Tag Archive: gay


It Could Be NightFall


As we lay on the grass,
your belly was my pillow.
I was reminiscing
as you checked on the news.
The sky was that in-between color of cold pink,
little particles of water vapor vex and touch us randomly-
stirring a wariness of a hesitant drizzle.

Your breath is steady
while mine is drowned in the sound of you,
the feel of every blade of grass,
tasting my skin through my clothes.

Now, I do not care for the filth.
I do not care for the myriad footsteps that trampled our bed.
I do not care for the
waste of pleasures consumed,
of moments stolen
and light beams evaded.

I see the past,
yes,
and how blurry it is
through my myopic memory.

The stars themselves could not decide
whether to shine or fade.
They twinkle,
like your eyes and mine.
They zoom,
however steady in the sky.
And they each hold a wish for you and me.
A promise once only
hung upon a tree.

Is the earth exhaling or is the sky breathing down on us?
Is the world turning
or do we drive it around?
Is that not my heart beating in your chest?
Is this not your warmth kindling my breast?

It could be night fall,
the crickets have assured it.
But it is only dawn.

And you are with me.


 

Ang buhay, ika nga, ay parang tele-serye.

 Here’s a day in the life of Day and me.

 Introductions: Si Day, matagal ko nang bet na pinakilala sa akin ng bestfriend kong si Peewee, na ex ni Coco (7 years sila) na nakilala ko sa Singapore nung nagbakasyon ako dun two weeks ago.

 Day: Uy Coco really really really likes you…

 Doni: Of course he does. I remind him of Peewee.

 Day: Yey! Soon to be couple na ito!

 Doni: Nyek. May boyfriend na ko.

 Day: Kung ang asawa nga naaagaw boyfriend pa kaya? Hahaha.

 Doni: Ano ba, engaged din si Coco no. Adik to. Saka kung iiwanan ko yung boyfriend ko, para lang yun sayo. Hahaha.

Day: Engaged lang pala. I can ruin that engagement with just one snap of my finger. Anyway, sinong past time naman ‘yang sinasabi mong boyfriend?

Doni: Hindi siya past time at wala siya sa social radar mo dahil isa siyang outlier just like me. Bwahahahaha

Day: You said you’ll leave him for me, so he’s just an ‘effin past time.

Doni: I said that to humor you and because I know you’ll never want to end up with me… Duh…

Day: Weh. Ganun pa din ‘yun.

Doni: Think what you want, Day. Don’t be jealous.

Day: I’m not jealous babe. You already made me feel better earlier by saying that I’m the only person that can make you leave your boyfriend. And with that, I’m already satisfied. So no need for me to think much. I love you Doni. Mwah!

Doni: Hmmmmm… Hollow pathetic little lies. If you really want to get with me, then you should have. Now it’s too late. Too bad.

Day: Nah. What’s too bad is you’re with someone who happens to be just a past time. And you thinking that he’s not is the hollow pathetic little lie. And it will be too late for that guy to realize that. With that I rest my case. Peace!

Doni: What’s bad is that I’m with him instead of you. And you’ll never know how bad it is because you were never and won’t ever be with me. And it’s your fault. Don’t feel sorry for my man, Day. He gets to be loved by me.

Ang arte ko na.

Ang ganda ko pa.

(Pero iniisip ko kung ako ba talaga ang nanalo sa sagutan naming dalawa…)

Roo


I was blog-hopping to increase some traffic into my wordpress blog.

Yes, WordPress has a feature that ticks off my competitive/obsessive nature… BlogStats. It’s a horrendous affirmation of my need for attention. Yuck, I am such a three-year old.

credits to Angel: http://curiousanimals.net/

So I did something that really helped out. I joined a blog community. And I started posting links on my Facebook Wall.

Sad to say, the weekly assignments were suspended (after the week I joined) so my blog has been in the dark for a bit.

So I was hopping. Nyl, who’s a trainer from work has a blog in Blogger. And Nikki’s been telling me that I should check it out. So I did. He’s done so well already. Nyl’s a good writer. He writes nice fictional stories.

As you can see so far, my prosaic skills leave much to be desired. I’m not a very good storyteller. I like to write poetry though because it comes more naturally to me, and because I like rules and going around them.

So I checked out Nyl’s followers and I was clicking on the links to the other guys’ blogs and I sort of got disheartened.

I mean, I enjoyed their blogs. They made me feel queasy and voluptuous (see, that I got from Anne Rice). But they were mostly about hot sex!!!

