POEM: Wine, Women and Song

I wrote this sometime in January 2015 for some jerk I needed to forget. Even typing this, I’m still cringing at the thought of falling for him, but I admire my utmost honesty to make an art so truthful—besides, at some point, the tragedy made me wiser that I know how they play the game. Four years later, this 2019, I have matured enough (or recoil in fear?) to make me doubtful of men’s intentions. Because, duh, chivalry is just a curtain of deception.

-------0o0o0-------

Wine, Women and Song

By: Danica Ann Niegas

To the man who wants to get away but never does.

It is the stares and gaze

With your demeanor you can amaze

With a crooked mind and a big ego

Making your name a sophisticated logo

That people can remember as you walk and go.

Accompanied with reds and blacks,

Enemies accumulated in stacks

I, too, was once a part of that

Pointed looks, words sharp as dart,

Demeaning attitudes and insulting remarks.

Cold air rested in my cheeks

An enemy is not what I seek

Betting my awful manners finally leaked

Fires that caused so much heat

From a spark, a bomb has been lit.

My own pound of flesh

Their tumultuous anger wants to leave me a mesh

Like a hunter found a prey so weak

He approached me and I shivered with fear,

I gasped with his soft eyes as he said, “My intentions are clear.”

Painstakingly waited for my doubts to pass,

Painstakingly waited for my walls to crash

Silly passes, bad quotes and clumsy lines

For years we laugh at our lame rhymes

Painstakingly, he longs to be mine.

But garnering a reputation so bad to hear

A faithless woman I turned out to be

Those silly passes, bad quotes and clumsy lines

He has practiced gazillion times

Unmasking a charming face, a monster I find.

Waiting for the proper timing to find a conversation

Revelations I cannot shun no longer

I watch him desperately pick the clutter

Seeing his hands bleed for the glass we shattered,

But for me, his poetry doesn’t matter anymore.

------

POEM: BLOCK

Sanay akong mapag-isa, aking mahal.

Hinubog ng panahon, pinatibay ng mundo

Tatahimik, uupo, ngunit ‘di masasakal

Bansot ang lipunan! Heto ako’t nakalundo.

Ako lang ang sariling kakampi—

Walang luha ang sayo’y dadampi.

Kaya ko pa, kaya ko pa, kaya ko pa!

Walang sandaling makikitang nalalampa.

Mahal, wag mong indahin

May pasa, may sugat, kirot sa ‘king dibdib.

Dadaan ang araw; wag mo nang dalhin—

ang sugat ng kahapo’y puspos at tigib.

Lilipas ang araw, lulubog ang buwan

makakalimutan mo rin kung ako’y nasaan.

Walang naging tayo, mahal.

“Umuwi ka nang malaya”, aking usal.

Patuloy akong tatakbo sa karimlan

Na parang wala lang ang tinamong sugat

hanapin mo man ako kung saan

Sorry try again, mahahanap mong sulat.

Butas-butas na istorya, iyong maririnig

Ngunit di mo masasagap aking tinig.

Facebook, Instagram, kahit gaano katagal—

Sanay akong mapag-isa, aking mahal.

05-25-2019

4:46 AM

Opo, it has ABABCCDD rhyme scheme. Masyadong pinaghirapan (kahit pangit haha!) para hindi i-post. Lame, lame poet.

"Meh" mood

“The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference. The opposite of art is not ugliness, it's indifference. The opposite of faith is not heresy, it's indifference. And the opposite of life is not death, it's indifference.”

― Elie Wiesel

Paghihintay.

Magkikita rin tayo. Sa pagitan ng mahinhin at malandi, mahalaga at di mahalaga, mini skirts at make up, matataas na gusali at kapitalistang banyaga, kasabay ng lahat ng obligasyon, at ambisyon na mayroon tayong dalawa. Nangangarap kasi tayo--sobrang taas, na hindi ko alam kung may puwang ba talaga ako para sa iyo. Kung naiisip mo pa ba ako, hindi ko alam. Magkikita rin tayo.

