Inner Demons

Heavens wept. It was twilight and the sick light from the sun turned shadows on the wall. It's unhealthy to speak to them, the shadows. Sarah Maclachlan told you a while ago that:

Time here,
all but means nothing,
just shadows that move across the wall
They keep me company,
but they don't ask of me they don't say nothing at all.

Outside, the twigs trembled as the wind made love to them. Their groans of pain was felt by you even if the windows were shut. What would be their complaints if it was snow to penetrate their pores? What would you feel when you're away from the confines of you prison?

You remembered Naomi. Yeah, the supermodel...She guested on Oprah's last episodes and you wondered if she's a liar, a control freak or a victim of childhood fears? But she told the viewers that no one could be blamed with her outbursts... Could you throw a phone to your assistant too? Could you kick a police man, punch a TV crew if you are a SUPER-SOMEONE?

Then, anger management was mentioned. Is it really that scientific when we consider the shrinks' way of dealing our demons? Or is this simply a way of anesthetizing human faults and failures? You don't know. All you understand is the fear in you that you will become what your lineage promised - insanity.

You see, you are now being paranoid even with the sunset and the rain. There are figurative threats a raindrop could make inside your brain. Your heart would beat faster when a caterwaul is heard not realizing that the cold could send cats to their basic need to mate. You would tremble when you hear Edgar, your neighbor, who would yell at his daughter when the pail inside their makeshift restroom is unfilled with water from the nearby poso. You then wonder if the girl is being molested by him since the mother ran away three months ago...

Like Naomi, you must do something about the things churning inside you. If not, this would come like raging phones flying to the faces of your companions, or the "red" thing she saw during such experiences... What is the red thing anyway? Tint of blood surging? Anger materialized into color? Or the devil himself?

The devil.... The devil!

You need to go out and shout that the world is on the edge of being destroyed... That Armageddon is here! The placard you prepared is now ready for the persons on the streets to see. In big red letters, you wrote:

REPENT! REPENT! THE END IS NEAR!

(art: northbankfred.com)

Like Parasites, We Feed

Let's face it. We always have intentions. We do some things because deep in us, we want to get out something from it. We read for some reasons. We eat because we need to have nourishment. We go to school to learn, or some reasons otherwise... We roam the streets to hunt or be the prey...

We use social networking sites because we have our intentions. We like to link or communicate to others. We also like to hunt potential victims or be the sacrificial lambs for others so for them to learn that evil exists even in the virtual world.

Was it some months ago when it was reported on national TV that a girl was being blackmailed? Her nude photo was published on the web by her irate boyfriend. There were some who got raped. There were untold stories. And, there are stories to be told...

The accidental billionaire, the facebook creator, designed his social networking site to know the status of the girls in his campus so that he would know whom to be with for future copulation. The story is now immortalized into film with the so-called artistic license being used by the filmmakers. But you think that those who are into these sites don't give a fig on its history. They just feed on narcissism and lick their insecurities to the point that freedom of expression would sometimes cut across the norms.

You like to think. For you, it's like breathing. Sometimes, you like to think out loud and you like your thoughts to be translated into words. Others would accuse you of being a show-off. But whom are you showing-off? Inside your place are boxes of notebooks with your thoughts for two and a half decades... Nobody is reading them...

But there are things that you need to write. It's like an itch that you need to scratch. But your intention is like that of others. You need to feed. Thinking aloud could be your food. Writing could be the nectar that would nourish you for you to be able to fly. Others could have their purpose of making you as their hapless victim but it would be OK. Life is like that.

In the end, we would all be cadavers others would dress-up for our funerals. We will then be remembered, then become a distant memory...

Now don't hang on
Nothin' lasts forever but the earth and sky
It slips away
And all your money won't another minute buy

Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind
- Kansas

(art: GaneDev.net)

Crypt dweller

On top of the tombs, the flowers wilted and the candles melted. The living who paid their one year guilt of forgetting, left the dead for the earth...Life has to go on for them. So with the dead, death has to go on - some would be cherished and others would be just fertilizers to the dandelions...er, in these parts of the world, lemongrass.

Why is it that the epitaphs here don't tell stories? You see, you had an activity with your boss long before when he told you to write your own. But would that tablet synthesize one's existence? Or simply a poetic justice of his mishaps and failures?

"Here lies a man who lived a life full of fun - booze, sex and drugs. He is well-loved by his friends who think of him as THE GUY." This would raise eyebrows and could make grimaces out from the faces of the conservative flock.

"Here are the remains of a person who devoted his time, treasures and talents for the well-being of others..." This could be superficial too. It might create a stir to others who would pass as crabs in the vicinity.

You then think of such things: we are so busy acquiring things and performing activities that could be considered as funny and rubbish once we imprint them on our epitaphs. You would then worry about your sanity for you oftentimes envy those who "live their lives well". But then, what is "living well"? Whose definition must be followed?

Still, the dead must not worry about the status of the words on their tombs. Who would care about the grammar, the sense and the impact of the words? Who would care when the man inside the crypt is rotting with the maggots infesting his skin (dabbed with gallons of soap and moisturizers before) and flesh?

You could just be with those who celebrate life on top of the faithful departed 's tombs during All Souls' Day and tell others to cut the crap when they'd throw comments about the drinking binges which could sometimes lead to stabbing incidents at the cemetery. They are always equipped with reasons like: It's the only time we could spend with our loved ones! Forgetting that it's their own selfish intentions they're bloating.

Life is filled with mysteries...

I shall not see the shadows,
I shall not feel the rain;
I shall not hear the nightingale
Sing on, as if in pain:
And dreaming through the twilight
That doth not rise nor set
Haply I may remember,
And haply may forget...

-(Christina Rossetti - Song)

Castles in the Air

It's funny how we act on situations where power is involved. We like to be up there so that we would belong to a social class where parties, gatherings and fake smiles are projected.

We like to be elected into office for we fancy the title Honorable... Yet, could we indeed tag honor to our names when we do things against the word itself? Who would honor us, the people whom we bought for around eighty pesos or a bar of soap? Could we demand being honored?

