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Contents Poems and Songs 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21
Bulalakaw 11:11 The Load Is Now Mine Frappe, Froyo, Fries If Only Ikaw Loop Night of Blizzard Nightly Blues Only Physiological Smoke & Wine Twists and Turns YES Love In Transit Too Late to Tell You
Short Stories 24 25 28
The Dumbing Down of Love Story of a Boy Mixtape Swing, Pinky Promise
Photos and Artworks
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32 33 34
Litho Untitled Smiles of Ecosoc
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Contributors
i forget all the evening tenses counting all the wishes that have made the worlds between us smaller
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POEMS and SONGS 5
Bulalakaw Janeen Cayetano
Minsan lang makita Hinahanap-hanap ng mga mata Kay sarap pagmasadan At di-maiwasang titigan HInahanap kang pilit Ng aking langit, Ng aking kalawakan, At ng aking puso’t isipan Maaari mo bang pakinggan Ang aking himig na walang hanggan Na alay lamang para sa’yo Bulalakaw ng puso ko
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11:11 Beatriz Bayudan
Still is the night When whispers collide The single minute that we have been waiting for The air slowly thickens --With admissions and confessions (but of the non-honest kind) Pleas and prayers Exhaled. Hoping. Waiting To be heard. Answered. Granted. Sixty seconds is all you have. It’s time to make your wish.
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The Load Is Now Mine Anonymous
Little tykes we were then, Treating each other more than best friends; We hopped, raced and played as pair, Never stopped until we had almost run out of air. Not once I have thought since That one day my picture of you would be washed and rinsed, That a smart, good-looking, caring sister Would end up nowhere. Now that you have gone on your own way Putting all our parents’ hardships into waste And passing the load, oh, what a mess! No choice I had, I need to carry what you left. “Missing You, Ate” Takes Effort to say, ‘Cause my heart’s still filled with anger and despair; Like you, I might not be good at handling the load But one thing’s for sure, I’m good at hiding my emotions. The load is now mine And unlike you, I would keep it just fine Not even passing it to the next; I’ll carry it until the very end.
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Frappe, Froyo, Fries Irene Arzadon
The frappe Is like France in spring, and fresh fruits on Fridays That grows in my chest as I long for more than just A sip in your sealed heart because you are delicious.
The froyo Gives me the shivers and I wonder why I just have to frown from my fright Oh, I just have to take a deep breath, wish and Find a way to you‌ because you are delicious.
The fries Oh the more I wonder with every bite Maybe I craved once or twice but what the hell This might just be a friendship without the freedom On my part, to love or to hate‌ because you are delicious.
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If Only maria clara If only I can close my eyes Every time I see you together For me not to see …holding hands …embraces …kisses …and happy smiles That used to be ours. If only I can leave the world Where we used to live For me not to remember …how we met …how we fell in love …and how we fell out of love. If only I can forget you Erase you from my memory The little things I love about you …your chinky eyes …your warm hands …your soft lips And everything about you, good or bad, the whole of you. If “if only” is the most hurtful phrase in the world Then I’m hurting myself again. But I can’t stop myself from thinking Coz that’s all I can do. I can’t close my eyes, leave the world, or forget you…yet If only I can do them right here, right now I would. Because… I don’t want you. I don’t love you. I can’t… anymore.
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Ikaw Janeen Cayetano
Nakadungaw sa kalangitan Nabibingi sa katahimakan Nang aking pag-iisa Ngunit ang pag-ibig pa rin ay sa kanya Tuluyan ng natatakpan ang buwan Di masilayan ang liwanag Alaala mo’y natatakpan Karikta’y di maaninag Kadiliman lang ang nakikita Nitong aking mga mata Pilit hinahanap ang liwanag na saki’y pumukaw Dahil ang liwanag ay ikaw
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Loop Avril Bries
Why people want to be butterflies or blossoms when they are reincarnated I will never understand. I used to desire to be a poem, the inverse of death; but I die a little death (and not the French kind) every time I read some kid who thinks bear and bare are interchangeable whose bare books I can’t bear whose brains I wish to bare on pavement whose body I imagine mauled by bears every time someone can’t tell the difference between poetry and prose thinking publication, not expression; thinking what runs through the veins is blood only, and the anatomy of word is weighed in money-mass every time I am lost in words and forget the world. For instance: the muse is never closer to being caught than when penned (on paper and not with barbed wire or glass atop walls caging them in, the way I imagine sometimes) but the geography of grammar does not give the space beside me your breath and body like moonlight viewed or moonshine drunk every time we forget a poet is just a poet. Metaphor does not make a man diviner than the doctor or better than a beggar. And anyway butchers get to the meat
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of a matter better than we do.
