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#filipino writers
moonartandcoffee · 5 hours ago
Writing dump ✍🏼
15th of June, 2021 // 9:26 pm
Maybe, we don’t really need someone to help us with our problems or make life easier for us. Sometimes we just need someone who will touch our aching soul, accept our flaws, listen to our yearning hearts and messy thoughts. Maybe, that’s all we really need.
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Poem about looking forward to a future I hope to create
Please reblog
“On Being 82 (looking back on 24)”
Little creature in a red sweater
Curled against their father
Shivering tears for fear of a future
They have yet to meet
Little laughter echoes from upstairs
As parents live and in love fall
Asleep together (it is after 8 after all)
And an old black dog curls under their legs
You felt then older than I do now
You felt decades weighing you down
You felt fog’s soft lips enclose the key
You felt mystery as if it had passed over your bloodstained lintel
You felt hunger as a plant remembering bones it fed on
You felt kindness as if it were a page of history book propaganda
You felt happiness as a childhood friend Facebook recommended
But it was the weariness of a newborn
Greeting light for the first time
Because the secret is with every chrysalis year shed
You are lighter
You are closer to being reunited
With everything you have lost
And in that way you are not growing farther away from the past with every moment
You are coming closer to understanding why it exists
Now you are an old creature drawing body beneath blankets
Like an architect mapping foundations
Your breath rattles like cigarettes were pockets of pennies (uncirculated years ago)
Now you are an old croak caught in a corvid throat
Your hands vein bloodlines like raindrops pooling on windshield
Another dog sleeps beside you, young where the last was old
But I want you to know, little one, that you live inside me still
I don’t ask you to love what you have become time-twisted and wind-warped
But know that I remember you, in all your tarnished spite mettle glory
I still tell your story
Because somewhere inside me there will always be the person I am tonight
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therstle · 4 days ago
At night, I regret some things that I have done from past up to that day. But then I always choose to gather up my thoughts and redirect it. Because I wouldn't be who I am today without those mistakes. And if I will be able to go back at those moments I will still choose to do the thing that made me regret it. From that I learned a lot of lessons and I get to cherish the people and the moment that I have from then onwards.
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therstle · 5 days ago
Incase no one reminded you today:
You are love, you're kind, you're beautiful, and you could become anything you want to be.
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therstle · 6 days ago
Note this to yourself, the one who forgets will be forgotten while the one who remembers will be remembered.
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hyperaine · 6 days ago
oh, I miss sweater weather, pajamas and hoodies, cold movie nights and soft cozy blankets with you :>
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argenluire · 7 days ago
Ikaw ang aking pahinga, giliw. Huwag mo akong iwan sapagkat ang iyong pagkawala ay siya ring aking pagkasira.
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angeldoctorcowboy · 8 days ago
please i wish they just went with something super common or cliche like maria,,,,,,,, “i accidentally named this character genitals and had no idea until other filipinos saw it online” was such an easy thing to avoid :((
sorry thinking abt the ari agbayani thing again
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blood-on-my-bootheels · 8 days ago
Ending at the Beginning
with you I am flying
bat-winged and bed-haired
roused from slumber
ready to tear the stars
asunder with laughter
as the speedometer pushes
past 100
our muddled breathy drinks
sphinx-eyed from a playlist
but as soon as the car stops
the music pauses
the party's over
our problems
come rushing in
with the spiteful bite
of a feral cat
that laps
at the blood it draws
like rosewater on the asphalt
and I wish we could stay
in that car forever
talking about things
that shouldn't matter
kids only 16
unaware of love
or loss' teeth
but I am no longer that child
with doe eyes ripe for roadkill
I haven't been her in so long
that I do not know the taste
of her meat I know only
of her defeat
at life's game of chicken
and the bodies that were spewed up
like pollen from the wreckage
so I am sorry you are still that boy
who looks for places
the knife will cut deep
the blood will wedge
between tire ridges
but I have no more meat
ripe for running over
so drop this hitchhiker off at the next stop
both reeking of pot and shame
I am only car trunk cadaver
I am only clamor of engine rust
I am only dust blowing in your wake
- Dash Teachout -
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yellowhippo · 9 days ago
June 4
Bakit paputol putol pa kasi? Pwede bang isang bagsakan na? Mahaba man at nakakalula, mas ayos nang tapusin agad. Hindi yun pinaunti unti pa. Hindi naman isang istorya para bitinin mo ako. Nasa realidad tayo. Nagtratrabaho lahat para umusad. Pero pano uusad kung napakaraming abala? Hindi ba kakayanin ng isang bagsakan ng delubyo nang matapos na rin ang dapat ayusin?
1:58 - 2:02pm
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yellowhippo · 9 days ago
June 3
Nakakapangilabot ang iyong bawat haplos. Mga dapo ng iyong mga daliri at sing gaan ng pagdampi ng iyong labi saakin. Aking mga balahibo'y nagtaasan sa iyong hawak.
5:48 - 5:50pm
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writen0w · 12 days ago
When you have a lot of time and a brain...
Since I have all the time in the world, I have a lot of opportunities to just think.
Think about how I treat my mom vs how I treat my dad.
Think about I don't have a ride or die friend. Not anymore, I guess.
Think about how boring the interent is if you don't know how to use it.