You won't linger on a lot of questions. Your teacher in English (who was knighted in England for his prose and poetry) told you to avoid a lot of questions in your copy since it would confuse a reader. But, you could not help yourself but to ask such questions for you might have a headache if you'll contain them all inside your mind...

But then again, you like these characters in your ecosystem. For whom would you perform some sort of a dichotomy if they're not around? You knew long before how they are disgusted with you. They would even curse your existence, and would be happy when some sort of a malady would strike you...

But you like to study their kind too. Mark Gordon could not have the dough without those criminals. Stephen King could not create characters that would give Kathy Bates (Misery), Jack Nicholson(The Shining) and Morgan Freeman (The Shawshank Redemption) critical acclaim for acting... Freud, Jung and other scientist of the mind could have been unheard of.

You are a demon too. You are guilty of a lot of things but you try to be aware of what are these so that you could co-exist. That could be different from plotting things that would lift you to a higher social strata where there are lots of people who struggle to say things which they don't even understand!

Was this the set of thoughts by Thoreau when he decided to stay in Walden Pond? Was that some kind of an escape from a society that was slowly eating his sanity? Was the decision a sort of defeat for him that he could not do anything to correct his observed societal ills? Are there cases of paranoia and messianic thoughts inside you due to such thoughts?

Ah, more questions... Your professor is turning in his grave right now...

Still, like those self-professed honorary persons, you have the right to think what you think. You have the right to believe what to believe and you could choose to be mad if your capacities to hold on to your sanity won't be enough when the voices you hear inside your head would be unbearable...

Anyway, everything would be excusable when people tag you INSANE.

If you have built castles in the air
Your work need not be lost; that is where they should be.
Now, put the foundations under them...

However mean your life is, meet it and live it;
Do not shun it and call it hard names...
- Henry David Thoreau (Walden)

(Photo: F.Cos)

(Postlude: I was struck with the question: What thoughts would I think when I live here? It was so quiet and " away". The place was so serene I was afraid to listen to stillness... But when I saw the eyes of a local, I could sense his contentment... At a distance my students were taking their shots for their photojournalism session...)

Towards the Abyss

There are times when you have to confront the inner you: your fears, anxieties and even the pain that persists inside your heart. This is the time when you have to extract yourself from the noise of the people around and consider the inner silence...

These turmoils are part of your existence, you knew this fact long before. But why is it that there are persons who could not take such darkness that they succumb to the eternal abyss of death? They would curtail the future blossoms of hope by resorting to the embrace of the rope on their necks, the searing whispers of the sharp razors on their wrists or the toxic promises of those pills...

We are all insane. This sentence alarmed you when you came over a book from an academic. According to him, our only difference from those mumblers is our ability to control our individual sanity... But when would be the yielding point of such control? What is the breaking point of our iron will so not to scream and shout obscenities to the man on the moon?

Exhale! That's what that soul diva told you via her songs. These emotions bottling up inside could be released by looking at the horizon. The vastness and immeasurable space must overwhelm you. The tight feeling inside your chest is but fleeting...There are arms around you, hold them...There are shoulders at reach, cry on them...There are people who love you, love them back...

Still, the process of grieving and hurting must be savored for you could not proceed to the next level without that stage. Emptying yourself is not possible if denial is there...this could lead to the aforementioned abysmal darkness of surrender...

Is there a room for existential angst these days? It seems that all moments are being distracted by electronic glitches and technological claws. We could not pause for a moment without our cellphones' ring tone cajoling us to read texts. We could not concentrate on our R&R since we need to plant something on the virtual farm. We don't need to communicate with real persons in the Internet cafe for we have virtual friends... We could also malfunction when there is a brownout... We feel sad, irritated and forget about the sky, the stars and even the poems written by Rossetti...

Yes, we need to slow down. We must not fail to examine ourselves for we might not know what level of insanity are we into these time...

"Because I could not stop for death
He kindly stopped for me
The carriage held but just ourselves
And immortality..."
- Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

(photo: f.cos)

She-Wolf, He-Wolf, You-Wolf, We're Wolves

She's a sheep in wolf's clothing. You heard him whisper as his younger brother told him that his former girlfriend is flirting with him. The younger brother, more good-looking than the older one, kept his quiet. Probably, he likes the wolf a lot and the older one is still in love with the canine...

Wolves fascinate me. I could remember how I got fascinated with werewolves to the point that I viewed New Moon (to the disgust of my friend Helga) for the wolves in the flick are more graceful than the those from the old movies. And who would say that Wolverine is cold soup especially with Hugh Jackman playing the role?

I find sheep boring. They bleat too! They would live to be slaughtered later for their meat and fur. I remembered how Clarice Sterling divulged her nightmares to Hannibal Lecter and how she wanted to save even one sheep when they were brought to the slaughter area... so goes the genius of Thomas Harris via Silence of the Lambs...

I also remembered some of the world-class designers being booed and drenched with red paint during runway shows with their fur collection. There was also an ad campaign of those supermodels stripped to their baby skin with the caption : I'd rather go naked than wear fur. Then, the vegetarian trend surged and animal rights activists arrived in the scene telling us to stop patronizing meat. (Then Lady Gaga tipped the equilibrium again when she wore meat-like dress in the recent MTV awards, it made me have a sick smile.)

But going back to those wolves wearing sheep's fur... We could point some persons right? But we must also realize that in our closets, we could find sheep's clothing that we sometimes wear especially when the wolf in us would try to come out of the surface... The times when we put up a face even if we did something hideous like seducing a child to have sex in exchange for a mobile phone (17 is still a child). When go to cities an cheat on our wives and dismiss the one-night-stand as a normal thing "for the boys". when we get too drunk and blurt out painful words then have the liquor as the excuse of being tactless...

And we dislike facing such realities. We don't want to talk about similar topics. We dislike to have trysts in the dark to confront realities but we like secret trysts that would reveal the wolf's basic instinct in us - to devour, to kill, to mate, to feel powerful... We'd rather wear sheep's clothing than exposing the fatal fangs in our mouths.

