OSB
walking down the aisle
you looked so beautiful
on your white gown
though not silk, nor satin.
As the Ave Maria is sung
By the cherubs
And you are immersed
By the ray of light.
Happiness radiates in your eyes
The tears do not fall
As you are about to leave
The life of single-blessedness.
Into a lifetime, a commitment
Of dedication
Of compassion
Of state of grace!
You are now on the altar
Where he waits, your groom
As you prostrate
Laid down your belly
On the cold marble floor
Hands spread
As you say
“here I am”
And the groom smiled-
He- who is nailed on the Cross!
Buraidah , Qassim
March 3, 1999
Tula I
Umuugong yaong hanging
Dumadampi sa bahay na bato
Dantaon din naming nakatayo
Hindi natinag ng lindol o bagyo
Ngunit tila itong huling unos ang tanging
Magpapatumba sa matibay na pundasyong
Ilang taon ding naghari…
Gayundin itong punong
Sintanda na ng panahon
Nag-ugat ang mga ugat
Sa kailaliman ng lupa’y bumaon
Ilang bagyo na ang dumaan
Buhat ng ito’y nagkamalay
Ngunit tila yata ito’y mabubuwal
Ang lupa’y nabibitak na
At handa ng bumigay…
Mayroong mga pagkakataon
Na ang puno at ang bahay na bato
Ay katulad ng buhay ng tao
Ang tibay ay humihina
Kahit gaano pa ito katanda
Ang bahay ay magigiba
Ang puno ay matutumba
Matutuliro ang walang pananampalataya
Sa Diyos na lumikha ng langit at lupa.
Ngunit ang bagyo ay lilipas
Ang araw ay sisikat, gaganda ang bukas
At hindi inaalintana
Gaano man kalakas ang bagyo’t unos
Kung matibay ang moog
Ito’y magiging tanggulan pa
Hayaang ang Diyos ang siyang bahala
Sa lahat ng panahon ‘di siya nagpapabaya.
Pag-ibig Niya’y nariyan
Kumapit ka lamang sa Kanya-
Ika’y ‘di mabubuwal, ‘di matutumba.
Buraidah, Qassim
March 3, 1999
To The Untimely Death of Bugoy
“I grieve…. I grieve for my best friend…
It really doesn’t matter if he’s subhuman…”
Why all of a sudden
You have surrendered up your life
In a mysterious way
That even though I was there
I should have not known
The reason
Of your untimely passing.
You are my best friend indeed.
A friend I so loved
For so long a time.
Was it four or five years
Since I have known you,
Took care of you,
Look for your needs,
Just like others before you…
Before you came into my life…
I will be sorry with my self
For not seeing
For the last time.
As I have seen you before
Grew as robust
Mature one.
Maybe because of old age that you go?
Or illness incurable?
Or you just plainly miss me?
Ahh… Bugoy, how lucky you have been
You have found a place of peace
While I am still here struggling.
If dogs must go to heaven
Or heaven have a space for dogs…
You deserved there to stay…
My Bugoy, just wait for me.
Buraidah, Qassim
March 9, 1999
Repleksiyon Noong May Nakita
Akong Babaeng Saudi na Namamalimos
Sa May Khobib
Nakaupo sa isang tabi, tumatawag
ng pansin, ang babae.
‘Di ko tuloy namasdang mabuti
ang tangan niyang paslit
na , animo’y gutom…
ako’y namangha
katulad din pala sila
ng karaniwang eksena sa manila
o sa probinsyang aking kinagisnan…
ewan ko ba?
para ko na ring gustong bumalik, ulit
sa aking lupa… sa aking pagkabata.
(noong ako’y ihinehele ni inay
idinuduyan ni itay
pagkatapos uminom ng
pinaghalong am at gatas)
ahh… ang sarap damhin
ang pagmamahal at pagkalinga
gaya nitong aleng Saudi ditto sa khobib
kalong ang anak, namamalimos…
ng kaunting halala… ng pagmamahal…
(gaya ko ngayong may karamdaman
nangangailangan ng kalinga
sa ‘pinas sila’t ako’y sa arabya…
ang layo kung iisipin… milyong milya
namimiss ko tuloy ang boses ni inay
kung ako’y kakantahan niya’t patutulugin
o tatakutin, o sesermonan’
o ang karaniwang galit ni itay
na alam kong may halong pagmamahal…
gusto ko ng marinig ulit
sa aking pag-uwi
gusto kong umiyak…dahil sa tuwang aking nadarama
sa matinding galak
kelan iyon? Malapit na… tiyak!
