His name is Khael, Khael Reyes, a sophomore law student, the top and youngest in his class. He is 22 years old but has already seen the harshness of life. He goes through his day in gloom that one could not see a trace of emotion on his face. Not a smile or even a frown. But he wasn’t always like this.
Two years ago, on his graduation night, his mom called him. He could barely understand her through the sobbing. On that day, his sister was found drowned in her bathtub.
His sister: the only one who believed in him; who held him when his father felt violent; the one who took him in when their mother threw him out; the one he knew to be more of a mother to him than their own mother, was now gone. Just like that, he was alone. His mother too busy and his father still a vegetable on a hospital bed, he had no one to turn to but himself. That night, amidst the celebration, he swallowed himself whole. He decided never to betray any hint of emotion and in the process make himself numb.
True enough, he has not felt any emotion, nothing but the grief of loosing the only one who showed him affection; his shelter; his home.
Since then, he seemed invulnerable; a serious young man on a mission. Yet the mission was unclear and his goal was nothing. He became a puppet of the system. Top scholar, good in class but nothing inside: an empty shell. At least as how the world sees him.
Every day he starts with the same routine; work from 9 to 5, cross the street and study law. Come night time, his world thrives. Every night he toils seeking inspiration and models. But every night he finds none. He is a proper artist with his knife, a beautiful shredder of wood and ice. He walks the city streets looking for a familiar face, or rather a face to make him forget his home. Yet he never finds one. Instead he sees his sister. And every night he carves his sister’s soul on wood and burns it by the time he finishes.
If one could only behold his art, he would be hailed. If the world could only see his work the world will celebrate. And that is the very reason he dose not show it. He works all night to exalt his sister yet burns her memory before dawn. Every night he stages a reenactment of how life deprived him of his home. He deprives the world of his art.
On the night of his sister’s second death anniversary he tries a new medium for art: graphic skin art. He buys a machine and starts to scribble. A month later, his skin was an abstract mural in memory of his sister: the first mistake to his act of numbness.
His art was a wondrous display of shapes, shades and emotion and the world started to notice.
“Atty. canvassed skin” was what his employers called him. “Khael the brute” dubbed by his professors and “a beautiful, tormented soul” was what another student knew him as, even before he placed his art on his skin.
He thought of it as a good turn of events. “I will tear this beauty away from all as life tore me from my home.” That was the plan. He planned to end it all as soon as the world learned to love his art.
Khael started a new career. He opened up shop near his school and started to give the cheapest yet most beautiful art from sculpture to charcoal sketches and tattoos. Two months in the business, he quit his job as safety supervisor and poured his time to art and law. Unknowingly, he started to learn how to smile but he never did give one.
One summer evening, when he was alone in his shop ready to close up for the night and tend to his studies, some one came in the shop. Not even looking up to see who it was, he said “I’m about to close up but feel free to look around.” And he went on tidying up.
The visitor voice was unfamiliar to him but spoke as if he knew him. “Why just now that you graced the world of your art?” the visitor asked? “Excuse me?” he asked back. “From what I’ve seen from you, you are art’s child.” Khael turns to his visitor and says “no sir, you are mistaken.” “I am Khael Reyes, son of Dr. Susan Rodriguez and Engineer Karl Cunlo Reyes. I am not an artist’s son, nor was I born in art. I am but a victim of life as all men are evidently will be.” Khael’s visitor was a young man in his early 20’s, but what Khael noticed was the jacket he was wearing. The jacket was vintage brown leather, with words written all over it. It was obvious that the writings were not from the manufacturer and Khael figured his visitor was a poet or a writer of some sort.
“I am Michael” the visitor introduced himself and took out a piece of paper from his jacket pocket. “I have here a design,” Michael started but Khael interrupted him. “I’m closed for the day.” Michael smiled and handed him the piece of paper. “I’m not asking you to do it for me; I’m asking you to study this design.” Khael was intrigued and took the piece of paper. Khael tried to examine the design but was distracted by the age of the paper. It seemed as though it was years old and was once submerged in water. The ring of his shop door took him from his revere and he was once again alone in his shop.
