photo lifted from greenpeacesoutheastasia.wordpress.comother than that, it was where many jesuit volunteers (JVP) like me frequently drowned our re-entry in the 'real world' angst with beer and noel cabangon's music . we listened to his songs of longing for a loved one far-away, of yesterdays that can never be relived, of frustration with the country, of hopes for tomorrow. and it was not just noel. there was joey ayala and gary granada and cookie chua and cynthia alexander... my demi-gods, if not gods, of alternative filipino music.
of course, there were also those dancerous nights listening to brownman revival. moving to their reggae beat, wondering about the injustice in the world with dino (the lead singer) having a smaller waist and shirt size than us girls.
what made it even better... were conversations with them during intermissions. most of them devoid of celebrity pompousness would sit down with us to share a beer and conversation. the waiters have also come to know us and usually seat us as near to the stage as possible. and despite work at 9AM the next day, we would go home at 2AM with our thirst for life sated and fired up at the same time.
my last two wednesdays in the philippines was spent watching noel. once with the fuhkers sucking on cannabis lollipops sent by tatit. once with maita while jan was watching argentina play olympic basketball at home.
i miss that when i feel like what i feel right now (reflective), my heart was tugged by the sound of an acoustic guitar while sitting in the middle of a cramped room sipping on my cold coke and crunching ice cubes.
* * * * *
as an aside, it was usually after going to bistro that i am able to write poems. i am no way a poet. but there are days when words just come and put themselves together using my hand to be alive. the ones i post here were written after noel's 10th anniversary gig in bistro. one of the best gigs ever.
BISTRO. MGA TULA PARA SA IYO.
1. BISTRO
tahanan ka
ng mga dakilang nakikibaka
nakikiramdam sa naghihingalong pilipinas.
kanlungan ka
ng mga mang-aawit
na sumusubok
buhayin ang pag-asa
sa pusong pagod na.
daungan ka
ng mga kaluluwang naghahanap
ng pagkakataon
na lumaya
kahit panandalian lang.
samu’t-sari
iba’t-ibang mga nilalang.
ngunit nagiging
isa
sa mga bisig mo.
1:52 AM 3-27-03
2. TISSUE
tissue
strewn all over the floor.
blown by the ceiling fan’s
tender (almost nothing) gust.
dry.
tainted with bleeding ink
and smeared lipstick.
(and someone’s broken heart)
damp.
wrapped around a glass
(and maybe on trembling fingers)
full of spiked tea.
wet.
wiped against the beer bottle’s flowing tears.
(and possibly that man’s too.)
soaked.
spilled with cold cerveza
warmed by lingering thoughts.
(and sometimes broken dreams)
later,
when the lights are out
the gentle movements
of the sleepy waiter’s broom
shall gather
you
all
in
one
big
heap.
2:01 AM 3-27-03
3. TIGANG
piga na
ang katas
ng kaluluwa.
ngunit ang
iyong tinig
ang nagdidilig
sa kanyang katigangan.
uhaw.
gutom.
ngunit higit sa lahat
lito
sa kalawakan ng buhay.
di na kayang
liparin
languyin
kulang na ang lakas.
ngunit pag nalubog na
sa awit mo ang kamalayan,
ito na ang lakas ko.
bukas…
baka kaya pa ang bukas.
basta umawit ka pa
ng isa pa.
awit pa…
3-27-03 1:30 am
4. AMBROSIA
i have always heard
that ambrosia
was food for the gods.
i have not tasted
nor seen ambrosia.
neither am i a god.
what shall i be fed?
i.
who is but a frail, hungry, thirsting human.
what shall i be fed?
ah.
sing to me your soul.
that mine may know
how it is to live again.
nourish my soul with your song.
i know
not even ambrosia
can satiate me
nor quench me
as much as your odes.
1:40 AM 3-27-03