Al-Khobib, Buraidah, Qassim
March 9, 1999
Tula sa Paglaya
dumadagundong,
itong, kalooban,
nag-aapoy,
at, nagniningas, ang, bagang,
dinadampihan, ng amihan,
sa panahon, ng taglamig,
at ng pagdarahop!
at ng pakikibaka!
ng pagkakaisa!
unti-unti, gumalaw,
ang kamao,
ang isip, kumilos,
mga labi: nagsalita na,
MAKIBAKA! MAGKAISA!
Tuluyan na ban a magiging Malaya?
Pasasaan ba’t malapit na!
Kailangan pa ba ang gumamit ng dahas
Upang makamit lang ang tagumpay?
Kung hindi ngayon,
Baka ang bukas
Ay hindi na darating pa!
Buraidah, Qassim
March 11, 1999
Y2K
I’m so afraid
Just hearing the word
Could get my hair stand
And heart beat faster!
Will it be the end
Of humankind?
The terminus
Of things that exist
As seers see?
Or the era
Of a new set of rules and ideas?
Of new technology?
Of unity in diversity?
The world will not stop, that’s sure
End will not come this soon…
But who knows….
Will I still be afraid?
Just pray, than rather be!
Buraidah, Qassim
March 11, 1999
(years after the poem was written, the world did not explode)
Verse
I
Gazed
On the
Infinite…
Half
Thinking
Of you!
(the
Other
Half?
I
Dunno!
Buraidah, Qassim
March 11, 1999
Cash Register
Cash register na kumukuliling
Walang makain ni katiting
Hayon at nakatunganga na lang
Ang mga zero point zero zero sa moder-moderan.
Ano ba’ng meron ditto na wala sa iba?
(ting!) alam ko na,
Ang presyo’y hindi mababa.
Kawawa naman ang cash register na puti
Nababagot at nagugutom palagi
Pasnesiya ka na baby, at wala pang benta
Hayaan mo, baka meron na, bukas makalaw
Buraidah, Qassim
March 11, 1999
Untitled III
the shop is full
yet empty and bare
too big to fit a football field
but only three could sit.
the noisy silence
could easily break the glass
and wordless sounds, whispers
like the bird’s downs
dropping on the floor.
too colorful yet colorless
too much light yet dim
too much promises that it can’t give
too many attractions that appeals not.
children could run, and walk and play
but where are they?
men and women could exchange tidings
in a leisurely way,
but nobody’s to see!
my muted shout:
I protest! I protest!
but only I could hear myself
muttering these words
in the silence within us three.
except for the ringing of the phone
which is occasional
the register was also was mute
could only glace at you blankly
cipher…cipher…zero…
and the tic…tac…toc… of her heels
the rhythm of her comings and goings
seems so far away now.
too many things to offer
too many words to say
but who will come I ask?
the shop is full, no denying-
and Yes, so empty and bare.
Just empty and bare… as I am!
Al Fahd for Clothes, Buraidah, al-Qassim
March 11, 1999
How Do I Keep My Sleepy Mind Awake
On a Senseless Morn?
here I am
making senseless verses
on a one Thursday morn
just to waken
this sleepy soul.
I just couldn’t think how to cure
this drowsiness
just kept on asking
for how many days now-
was this the effect
of the med am using
to ease the simple cold?
was this the effect
of the under 8-hour sleep
which I always have?
was this the effect
of a pound-a-day
weight gaining?
I couldn’t think so much
as if mind goes numb
whenever I sit on this lone chair
and hear its little squeak
I start to yawn
I no longer hear
the sweet music of long ago…
only cars passing
people talking
unfathomable discourse….
amidst the noise
here I am,
making senseless verses
out of senseless ideas
on a sleepy Thursday morn… (yawn…!!!)
Al Fahd for Clothes, Buraidah, Qassim
March 11, 1999
Tabula Rasa
I couldn’t think anything
My brain is like
A clear sheet of paper now.
Since you’ve been gone
Since we parted ways
Since you left me…
Just emptiness…
Just nothingness…
I can’t pour out
My loss in you
With these verses.
Would these cure my solitude?
Would music fill
The void in me?