That evening, curious about the design, Khael rushed back to his shop after his classes. He hunched over the design on his well-lit working table to study it. Hours passed as he turned it over on its’ side and upside down but he couldn’t seem to understand the inspiration of the abstract design. Not wanting to give up on understanding this weird art, he fell asleep hunched over his table.
The next morning he wakes with someone knocking on his shop door. He opens his door and finds Sarah, his fellow law student, looking worried. “Are you okay?” Sarah asked. “Why would I not be okay?” he answers. “I saw you last night come in here and turn a light on and this morning, the same light was still on. I was just worried about you.”
Still not fully awake, Khael invites Sarah to come in and he washes his face on the sink. Sarah looks around and finds the design. “This is quite a beautiful impression of a girl,” she says picking up the piece of paper. Khael rushes to Sarah’s side to try and see what she sees. “How could that be a girl?” Khael asks. She points out to the jagged outline of the design and says, “it’s a charred image of a girl. As if her image was burned into wood or a sculpture saved from flames.” Khael peered closer and saw the image of her sister as if he carved it himself. “Oh. Now I see it.”
Much more to that, Khael also saw something that Sarah didn’t. He saw formations of words on the edges of the design. It read “I’m sorry for leaving, but I am happy now, Khael.”
What he read did nothing to appease his anger towards life, but only fed it. That night, as the world slept, Khael took his art from the world as life took his home from him. He burned all his art and his shop with him along with it.
-Orville “chubby” Basas-
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Wednesday, August 26
Saturday, February 14
pages of a fantasy - notepad
There is something different about her. I knew it from the first time I saw her. She is beautiful. I watch her go about her business at school. And, we share the same train home. I have been in love with her from the start.
One day, when we were going home, I mustered all the courage to sit beside her. She glanced my way. She saw me. She actually noticed me. Or at least saw me. Not every one does. But she did and smiled and let out a little chuckle.
We sat together for the next three stations. When it was her stop, I followed her off the train. I made sure I was cautious and quiet enough for her not to notice me. I followed her home to her studio apartment. I couldn't get in her apartment, I would not dare to. But I wanted to know her. I climbed up the fire escape and looked through her window.
I watched her do her business, watched her eat and get ready for bed, memorizing her routine. I watched her strip to her skin and slip between her sheets and fade to sleep. I watched her breath and smile at whatever it was she dreamed about. This went on for weeks. Every night I would watch her through the window and leave before dawn.
One night, as she slept in the night, she awoke in sudden. She looked around her as if searching. I feared she might have felt me watching her. I froze, thinking that my slightest movement would give me away. She shook her head with a chuckle and glanced out the window. When she stood up, I almost leaped off the fire escape. But she did not walk towards the window, instead, she sat by her bedside table and started writing. After a few moments, she went back to bed.
That morning, I waited for her to leave. I could not leave without satisfying my curiosity on what she wrote. After she left, I slipped in through the window and read what was written on the notepad.
“I do not know where you are.
Nor do I know who.
But I can feel you watching.
My name is Cherry.”
I read it over and over, not quite believing it. I picked up a pen and wrote her back:
“I'm sorry, I could not help it. I saw you on the train.
I was awed by your beauty and your sweet smile.
I just had to see you.
Anyways, my name is Michael. I hope you don't mind
me watching and admiring you this way.”
I then slipped out and went to school. Late as it was, I found her doing what she regularly does. And looking damn more beautiful at it.
By the end of the day, we again shared the same train. I sat far from her this time. Some of observing and some of fear that if she saw me she might shy away. So, I followed her home again, keeping my distance and being more cautious. When we got to the apartment building she took the main entrance and I took the fire escape.
Again I watched her do her routine. From making her dinner to giving herself a scrubbing with a washcloth. I watched her slip naked between her sheets, and before turning off her bedside lamp, she takes the note pad and reads my reply. My heart melt as she smiled and scribbled in her reply.