But we really need some kind of an anchorage. That self-assessing person in us who would tell us when not to be a wolf who will devour the peace of others and the cosmos. We need the shepherd in us to use the staff in driving away the wolf; in beating the sheep who try to get astray and to tell us to keep quite when we consistently give our annoying bleats when we complain a lot.

Yet, the same with what I felt during the 80's when it was first released, Michael Jackson's "Thriller" still gives me that peculiar orgasmic feeling when he will be transformed into a wolf... and a certain calm occurs in the end part of the song when someone would narrate:

...for no mortal could resist, the EVIL of the Thriller..."

then,

MWA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!


(art: kitchaiz.blogspot.com)

Anyone for Maria Callas?

It was chilling... When Agent Hotchner asked the Ripper-copycat why kill? He said in a very calm voice: It seems a normal thing to do... it's like eating.

Your face could twist in dismay on such insanity yet such evil exists in our midst. You then remembered that scene in Hostel 2 which was presented by Quentin Tarantino where a lunatic was offered an "unfinished" victim yet he declined for he was able to consume just one leg of that victim who was screaming and squirming while strapped on a table. He was having an enjoying meal complete with silver cutlery and napkins while Maria Callas sang her arias on the background.

You are not going to linger on the criminal mind again since your friends would always get revolted when you do so. What you'd like to ponder on is this: Is there a relationship with insanity and classical music? You see, you would always have that urge to bang your head and cover your ears when the likes of Sarah Brightman and Pavarotti would start with their, excuse us cultured people, caterwauling.

It is always mentioned in urban legends that dogs could sense something at night, that's the reason why they give that ear-splitting and goosebump-stimulating yowls. That's a similar feeling that would grip you when something from La Traviata would be delivered from any source.

You were so polite when your cousin Mario exposed you to the world of classical theater. You were even showing an expression of interest when he told you how those dignitaries and famous people dress up for things like Le nozze di Figaro with music from Mozart. Then, he played Maria Callas via Beethoven's Fidelio. You literally cried and your cousin gesticulated: How intelligent are you my cousin, really! You were able to internalize her pathos!

You remembered how desperately you wanted to flee. He failed to realize you cried because it was so intense in your head you wanted to smash something on the wall!! It was a feeling so intense you could not point something to it - anger? Your anguish would be triggered by an aria? You still don't know.

Until now, you would shy away from such genre and would keep quiet when some of your friends who are trained classically (since it is a requirement when you come from a rich family) would volunteer to deliver a cantata of sorts in front of you and your friends as the audience. You would then try to find something solid to hold and try to think about Brazil and half-naked beachcombers.

When Tom Hanks did his soliloquy in "Philadelphia", the taint of the background on the flick turned red and a sound track filled with classical notes and vocals, you turned red and insane. It was too much for you that you could not give a sensible comment when he grabbed an Oscar for Best Actor for that. Probably, the judges turned insane also? Just a thought...

For now, you have Brightman's album dubbed "Classics". It was a gift from, of course, your cousin Mario. But you fear to play that album although your friends say Sarah Brightman has an ethereal voice.

Angelic or demonic, you still have to find out the outcome when someone would grab the mic and air an aria next time when you will be with Batman's friends from the Arkham Asylum.

(photo: patriciasilva.wordpress.com)

That Green-Eyed Monster

You looked hungry. The people around seemed to be nourished and sated. Yet, your stomach was complaining and your soul needed something to quench a certain thirst. Was it because of the betrayal a loved one has done? Or was it something else?

A flash of memory fleetingly visited your conscious mind: Mel Gibson's "The Passion of the Christ". When Jim Caviezel mimicked Jesus in saying: I thirst! Also, that androgynous character of evil carrying a baby on his/her arms while the pain escalated on Jesus...

But you digressed. You needed to devour something. A certain longing was created you wondered if you were still capable of existential angst. You knew that this was caused by something but you were not able to point it out. This might be stress-related but you were able to immerse yourself in more strenuous activities before...

Then it dawned on you when you realized that you were denying on the issue of your loneliness. You feared that you would be left behind by the person you were investing a lot of time, treasure and talent. She's leaving you! She found someone who could be considered as better than you.

You got afraid since you have a history of violence. You were sent to a shrink when you mother got alarmed when she saw your room filled with decapitated parts of dolls you stole from your sisters and your neighbors.You liked the idea of sawing them to pieces using that small yet effective iron saw.

Now, you need to cry some without the presence of others. You must create a facade of strength but you must transfer this pain to the culprit or her subject of affection. The guy should be punished for him to realize he is bumping into something more powerful than him. After all the clothes, phones, food, perfume and money you gifted her, another would benefit her love and affection?

Someone must pay.

Machismo: Exaggerated pride in masculinity, perceived as power, often coupled with a minimal sense of responsibility and disregard of consequences. Caudillos (military dictators), prominent in the history of Latin America, have typified machismo with their bold and authoritarian approach to government and their willingness to employ violence to achieve their ends. -Britannica.com

Fashion Victims

People are diverse. There are some who could directly sense your intentions due to their sharp social analysis and behavioral studies and there are some who would just dismiss things. Most would focus on the things which they could benefit. Others will also grab opportunities to have a sense of being powerful. Freud told us about some basic instincts which motivate us : sex and power, sex and recognition, sex and almost everything which will make us have that sense of being ABOVE... some psychologists term that as the Messianic Complex.

Justine could be considered as a keen observer. He positioned himself on the uppermost part of the gymnasium where a party is being held. This was a sort of a convergence of old friends and new ones. People come home during fiestas and things like that. They would always look forward in coming home for different purposes.

Sheila prepared alright. She bought 5 pairs of dresses for the different parties she wanted to attend. The people from her town must see her bejeweled so that they could see how different she is now from before. She wanted her relatives to feel envy...She wanted to be the main attraction of the event once she would enter the gates of the party place.

Winston wanted a grand welcome too. He borrowed money from his friends in Manila so that he could have a binge with his friends. He wanted to be the center of attention. His friends who are only fishermen and farmers would really admire him for his being "blues" (their own moniker) and generous.