I can’t hide forever
A happy face, a smile
To be with people.
You are not my world
Anymore
And i
Must get out of your trap.
I loved you but…
You are not here
Not anymore.
I must bury the memories of old-
With a new life ahead
I have got to start.
I must bury your thoughts
Like what we did
With your body
When you died.
Buraidah, Qassim
March 15, 1999
Dalawang Tula Alay Sa Surot
I.
Nakakayamot
Maliit lang na bagay at ‘di nakakatakot
Ano nga ba’ng mabisang gamut
Sa kating kinakamot
Sanhi ng…surot?
Na sa higaa’y lumulusot.
Makati at masarap
Mga kagat na lasap na lasap
Ano’ng luwalhating dulot
Daig pa ang gata’t pulot
Lalo na nga’t iyong hinahaplos
Mamulamula’t magiging galos
‘Di pa nasabing dahil sa sarap, magdurugo
Ang kinamot na kagat ng mga surot na berdugo.
II.
Hoy! Mga lahing surot! Tigilan niyo na!
Ang pagsipsip sa dugo’t yaman n gaming bansa!
Hindi ba kayo sa mamamayan naawa?
Sa pagpapatuloy sa kabuktutang ginagawa?
Mabuti pa sa isang tunay na surot, napipisak,
At ‘di na kailangan pa ng rally at tabak!
Hihintayin pa ban a ang baya’y maghimagsik?
Duguang laman bubulagta, takot ay maghahasasik.
Ang mga surot sa lipuna’y dapat tanggalin,
At ang imahen ng pamunua’y dapat ng linisin.
Buraidah, Qassim
May 3, 1999
Clothes Hanger
the clothes hanger
seem so tired now-
i can see the sweat
that passed through time
on its bare shoulders-
went flat now
not the same erect
and proud
the world was on its shoulders
literally.
And just like men
When all seem to go wrong
These hangers- the men,
The clothes- the cross
To bear- in a lifetime.
The difference is that
I can feel- it can’t though.
The cross comes heavier each day
But must I give up?
Take out the cross
And let my shoulders be bold and bare?
As a matter of choice….
But I must not complain.
The hanger though lifeless
Does not complain.
Why must I?
When it’s grace, pure grace.
The cross is the way, truth, life
As he bore it millennium back.
And I should now
For it is me that I bear
And He’ll help me
Bear myself
Towards eternal peace.
Buraidah, Qassim
May 24, 1999
A Lifetime With You
(poem for Joanne, on our future wedding date)
The time will never change
As we grow old
Still in love with each other.
I remember holding your hands
They never were cold
The warmth I feel is still there
Until now, until the end.
A lifetime with you
Is all that I am going to spend
A lifetime with you
Forever until the end
I have never dreamt
That our love be like this
Unexpectedly
Forever in a wedded bliss.
We’ll join our hands together
You and I, walking on the aisle
And we will never miss
The sweet melodies
That made us close.
What God hath join will never part
I promise, I will
Spend a lifetime with you,
No matter what happens
Until the end…
Buraidah, Qassim
May 16, 1999
Tula ng Pag-Ibig
Hindi mo ako iniiwanan
Ang kamay ko’y lagging tinatanganan
Sa ligaya’t saya, lungkot at lumbay,
Tayo pa rin ang magkasama.
Pinapakinggan mo’ng lahat ang aking problema,
Naririnig mo aking paghikbi, nakikita ang aking pagluha
Ngunit sa sandaling ako’y nabubuhayan na ng loob,
Ikaw nama’y aking nakakaligtaan.
Bakit ba ganu’n Sinta, bakit nga ba?
Bakit ba kaydaling magbago ang panahon?
Kahapon lamang, ika’y narito sa puso ko,
Ngayon nama’y nakalimutan ko,
Ako’y patawarin mo.
Sadyang maupok itong aking kalooban,
Umuguho sa aking kapighatian,
Pero nandiyan ka palagi na nagbibigay-lakas,
Ang aking bato, at tanggulan.
Nakilala na nga kitang lubusan,
Hindi pa naman huli ang lahat,
Minahal mo ako ng higit sa pagmamahal ko,
Inuunawa ako higit pa sa pang-unawa ko.
Mahal na mahal kita, higit pa sa buhay kong taglay,
Tanggapin mo ang pag-ibig kong alay.
