There’s a truth in all of us. This is the one we’re not quite proud of, a persistent thing that won’t disappear even though we’ve hidden it in the farthest and coldest recesses of our minds. We ignore it and yet it creeps in front of us like a contender who adamantly refuses to surrender the fight even though they are beaten and bleeding, broken and smashed beyond recognition. But we recognize it because it is our truth.

At some point, you correlate stagnancy and stillness, which the world has inched around you, with this truth. There’s a point when we exhaust the battle and we give in to accepting this truth. Understanding this truth, embracing it, is probably one of the greatest thing we can do for ourselves because that moment of surrender seems to be the pass to moving forward, for the world to suddenly open up and rejoice in the individual we are meant to be… the truth that one must be.

truth is the indigenous love,
the first occupiers repressed,
forgotten, depressed because
it is primary; and primitive often
castes doubts and distorts the image
in the mirror before me, of who and
what i need to be, instead, my
mission thwarted by reclusivity;
i downplayed the meaning, even
thought impossibility, but the god
inside refuses and stands up for me.
in faith, this occurs naturally;
truth reincarnates out of necessity


lies, lies, lies

Don’t lie… never lie or, by any means, try not to lie. It’s a challenge, I know because most of us at some point have participated in a lie. Of recent, I experienced an elaborate story concocted in front of my face, an insistence from the other party that it was the truth, only to come to the end and have it be discovered that it was a lie. It made me angry and I might still be in the same state of mind, but the next step for me is to try to understand why someone would lie? Of course, in the end, submerged lies rise to the surface and eventually unveil itself because there’s nothing solid about a lie. It’s so porous that it will eventually float to the surface for everyone to see.

lies diminish what trust has built,
cemented brick by brick to arrive
where we are because our past is
what we’ve been, the dangerous
trench we’ve crawled and climbed
out of… shall we return to the
place of conscience war brewing
from within or shall we walk a
straight line forward beyond
potholes and craters that trip,
abandon these vices by any means

Everyday is a Journey

What is a journey? Taking a trip somewhere and then coming back? Right? There’s always an association with leaving for an unfamiliar territory, possibly a faraway location and returning home with souvenirs, possibly emotionally charged or learned ones derived from the trip itself. A journey renews and transforms one somehow. Because of new perspectives, new heights sometimes reached, the mind is altered and we then look at the world in a different way. Perhaps, we come back a little more patient, a bit more forgiving. Despite leaving, I’m learning a journey doesn’t necessarily happen in a distant place. Sometimes, it just happens when we least expect it, like becoming suddenly ill and when we heal from it. Our spirit is thrown into a journey we may not have had time to take for ourselves. At that point, the stillness, quiet and rest from our temporary afflictions drive us towards a self- reflective journey where we are cornered to look nowhere else but deep inside ourselves, explore every nook and cranny so that we might expel not only the mucus and phlegm collecting in our core, but to cough out and fess up to all the habits that trap us and prevent us from living. Our temperature rises as we resist the truth, but only until we surrender and make that promise for change, in order to live the lives we are intended to live, do we break the fever and our bodies allay itself and align towards recovery. A journey towards change… what a blessing it is when we recognize it, especially when we are made to see that we are stronger than who we are, better than what we think we are. A journey transforms one and if this is the case, then everyday is a journey no doubt… it’s just a matter of whether we participate in what is being offered us.

pack my flesh, pack my soul…
into this light, plunge i and
swim towards You where i may
see my true colors beside this
gray i wear. my spirit yearns
for all the white it can behold,
the straightest line i can walk,
but i’ve been crooked and densely
worn in blue that even dances are
left untwirled, sugar unspun and
life unspectacular… free me from
this fever, this temperature rising
prison wall, push what phlegm still
plagues my vision and revive me from
this death haggling, and reset this
button in my head labeled truth

Petty Has its Moments

Don’t shame yourself for the pettiness we sometimes participate in. It happens! We are humans after all. Because at times I think we need to participate in this part of life to bring us back to humility. To kick us in the rear of our sometimes fixed and bound lives; to get us off the high horse we sometimes ride and, for no apparent reason, just let ourselves act in the moment even if it does have petty connotations… so long as it doesn’t hurt anyone… (let me emphasize, so long as you don’t hurt anyone!!!) because in a moment such as that, when we realize how we have acted, there in that moment we earn ourselves a good, hearty laugh. If we haven’t laughed at ourselves in a long time, being petty will make you chuckle surely. However, if you’re petty most of the time, you might need to do the opposite and grow up.