Justine watched them all. Some had big bellies wearing shorts and slippers while they gyrate awkwardly on the dance floor. Others were overdressed, especially the girls. Indeed, extreme things could happen - others were there as if attending a ball and others were like beach combers. Some were also keeling as if they were to stumble due to alcohol intoxication.

He then smiled as he realized their actions were futile. Only the fashion victims were there. There was no audience ogling at them. The bleachers were empty since the party was for a fee. Php 50 could buy the common people the food they need.

It was when the person in authority decided to open the place when the bodies entered the place en masse. Funny thing happened when the fashion victims were being pushed around by youngsters with black shirt paired with tight jeans and uneven haircuts. Justine smiled as he saw those who came from abroad who tried to project an air of being different merging to the crowd as one. "Even with silk, snakes would really reveal their real skin when they would be mixed in a snake den" he whispered...

He was smirking when he went out for air. Other persons who got weary with the display of PROJECTION went out with him. Outside, he saw the real people. Some were there with their families laughing at the antics presented by the "perya" men and women. There were some who hail from far places with their cousins eating those reddish cotton candy. They were dressed normally, like any other human being...

"These are my people," Justine sighed as he saw a boy screaming with happiness when he hit a plastic monkey with his pellet gun.

Inside the gymnasium cum party place, the snakes slithered with their clothes bought in the same store named PRETENSE.

(art:strangedolls.net)

Holy

While the waves lapped on the beach, she contemplated on suicide. But what would be the point of ending her life and not airing her side? And is it worth it? Is he worth it?

All her life, she thought that serving God is the most important thing. She grew up with a devout family. While walking her way to school she would always recite the rosary. She garnered lots of praise for being a good and religious girl. Other mothers envied her mother for having an obedient child like her.

She avoided relationships in high school. Her mother told her that boys are all the same - devilish. They are only interested in sex, according to her. She focused her attention on the sacraments and catechism. She studied the letters of St. Paul and she would always quote the Psalms when she would do her recitations at schools. He would always go to the convent to serve... she would volunteer cleaning the receiving area and the kitchen. She would even go to the wet market for food.

It was when Fr. Tom arrived as the new parish priest when everything changed. She felt a certain thrill when she saw him in the convent with only his boxer shorts. A pang of longing was awakened. Her interest to be at the convent intensified.

Fr. Tom was young. Thirtysomething... Every time her college subjects would be up, she would then rush to the convent to prepare the priest's food. She even volunteered to wash the priest's clothes and...boxer shorts.

It was when the priest asked her inside his room for a massage when she felt her weakness. She could not control herself from trembling when she touched the young priest's skin with the intoxicating scent of chamomile.

"Are you cold, Therese?" Fr. Tom asked in a husky voice.
"Yes," she answered weakly. The priest stood and turned the air-conditioning system to Low Cool. But it was not the temperature, it was something inside her...a monster was awakened near her belly. The hot rush of something went straight to her face she got flushed cheeks...
*****
Their copulation became their habit. It was bliss for her and judging with the groans of the priest, she could understand that it was also blissful for him...

But now with the waves in front of her, she is wondering what to do next. What would be her parents' reaction when they'd know that she is pregnant with a priest's child? Would they curse her? What about the parishioners who started talking behind her back?

She clutches on the potion the "hilot" gave her and started picturing the baby inside convulsing with pain as the toxins attack the underdeveloped organs... She whispers in prayer:

Hail Mary full of grace, blessed are you amongst women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb...

(art:grandwallpapers.com)

Hack and Stab

Boy: You like violence...
You: No. I'm interested what propels people to become violent.
Boy: Have you watched snuff films?
You: The closest ones are those Hostel movies. I was able to watch the first and the sequel. I was bothered when I saw that woman who was hanged on top of a bathtub and another one came, slitted the throat of the hanged one and bathed on the blood. What insanity has arrested such minds?
Boy: You got aroused...
You: No, I got revolted!
Boy: What would you do with such knowledge on human behavior?
You: I could tell my friends to guard their kids on becoming monsters due to exposure to violence and to be there in suggesting on what things to deal with...
Boy: You were exposed to Peter Straub's "Julia"?
You: Yes. It's one of my favorite books. I read it when I was still in college. I could not forget that scene when Julia stabbed her doll continuously. She eventually started killing little animals...
Boy: Is this a real-life issue? It seems you're so engrossed with it...
You: There are no records about serial killers of sorts... but violence at home existed long before. There are husbands who see their wives as their properties and some parents are making their children as objects. Violence is universal...
Boy: What do you think is the root?
You: Of violence? I think it's anger rooted from power and selfishness. When people would only consider themselves devoid of empathy... Basically, violence stems from evil.
Boy: Are we capable of being violent?
You: Of course. That's why we have to guard ourselves from immersing to too much anger caused by emotional hang-ups and setbacks.
Boy: So, you'd continue exposing yourself from such...evil? What if you'd see it as a norm?
You: That's the reason films and TV shows are being reviewed by the authorities to be classified if they are for General Patronage, Parental Guidance, Restricted or X...
Boy: So onward violence?
You: No, Stop Violence! We have to constantly monitor the micro and macro activities of our society since we are part of it... then do something about them for the common good.

(photo: wildaboutmovies.com)

Cafe World

It is located at the heart of the town and it's open 24/7. The good thing about the cafe is it has cubicles for private chatting and surfing. One don't have to worry if someone is hovering at his back. Also, one could upload pictures, videos and whatnot of his choice without the screening eyes of the majority.

Carla found Jerson here. She accidentally bumped him when she went out of the cubicle one night as she did her social networking. He smiled and that was the start of it all. He gave her his number and they started communicating. One time, he asked her through text that they would meet at the luneta and she obliged. That night, they had unprotected sex.

She confided this to her friend Alexi and she told Carla about "mental" stuff. She said that these things are the downside of technology and the negative side of parental consent. She even divulged to her scientific studies on how this cafes have become dens of zombie-like creatures. According to Alexi, it has been found out by social scientists that these areas are dangerous for kids. The study on human behavior and communication revealed that people inside these areas converge but don't communicate with each other. They are there but "not" there actually. They have these virtual friends but the real people around them are insignificant.