We began to have conversations on that notepad. Her, inside, and me, watching from the outside. I started to stop going to school, sometimes writing on that notepad, verses for her, telling her stories about myself and how I admired her. I ended up hanging around her apartment building, waiting for her to come home.
I told her that I watched her though the window but am too scared to meet her up front, that maybe she would not like how I look like. She wrote back:
“I have seen you.
Once on the train.
With your hair messed up and your brown leather jacket.
Which is a great statement by the way, with all the
writings all over it.
And you looked great...=)”
All feelings leaped inside me when I read that. I actually felt accepted. I started to do her chores for her when she left for school, that every night when she got home, her dinner was ready. I still stayed outside the window when she came home. And I wrote her more sonnets, poems and verses of what I felt about her. She found it a good choice to not pull me in from through the window, she said it felt like an angel watching over her.
Our conversations ran on and on on that notepad. Talking about her day and everything that went on under the sun while she was gone. A love affair on a notepad.
One night, six months after I stopped going to school, she came home late. She didn't even touch her dinner. She went straight to bed, she didn't even bother to scrub herself or read the notepad.
I mustered all the courage I had in me and went inside. I went to her side. I could smell her. She was dead drunk. So I thought she wouldn't mind. I took a washcloth and a basin and stripped her naked. I gave her a scrubbing and tucked her in between her sheets. I cleaned up her table putting everything in the fridge and gave her a goodnight kiss. She must have felt it through all the liqueur because she asked me to stay beside her. I did.
I left before dawn to take a walk and think. I was in love. When I got back to her apartment, she was gone. I looked at the notepad and there she wrote:
“Thank you, Michael, my angel.
Thanks for last night and the beautiful poem.”
So, I went back doing her chores for her, having a great feeling of being appreciated. I made her dinner after finding that she might have eaten last night's dinner for breakfast.
By the time she came home I was already outside the window, watching. She went straight to the window and for the first time, invited me in. We talked as she ate her dinner. We talked through the night. She invited me to take a warm bath with her, which later, she insisted. We took the bath, I, in silence, stroking her body and memorizing her every curve, absorbing her moans of pleasure.
We made love that night. She fell asleep in my arms, feeling her rhythmic breathing, stroking her light, jet-black hair.
She woke up as I was heating coffee, right before dawn. She said she didn't want to go to school that day. When I asked if she was feeling ill, she replied that she wanted to stay with me all day and that she felt rejuvenated.
We sat on that bed all day, enjoying every moment.
That night, we made love again and this time she didn't fall asleep. We talked the rest of the night, and she wanted to use the notepad again but this time our replies would be quicker. It went like this:
“I am Cherry Ann Reyes.
Eighteen. My mother is a pathologist.
And my father was/is a welder.”
“Why 'was/is?'”
“He fell from a building he was working on.
He didn't die.
He's in a comma.
And he likes to write poems and sonnets just like you.”
“I'm sorry to hear that.”
“It's okay.
What about you?
What's your story?”
“My name is Michael Rodriguez.
My mother works for city hall.
At least she was the last time I saw her.
And my dad was a police officer.
He died a couple of years ago.”
“I'm sorry.
Do you want to stop?”
“No, it's okay.
Never really spent that much time with me.
I mostly spent my time with my brother who
died a few weeks before dad did.”
“Again, I'm sorry.
Do you want to talk about it?”
“would you care to listen?”
“Well, he was riding a train.
The same train we share.
And he just collapsed and never woke up.
Doctors say it was a mystery.
'He was in the peak of his health' they said.
I couldn't believe it.
He was as strong as an ox.
And he just left me and I don't even know
why or how.
He just left.”
“You want to stop this?”
“Oh, no.
It's your turn.
Tell me something weird.”
“Okay.
My cousin died mysteriously too.
He was older than me and taught me to play guitar
every weekend.
One day he just told me that he couldn't teach me
because he was writing a masterpiece.
The next morning, his mom found him dead.
Is that weird enough?”
“Nope.
Not enough. Not even mysterious.”
“Okay.
My mom is a pathologist and she conducted the autopsy.
