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Mood: The Usual

Hope.

...Created 2011-05-16 00:13:17

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Mood: The Usual

Home is where the heart is... hence the spiritual cardiac arrest.

...Created 2010-12-09 01:50:17

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Mood: The Usual

I'll be gone for a while. I'll be going into hermitage, trying to look at the world from a higher angle at one of our country's mountains. I expect to come back with more flavor where flavor is due.

...Created 2010-11-10 13:38:00

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Mood: The Usual

My heart goes out to the brave homosexuals of Uganda. For you, I will never take for granted my right to express the language of the heart to ANYONE the heart deems worthy. I will NEVER be ashamed to live and I will NEVER be ashamed to love. That is my promise. <3

...Created 2010-10-29 10:25:51

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Mood: The Usual

...Created 2010-07-09 12:07:07

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Mood: The Usual

...Created 2010-07-09 10:15:23

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Mood: The Usual

...Created 2010-06-19 11:53:50

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Mood: The Usual

...Created 2010-01-03 09:09:45

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Mood: The Usual

...Created 2010-01-03 09:08:01

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Mood: The Usual

Last week, the Philippines became the most dangerous place in the world for journalists. It happened after a convoy of nearly 50 people, including about 27 newsmen were brutalized tortured and killed.

As the story goes, it all began when a man named Ishmael Mangudadatu challenged the political dynasty of the Ampatuan family in the province of Maguindanao. Furthering his cause, his wife, sisters and lawyers set out to file his certificate of candidacy at an election office nearest to their area. In order to ensure their safety, they called for a convoy which included a number of journalists. However, it appeared as though that wasn't enough.

In a call to Magundadatu by his wife, it was revealed that about 100 armed men led by one of the Ampatuans blocked them on their way to the election office. That was the last time he ever heard her voice. What happened was only disclosed to him after the mass grave was found.

According to reports, the nearly 50 unarmed victims were brutalized, defiled and killed by the 100 armed men. Some reports even state that a number of the women were raped and Magundadatu's wife had her legs cut off, her eyes speared and her vagina sliced and shot. The journalists, of course, were not safe either. It didn't matter that one of them was a respected stringer for the Agence France Presse. Nor did it matter that some of the victims were only 20 years old - three years my junior. They too were brutalized and killed simply for being in that moment - for merely doing their job.

The backlash of this story was intense. I don't know how much it affected the government but I can say that, true to Filipino fashion, people rallied in the streets calling for justice yet again. Some journalists joined them, but most us, couldn't. We were found in front of our desks, in our newsrooms, in our interviews, in our press office and we were forced to go on as if nothing happened. We were barely given the time to mourn. All we could do is honor them by continuing to work.

And so, allow me to take a moment to say my piece...



My fingers, when tapped on a soot-tainted keyboard,
allowed me to hear how they laid you to rest-
how the pallbearers managed the harness like wordsmiths
with mastered precaution and well-founded truth.

From the window, December wind came with a whisper,
a South fashioned slither that toyed with the flame of my
lighter as if it was candle-crown prayer
to call on a god I no longer believe.

As my spawn of story matured on the screen,
how the symbols collided in embryogenesis
crowding the heart of a phonic supreme and it cried
like the masses that marched in your name saying:
"Justice for journalists! Justice for journalists!"

Kin, how I longed to be one with their rage.
But alas, where was I when they called for what's right? Where was I
when the despondence conquered the wind? Where was I
when the multi-lunged, one-voiced behemoth
again touched the light of the sun for your sake?

I was trapped at my desk where the world never stops,
where the grievance should never unable my fingers
to key in your name in a "relevant tale"
as if I was just marking it clean on your grave.





...and move on.



...Created 2009-12-05 00:47:23