Cocky. Comic. Crazy. Hancock!

Hancock is my (almost) perfect superhero. Extraordinary strength sans the  superficials.  He is full of angst without being emotional.  He is drama-free and has no pretensions.  He does things his own way without trying to impress anyone.  He is just doing it the way he knows it how.  In a corporate setting, he is results-oriented without minding the process.  He is effective but not efficient. Initially!

The movie has introduced another infamous and reluctant superhero played convincingly by Will Smith. The story presented who is Hancock,  how he came about, his strengths and his weaknesses.  Because of his non-conforming heroic practices, a good-hearted PR man (played by Jason Bateman),  which once saved by Hancock, dared to clean the bad reputation of Hancock. With the universe coming to play, this PR man’s wife (Charlize Theron)  happens to be the wife of Hancock several decades ago. Yes, superheroes never age.

The lead actors were exemplary and consistently good.  Otherwise, Oscars would have not recognized them in their previous works.  Will Smith never fails to entertain me.  He is funny alright but I am not his fan. Though,  I have great respect for him as an actor.  Charlize remains to be one of the most beautiful and most intelligent actors of her time.  Her character requires not much emotions, hence,  she did not overdo it. Bravo!

I am looking forward to the next Hancock with a more powerful villain. I understand that this is just a prelude to more installments of this Will Smith franchise.  I want to see  Charlize’s character  displaying more of her powers as well ala husband-wife team.

Till the next more cocky, more comic and crazier but finally, refined Hancock!

The Moth and Thy Flame

NOTE: I made this for my Humanities class wherein we were asked to create a metaphor out of a song. The non-conformist that I am, I used the song “Di Ko Kayang Tanggapin” by April Boy Regino. Funny it may sound but I am somehow proud of my finished product.

The moth now cries in deep sorrow

For thy candle’s light was blown

Hoping to go against the strong wind

But it made the flame die down

The moth laments, he suffers

For all that was left is pain

Last night was a joyful celebration

As the moth enjoyed, took pleasure

On thy warmth and bright flame

Overcoming the night’s vileness

Its blinding and temptous darkness

And its shivering cold breeze

Thou shed light for the moth to see

Able him to appreciate life more

And the moth thought of forever

While the wind blew continuously

Tonight, the wind blows just as hard

But has tagged thy flame along

Thy flame was gone with the wind

For a few moments, thou left some smoke

The moth cherished your soul

For the last time, but too fast

As thou vanished completely

And nothing was left for the moth

But anguish, but tears and a hope

To see thy flame once again

And relish thy warmth eternally

Through My Pencil

I write with this instrument

To convey (sur)real sentiments

A manner of self-expression

That brings to my mind sensation

And leaps my heart to gladness

For me, it’s one divine madness

Craving to enjoy with self more

At least, to help me not get bored

With my life’s everyday routine

None I could say is worth doing

Except my hobby of writing

Of poems I’ll always be keeping

Like this compose through my pencil

Sharing now what I deeply feel

The Gift called death

Note: I had this speech delivered on my Communications III class when I was in college. My professor then asked indiscriminatingly how could I come up with such a serious subject at a young age. Reading it again, I can’t help but smile with my seemingly acquired spirituality then and I sound so preachy huh?!?  I cannot remember where I am coming from when I wrote this. Maybe, it was the movie I had recently watched then.

She is a simple woman with simple wants in life. She is such a street smart, the way her job being a “torera” trained her to be. Her name is Curacha, the lead character of the movie, “Curacha, Ang Babaeng Walang Pahinga.” As the title suggested, she longs for rest as she never had one. Not the kind of rest we literally think of, to take a break from her job of being a live sex performer. She desires for rest that comes along with death. Eternal rest, so to speak.

Francis Bacon once said, “I do not believe that any man fears to be dead but only the stroke of death.” I somehow wish to believe this happens but in reality, it does not. Most of us regard death as something horrible. Something to be afraid of. We even have a clear picture of a personification of death which we also call by the name of Death, with a capital D. But all over the Bible, it is written, “Fear nothing but God!” If that is the case, I would like to ask you, why do you have to fear death?

Not long ago, I also feared death. I was so afraid to die young. But I realized, death is something else. It is more than a horrible fact. There must be a deeper connotation of what death really means. And that’s what I want you to realize this very moment.

First, life is a gift and so is death. God lend us life so He is responsible of taking it from us. In the bok, “Life After Death” by Rosa Claudia, the author noted that there is a greater life that awaits us soon after death. She farther added that it is more of a spiritual undertaking unlike here on earth which is more physiological. In the Gospel of John 11:25, Jesus said, “I am the resurrection and the life, he who believes in Me though he is dead shall live again and whoever lives and believes in Me shall never die.” For death is a gift from God, it could also

Why? (Just another break-up poem)

Why should we part ways if we can take the same path?

Why should we bid goodbyes if we don’t want to leave?

Why should we let each other go if deep inside we are crying?

Why should we settle on treasuring memories if we can make history together?

Why should we let one runaway if we can walk alongside each other?

Why should we let adversities affect us if we feel fortunate to have each other?

Why should we allow space continue to divide us if we could bridge the gap between us?

Why should we let one fall in abyss if together we can conquer greater heights?

Why should we listen to what others say if we lovingly trust each other?

Why should we settle on the moon’s phasing light if we could be each other’s guiding star?

Why should we destroy what we planted if it continues to bloom beautifully?

Why should we feel weak and helpless if together we are strong enough?

Why should a conflict end our story if we have yet to reach the climax?

Why should we rejoice on our respective freedom if we want to be locked in each other’s arms?

Why should we hurt one another if we only promise to love and care for each other?

Why should we have all these questions if we have found the answers… on each other!

Foreword to my Poetry

In my heart of hearts, I know that I have long been wanting to write poetry. I just don’t know where to get my inspiration. Yesterday, while I am helping my mom clean our house, I get hold of a precious brown envelope. Precious for it carries my collections of poems I have written time immemorial. They convey my thoughts, my emotions at the time. Some are too baduy or melodramatic that I afford to laugh while reading them. Still, I want to immortalize them through this medium.

I want to write new ones really soon. I want to evaluate if my self-proclaimed creative poetry writing has evolved. I just hope I have become a better writer minus the drama through the years.