And zero. Nothing.
He was as fit as a gymnast.”
“Oh.
Okay. Just like my brother.”
“Now it's your turn.”
“I have one weird story.
But I don't think you would like it."
"Oh, come on."
“I would write it down but it's a long story
so you would have to wait.”
“Okay.”
“Two years ago, a kid in my neighborhood
shot himself in the head twice.”
“Twice?
But that's not valid.
It has to be something that happened to someone
close to you.
And that's not even long.”
“Okay. About me then.
I once felt a really weird chill up my spine.
Everything and everyone I knew was gone.
All I heard were voices and howls and growls.
I was running all over the city.
I found refuge in an abandoned apartment building two
blocks from here and I started writing on my jacket
what I thought was happening.”
“What was happening?
Were you sleep walking?”
“This happened the day that kid shot himself.
He was sixteen and he went to our school.”
“Did you know him?
What was his name?”
“ Michael S. Rodriguez.”
(phone call)
Doctor Rodriguez?
I hate to be the barer of grave news
but we found your daughter, Cherry Ann,
drowned in her bath tub.
From the state of the body, it seems that
she have died maybe two nights ago.
And the neighbors claim to have heard moaning
from her room on the same night.
Does your daughter have a boyfriend?
Doctor Rodriguez?
Doctor Rodriguez, are you there?
Doctor...
-Orville “chubby” Basas
One day, when we were going home, I mustered all the courage to sit beside her. She glanced my way. She saw me. She actually noticed me. Or at least saw me. Not every one does. But she did and smiled and let out a little chuckle.
We sat together for the next three stations. When it was her stop, I followed her off the train. I made sure I was cautious and quiet enough for her not to notice me. I followed her home to her studio apartment. I couldn't get in her apartment, I would not dare to. But I wanted to know her. I climbed up the fire escape and looked through her window.
I watched her do her business, watched her eat and get ready for bed, memorizing her routine. I watched her strip to her skin and slip between her sheets and fade to sleep. I watched her breath and smile at whatever it was she dreamed about. This went on for weeks. Every night I would watch her through the window and leave before dawn.
One night, as she slept in the night, she awoke in sudden. She looked around her as if searching. I feared she might have felt me watching her. I froze, thinking that my slightest movement would give me away. She shook her head with a chuckle and glanced out the window. When she stood up, I almost leaped off the fire escape. But she did not walk towards the window, instead, she sat by her bedside table and started writing. After a few moments, she went back to bed.
That morning, I waited for her to leave. I could not leave without satisfying my curiosity on what she wrote. After she left, I slipped in through the window and read what was written on the notepad.
“I do not know where you are.
Nor do I know who.
But I can feel you watching.
My name is Cherry.”
I read it over and over, not quite believing it. I picked up a pen and wrote her back:
“I'm sorry, I could not help it. I saw you on the train.
I was awed by your beauty and your sweet smile.
I just had to see you.
Anyways, my name is Michael. I hope you don't mind
me watching and admiring you this way.”
I then slipped out and went to school. Late as it was, I found her doing what she regularly does. And looking damn more beautiful at it.
By the end of the day, we again shared the same train. I sat far from her this time. Some of observing and some of fear that if she saw me she might shy away. So, I followed her home again, keeping my distance and being more cautious. When we got to the apartment building she took the main entrance and I took the fire escape.
Again I watched her do her routine. From making her dinner to giving herself a scrubbing with a washcloth. I watched her slip naked between her sheets, and before turning off her bedside lamp, she takes the note pad and reads my reply. My heart melt as she smiled and scribbled in her reply.
We began to have conversations on that notepad. Her, inside, and me, watching from the outside. I started to stop going to school, sometimes writing on that notepad, verses for her, telling her stories about myself and how I admired her. I ended up hanging around her apartment building, waiting for her to come home.
I told her that I watched her though the window but am too scared to meet her up front, that maybe she would not like how I look like. She wrote back:
“I have seen you.
Once on the train.
With your hair messed up and your brown leather jacket.
