In the more than twenty years between Marcos and Duterte, where has our country gone? Everywhere around us the world has changed. Meanwhile, here in the Philippines, we are perpetually stuck in the “kilig” and drama of telenovelas, and the promise of easy money from noontime shows.
The covid crisis and the eventual vanity of vaccine authority, is showered with solutions out of a lobotomized thesaurus. Granular, special concern, modified, enhanced, blah blah blah — to address the surge, spike, wave, more blah blah blah.
Our shatteringly vulgar and worthless supreme leader, leading a shatteringly vulgar and worthless cabinet, entombed…
47 years you’ve been here
in my lifetime out of your 85.
Nary a day without you near
my mind, my heart, or by my side.
Never too far to talk to,
never beyond our reach.
All my life I’ve looked up to you,
all your life you never tired to teach.
Though your incessant stories,
told over and over and over.
Since my youth to my forties,
I might’ve tired hearing as I got older.
Our incessant bickering
and countless, endless arguments;
are found humorous by those watching -
a mirror of twins with identical temperaments.
I would trade…
Three dozen thoughts clouding my brain,
The sun in the distance, shrouded by rain.
Got to be busy! Got to get going!
A post-workout meal, after gym this morning.
Rushed to the florist, rushed off to work!
Turn on the computer, print that report!
Straining to forget, ghosts from the past,
with every new task, some progress at last!
Log on to the net, “You’ve got mail!”
Replying hastily, then my emails set sail…
Watching the progress bar on the screen,
an idle moment. No! The devil’s beckoning!
Stepped out for a smoke, made a phone call
anything to keep…
Screaming on top of your lungs!
Hoping nobody would hear.
Hearing your heartbeat loud as a drum
This pain I can no longer bear.
Where is the dream?
Shrouded in gloomy overcast,
Eagerly awaiting the blinding sun,
So I can dig and bury again the past.
Donato R. Vytiaco
31 May 2000 @ 10:52pm
Scorching my tongue as I sip,
with you in a not-so romantic grip.
The burn awakens, brings tears to my eyes -
echoing in my head, “How time flies!”
I remember quite clearly how it was then,
when you swept me off my feet, again and again.
Glamor! Travel! Never-ending wonder!
Absence did make the heart grow fonder.
Craning my neck to glance outside,
this restaurant window, with you by my side.
People passing, running, rushing,
umbrellas unfold, as the rain starts pouring.
Perhaps life has more to offer than this,
the continuing saga of marital bliss.
A glimpse of a future, what might have been,
anxiety attacks, deep from within.
I wonder in silence
what life could be,
had it been different,
had you been he.
Donato R. Vytiaco
03 June 2000 @ 9:55pm
(Written in “her” point of view, in case you didn’t get it.)
i was awakened by the cold. White light turned blue from the night cloaked the immense expanse lying in front of me. l reached for a cigarette when my arm brushed ever so lightly across a woman’s back, sending vivid recollections of other nights, other rooms, the same woman. Sparks then a flame momentarily erased the wriggling shadows of raindrops from her back, revealing curves any man cannot help but kiss. The valley running down her spine to her buttocks never ceased to avoid my touch. She brushed my hand off and huddled closer. “I love you,” I whisper, testing…