We were sandwiched between two miscarriages

Hello. I am Little Jackie Paper. I am seven years old...Sometime ago, 
we watched the movie Maleficent. We watched the movie sandwiched 
between mommy and father, my younger sister and I.

It was fun. But we also have our story, my younger sister and I:

We were sandwiched between two miscarriages.
The first one, who would have been our eldest, gone in a month, 
a day after mommy and father became too playful one afternoon. 
Then, after four years, the one who would have been our youngest, 
lasted only two months in mommy's tummy. 
(Anyway, mommy and father already have a hard time 
raising the two who made it: my younger sister and I.)

And we almost did not make it, too. 
They say our doctors did a very good job with mommy's slippery tummy. 
(Lucky we, maybe, my younger sister and I.)

Father has a family. He has a wife. They have two young boys like me, 
the eldest eight years old. They also have a baby girl, younger than my sister. 
They are three and we are two.

They say we both look like father, and mommy loves us very much. 
(And he, sometimes, maybe, too, for my younger sister and I.)

*  *  *

This blog is sponsored by Limitado

phone nos. 09167840522/ 023588753

and S.P.R.A.W.L.-MMA

3rd floor JN Building, 657 EDSA corner Monte De Piedad Street, Barangay Immaculate Concepcion, Cubao, Quezon City

Be Not Frozen

Let it fester, let it fester,
Or let it grow, let it grow.

Stagnant waters breed
dengue mosquitoes,

So let it flow, let it flow.

*  *  *

This blog is sponsored by Limitado

phone nos. 09167840522/ 023588753

and S.P.R.A.W.L.-MMA

3rd floor JN Building, 657 EDSA corner Monte De Piedad Street, Barangay Immaculate Concepcion, Cubao, Quezon City

We are what or who we are

Sometimes, I wonder
if becoming human
is a transcendence
or debasement,

a blooming
or a
withering.

Specks
of
dusts
revolving
as
planets --

universes,
even!

Then,
puff.

This blog is sponsored by Limitado

phone nos. 09167840522/ 023588753

and S.P.R.A.W.L.-MMA

3rd floor JN Building, 657 EDSA corner Monte De Piedad Street, Barangay Immaculate Concepcion, Cubao, Quezon City

Real love haiku

So into you, I
itch with the venereal
diseases with love.

Oktoberfest

Braving the long dry season, on the road 
24/7:  barefoot along the burning avenues, 
or behind the wheel of the old, 
trusted melting steel,

Stop motion mode along the endless
boulevards -- which seem far from 
sea or river -- Metro Manila traffic
enforces spasms

Of paralysis as its mass of hostages
snake through its mostly unremarkable
streets of remarkable urban decay,
with few elitist bright spots

For escapists who can afford the luxury.
It's been raining and flooding, but 
Pedro Obrero swears the dry season
has partially eclipsed the wet,

Eating into, chipping into, the latter's
months, and the torrential episodes 
of rain were nothing more than 
aberrations or distractions

Allowed and tolerated as deceptions
by the overreaching and arrogating 
scorching spell of the first half
of the otherwise evenly-divided

Climate. (Technically, we have no 
summer here. And the enervating
and murderous spiel of sweat, dust 
and smoke wrought and

Brought forth by the sun's incantations,
whipping on the laborer's hardened
back, unforgiving and unremitting,
has been invading

And suffocating on its extended run.
Weather manipulation, perhaps,
by the lords in air-conditioned 
mansions amid hectares 

Of haciendas and gated communities
of exclusive subdivisions, where fountains
of cold, potable water in everyone's
private, sprawling gardens

Spout and overflow 24/7. The one
percenters get drunk on both purified water 
and the shed blood of the rest; both 
of which they enjoy

An endless supply of. Days, weeks,
and months in the city desert, and finally,
a glass of cold water for Pedro, 
a small pond in an oasis.

He realizes the depth and urgency
of his thirst only when he commences
his drink; quite surprised by the big,
involuntary gulps by which 

He slakes his thirst. Midway, he tastes 
the water turning into kvas, and after
the last gulp, the last drop,
he reads inscribed

On the bottom of his glass, the acronym,
"G.O.S.R. 1917." 

*  *  *

This blog is sponsored by Limitado

phone nos. 09167840522/ 023588753

and S.P.R.A.W.L.-MMA

3rd floor JN Building, 657 EDSA corner Monte De Piedad Street, Barangay Immaculate Concepcion, Cubao, Quezon City

Anti-worker sign at Creative Thinker, Boom na Boom Compound, CCP Complex, Pasay City

(First posted on my Facebook page.) 

During my son's recent educational field trip at Creative Thinker, Boom na Boom Compound, CCP Complex in Pasay City, this sign on the wall rubbed me the wrong way: I find it to be anti-worker. It reads (as shown), "Robots make great workers because they can work around the clock on tedious tasks without making mistakes, and they never complain!" 

Well, robots don't get hungry; pay house rent, electric consumption, water, transportation, hospital bills, etc.; buy clothes for themselves and their families; feed their families; send their children to school; and get paid below the cost of living. In this country plagued with rampant labor rights violations, I prefer that the management of Creative Thinker be more creative and progressive, and replace and rephrase that writing on their wall. It's not something that I want my child to read and interpret as praising the advantages of robotics over "problematic" manual labor. What I will teach my children is this: "Those fascinating robots, which are also products of human intellect and labor in the first place, should benefit more of humanity including the working class -- and not just for maximizing the profits of a few capitalists!"

*  *  *

This blog is sponsored by Limitado

phone nos. 09167840522/ 023588753

and S.P.R.A.W.L.-MMA

3rd floor JN Building, 657 EDSA corner Monte De Piedad Street, Barangay Immaculate Concepcion, Cubao, Quezon City

Touch pad

My laptop hangs, around every ten to fifteen minutes.
My uninformed theory (poor non-techie me) is that
it happens every time I don't do anything to it (a
crime of omission!) while it's on: when I don't
push a key nor move the cursor. I don't use a
mouse as it's an extra baggage; I function
with the touch pad at the fore of the base,
right before the keyboard. For the past
quarter-hour, I've been rubbing
its smooth center ceaselessly
with my forefinger,lightly
but vigorously,
like a clitoris.

*  *  *

This blog is sponsored by Limitado

phone nos. 09167840522/ 023588753

and S.P.R.A.W.L.-MMA

3rd floor JN Building, 657 EDSA corner Monte De Piedad Street, Barangay Immaculate Concepcion, Cubao, Quezon City