She dismissed Alexi's discussion. She was just another geek who could not welcome the thrills of being young. Carla shivered in excitement as she remembered the "eye ball" she will have with Bryan. He was cute on his posted pictures and would probably be YUMMY too.

Her teacher who is also connected to the world of social networking told them to behave on their sites since they are linked to the worldwide web but heck, she must be natural. who would tell her what to do and what not to do? She could say what she wants and post what she'd like.

Her night with Johnlie was good. He was true with his "describe yourself" liner: I'm hot and lean...

(photo:commons.wikimedia.org)

Broke

She was slouching on the corner of the classroom indifferent to the movements of the students around her. There were some who wiggled around the room like worms. Some were noisily talking about the season finale of Glee. But she could not be in their world. She is fixated on her financial problems. It was really bothering her - the status of her finances since debts are pushing her inside the cavernous threat of being unstable... both in terms of credibility and even emotionally.

She could not concentrate on her teaching. How could she facilitate learning when in fact she was looking for a way out with the seeming intricate web of debts? She tried to sell ice candy to the students but they are now opting for those fruit shakes outside. Her longganisa was not tasty according to her co-teacher...

The banks could not allow her to restructure her loans. She's in deep shit, indeed...

She then remembered the news on TV when that man jumped out of the building's 7th floor. Would that end her problems? But what about her children? Her husband would look for another wife for sure when she would be gone. The husband even had a mistress even with her eyes still open...

"Mrs. Reyes?" the Principal's voice jolted her out of her reverie. "Please come to my office after your class."

"Yes Madam," she answered with a slight trembling on her voice.

As she walked the pebbled pathway towards the Principal's office, she heard a slight tinkling on the ground. She did not see the one peso coin first for she got distracted with the peeling part of her shoe... leatherette... She must have joined her companions when they went to the ukay-ukay for a good pair of secondhand shoes...

The principal was outside her office, arms akimbo. Her heart started to pound like mad.

Before she made a step towards the Principal's office, she bent and picked up the coin and absently placed it on her pocket.

(photo:printliberation.com)

Roasted

It was scorching, the sun. He has to endure walking under it for an hour or so. The 6-km distance of the school from their house could be that hot... He had to or else, he would spend about 20 pesos for tricycle fare. His mother could afford only 5 pesos per day. That would be for his lunch... 2 pieces of bread and an ice water.

He would envy Mark. He is his neighbor who was bought with a motorbike recently. Mark has a sister and they would be riding together. He could not ask Mark to let him ride because the sister must be prioritized...

During the times when there is rain, he would cry a bit since the downpour hides his tears. They don't have an umbrella at their house and the owners would scold him if he would cut banana leaves for protection.

Jolito cajoled him to stop schooling and join them in the "bangka". The owner of the "liba-liba" is recruiting young boys to become helpers. But his teacher told him not to do it since, according to him, it is an illegal trade. But there were times when he would think otherwise. Especially when hunger would arrest him like mad at lunch time...

One time, his teacher in Chemistry scolded him for dozing off. He had this funny feeling at one in the afternoon, a feeling as if he would pass out. He could not understand how those atomic numbers are taken out from the periodic table since his head would feel like splitting. But he would feign an expression of interest to avoid more embarrassments.

Now, it's so hot. The road showed a mirage of being wet due to the heatwaves. His head seems to sizzle with the perspiration on his scalp. He could probably use his textbook to cover the heat...

Chester fell on the ground as Mark sped by with his motorbike. A classmate rushed to where he was and called out his name.

He tried to open his eyes and he saw a platter of roasted chicken instead of Kim...

"Now, I could not be hungry..." he passed out when the roasted chicken lifted him on its arms towards the nearest house.

Dusk

It's empty. The catacomb was as quiet as death... The name on the epitaph was dreamlike... Friedrich C. Reyes... "

"HERE LIES A MAN WHO THOUGHT THAT LOVE COULD HEAL ALL PAIN"

He was wrong, you thought. He died when some holdup guy stabbed him to death when he refused to give the laptop he was carrying. The killer is still at large.

You shed some tears. You were close with Rich (that's what you called him). You still remembered how he told you his dreams. He wanted to be known as the best sound engineer here in Asia. He had some music clips emailed to you and you really thought that they were good. You also remembered how he hugged you when you told him how wonderful his compositions were...

Ah, such a waste of life... You could not imagine the pain his parents has gone through with his demise. You, as a friend had even suffered a great sense of loss... how much more with them?

"I brought you something Rich..." you whispered as you placed TRYK, his favorite comic book. You said a little prayer and turned your back from his tomb...

Your foot steps echoed as the afternoon turned to dusk. You arrived at the gate and that was the time when you saw him.

"You're Liza?" he asked with a sad expression. After your nod he continued, "How are you related to Friedrich?"

"He's...was... a close friend..." you choked.

"I"m sorry," he said and handed you something. He left hurriedly as you opened the envelope. There was key inside and the name ROSE PENSION HOUSE was etched on the key's side. You tried to call the man but he vanished...

You arrived at the pension house with Kim. You asked him to accompany you. The front desk personnel said the name of the person who is registered to the room was Marvin Tan. You suddenly knew it was a fake identity...

The door opened and on top of the bed was Friedrich's laptop.

You moved closer and saw a note posted on it: GHOST!

Was the killer haunted by Rich's ghost? Or there was something else... You cried as you looked at the object of your friend's death.

(photo:jeremylent.wordpress.com)

Sad Truths

He came to your office all thin and a bit dirty. His shirt was yellowed due to overuse... He then divulged his secrets to you and you were jolted out of your own wonderland and returned to the real world. You looked at his eyes and you saw a certain sadness in there...

After that he started to have fleeting visits at your office and eventually he became the brother you did not have...

How many kids who are like him? How many young persons out there who are facing their own sufferings? Why should it be like that?