Which is a great statement by the way, with all the
writings all over it.
And you looked great...=)”
All feelings leaped inside me when I read that. I actually felt accepted. I started to do her chores for her when she left for school, that every night when she got home, her dinner was ready. I still stayed outside the window when she came home. And I wrote her more sonnets, poems and verses of what I felt about her. She found it a good choice to not pull me in from through the window, she said it felt like an angel watching over her.
Our conversations ran on and on on that notepad. Talking about her day and everything that went on under the sun while she was gone. A love affair on a notepad.
One night, six months after I stopped going to school, she came home late. She didn't even touch her dinner. She went straight to bed, she didn't even bother to scrub herself or read the notepad.
I mustered all the courage I had in me and went inside. I went to her side. I could smell her. She was dead drunk. So I thought she wouldn't mind. I took a washcloth and a basin and stripped her naked. I gave her a scrubbing and tucked her in between her sheets. I cleaned up her table putting everything in the fridge and gave her a goodnight kiss. She must have felt it through all the liqueur because she asked me to stay beside her. I did.
I left before dawn to take a walk and think. I was in love. When I got back to her apartment, she was gone. I looked at the notepad and there she wrote:
“Thank you, Michael, my angel.
Thanks for last night and the beautiful poem.”
So, I went back doing her chores for her, having a great feeling of being appreciated. I made her dinner after finding that she might have eaten last night's dinner for breakfast.
By the time she came home I was already outside the window, watching. She went straight to the window and for the first time, invited me in. We talked as she ate her dinner. We talked through the night. She invited me to take a warm bath with her, which later, she insisted. We took the bath, I, in silence, stroking her body and memorizing her every curve, absorbing her moans of pleasure.
We made love that night. She fell asleep in my arms, feeling her rhythmic breathing, stroking her light, jet-black hair.
She woke up as I was heating coffee, right before dawn. She said she didn't want to go to school that day. When I asked if she was feeling ill, she replied that she wanted to stay with me all day and that she felt rejuvenated.
We sat on that bed all day, enjoying every moment.
That night, we made love again and this time she didn't fall asleep. We talked the rest of the night, and she wanted to use the notepad again but this time our replies would be quicker. It went like this:
“I am Cherry Ann Reyes.
Eighteen. My mother is a pathologist.
And my father was/is a welder.”
“Why 'was/is?'”
“He fell from a building he was working on.
He didn't die.
He's in a comma.
And he likes to write poems and sonnets just like you.”
“I'm sorry to hear that.”
“It's okay.
What about you?
What's your story?”
“My name is Michael Rodriguez.
My mother works for city hall.
At least she was the last time I saw her.
And my dad was a police officer.
He died a couple of years ago.”
“I'm sorry.
Do you want to stop?”
“No, it's okay.
Never really spent that much time with me.
I mostly spent my time with my brother who
died a few weeks before dad did.”
“Again, I'm sorry.
Do you want to talk about it?”
“would you care to listen?”
"by all means."
“Well, he was riding a train.
The same train we share.
And he just collapsed and never woke up.
Doctors say it was a mystery.
'He was in the peak of his health' they said.
I couldn't believe it.
He was as strong as an ox.
And he just left me and I don't even know
why or how.
He just left.”
“You want to stop this?”
“Oh, no.
It's your turn.
Tell me something weird.”
“Okay.
My cousin died mysteriously too.
He was older than me and taught me to play guitar
every weekend.
One day he just told me that he couldn't teach me
because he was writing a masterpiece.
The next morning, his mom found him dead.
Is that weird enough?”
“Nope.
Not enough. Not even mysterious.”
“Okay.
My mom is a pathologist and she conducted the autopsy.
And zero. Nothing.
He was as fit as a gymnast.”
“Oh.
Okay. Just like my brother.”
“Now it's your turn.”
“I have one weird story.
But I don't think you would like it."
"Oh, come on."
“I would write it down but it's a long story
so you would have to wait.”
“Okay.”
“Two years ago, a kid in my neighborhood
shot himself in the head twice.”