So what now? I don’t really know. The future is like the reflection of a face in the eye of a raven or the slow centipede crushed underfoot—there and then not. Time disappears faster than a filament of light fleeing the galaxy of my palm. I think I’ll wish only to be beautiful in my next life. In whatever form: I could be Kate Moss or The Girl With The Pearl Earring I could be the radioactive signal fire of an atomic bomb I could be the backseat fuck on your stained leather seats I could be feline feeling your feet with my tongue I could be the eye of the sunflower I could be the nymphet soliciting septuagenarians in Cubao I could be the Glock cocked inside your mouth I could be the sickbed of sores forming constellations on a leper’s skin I could be that thing you reach for in the middle of the night I could be a poem, maybe. If it was written for you.
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Night of Blizzard maria clara It’s midnight and I was left alone…again Nowhere to go, lost in confusion All I have is the full moon, shining at me Mall closes, train stops, and I can’t move Purse was emptied by false hopes He came. I cried. To you, who never failed to make me smile Hugs, I always feel safe in your arms Eyes that stare even if I look away Air of December, cold breeze of wind The long walk, back and forth Even a kitten followed us on our way home Reminiscing that magical night…hope it lasts.
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Nightly Blues Raphael Dantes Cut, if you will, with sleep’s dull knife, Each night to half its length; my friend, The years that time take off my life— She’ll give from off the other end.
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Only Physiological maria clara
When I see you with her I feel numb. Oh! I don’t feel anything…at all But that doesn’t make me any human I actually feel something Unexplainable. I thought it was only physiological Butterflies in my stomach Heart skips a beat But the more I think about it The more I feel it And the more I realize This is real. You are gone.
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Smoke & Wine Raphael Dantes
Only until this cigarette is ruined— A little moment at the end of all, While on the floor the silent ashes fall. In the firelight to a spear extended, Strangely with the jazzy music blended, The broken shadow cavorts on the wall. I shall allow my memory to recall A vision of you, by all my dreams attended. And then, farewell—the dream is done. Yours is a face of which I can forget— The contours and the features, every one, The words not ever, and the smiles not yet. But in your day this moment is the sun Upon a hill, after the sun has set.
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Twists and Turns Dominic Garcia
I saw you then it all went wrong Funny how it sounds like a sad love song I wished for the heavens to be with you Yet it didn’t happen. I’m feeling blue I talked to my closest friend about the sorrows and the sadness She helped me get back on my feet and clean up my mess Spending time with her always made my day Now, I’m with her and I’m more than okay I see that this wild ride really had a good end Seeing you wound up making me fall in love with my closest friend
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YES frogprince
Affection felt from a distance Desire in every glance Happiness found in the silence Warmth sensed in our presence How could we have known, These feelings we haven’t shown? Something’s got to be told A story must unfold; One thing everybody knows except us Cause these are the things we left unsaid Not knowing where they might have led We’re hitting around the bush All it takes is a little push A lot of things there are to prove But why don’t we make a move Cause I already have the answer To the question that was never asked
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Love in Transit Avril Bries
Where shall we go? Home Is a planet unlivable, as polluted as his soul. We (and you are not he) watch the ambulant pedestrians like shadows along the miles of the metro. No trains are running now—they sit silent on their rails like you and I. But they are still while your hands conjure images of winged ruminations, all flutter and feather, and your eyes are aglow like the pale brushfire of the moon as we navigate the landbridges of Bathala’s land. I too move: palm against knee, quaking with the type of seism that wrecks whole landscapes of love—tremors of uncertainty in a body already claimed; aftershocks which would destroy what took me so many years to build. I could collapse the architecture occupied by another tenant, living in the fragile structure of my heart (or whatever that shell they say I gave him is called). Never mind; we pass by the lane where my lover no doubt sleeps And do not speak. I listen instead to the cosmic luminosities breathed on the radio. The lyrics could be anyone. You and I sing along even as we are in transit, inching forward in increments of apocalypse, towards the house where on the windows there are bars (mine). There is alcohol on our tongues, a pluvial vice in our mouths; yet it is not enough to water the flowers of profession (darling, I’m a desert). Because you see, confession is a limb and my tongue is paraplegic. But if the cup of my mouth were to spill its secrets, the wingtips of my lips would whisper (your name here).