Sa ngayon, mangarap ka muna.

BOOK REVIEW: The Subtle Art of Not Giving A F*ck

I think I found the book The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck on instagram, propped up beside a lovely coffee mug with a tear-jerking caption that can make Michelle Obama cry. Somewhere around 2016, this book is a hit because number one: it appears on every book website I visit, and number two: damn, the F word sounds nice. Haha.

This is probably the first book that agrees with my rather careless life decisions. Am I REALLY careless? Are my virtues malleable and therefore easily persuaded? Or maybe something more: that I wouldn’t pay attention on my make-up because I have to update my résumé, or I would deliberately pick ukay-ukay than any high-end clothes shop because I don’t know… its way cheaper?

Then it dawned on me: we all have different filters in making decisions. Mine is self-improvement and happiness—EVERYTHING ELSE DOESN’T MATTER. I have known POVERTY since the day I was born, so I would rather be broke and happy than to be rich and miserable. Fuck it all. Therefore, maybe I was never really reckless jerk at all.

No copyright infringement intended 

Sorry Paris Hilton, I don’t want to be you. Please don’t get offended. I mean, I can’t be you because I can’t stomach the horrors of blind dating and fake flattery. YOU CAN. Who likes to be anybody’s trophy girlfriend? It sucks.

Choices, the value of suffering, and finding your self-identity by NOT giving a fuck at all—these are the things that might get you mind blown within 146 pages. It’s really short, actually, given that I’ve read it on PDF. But it’s worth reading, if you are willing to get your ego crushed so new perspective will blossom.

 I could kiss the author right now. Seriously.

Why am I even there?

This is the part where one faces reality as a cruel trap--on the brink of our collapse. Amidst all distractions and temporary glory, we have to painfully cling to our ideals.

POEM: The November Jump

I have already said too much poetry

about you; cries and lies, all your glee;

How am I, in my humblest self,

to call upon your weariness, color your elf.

Ugly and broken, destitute you may appear,

hospital wars, and divorce papers you saw clear

the crib was made of straw

limp and weak you have grown

sour milk you have drawn

shouts you heard, your baby rattles

yet food was in silver platter.

As interesting as they can see;

you're still finding for your great leap.

- Danica Ann Niegas

(first published on facebook notes, dated July 27, 2015)

A Short Poem

I like how he stares at me.

I like how he stares.

And his ridiculous ways

And sensible paragraphs.

I like his back glances.

I like his proximity,

So close

That sometimes I can’t see nothing

But him. Alone. You and I.

Lumpiang Hangin

Sa pagkabagot noong isang alas-dos nang hapon

Humiling ang isip ko ng kaunting atensyon

Kaya’t suot and kupas na damit at tsinelas

Kahit hindi ko alam kung saan, naisip kong maglakad.

Minsan hindi sa pagpaplano makahahanap ng solusyon

Hayaan na lang natin ang paa’y mahapo

O makakuha ng ideya sa pagsosolo

Makahanap ng lugar ang modernong bandido

Nakailang kanto pa lamang

Mga mata ko’y naumay agad

Sa halos dalawang dekadang paghakbang

Iisang tanawin pa rin ang madaratnan—

Ang tindahan ni Lola Baneng sa labas ng eskinita;

Sa aming lugar siya ang Panginoong May Lupa

Kahit sa katandaan naaninag pa rin ang ganda

Ngunit sabi ng ilan ay tumanda nang dalaga.

Ang kapilya kung saan ako lumaki

Makita ko agad sa aking pagtawid

Kilala ako nang lahat ng pumupunta dito

Mula bata, hatak-hatak ni nanang tuwing Linggo.

Kumaliwa sa katabing kabahayan

Naglakad kahit pudpod na ang swelas

Dito raw matatagpuan ang tindahan

Nahahanap ang masasarap na lumpia.