let slip this pettiness afflicted,
in turn, i inflict on you without
reason and my head, hardly in ration,
but caught in a moment of disregard
acted i and now there’s no way to
recover such a moment except to pick
myself up from the embarrassment and
laugh as you would at your own truth,
as i discover my own truth oozes as
though nectar from my flesh piercing
yours with words slipped from my tongue

what is gold within

We’ve been looking elsewhere too many times that we forget there is gold in each one of us, a secret treasure waiting to unfold. What gifts we may hold inside won’t stay hidden too long. This gold isn’t our wealth to keep, for it longs to breathe and flourish. Eventually, we must let it flow from us, share it with the world.

quietly i stay beside your
impoverished heart, my heart
like yours, compatibly, we are
each a rare anomaly whose beauty
converges like dawn to daylight.
we are the image of likeness,
gods in our own right, fragmented
still but divine. we pick up where
we last left a lifetime awhile,
only i can’t seem to remember. so
i journ once again, plunge myself
deeper into the impurities and sift
through what is gold within

make peace with rain

Rain always makes me thankful. Existing in a period of drought, my heart races at the first drop of rain. How many trees will drink today, how much grass will flourish today? I cannot speak for heavily flooded areas for theirs is a different point of view from dried up lawns and cautious use of water (and for that, my heart goes out to them for i too have lived through the aftermath of a typhoon). But a lesson of gratitude fills me today, thankful that God has blessed us with this modicum amount of rain, if not to reacquaint us then to christen us, reel us back to hope in each drop of rain.

tune out the chaos and
let the silence come in
for no rain can permeate
thick walls saturated with
voices. the clamor of fear
and dissatisfaction crumpled
and stuffed inside our core
pushes our divinity out to
the margins, a puzzle as
to why insecurity settles in;
quietly, open the door and
make peace with the rain,
shake its persistent hand
and let it drench the palms
destined to touch and change
the course of man

words can kill or heal?

I’ve heard that words can kill… how the intent of our delivery can literally obliterate someone to the point of no return. Have you wondered why someone disappears from our lives after we delivered an offensive comment without thought, or perhaps with some thought? “Was it something I said?” Perhaps or perhaps not. Either way, they have walked away from our lives and, perhaps, theirs is the presence we miss most in our lives. All I know is that words carry in them a vibration I never thought so powerful. Words, with the brightest intentions, can uplift and inspire someone, but words rooted with darkest intentions can literally sink and diminish the human spirit. So which side do we want to stand on? There are words that kill; on the other spectrum, thankfully, there are words that heal.

love infinitely lives and so
shall old habits die, eventually,
along with my unworthy gestures:
i’ve sliced through you without
clue, how deep my words have
buried themselves in you; mentally
impaled you (how could i?)
apologies have no weight in a
case like this and i beg for no
mercy you can’t impart though i
await leniency arrive, when pardon
can unclench your kind hands from
holding tight to anger and,
fervently, wipe instead the guilt
off my slow and darkened soul

stick to the truth

There’s no escaping the truth… even as we try to run away or hide from it, truth is already trying to find us in the opposite direction, make us come out of our safe houses. Because the truth doesn’t just expose, it’s trying to restore balance into this already chaotic world we live in. So stick by it… stick to the truth.

where i may loose myself
amidst this forged reality,
this easily bought kind of
world, i take what poverty
can keep me away from such
pockets and stick to the
truth; for no wealth made
from lies can elevate towards
highest heavens half-knowing
an airless ball can take away
another’s win… the conscience
weighs heavily and the heart,
like a volcano, shall erupt.
the blood flowing like lava
covers up the disappointment,
truly, this self-disdain

-mr gahon 9/10/15


i don’t know how to mourn you.
your sudden departure finds me,
at this moment, indecisive; my
rationale scattered like random
playthings spilled from a bin
while i cannot even begin to
fathom what clarity i might
reach in this state of finality…
how can i even conceive a place
without your large eyes that looked
upon me with compassion, so full of
kindness that for one moment i
forget the flaws this world reminds
me constantly i have. i no longer
have you and i don’t know whether
i should hold it in or come apart

© mr gahon 8/28/15

for Ninang Lilay… rest well with God. Thank you for your incredible kindness. I never forgot. And I will never forget.

judge far less

Someone told me once never to judge. His wife worked with foster kids and her numerous encounters with children going in and out of foster homes led her to set that standard for herself. Each child goes through something unique, sometimes traumatizing that we would never know based on first glance. It was in this manner he told me never to judge. I try hard not to stray ever since.

when rain seizes and i
can no longer love, my
tears shall burn through
the drought and fill the
emptiness, replenish this
light with what joy i’ve
left to spread with this
smile now urging from its
depths to escape the eternal
depravation conceived in
these selfish bones… the
density and the narrowing
canal, the marrow where
all my center beams, one
day, shall strive to forgive
easily, and judge far less

© mr gahon 8/10/15