I am more antagonistic towards my mom probably because she was my greatest bully growing up in terms of my body image.
She was never 'wear what you want' type of mom. Instead, she was 'oh, we have to hide this. Wear this it'll make you look smaller'. I am 24 now and I am finally coming to terms that she was probably the reason why I am so hard on myself. I think I am on food restrictions every since grade school. I was just a kid. Nobody should care about how big my arms are or how my tummy is not flat or why I have chubby cheeks. I think at one point, I went fucking  crazy and just ate and ate because my family is talking shite about me already so what's stopping me from eating another fried chicken? That's fucked up, I know now, but I was just a kid.
Lately, she is back with those passive aggressive comments about me not exercising again. I know she means well but I try not to let those remarks creep inside my head. I am more in control with body now. Thanks to science and internet.
Sometimes, I play her game, too. I comment on her body, on how she's not exercising anymore, and she's getting big. At first, it felt good. Making her feel what she made me feel all those years but then guilt comes in. I don't want to be that kind of person. I am not that person. So I try not to do it again.
Maybe the fact that her brother body shames me every time I visit the province and her nonchalance about it makes me dislike her more.
The next time I go back I will literally reply back with a remark like 'I may be fat but at least I don't cohabit with a woman who is not my wife while still being married to another. Not only that is immoral but also illegal.' I mean, immoral to the catholic church to which he ascribes to. Then I will stand my ground. Tell him every time he body shames me, I will say another statement that he would not particularly like. AND demand a fucking apology. Damn, that would be such a power move. Can't wait to go back because I know he will say something rude.
Yo, uncle. I'll come for you and you won't like it, asshole. He's a DDS. Need I say more?
Okay, I'll write about the ride or die friend next time.
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gltwrites · 13 days ago
Of unease, bizarre feeling of distance from reality, and questions in limbo — or how "The Memory Police" made me feel
I was swayed a bit for a moment as I scrolled the heaps of mixed reviews on "The Memory Police"—some good, some bad, some eh. But I prevailed lol.
This is the best book I've read this year so far.
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[There will be spoilers below!]
Set in a small, dystopian island under the totalitarian memory police, a novelist, her editor, and a former ferryman deal with the epidemic of forgetting and loss as their sense of the world gets thinner, brought by the sporadic disappearances. These disappearances come with a freebie: a person's five senses and emotional attachments about what was lost gradually disappear too.
When the unnamed book author woke up one day and the novels had disappeared, her recollection about them were also gone that she couldn't bring herself to hold a pen and write as much as she used to.
And in this island, those who remember are hunted down by the memory police.
I finished the book with whys and hows still hanging in the air, but it was such a can't-slam-the-brake-pedal ride. I got more engrossed in the story as more items and what were considered fundamental human needs cease to exist, and the titular authorities become tyrannical.
As the disappearances sped up, I felt a cloud of unease and obscurity thickening and miscellany holes burgeoning in my soul—which was why I couldn't stop until I get the answers.
It was easy to distinguish Yoko Ogawa's novel as an allegory of how people deal with loss and make the most of what remained. "The Memory Police" was delivered gently and uncomplicated, but with the apparent eerie calm that both intrigued and creeped me out.
It may have ended with a cliffhanger, but it suited the book's enigmatic nature best—or in simpler terms, some things are probably better left as they are, whether the novelist was left to rot in the basement and the people who remember left the dying island for good.
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iamvandalholic · 14 days ago
inside here
is a
no one
can fill in
inside here
is a
filled with
inside here
is a
inside here
you claimed
to love
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yellowhippo · 14 days ago
Keep Holding On [May 2021 Poem Collection]
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So I actually was not able able to greet my mom a happy mother's last May 9th. I don't even remember telling her 'I love you' nor did I hug her. Like always, I hide myself in my make-shift office and did some light work (yes even a weekend, I do some work for an hour or two). The moon did witness anything either from me for my mom.
So to make up for my inability to show my love to my mom, let me at least dedicate my May poetry for her.
And as for the song? I chose Avril Lavigne's Keep Holding On. Because no matter what happens, I'd keep holding on to my mom. She is my strength but ironically, she is also my weakness.
I may have some grudges from the past. But nothing changes the fact that I know that everything she did and say were out of love.
I may not always say it nor show it. But I love my mom and I don't know how I'll cope if she's no longer around. Even the thought of it already breaks me. So like Avril said, I'll keep holding on.
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
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honey-writes · 18 days ago
“You know, my nanay always told me that if I misbehaved, an aswang would get me.” She smiles, forming another stitch with her needle. The room only has one lamp to share between the two of them, but her eyes are still good. She can manage by muscle memory alone if needed. “She often told me that if I didn’t stop crying, one would fly in through my window and snatch me up.” [A] chuckles, laugh warm and breathy. “She always knew how to scare me, that woman.”
When she shifts her attention away from her half-finished crotchet blanket, she sees that her friend’s eyes are eerily glassy and exceptionally wide, enlarged almost enough for her to see her own reflection in the blackness of their pupils.
[B] brings a shaking finger to their mouth, eyes darting around the dimly lit room before landing on the space above them.
“Wag kang gagalaw,*” they whisper as a soft scratching noise begins to make itself known within the wooden boards of the ceiling.
* “Wag kang gagalaw” = “don’t move”
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