"You must understand the whole of life, not just one little part of it. That is why you must read, that is why you must look at the skies, that is why you must sing, and dance, and write poems, and suffer, and understand, for all that is life."

my blessing.

Lord, can I talk to you,
for a second.
I'm kind of embarrassed,
it's been so long since...
we last talked.
but I normaolly don't do this,
because it's so easy to overlook
everything I have.
when times are good.
we're too busy having fun.
when times are bad,
we're too busy shedding tears.
but today,
feeding off negativity,
I was lost, again.

I sat on the bench,
lonely,
confused.
should I be mad, sad, angry, what?
am I surrounded by friends or by enemies..
or neither.
I sat as a cold statue
of worn down innocence
and pain tattered existence.
I looked at the sky
and so no freedom,
but empty space..
I had no belonging.

but.
at the peak of the gloom,
i remembered,
that someone did care.
so I called her.
and she didn't.
at least, not at that second.
she was asleep.
I woke her up.
she didn't know at the time,
that I needed her love.
but I cut the call short.
I didn't want to wear her down
with my issues.
I thought I didn't matter.

So i went home.
I listened to my messages.
it was her.
she said sorry.
she was asleep.
so I called her back.
and now,
I'm not down anymore.
weird how things go.

I knew I could count on her.
that's why she's my best friend.

and at this moment.
I realize once again,
what I am blessed with.
because I mean something to her.
more than a name,
more than a symbol,
more than a whipping boy.
I hurt her. and she still loves me.

thank you.
Lord.
I know I am blessed.

- rebel4ce 3/13/2000

breathe

breathe that cold air out.
breathe the warm air in.
don't be cold.
live.

exhale.

sometimes it's hard to let go
of all that drama in our systems,
but we just gotta blow.
exhale.

take that freeway drama,
the dood driving 65 in the fast lane,
the chick that cut you off,
the PoPo looking for the
right TYPE of speeder.
blow them out.
exhale.

take the flakes,
the snakes,
the clowns,
the frowns,
the haters,
the instigators,
the drama facilitators,
the masturbaters,
and let them go.
exhale.

remember your faults,
and your mistakes,
and your shortcomings,
and chill.
blow them out too.
ain't no sense in living in regret,
if regret's what you're breathing,
and not in learning,
to be better.
exhale.

and breathe.

fill your lungs
with the smooth jazz bassline
of life,
and breathe and live.
it's the intake.

tomorrow's air ain't fresher,
and neither was yesterday's.
it's all about today.
if you stop breathing,
there is no tomorrow.

exhale.

and breathe.

- 3/9/2000

untitled

"this is what it sounds like, in a whirlwind,"

Winter 1999

Those Days
Yeah, I remember those days.
I was younger,
naive,
in better shape,
there was hunger,
I was eager to create
a dynasty.
Not to control,
but to oversee,
the forces laying
the smackdown upon me,
and my peoples.
Back then,
there were no childish fears,
The revolution was here.
Enter photoshop.
pagemaker.
laced.
Thank goodness, there was laced.
It came from aspriing minds
we were few of one kind,
the ability to embrace
that which was outcasted
distracted,
or overcasted,
and sandblasted
with visions
of Lea Salonga,
Tia Carerre,
and Jocelyn, I guess.
"Hey, do you know they're Filipino?"
But no matter how much,
sand burns the eyes,
no tears fell, and rather
we decided to raise
some hell. yeah.
but then.. the sun comes down
everyday
and doesn't even come up
for some.
at least we don't see.
the revolution
got deflated
like pamela anderson,
a month or two ago.
but then... I turned in them guns,
in favor of fun.
and it wasn't fun at all.
it isn't.
there's nothing wrong
with the fun deal,
if you still keep it real.
but how can you sharpen steel,
when it's in the drawer?
I remember them days,
when I felt like
I elightened my audience
of two sleepy ears and
some other slumbered souls.
I ranted for 30 minutes,
that hip hop
was on a deeper level
then they showed
in the show and none
of my classmates
could ever understand,
unless it was told to them.
that was my job.
but.. somewhere along the line,
I clocked out for lunch.
and got stuck
at jack in the crack.
ey yo, that was life.
strife.
and it was fun,
shooting without a gun,
but with my pen.
the writer's manifesto.
it's no even on the webpage anymore.
and then,
I realized.
"I just forgot."
represent, laced
all the pages I have graced,
not with a talent,
cuz anyone could do that.
but rather,
just cuz it mattered.
and the future wasn't so scattered.
but then.. the sun
comes up,
every morning at dawn.
a second of hope, with the early yawn.
I just need to wake up.
stop pressing snooze.
I remember cheering at B-'s,
and even creaming with Cs.
and there was never
disappointment.
I remember getting a B,
and getting pissed.
Oh yeah,
that was yesterday.
Never thought disappointment
would ever feel
so
good.
Oh yeah..
those days.