My mother reads my blog from time to time. And I don’t think she will appreciate prosaic accounts of my “gallivanting” floating around the internet. I have posted some of those before, but they always turned out to be jarring. (I use poetry to talk about sex, so I can always tell her, that it’s just “poetry.”)

And I feel that if I posted articles like that, it wouldn’t have the same effect other people’s accounts would.

I’m terribly insecure about myself.

I feel that when people read my sex stories it would be like they’re watching an accident happen, or a fire in progress. It’s interesting, but so… pitiful/sad/painful.

You know when a guy gets run over by a truck in the highway and cars slow down because they’re oddly attracted to the gore? That’s how they’d probably feel.

Of late, I have had not a lot of sex adventures. (Somewhere in California, my mother is thanking the Lord)

See, I’m not necessarily a looker.

I mean, people only get attracted to me after I get their attention. I’m not the kind of person that steps into the room and has a “presence”. I feel a little sad about that. But I feel stupid for not doing anything about it. And of course, the moment I open my mouth, all thoughts of sex vanish from everyone else’s mind (Oh my God, a successful IRONY).

Sometimes, I wish my life were more relatable. I wish I was more… into the gay scene. I wish I never lost touch with the people I used to hang out with in Malate. Oh, I would have flourished in the drama of it all.

But then I realize, there is a reason I left all that. There is a reason I built a wall around me to anesthesize myself, to create my own experiences, no matter how unsuccessful they were.

I couldn’t stand being a brick.

I couldn’t stand only writing about sexcapades, and drunken nights, and popularity contests. They’re all very entertaining, I agree. But I was constantly looking for something else.

I’m happy though that in my wandering, I found that there are people out there like me.

The key, I found, to make the world better, is not to stop at the first sight you see and make a judgement about everything.

So I’m still hop(p)ing.

Weekend Wife


Not the one you were hoping for,
I’m afraid this might be the end of it.
As the credits rolled on the movie
We were supposed to be watching
Together, I awake slowly
From falling asleep in your arms,
Where I felt so at home
When there was nobody there
And all the lights were off
And the rhythm of your moaning
Was all I could hear
As I keep myself from gagging
From the scent of another man
On your crotch, I try to lap up
Every last drop of love that he missed
Or left behind.
You have a way of pulling yourself back
Into my picture
After a week’s worth of absence.
I must teach myself that you are only mine when it is
Convenient,
When your life and mine
Suffer a plateau.
When all the chores are through
And it is too much of an effort to
Go outside. We will make my couch
Our home. And pretend that this
Is the only life we’ve had all along.
No sense covering your tracks
Or making excuses. I forgive you,
Whether I feign getting hurt by the
Prospect of your infidelity. I hope
You realize when I ask you to give me
Your penis I meant your heart.
If only you could take it out, you say.
It doesn’t matter.
I have resigned to the fact that you would
Never be mine.

Except on Sundays.

On Building a Family


 

Having no legislation for gay marriage in the country, I am faced with a crossroad in my life. I am a 26 year old gay man with a stable career, a home, and the emotional stability required to start and build a family. The problem: how does a gay guy build a family?

If you belong to a progressive culture, this question hardly seems a connundrum at all. It would have a more existential effect, in a way of speaking.

I know that a lot of gay men like me dream of having a traditional family structure, where there are parents and probably children. However, the gay culture in my community seems to have resigned to the fact that gay men are destined to linger in a sort of relationship limbo. It’s not very uncommon to find that the gay couples who have lasted a long time have morphed into open relationships.

It’s a tragedy that some people think that infidelity is an unavoidable consequence of being gay.

I have no delusions that this challenge does not exist in straight relationships. However, there is less of a stigma that comes with infidelity among homosexual relationships. After all, if you view homosexuality as unnatural then infidelity isn’t so far down the slippery slope.

I was talking to a friend of mine the other day and I told her how much I wanted to settle down already. I want to invest in a family. Ever since I understood myself, I realized that I was meant to be a homemaker. In high school, I was Secretary of my school’s chapter of Future Homemakers of the Philippines (FHP). (Yes, I’m also a geek.)

Now how does having legislation solve my problem?

It doesn’t.

But having legislation will allow other gays to be able to visualize that possibility for them. Well, not really, because people don’t make rules for things they can’t even visualize yet.

All I want, as any person does, is to have a home to come to at the end of the day and have someone there that I want to take care of. Someone I chose. Someone who also chose me. I want to be able to give that person all the attention and all the care that I have learned to develop as Secretary of FHP.

That seems to be a long shot. Right now, the best thing that I can take care of is a plant. A plant can outlive you. A plant won’t cheat on you and best of all, a plant won’t leave.

Good thing we had gardening in FHP.