Buraidah, Qassim
May 24, 1999
Ennui 7:44
I sit by the window
Looking for someone to come
Then I saw
My eyes were ablurr
Is it real?
Or just a plain hallucination?
You were gone
To nowhere and I know
That you are not coming
Anymore.
Two and a half years
Me and you and
Then like a bubble… you are gone.
You must really be in love
Not to me though
I couldn’t offer you anything
Except this whole being
And nothing more
The earth spins, days pass
My life has to go on…
Yes, I have to…
MGA KWENTONG BAHAY KUBO AT IBA PANG KAMANYAKAN
Bahay kubo, kahit munti…..
Munti man daw ang lugar na iyon, sa gitna ng reclamation area malapit sa aming iskul, munti man daw ang kubong iyon dun mo lang malalanghap ang sariwang hangin at kung ano-ano pang kaganapan sa buhay-buhay ng kung sinu-sinong tao, at ng kung anu-anong mga kwentong tila hinabi ng panahon, ng sistema, ng mga bagay-bagay na makabuluhan, at ‘yung iba, walang kabuluhan, na in the end, it does not really matter. Kaya ko nga sinusulat ito, dahil ito ay, maliban sa totoong mga kwento, mahahango ang mga aral na animo’y tila nagbabadya ng isang walang kabuluhang pagbabago. Ang buhay ng mga taong wala mang kakayanang maging sino ngayon, pero why not give them the chance na i-prove ang sarili that one day, sila ang mga titingalain, hindi man sa larangang kanilang pinili, kundi mula sa usok ng kanilang kaluluwa.
Usok? Philip Morris o kaya Marlboro lights ang usok na mamumutawi sa aming mga bibig, kasabay ng halakhakang malulutong mula sa isang kwento walang istorya. Corny man sa pandinig ng iba pero sa aming tropa, sapat na yon upang mabuhay ang gaming dugo na tila ba puputok ang aming mga litid. Sari-saring kwento kasi ang naiisip namin. Mga kwentong walang kwenta, mga kwentong kamanyakan (top-grosser kumbaga sa pelikula), mga kwentong halaw sa totoong buhay, kwentong barbero, kwentong buhay estudyante, kwentong kwela, nakakaiyak, nakakatuwa, atbpa.
There are so many characters, kumbaga sa nobela. And so many plots….
Nobela? Iyon ang project ng mga estudyante sa isang teacher na pangalanan nating Astroboy. Ewan ko ba kung bakit napili ng titser na ito ang Astroboy. Marahil, una, feeling bata pa siya (in fact 38 he is); pangalawa, kasi kalbo siya; at pangatlo, mahilig siya sa yosi (kadiri!) and the lights (or fire) which are emitted sa paa ni Astroboy ang nagbibigay ng power sa kanya (di ba power trip!). Nobela nga…. Drama pa ni Kalbo (tawag naming sa titser na ito), “I am giving you 36 days to read the novel and then summarize it in not less than 10 pages. Submit your projects after 36 days. No project, failed”. Hala, we have to rush at the nearby National Bookstore para bumili ng nobelang sale doon. Imagine, tig-20 o tig-30 pesos lang ang hardbound novel na hindi masyadong nabili hehehe… instant kupit ito sa parents. Kumikitang kabuhayan.
Si Kalbo naman ay parang tuwang tuwa sa pahirap niya sa mga estudyante. Babala pa niya: Thou shalt not copy from the internet (ang tambayan ng mga namimirata ng proyekto at instant researchers), kasi daw pupunitin niya in their face. Wahahaha… gulat ang mga pobreng estudyante. Kasi nga naman, wala na silang hilig ngayong magbasa. If they were given a chance to choose between reading and death, most probably pipiliin nila ang death. Ganun yun. Blessing in disguise nga ang nobela, at least makakapagbasa na.Every now and then ang reminders, especially nung two weeks na lang ang natitira sa 36 days nay un. Nginig, takot, hilakbot. You can see in their faces various reactions. May iba na halos maluha na kasi malapit na ang PASSko, passko sa Pebrero hehehe…. And some have not started yet reading a single page. Sabi pa ng iba, sleeping pills daw ang nobela nila. Various reactions, pero iisa rin ang patutunguhan, it will be passed on February 20, 2009.