June 9, 1999

The Other Night

the other night

June 1999

The Writer's Manifesto

This pen is my best friend,
who's your's?
He's been with me through the thick,
he's been with me through the thin,
he's opened the door.
"Welcome good friend, please sit down."
I can say that now;
he's taught me so much,
he's "opened the light;"
My best friend is probably thinking:
"My head is down, ejaculating his life for the world,
what crazy thoughts this boy has,
but I am here to express his views with every word."
Open eyes hidden behind walls,
watching from the window,
and this pen, my key, my friend,
he has saved me from anonymity,
he gave me the chance to tell y'all, "y'all Blow."
The pen is mightier than what?
Fuck the knife, fuck the gun,
I got my weapon and it leaks ink,
I got my patna fo' life,
when I cock my pen, y'all better run.
Ink blotches stain a shirt,
A lifeless body lays dead;
the bullets from this machine gun,
Exposed truth, and truth kills;
This pen right here, he's my best friend.

-Rebel4ce, June 1997

Sip Deconstruction

sip, sip, sip
calm the aching throat
of the constant screaming.
they can't hear you.
but don't give up.
the plugs on their drums,
ruh puh pum pum, on their domes,
cuz you know they want some,
but they can't get none.
this is sacred
and the tarnished mind
has no key
to the perfection
your chaotic vibrance
seemingly destructs.
and that is perfection.
you cry a simple plea
for them to listen,
what they are truly missin,
as they turn the volume down
slowly.
it's a chance of
redemption,
and stay on your knees.
you deserve no pity.
and they will appeal
to your strength.
beg for their second,
a ounce of a note.
just for one
glance.
stay low to them,
on the ground,
and continue to scream,
because you are
stronger
than them.
they're minds are mute,
sleeping to the harmony,
the falsetto
of their constructed life.
do they understand strife?
no, but you do.
you are life...
deconstructed.
sip.

- Rebel4ce, June 16, 1999

Peaceful Satisfaction

The winds have changed and the moon is before me,
The sun has gone down and the night is my protection.
The light of day has only brought me pain,
The stillness of night has brought me elevation.
Basking in darkness, no wolf has howled in my presence,
and only in daytime has disturbance been my distraction.
Waking up this day, all hope was there,
but optism has quickly left through tribulations.
At sunset this day the world had its change,
and now that it is dusk I live with a peaceful
satisfaction.

- Rebel4ce, 1996

The Searcher
It was in this life, that I did not know the truth,
so I decided to learn more, as the older I grew.
Secrets from voyages, knowledge from quests,
I developed my intellect until I was best.
It's the answers I want, so these I will get,
The Searcher I am, and off on my voyage I set.

On one day, I was bothered by a fool,
and I was trying so hard to keep my cool.
Until I lost all the control that I had,
and did a deed, that was so very sad.
He was laughing and laughing, he had no respect,
so I clenched my hand, and delivered a left.
I punched him and punched til he was almost dead,
I final;ly stopped as I noticed my white shirt was now
red.
I couldn't belive, what I had just did,
so I ran down the street and down an alley I hid.
My head and my hands were both very wet.
One was from blood and one was from sweat.
So I turned around, and saw a new man,
he saw the tears in my eyes and the blood on my
hands.
He walked towards me, and came very near.
Scared of me he wasn't, for he knew I had the fear.
He brought me to an inn, or some room of sorts,
and told me his story will soon come forth.
I closed my eyes on this bed that was grand,
My body relaxed as I entered the dream land.

I awoke some time later and gazed above a shelf,
to see the small hand on four, and big on the twelve.
The clock and the shelves were stained with rust,
and I stayed defensive for this man I did not trust.
He acknowledged my consciousness with a quick
word,
Relax was what he said in speech that was slurred.
He told me to look around, and figure out what was
here,
I evaluated the scene and saw many books and some
beer.
He told me he knew of my identity now,
He called me the Searcher but I did not know how.
I raised my voice slightly, so I wouldn't offend,
He said he was sent by a very caring friend.
I asked him who sent him, but he seemed to ignore,
he looked at me simply as he walked towards the
door.
He spoke very gently with very clear speech,
He said he was the key to the knowledge I could
reach.
He opened the door and a poor man came in,
he gave me an empty stare as he drank his gin.
My acquaintance said the drunk could not see me,
nor him either as he came upon me closely.
The drunk had a blade and I was struck with fear,
My acquaintace said that it was God who sent him
here.
It was to teach me the value of life and its glory,
This drunk's life would end with a turbulent story.