Sa pakiramdam ko’y hindi naman ako pagod

Ngunit tila ang dila’y nais na ring magtrabaho

“sige na nga”, utal sa sarili

Hinatak ako ng aking paa sa isang lamesang may tabing

“oh, ikaw na ba yung anak ni Ralf?”

Dalaga ka na ah! Bulalas ng isa.

Anong gusto mong bilhin? Nagugutom ka ba?

Isa pong samalamig, at isang lumpia.

Ilang taon ka na iha? Anong year mo na?

Hindi sila magkamayaw sa kanilang bisita.

Kamukha ko daw si papa, sabi nang lahat.

Lalo na’ng dalawang tindera sa aki’y tuwang-tuwa.

Masarap ang samalamig;

Matamis, maraming sago

Malamig, maraming yelo

Sa ginaw ay parang lumuluha ang lalagyang supot

Pagkagat ko sa lumpia

Ako ba’y iiling o tatawa?

Sabay sa pag nguya ibinaling ang tingin

Ang hindi ko nabasa sa karatula’y “Lumpiang Hangin”.

Para saan pa ang suka kung wala namang toge?

Bakit hindi ko nasulit ang tangan kong bente?

Naisip ko tuloy na lugi ako sa dose

Balat lamang ang aking nabili

Hindi na ako nakinig sa kanilang bali-balita

Sa likot ng isip tinitigan ko ang Lumpia

Bakit nga ba binibenta ang Lumpiang Hangin?

Nakabubusog ba ang balat kong nakain?

Kung nagsasalita lamang ang Lumpiang Hangin

Kakausapin nya ako’t manghihingi

Ngunit wala ako ng kanyang hanap na toge

Na pupunan sa kanyang pagkakakilanlang pagkain

Kung makikipag-usap ito, siya’y tatanungin ko rin:

Anong pakiramdam nang wala kang silbi?

Patuloy kang ibebenta sa ilan

Ngunit alam ng lumpia na sila’y nadadaya

Sa malutong na balat at walang lasang harina

Sa taglay na lutong may mga nabubulag

Pagkatapos ng magandang usapan

Hindi ko nasabing ako’y nadismaya

Salamat na rin sa lumpiang walang laman

Naisip kong ako’y katulad rin pala nya.

Lumakad muli at nagmasid

Bukas ang isip ngunit mga bibig ay pinid

Hindi ko nasabing wala akong napala

Sinalubong ako sa kalsada ng libu-libong ideya.

Pagdating sa bahay naupo sa isang lamesa

Kumuha ng papel, inihayag ang karanasan

Masaya, dahil muli napagbigyan ko

Natalo ang pagkabagot noong isang alas-dos nang hapon.

Wine, Women and Song: A Poem

Wine, Women and Song

To the man who wants to get away but never does.

It is the stares and gaze

With your demeanor you can amaze

With a crooked mind and a big ego

Making your name a sophisticated logo

That people can remember as you walk and go.

Accompanied with reds and blacks

Enemies accumulated in stacks

I, too, was once a part of that

Pointed looks, words sharp as a dart

Demeaning attitudes and insulting remarks.

Cold air rested in my cheeks

An enemy is not what I seek

Betting my manners have finally leaked

From a spark, a bomb has lit.

My own pound of flesh.

Everybody wants to leave me a mesh

Like a T-rex with a prey so weak

He approached me and I shivered with fear,

But with his soft eyes he said, “My intentions are clear”.

Painstakingly waited for my doubts to pass

Painstakingly waited for my walls to crash

Silly passes, bad quotes and clumsy lines

For years we laugh at our lame rhymes

But garnering a reputation so bad to hear

A faithless woman I turn out to be

Those silly passes, bad quotes and clumsy lines

I found out has practiced a million times

Unmasking a charming face, a monster I find.

Waiting for the proper timing to find a conversation

Finding revelations I can’t shun no longer

I watch him desperately pick those clutter

Seeing his hands for the glass he shattered

But for me, those lame rhymes doesn’t matter anymore.

- Danica Ann Niegas