Natuwa ang mga estudyante nung nagbigay si Kalbo ng grace period. Wow. Heaven. Pero ganun pa rin, kahit may palugit, marami pa rin ang hindi nakapagpassko. Reason: time is not enough. Natawa lang si Kalbo, pero as usual, may sermon itong kasama. Frustrated pari yata siya, as he always say that he is a former seminarian, but who cares! Terror siya. TTTTTEEEERRRROOOORRRRR!!!!! Grrrrr….. Ewan lang kung maraming nagmamahal sa kanya dahil sa ugali niyang iyon. Pero sa palagay ko, meron siyang mga taga-sunod…. Kundi 2, baka 8 sila hehehe… at least meron naman. Iyong mga kasama niya sa kainan, sa yosi, sa Antong Falls, sa lakaran, sa kung saan saan mapadpad ng 2 paa. (astig nga siya eh!!!! Siya lang yong instructor na mahilig magsout ng fitted kahit may bilbil siya, kalbo, mahilig magflash ng kanyang ngiti sa lahat ng students at higit sa lahat super pasaway kasi kahit bawal, naka-earrings siya)
Kung meron daw selection ng Three Most Popular Instructors sa university naming mahal, malamang daw na mapabilang siya sa top 5. Asaness!!
Sa kubo nabuo ang samahang SmartBro (commercial, 1.998.00 na lang! may sukli pang dalawang piso kung 2,000.00 pera mo. Pambili ng isang stick ng Philip Morris,kaunting pausok lang, at bitin!)
May at least walo ang mga SmartBros, depende sa regularity na pagpunta sa may kubo, pero walo talaga silang nagtitiis, parang Mass ‘yon na pilit pinapakinggan ang sermon ng pari sa harap ng nakakabinging ingay ng mga parokyanong di mo alam kung nakikinig din sila, o may ibang hidden agenda sa loob ng simbahan. Kakatuwa nga dahil sa isang lugar pa na banal nagaganap ang ibang kalaswaan. At iyon ang isang napakasaklap na katotohanan sa ating buhay ngayon.
Well, balik tayo sa may kubo. Nauna syempre ‘yong mga marino dun, at nakasali lang ako sa kanila kasi dati ko pa silang kasama mga tatlong taon na ang nakakaraan, wala pa ‘yong kubo noon. Masaya silang kasama kasi puro baluktot din ang kanilang pag-iisip, na kung napagtagni-tagni ay isang malaking alon din sa karagatan, kanyang nga lang, minsan tuloy napag-isip-isip ko, magiging saksesful din kaya sila sa kanilang larangan? Hindi ko ‘yon masasagot, sino ba naman ako para magpredict ng kanilang kapalaran. Hindi naman ako si Madam Auring, na bagaman at may asim pa siya, wala naman siyang scientific basis siguro at puro palpak ang hula. Nito lang January noong nagsimulang malagyan ng mga tao ang kubo. Hindi pa kasi naitayo last year ‘yon. Nu’ng meron ng nag-okopa, iyon at iyon na lang ang tambayan ng mga kaluluwang animo’y sabik sa makamundong laman at katatawanan. Opps, don’t get me wrong, makamundong laman would not always be sex, at least for me, pero ‘yong mga bagay bagay na may kinalalaman doon… halos pareho rin, pero, parang hindi eh. Ang gulo ano? But then let us continue with that point of discussion.
Doon ko nakita kung gaano sila kapursige sa kanilang pinapasukang propesyon. Nandiyan din siyempre iyong walang kawawang complaints, woes, unheard of suggestions for the improvement of the teacher and so on and so forth. Kung susumain nga eh siguro mabibingi ang Diyos sa mga ito at kanyang lalagyan ng bulak ang tenga. Pero hindi pa diyan nagtatapos ang adventure sa kubo, kung adventure ngang matatawag.
Isa sa mga nakilala ko si Tres. Medyo astig ang tikas nitong batang ito. Estudyante ko siya sa isang subject. English. Astig talaga. Imagine nasurvive niya ang subject na iyon. Bakit significant si Tres? Hindi naman siya iyong tipong autistic hehehe. Papansin siya. Nonsense nga minsan iyong sinasabi kaso kapag papansinin mo, mayroon malalim na kadahilaan kung bakit ganun ang asal nya. Siyempre hindi ko na sasabihin kung bakit. Basta okey naman siyang makisama at iyon ang importante sa samahan.