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Too Late to Tell You Nathan Legacion I wanted to tell you just how much I feel for you girl I’ve fallen for your charms, hid it with my lies For you not to know my feelings Tried to resist every way I can Not sure how long I can take this If I screamed to the heavens I’m crazy for you You’ll think I’m just nuts and leave me *But I guess it didn’t work out that way Chorus: Thinking about you is hard not to do in every moment I have I wonder if you got the sensation, I wish I could read your beautiful mind Let me know of what you think, let me know if there’s something you feel for me ‘Coz you know how much it means to me Everyday I see your lips so red And your hair as black as the night sky I can’t help but to think that I’ll fail in my attempt And destroy any chances of love at all *But I guess it didn’t work out at all (Chorus) Bridge: If I have the luck of proving I love you I’ll do it, and never regret it Too bad for me that I was too late To tell you, the truth about me (Chorus) But I guess I must move on with my life
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SHORT STORIES
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The Dumbing Down of Love An Alias I have beheld her as a woman. She is the winsome lass in gailyhued frocks, filled with a precocious erudition and pulchritude that on occasion daunt me. Often do I admire the manner in which her indomitable spirit struggles against the ennui and tribulations that befall her. I recall our introduction, wherein from the onset I had believed her to be a singular, idiosyncratic creature, though habitually she drew my ire with her maddening nature and frequent provocations. Even in those days of our nascent comradeship I felt as though we could forge an edifying bond. Yet the lady inherent in her character degenerates when he resides in the enviable spot by her side. When they rendezvous a different girl subsequently appears. He plays Humbert Humbert and casts her as his Lolita. The ingenious femme I esteem is distorted into an infant pandering to his menial and tawdry temperament. She permits him to stifle her visionary disposition and render her as a caricature of herself. It inspires a consuming furor. He does not apprise what she relinquishes for his sake. Instead their attachment results in a melancholic prepossession that occupies her thoughts even as she acquiesces to his deficiencies. Tragically it seems that she is abundantly sensible to these facts and is heedful that she is resigning herself to desolation with her beau. I verbalize my desire: she must comprehend that he is unmeritorious. If she would only shift her perception, she would cognize that she need not be his hapless victim. Affirming solitude would better serve her—else she could envision a future with another who might impart a devotion that would not cast such dejection upon her visage.
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Story of a Boy Mixtape Compiled by Irene Arzadon
I. Pursuit I’ve been waiting all my life for you, I’ve been wishing on every shining star. I’ve been watching out of my window, and wondering where you are. But how do I get close, when she looks like an angel? A moment of her time just seems impossible to me. It’s hard to find the words to get to know this stranger. I’m scared of what she’ll say if what I say sounds incomplete. So I am telling you, that I know that things aren’t quite like what they used to be. We’re in different places, I see different faces… we can try.
II. Courage I need to be bold, need to jump in the cold water, I need to grow older with a girl like you. I finally see you are naturally the one to make it so easy when you show me the truth. Yes, I’d rather be with you. Say you want the same thing too. And how, I can’t explain, but you make my dreams come true. I just want to be with you, my baby, and all I needed was the love you gave, all I needed for another day. And all I ever knew… only you .
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III. Conflict I can’t remember life before the day she called up and came to me, covered in rain. And dinnertime shadowing, and as her clothes spun, we spooned, and I knew I was through when I said “I love you”. So I’m gonna stay when you just wanna fight, when you’re closing your eyes ‘cause you don’t wanna love me. So I’m gonna stay, you can’t push me too far. There’s no space in my heart where I don’t want to love you. Now I’m sitting here in disbelief at how it truly broke my heart to have to watch you leave. But you were torn between what you want and what you need, and they say I love you enough that I got to set you free. See, you were born to leave this town behind, I knew the truth but you still looked at me in the eyes and lied. You’re saying that it’s time to cut the ties, time to say goodbye… so you left, without ever leaving my mind.