Adults could indeed be children in the real sense. They could not act the way it's supposed to be. Parents could sometimes fail due to immaturity. They would only consider themselves not realizing that having children would entail service... You are guilty also of some of this "adult-child" stuff yet you won't fail to self-talk, to process and act on things which need to be acted upon...

You could not grasp the magnitude of those charitable institutions especially those from the local TV networks which would herald their deeds of donating bags and notebooks to those kids. Yet, these things are all just passing. The real battle is how could they survive in the real world where they are not trained how to deal with. When we give five pesos to that street child, would that solve something? Yeah it could probably feed him with bread worth the dole out but after that... what?

That's the broadness of our problems. We could not blame the parents who gave birth to these kids like litters for they might be victims of their own consequences... But then again, adults are supposed to act like they KNOW HOW to deal with life.

How do we build their future? Most of them are on the streets at night while most of us gamble or view those sloppy telenovelas . We cry over Agua's misfortunes not realizing our own kids are having their own. They are being bullied, abused and pressured to drink, smoke and have sex. Yet we contain ourselves to our own worlds and cry over fiction.

Yeah, you could be weary by just thinking such thoughts for you could only help one or two kids since adopting them all would be impossible and would categorize you to those who visit orphanages and cry over the misfortune of others... which won't be enough.

Rage Coming Out

Eric Draven. Yeah, you sometimes miss him. You remembered how he loved his girl (Shelly) and on the night of their wedding, those guys came and curtailed his life of bliss and love. They killed his beautiful lady and pushed him to the ground till he died... So they thought.

It was Hallow's Eve and by the power of the crow, he went back to life to give revenge...

Francis was smiling as he kept his graphic novel by James O'Barr. He placed this one together with Neil Gaiman's Sandman series. Oh he loves Death and Dream... His expression suddenly changed when he remembered it was time to go to school.

He would hate it when he will be around James and his friends again. They would bully him and call him names like geek and gay. Was it his fault to prefer books from cigarettes? And why would they call him gay where in fact he's into girls? He has a crush on Sheila...

At school, he wanted to divulge his ordeal to his teacher but she's busy texting and going out of the classroom as if she's into something. His adviser is a bitch and his principal is always stooped on his laptop doing some reports probably. They don't have time for him.

He would just have to find a quiet area of the school. The back yards probably is safe for there are thick shrubs in there. He could cry in there and wonder why his classmates are so mean to him. Is he really a geek? Is it because of his thick eyeglasses? The way he dress up? Is he really gay? What is it?When he would fantasize sucking cocks? But he finds it repulsive!

He wished that his father is home. He could not picture out where Qatar is but he would always send a silent prayer for him to come home... Also, he wished that his mother would not allow Tito Fred to come to the house often. She would always tell him that Tito Fred is having problems and she is his only friend. But is it proper for them to talk about Tito Fred's problems inside his parents' room?

Ah... better immerse himself with the wonderful world of comics. David Hontiveros, his favorite Filipino comic book writer had once a character called a Damphyr... it's a half-breed of a vampire and a human...

"Oh, here's the gay geeek!" James' voice boomed in his ear as he came inside the thicket at the back part of the school. Francis jerked out of his reveries. "Hold him." James commanded three of his coven and their tight grip paralyzed him.

"You like cocks, don't you?" James' smirk was that of a deranged man. He unzipped his fly and exposed his pinkish dick. "Here! Eat this!"

Francis squirmed and closed his eyes as he felt the hot urine splashing on his face. He slumped on the ground after the thugs went away quickly. He saw his comic books on the ground - Eric Draven's face was smudged with yellowish urine.

"NOOOOOOO!" Francis screamed as he snatched a dead twig from the branch of a tree. It had sharp edges on top and he ran towards their classroom where the teacher was fixing their laboratory apparatus for Chemistry.

He found James on the back part of the room and with all force Francis stabbed him with the twig on the throat! "Not anymore!" He shouted and impaled the twig again on the face this time.

Blood spurted to his eyeglasses and Francis saw nothing but red.

Parental Guidance

For a straight day sans brownout, Johnlie camped inside his room doing a marathon on the SAW movies on DVD. His eyes were unblinking as he witnessed those decapitated bodies being presented on screen. He even had a hard-on when he saw that woman's breasts being ripped apart. All the blood and fragments of flesh spurting around the scene excited him...

The first and original is the one he really liked. With the twists and turns of the plot, his intellect was tested. His analysis on who the killer might be intensified and had a sort of orgasm at the end when he himself was deceived. It was that dead man at the center of that dingy rest room! He liked the feeling when the main character used a saw in cutting his leg just to help his family... But then again, everything was futile...

The sequel bothered him first. With all those blood and flesh torn made his throat dry. His mother went inside his room with all the screaming from the monitor and nonchalantly asked what he was viewing. "SAW," Johnlie said and his mother nodded... as if the violence and gore onscreen is alright for a fourteen-year-old guy to witness. His father entered his room and asked for some hair gel. He glanced at the screen in time for Mathew's head being smashed by a giant sledgehammer. His father winced a bit but continued to apply gel on his thinning hair. He went out and forgot everything inside his son's room. He failed to comment on the pictures posted on Johnlie's wall with paintings of body parts and photos of animals being slaughtered. The father started to imagine the body of Janice, his teenage mistress...

Johnlie clicked the remote control into freeze. He wanted to see the pain on the face of that girl with her head drilled to the skull. His heat beats intensified as he fumbled for his engorged penis...

The lights flicked on as Johnlie switched off the DVD player. He kept the case of the films with a conspicuous mark on them: Restricted.


(Photo:houshang.wordpress.com)

The Trouble with Lonely

Loneliness kills. If not, it would make one do things that could be considered as against the norms...

There was this guy in Arizona who would abduct children and hide them inside a basement. He would then look a them through a camera and record the movements of the kids. Once he would be bored by them, he will eliminate the subjects and dump them in the forest.

