By Shicane Reyes

What a friggin’ time to be alive. This year. This whole goddam year equates to—to urinals. Ya’ know those urinals? Ya’ pass by ‘em and you could swear, God was punishing your nasal passages for about a couple o’ seconds there. Know what I’m talkin’ ‘bout? Those urinals that–that hang in corroding iron-clad stalls fixed along the sidewalks of EDSA highways, waiting for the next UBER driver to zip down his fly and whip out his shameless junk on it like he did earlier that same night with a passenger; drawing that drunk college chick’s curtains for a good ol’ half-past midnight pounding. But, man– guess that’s just a’ight, ya’ know? It’s goddam a’ight so long as the victim’s lack of self-guard justifies the friggin’ offender’s lack of moral compass. Whatabuncho’ steaming-hot pile of bullcrap.

Be a pal and hand me the lighter, will ‘ya? Saw your tweet the other day. ‘Twas that shallow political stance followed by a goddam “hilarious” Harambe meme. Friggin’ pretentious. Ain’t nothin’ more than a Mocha Uson blog. No offense.

Man, I feel like a sissy smokin’ Lights. Why d’you “millennials” try to play villain in this disappointment you call a society? Ya’ share a video on social media ‘bout the disasters currently occurring in Aleppo to “raise awareness”, and what? Ya’ have your “outfit-of-the-day” photo taken, ya’ post ’em on social media and ya’ talk about how “on point” or “lit” it is. Now tell me: Which post got more “likes”? Just makes you another brick in the system you try to be a fault in, ya’ know? So, who’s your mason? Kylie Jenner? It’s like y’all get blessings from your “idols” sacrificing one heart per post on Instagram. Stroking your gorilla glass touch-screens all day as if our opposable thumbs owe their joints and tendons to these smartphones. These devices developed by tycoons or—or tyrants. Goddam tyrants running their companies, their factories, their—their dystopias. How can you stomach the idea of subjecting hundreds of thousands to an eight to twelve hour labor for one man to make billions? Is it ‘cause of some cute Snapchat filter you get on your iPhone 7? Or a little more than that, maybe? Look at you. Goddam phone’s more human than you robots, for chrissakes.

I’m headin’ back home in a few. I’m not stayin’ out to sit through the fireworks. Sick of ‘em. Had ‘nuff of ‘em all year ‘round. Our police force’s been having their own “New Year celebration”, lighting up their lead firecrackers on suspected “drug pushers”. But have we any right to whine about this? We act like we do but we don’t. Our President didn’t win ‘cause he chose to put his butt on the seat. We, the people, elected him over three other idiots and the late Senator. God bless her soul. Ya’ thought his jokes were funny, he said he’d play “shoot ‘em up” in our country, y’all thought that was cool and said “Ya’ know what, I think that’s what’s best for The Philippines. What an audacious yet brave man. I’m voting for him.” So y’all friggin’ did. Now we have a megalomaniac sleeping with heroes. ‘Least most of America knew they’re screwed before that blond moron took over. Here’s to another goddam year to masquerade our intimacy for this world.
You can have the last stick. Mom’s pretty keen on the stench of stale cigarettes. Plus, I’m cuttin’ it down to at least a couple o’ sticks a day.  

Art by Tim Castillo

“Natakot ba kayo, pa?”
tanong ko kay itay
sa tuwing kanyang ikukwento
ang kanyang kabataan.

Alam ko na ang takbo ng kwento—
hihinga siya ng malalim
sabay titingin sa kawalan,
ang kanyang kamay ay gagalaw
patungo sa kanyang braso.

“Madilim ang mga araw noon, anak,
may mga bagay na hindi ko magawa.
Mga alaala na sana’y naglaho
sa paglipas ng panahon, ngunit
hanggang ngayo’y nanginginig ako
kapag naaalala ko ang mga nag-iikot na
sundalo sa labas ng aming bahay.

Dinakip nila si itay at siya’y nakulong
sa dahilang hindi namin malaman.
Naalala ko ang aking mga sulat
na kailanma’y hindi nailathala
kaya akin na lamang itinago
sa alaala.

Ngunit ang hindi ko makalimutan
ay ang latay sa aking katawan
nang ako ay nahuli sa ilalim ng
sinag ng buwan.”

At sa pagwakas ng kwento ni itay,
siya ay nakatingin pa rin sa kawalan
habang kinakamot sa kanyang braso
ang isang peklat na hindi pa rin
naglalaho.

Dibuho ni Roland Joshua Distor

Your skin has been withered by the clocks that run
but your eyes are brimming with wisdom and care.
Silver as the clouds when they block the sun
is what has become of that crown, your hair.

As your memory, like a fine piece of literature,
and your voice is the sound of a turning page;
Timeless, like the tales of your adventure
with old photographs of you when you were my age.

There is an indescribable comfort with your presence around
for your hand is a hand that I look forward to hold.
When you wait for me to arrive safe and sound,
It is one of those times when I see your heart of gold.

I’m certain that a love this warm exists for you are my proof;
It is the kind I have always felt, resplendent when it is shone.
A house is merely a structure with four walls and a roof;
But in it, there is you—and you are my home.

Art by Roland Joshua Distor