The drunk looked at the wall towards a woman's
portrait,
He began to tear and took out a match to torch it.
He ignited the picture and he fell on his knees,
He yelled out for forgiveness for his adulterous deeds.
He walked to the cupboard and pulled out some
candles,
He began lighting them, then grabed the knife's
handle.
The rest of the gin he gulped to quench his thirst,
and held the knife to the candles and recited a verse.
"For most it is day, but for me it is night,
the angel of death has taken its flight.
My life has been full of much pain,
there's no sense to endure the sorrowful rain.
The sun has set on the joys of life,
so I have put faith in this glittering knife.
This powerful tool, ever so new,
it will succed in the soul job it must do.
It's not right to quit, but it's my direction,
the wrongs and tribulations have no corrections.
The future is upon me, I must make my choice,
the gates of heaven or hell will open upon my voice.
The next time I'll see you, weill be both at peace,
as I say a final goodbye for my life shall cease."
I could not look at what he did, but nor did I need to,
he suffered because, to his soul he was not true.

- Rebel4ce, 1996

Never...
Never once have I looked you in the eye.
Never once have I said thank you.
Neveronce have I told you how much I care.
Never once have I told you, "I Love You."

The gratitude I've felt, you've never seen.
The happiness you've given, you've never
experienced.
The sincerity that's you, you've never
discovered.
The importance I hold for you, you've never
realized.

My wasted opportunity, my wasted
experience,
it's all been taken away with my ignorance.
My selfishness has blinded me, and
now I can't see real satisfaction.
My life has a void with your absence,
and no one can ever take your place.
My world is unbalanced, incomplete,
You are the missing essence that I need.

But that is the problem I face.
I ask yet so often for my needs and none
more.
You've given me all that you could,
And yet I never acted with appreciation.
So, it is my fault for this emptiness,
and never will I take less blame.
So it is my fault for this emptiness,
and never will I be complete again.

Winter 1997

Untitled
Sunlight strikes
The first breath is taken,
The birds adorn the brisk

- Spring 1997

Revelation

- Fall 1997

untitled
a lonely boy
stares at a blank
white piece of paper
with crayon in hand
with determined goal
a beautiful product
of complex artwork.
a lonely boy
stares thoughtless
absent of imagination
lacking of experiences
a blank white paper
reamins plain.
A lonely boy
stares at the crayon
desperate of any idea
scribbled on paper
with the stick of the white wax
image remains plain
a blank white piece of paper.
- Fall 1997

LACED Sonnet #1

Lift the satin covers off the hidden bed,
and reveal the massive stench like that of
cannibus, the uneasy quench from pints
fill the lactose intolerant body.
Garbage dumps in lost minds ridden with shit.
Rickshaws built with words wage war on man’s new
cancer; tangling amongst idle thoughts.
Traces of thundering herds of silence.
Jolts of culture but no saturation;
the era lived through struggle taken for
granted; T.V. and gold controlling lives.
Proud Filipino: zipped with no effort.

- 1998

The Thirst of Soul

You sip from your
cold glass of
water,
and you smile.
Premiere: the rain
that which we were nurtured,
I see the uneasy joy
that softly leaks away onto my collar
and sleeve from sweat.
Our dance.
The pointless circles and steps
we randomly re-take.
I glance to test
the water I had
let run
to a
brisk
trickle,
which I spent
the first days of
our existence
conserving.
My perspiration and
the glittering moisture
sparkling on your eye.
Smile and soak
this moment of our laughter
like the storms of thunder:
the echoing distinction of
where the light lands on
our existence.

- May 1998

untitled

I was weak, I couldn't think for myself,
my soul was empty, my bible was up on the shelf.
Dust piled on, it was like a dessert,
hidden with life, I didn't realize all it was worth.
Jesus lead me, but I didn't follow,
my desire was shaken, my self was hollow.
I forgot Him, I chose to turn my back,
I followed the others, I became one of the pack.
Until one night, I chose so wrong,
and finally my ignorance that lasted so long,
partially vanquished, and I found Him,
it was now so light, when before it was so dim.
My soul was replenished with a whole new light,
I realized once again what was to do right.
He didn't have to find me, he was always there,
but unfortunately, for a while I didn't care.
I thank him for not ever leaving me,
because, even if I was blind, he was the reason I could see.