A woman who abhors to be left behind lured lovers and kept them. Once she could sense that the lover is drifting off from her, she will then kill him and place him inside the freezer in her garage. Once she will feel loneliness, she would open one freezer and get a cadaver and place it on her bed. She would embrace the dead until dawn and return it back to the freezer for future companionship...

Good thing we are not culturally designed like those aforementioned subjects. Filipinos are hard... but there are things that we also do in expressing our loneliness.

Sandra want someone to cling on. All her life, she experience being left alone. Her parents separated and left her at the care of her grandparents. She started feeling a sense of belonging when David got interested in her. They had sex and she realized that there's a greater need inside her to be filled. David is not enough. She must feel that someone needs her through Joshua, Kirk, Christian and even her teacher in Physics, Aldrich. She would feel a certain "wholeness" when she is having intercourse with the guys...

Reggie don't want to be alone. He could remember all the family conflicts he is into once he is by himself. He would then seek his friends who would drink their hurts away. When in the land of alcohol, he would feel different, even numbed with the emotional pain. He then develop the urge to drink every time he could sense that his inner self would like to confront his realities.

Marvin gambles. Whenever the reality that he is not as competent as the rest and not as endowed with wealth as the others, his insecurities escalate. That's the reason why he would try to escape from such thoughts and immerse himself in the intricate world of mendicancy. Here, he could also prove his worth... he needs to win! But after the gambling, he would then realize that another set of realities would pile up and that he needs to gamble more...

Yeah, we seldom kill others. But there are figurative killings with do with our loneliness. We end relationships, we destroy friendships, we sometimes focus more on our needs and not minding that there are others and we must co-exist.

Charity begins with oneself, we rationalize. It's true but when too many reasons are based on the self, that could be selfishness.

(Art: memecat.com)

Darkness Fell

Some asked you why long for trysts in the dark? Actually, you don't. You just have to. People around you seem to conceal the harsh realities. There are some who would rather talk about rainbows and flowers. They're beautiful alright. But what about the harsh realities we often conceal? What about the feelings we stifle so to deny the pain and what about those whose stories need to be told for us to do something? You see, a stand would be a good starting point towards a step, even a simple one...

When a weeping mother would say "I'm OK" even if she is nursing bruises due to domestic violence, we consider this as none of our business. It's a private thing, we like to assure ourselves with such reason. When we see a little child on the street so dirty and so hungry, we like diverting our eyes to the flowers. When we see our neighbor's kids smoking and flirting around with boys at midnight, we put more pillows near our ears and blame technology for having kids like these around.

Yeah, we don't have the time for these thoughts. We are so busy with our lives and we don't like to muddle with things which could not make us rich. We leave the church activities to the "poor" and bloat our egos with activities in the society like gatherings and social drinking and self-serving things like gambling... Money is using us to become worldly slaves.

We are allowing our society to eat on its own towards decay. When someone would tell us these, a lot would react and find retorts like: Who is he by the way? Why is he talking like that, as if he's perfect! That faggot!

It's sad to think that human nature is having a reverse evolution. These could be seen on our kids...

Dogs are territorial beasts, they like to mark their territory by peeing on the soil. Once another dog would come to his area, he would fight even to his death by simply not allowing someone to cross his territory. We see this attitude with the kids in Doyos and Baybay. Rocks would fly when someone would simply cross the border. Even if the priest would become hoarse with his sermons to stop such evil, we get distracted by trying to find the rainbow.

Whenever these things happen, we could not dare tell our children. They're better than us and we are too busy looking for our own pleasures. We find ways and means to buy moisturizers, straighten our hair and find effective astringents to whiten our skin...

That's the reason why it's good to have trysts in the dark and pull some things to the light. Even if the things there could hurt and turn one's stomach, he must visit such places.

We could start looking at our children and give them an avenue where darkness is present but not threatening. We have to be there for them. Our legacy could start within...

Come to the dark, let's have a tryst. Who knows we might find some things in there worth our efforts than simply existing.

Let's have a life.


(Art: dansemacabrenz.com)

Unsated

The id is the impulsive, child-like portion of the psyche that operates on the "pleasure principle" and only takes into account what it wants and disregards all consequences. - Freud (wikipedia.org)

She received her salary for the month. Forgetting about the bills piling up, she went to a nearby boutique and bought a blouse half the amount of her salary. She then went to the salon for a make-over. Her hair needs re-bonding... Then, with some money left in her purse, she went inside the grocer's and bought a large pouch of Doritos and 5 bars of Babe Ruth. She must taste such things which she was deprived of as a child...

Antonio's hands itched as he imagined the cellphone on his hand. Indeed, it would make him more "interesting" with that new model from LG. He hastily completed the form for his loan in a local bank. He won't mind the high interest of the loan as long as he could realize the look he would be projecting. He smiled as he pictured all eyes focusing on him with his new gadget.

When the toll for the dead at eight in the evening was announced by the church bells, Mokong smiled. He touched the strawberry-flavored condoms inside his pocket. and shivered at the thought of Lyka's breasts. He must prove his masculinity when the girl told him via text that "she is as delicious as crepe". He could not remember eating the food she related herself but he knew it must be yummy... His brother warned him about teen pregnancy but damn him, life is short!

The young child cried as he felt hunger. The mother continued with her story telling session with the neighbors. The child's cries intensified and the mother found a rubber slipper and hit the child's arms telling him to shut up. The child sobbed and started crawling to one corner of the house... He then noticed a dead cockroach and picked it.

The dead insect sounded crunchy inside the toddler's mouth. The little child smiled as he drooled.


(Artwork: supermankind.wordpress.com)

Winged

Perseus, the son of Zeus and Danae- a mere mortal, was shocked when he realized his fate. He had to save the people from the wrath of Poseidon by killing the monster that would swipe the mortals to death. He must get the snake-infested head of Medusa to turn the monster into stone. He should also do this to save the life of Andromeda who needed to be offered to the monster to save the rest of humanity... His father, to help him with such quest, gifted him the infamous Pegasus, the winged horse.

Let's not talk about the Greeks and mythology or even the outstanding remake of the classic flick "Clash of the Titans". Let us linger on reality.