IV. Choice And people keep asking how I’m doing. But every question still has you in it. I say I’m fine and I never think about you… but you’re always on my mind. I can’t take how it’s really over, how you made your stand. You got me crying, as was your plan. But when my loneliness is through, I’m gonna find another you. …. Most kind of stories save the best part for last. And most stories have a hero who finds, you make your past your past. Yes, you make your past your past. It’s a brand new day, and the sun is shining. For the first time in such a long, long time… I know, I’ll be okay.
V. Trapped I hate to say it but I told you so, told you that if you left that you’re gonna be miserable. I guess he doesn’t do it like me, or else you wouldn’t be running back to the past—hey, it was you that left me. And it’s just too late to apologize.
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… .. . (life continues) If I fell in love with you, would you promise to be true and help me understand? Because I’ve been in love before and I found that love was more than just holding hands. And you’ll be my number two, because me and number one are through. There won’t be too much to do, just smile when I feel blue. …still, I can’t remember life before her name.
Mixtape: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17.
Wondering Where You Are – Tyrone Wells Can’t Keep on Loving You (from a Distance) – Elliott Yamin We Can Try – Between the Trees I’d Rather be with You – Joshua Radin You Make my Dreams – Hall & Oates Tourist – Athlete Only You – Joshua Radin City Love – John Mayer If You Don’t Wanna Love Me – James Morrison If You See Kay – The Script I’m Getting Over You – The Click Five I’m Gonna Find Another You – John Mayer Brand New Day – Joshua Radin Told You So – Jesse McCartney Apologize - OneRepublic Be My Number Two – Thorr (w/ MYMP) If I Fell – The Beatles
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Swing, Pinky Promise Cherie Anne R. Quirante March 12, 2009
Last spring was just like any other spring to the little boy at the park. He’d wake up and always know what’s going to happen that day. It has always been like that, he have gotten used with his set of playmates, who he’s always seen by the see-saws, swings, and slides. Times when he sat alone by the swings, there would be some that would swing with him and leave just that, but no one bothered to be around and play with him the next day. They were just his playmates, who just wanted to play but didn’t even bother to stay. But last spring wasn’t just any other spring. He sat alone on his favorite swing like he always did, then all of a sudden something pushed from behind, he was swinging higher than he ever did before. He turned around to see, what/who was causing him to swing at great heights, he saw a little girl. Then, the little girl sat at the other swing beside the boy, then started swinging with him. They continually challenged each other who’d swing the highest. At last they got tired and called it a day. Next day came, the little girl was there again, they started to play by the swing just like yesterday and now, tried other stuff. In the next and more days to come, the new little girl was always there at the park. “You know what,” said the little girl “I will swing with you tomorrow, in the next, and more, and more days to come, until the days we turn old and unable to swing anymore.” “You pinky promise?” asked the boy. “I pinky promise.” They sealed it off with both of their pinkies together. Indeed, she was always there, and the boy have always been glad that he has now a friend after all those springs. The park wasn’t just a park, it was his happiest place in the world.
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Another day came, the boy happily ventured his way to the park expecting to see his new found friend, but everywhere he looked, there was no little girl who he knew so well was to be seen. The boy spent all morning and afternoon, waiting for the little girl to come by, maybe she went to the denstist, shopped new toys and have been a little late. No little girl came. “Maybe tomorrow she’ll be back, she pinky promised” the little boy told himself. Then tomorrow turned into weeks, months, and even years. Every day, no day has passed that the boy didn’t sit on his favorite swing. Maybe the little girl was not different after all; maybe she was just a playmate like everyone else at the park. But he believes more than anybody would... in a little girl’s pinky promise.
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Photos and artworks
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Litho by Sam Gonzales
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Untitled by Chrissie Cruz
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Smiles of Ecosoc by Arsenio Lukban
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Contributors Janeen Cayetano Beatriz Bayudan Irene Arzadon Avril Bries Raphael Dantes Dominic Garcia Nathan Legacion Cherie Quirante Sam Gonzales Chrissie Cruz Arsenio Lukban Ken Reyes
Echoes Ken Reyes Avril Bries Ben Bismark Ralph Dantes Bea Bayudan Kevin Estopace Irene Arzadon Matt Dailisan
Echoes EIC Associate Editor Managing Editor Features Editor News Editor Layout & Art Editor Photo Editor Webmaster 35
11:11 is the literary folio published by the members, applicants and alumni of the U.P Economics Society
Copyright 2011 36