May isang foreigner din kaming kasama. Si Manny Pacquiao. Bakit naman Pacman? Simple. Taga- Gensan kasi siya. Siya iyong mahilig sa graphics. Tahimik pero sabi nila mapanganib. Palaging late sa klase, baka kasi nangagaling pa siya sa Gensan kapag pumapasok. Understood na iyon. Si Chipmunks naman ay silent type, tipong saka na lang tatawa kapag merong katawatawa. Kanang kamay ko sa isang class, taga singil ng dapat singilin. Andiyan din si Dugong. Bakit Dugong? Mukha ba siyan whale shark hehehe….hindi naman, basta iyon lang ang tawag sa kanya ng mga classmates niya. Si Kalbo ang rakista sa grupo. Palagi na lang umaabsent kasi palaging may gigs, tsk tsk.. sabi ko magdrop na lang kaya siya, pero nakiusap naman na hindi na siya aabsent, pero same pareho pa rin. Mayrun din kasama na Dimples. Wala akong masabi kundi mahilig sumayaw ito at kung ipakita ang dimples, mawawala ang galit mo sa mundo. Kapartner ni Dimples si Playboy, parehas silang mahilig sumayaw, na minsan sa class ko pinalabas ko sila kasi atat na atat na silang magpraktis sa cheerdance, at iminumuwestra nila iyong mga steps. At si Yosi Man, kasi ang pangalan niya ay tunog yosi hehehe….
Nakakasama ko din minsan sa kubo sina Black Handsome, Japanese Boy, The Presnoer, at iba pang karakter. Hindi sila regular sa kubo kaya medyo hindi ko alam iyong kanilang mga saloobin.
II. The Archangel
Nakilala ko naman siya ngayong summer lang. Sa daan-daan mga nagtuturo sa aming university, pinalad akong mabigyan ng teaching load. Wow! Hanep! At least, worthwhile ang aking bakasyon, at hindi ako maboboryong sa walang kawawaang panunuod ng tv araw at gabi, tumataas tuloy ang bill sa kuryente, at ang pagkain sa araw-araw, haay… perwisyo. Pero okey na magkaroon ako ng chance para magturo, at least enjoy ang bakasyon.
Archangel, yon ang tawag ko sa taong ito na bagamat nakikita ko siya sa bahay kantin na kinakainan ko ng mura at masarap na tanghalian nuong previous semesters, mukha naman siyang elitist, suplado at lahat ng mga ka-nega-han sa buhay. Mukhang matalino, mukhang mayaman, at siyempre may itsura. Mukha daw siyang artista, at bagay na bagay sa kanya ang kanyang kurso, mandaragat.
Estudyante ko siya sa isa sa mga subject ko ngayong summer. Literature. Mukhang boring nga eh dahil talaga naming boring ang subject na iyon, kahit saan mang anggulong tignan. Imagine magpapabasa ka sa mga estudyante mo ng mga antigong istorya ng hindi man lang nila kinagisnan, o hindi man lang nakagisnan ng kanilang mga magulang. 3rd generation na sila, bale ba, tekkie generation na. Kaya hindi ko iniexpect na maiintindihan nila ang aking mga pinagsasabi sa harap. Pero hindi bale, sabi ko sa sarili ko, I will have to try my best to explain the details, the cultures and traditions, mga mores, mga iba’t ibang bagay tungkol sa lahi nilang magiting.
Balik tayo kay sa kanya, pansinin ang loko. Madaling mapansin. Kasi nga may tikas, animo isang artista na pumasok bigla sa klase ko. Well, okey lang sa akin iyon, at least dalawa na kaming may itsura sa loob ng klase (yabang) hehehe… Pero hindi ko alam, dahil sa presensiya niyang medyo high profile, magiging friend ko siya.
Lahat na yata ng detalye sa buhay naming ay alam naming sa isa’t isa. Hindi pala siya madamot sa kanyang mga ideya, kumbaga, parang may force na naglapit sa aming dalawa. May the force be with us. Star trek yata iyon. Naging open kami. Sa loob ng classroom ay student ko siya, sa labas ay ako ang kuya niya. Not bad. I need a small brother. Actually pareho kaming bunso kaya siguro magaan ang loob ko sa kanya, at pareho kami ng taste sa music. Mga mellow at sentimental songs. Too bad for toughies yata, pero iyon ang aming personality. Kaya wala ng kokontra.
Ang mang-iwan ay pangit.
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