Ironically, there is Pegasus where women seem to have wings. It's a night club in the national capital where Rosanna Roces acquired her irate culture. The girls would fly in mid-air sans their underwear. Others would take flight with the men (some are smelly old farts) with lots of dough and they would eventually perform sexual escapades that would put Medusa's power to shame.

But the most interesting creatures are the ones under the spell of Red Horse. According to the avid worshipers of this demigod, the horse would allow them to fly to different heights with their friends. They even divulged that the power of the horse would catapult them to a level of happiness that even Zeus would fail to comprehend.

Red Horse allegedly gives them the power of friendship. For them, it has the wings that would allow the group to venture on unknown grounds and uncharted horizons. The only thing to be considered is when its power would twist their minds into an intoxicated rage that would sometimes result to violence.

But with or without the gods and the demigods, cruelty and stupidity exist. Mere mortals are prone to the flaws like those who ridiculed Athena. The kingdom of Hades is more interesting for others than the grandeur and glory of Mount Olympus. There are times when light could hurt the eyes that others prefer the darkness...

Yeah, the sister of that god in the music scene, Janet Jackson is right:

"In complete darkness we are all the same, it is only our knowledge and wisdom that separate us..."

(Art: markmallet.com)

Electra and Oedipus

In Oedipus complex, a boy is fixated on his mother and competes with his father for maternal attention. The opposite, the attraction of a girl to her father and rivalry with her mother, is sometimes called the Electra complex. (Changing Minds.org)

"You could not be like her!" Siloy screamed to his girlfriend who tried to impress him with a local recipe called "ginisang kangkong" after she asked him if the food tasted fine. The girl was taken aback and started to look pale. Then, when shock subsided and anger surged, she held the plate and spilled the contents on his lap.

She stormed outside the house and cried like a baby,

Siloy then cleaned himself and went home. He went straight to where her mother who was stooped in the kitchen cooking her "sinigang na baboy". He kissed her and she smiled while saying: How lucky I am to have a son like you, after your father died... She fixed her attention to the potato she was peeling, filled with emotions...

Inside, Siloy smiled as he remembered how his father fell down the stairs with the toy cart he placed on the third step. He could hear the skull crunch as his father's head banged on concrete. He sat there watching as his father convulsed, his life ebbing... Mama's 100% attention would be mine, he smiled as his father stopped his contortions. He was only 10...

When she arrived at their house after her confrontation with Siloy, Trisha stormed to her room. Her mother asked her what was wrong and she just hissed. She banged the door and dumped herself on her humongous bed. She cried and dialed her father's number.

"Trisha? why are you calling? It's 11 pm here in Italy..."

"I want you to come home, I could not stand Mom... She's a bitch!"

"Trish, remember the reason why I went abroad? It's for your future!"

"Yeah, right, but what about my NOW?"

A shrill caterwauling sliced the stillness of the night. A cat delivered its litter a block away. Hidden by a trash bin, a hungry dog started to salivate... It started moving towards the squirming kittens. Dinner would be served.

(Artwork: beinart.org)

Numbed

What's the truth? We always tell ourselves and others that the truth shall set us free. But what about the realities we fail to acknowledge?

Aldrin wants to be in a quite place. He also needs his space but their meager house would not satisfy such need. They are 10 inside their humble abode. Most of his siblings and himself sleep on the floor. They would even utilize the floor as their dining area when eating time is going to be there...

His feelings could not be shared to his parents for they are always busy looking for food. He would just sulk on a corner and would wish to be somewhere else... How could his parents help him with his turbulent feelings when they would always be quarreling on things related to food and money?

He found refuge in Paul's friendship. He started going to their house and realized how "free" he could be with him. He even looked up to the lenient attitude of Paul's parents towards them.

Aldrin then experienced his first bliss when Paul cajoled him to taste pot. He could sense that all the problems in him would be numbed when he will be in a smoke-induced state. He would sit for hours under the spell of the pot and imagine happy scenes...

After a year, he started to notice that his sleep, even his waking hours are being hounded by fleeting twisted images. He would jolt on his seat or jerk out of slumber land. Lately, he sometimes scream...

Now, he thinks that these monstrous flashes would end once he could inflict some kind of pain to his parents. He really hates it when he would realize that even the dark circles around his eyes are left unnoticed by them.

Or... he could stab someone with his knife tonight to stop the raging emotions inside. They need to be stifled by transference.

Most of the time, he would feel envy when a classmate will laugh.

(Art: Darwin G. Tan)

Flushed

Darkness could deceive. There are secrets in there which could never be brought to the light. It would sometimes make one's sanity disintegrate. Better keep them as secrets than cause breaking others' equilibrium...

Hers is beyond her comprehension. She was a happy kid and being loved by the siblings and her parents. Her father would kiss her and embrace her with all the love and affection...

Clouds started to become gray when her mother went abroad to find "milk and honey". Her father started making the bottle as his lover. He would slur and slurp her cheeks when he would kiss her. At 10, she started smelling something evil when his father's hand landed on her underdeveloped breasts one night after his drinking spree...

Pain, both physical and emotional, seared her whole being when he entered her at 11. She cried and he shushed her by telling her it was OK. He loved her so much and the copulation was an expression of his love. She believed him. He was her father, anyway...

The abuse continued until she reached 15. It was when she saw that girl on TV reporting to the authorities about her sufferings when she realized that her secret must be divulged to unload her feelings. She saw a friend in Jasper. Crying, she told him how painful it was for her to be the sex slave of his father.

Jasper, with a smirk, told her to be in control. He told her that she would enjoy the deed if she is the one to choose who, when and where to have sex. The idea excited her and she chose Jasper to be her partner... Indeed, she felt a certain power with Jasper, then Kim and Robert... and more.

She got pregnant and sought the help of Jasper. The guy accompanied her to a quack and she drank a cupful of greenish potion which sliced her throat down to her stomach. Three months pregnant, she bled inside a restroom until some lump of flesh went out of her...

Jasper and her, flushed the fetus down the toilet's tank...

Indeed, everything starts in the family.

(Photo Copyright: F.Cos)