“Twice?
But that's not valid.
It has to be something that happened to someone
close to you.
And that's not even long.”
“Okay. About me then.
I once felt a really weird chill up my spine.
Everything and everyone I knew was gone.
All I heard were voices and howls and growls.
I was running all over the city.
I found refuge in an abandoned apartment building two
blocks from here and I started writing on my jacket
what I thought was happening.”
“What was happening?
Were you sleep walking?”
“This happened the day that kid shot himself.
He was sixteen and he went to our school.”
“Did you know him?
What was his name?”
“ Michael S. Rodriguez.”
(phone call)
Doctor Rodriguez?
I hate to be the barer of grave news
but we found your daughter, Cherry Ann,
drowned in her bath tub.
From the state of the body, it seems that
she have died maybe two nights ago.
And the neighbors claim to have heard moaning
from her room on the same night.
Does your daughter have a boyfriend?
Doctor Rodriguez?
Doctor Rodriguez, are you there?
Doctor...
-Orville “chubby” Basas
Thursday, February 5
pages of a fantasy - words of the lost
...I sat there on my bed, waiting for that sound.
But the sound I heard was not what I expected.
I heard the hammer hit the firing pin. But then nothing happened.
I opened it and checked if it was a miss fire.
The bullet in the chamber was hit squarely in the center of its primer.
I shrugged it as a dud. So I tried it again with a new bullet.
I closed my eyes real tight and pulled the trigger.
"CLICK"
That was all I heard.
I opened my eyes and asked myself out loud,
"where's the bang?"
I sat there for a moment staring at the gun and savouring the taste of burnt powder,
brass, steel and a slight stinging from the cleaning agent dad used to clean the gun.
"Revolver' as he proudly called it.
I shook myself out of my reverie. I left the "revolver" on the bed and went out of my room.
The house was still quiet. I guess mom wasn't home yet and, well, dad died and was buried
a week ago.
I pulled out an old leather jacket from my dad's stuff in the closet and went out of the house
to find another way to end my misery. I was up a few blocks, walking, when I noticed it.
Silence.
This city couldn't keep silent in the middle of the night up to the wee hours of the morning.
Yet, it was silent now, between three and four in the afternoon.
I looked around me and saw no jeepneys. Some of the stores were open but there was no one
inside them.
No costumers, no clerks.
I looked around some more, no sea of people moving on the streets except maybe for a
few homeless people minding their own business.
I went inside the Internet cafe where I usually hang out. It was deserted, but the computers were still on and running.
A shiver wend down my spine as I felt a presence around me that I could not see.
I backed up out of the door, spinning around as I felt the breeze of the outside.
Still, I felt the presence all around me.
Panicked, I ran aimlessly, few of the homeless people staring at me and the neighborhood wacko screaming at me.
I found myself running towards my mother's office. This, too, was abandoned.
I started to look around and I calmed down when I saw a janitor doing his business with the floor. I approached him and asked him what was happening. He said nothing, like he didn't even hear me. If he did, he didn't show any sign of it.
I was starting to cry when I felt a shiver down my spine again.
I spun around to see if someone was behind me. Nothing, just the blank empty silence.
I turned to the janitor but he was no longer there. Not even the mop or the bucket or any sign of them.
I was scared now and ran out city hall.
I ran 'till I found myself in front of our house. I stepped in side hoping that it's familiar confines will keep me safe from what made everyone disappear.
But as I sank in the sofa, I started to hear voices. I couldn't understand what they were saying but I knew they were talking to each other.
Then I heard a howl of pain as if someone in great grief.
Then I felt the presence again. The presence of something I could not see and begin to understand. But I could now hear them and sense them.
Quietly, I sat still, observing as the howls turned into sobbing. Then the voices I've been hearing swelled, as if more and more voices came in o join them. And the presence grew stronger.
I felt the presence sink beside me on the sofa, sobbing and wheezing for air.
I was petrified when it called my name. As if calling out to me to come to it.
I started to run for the door but I couldn't go through it as fast as I planned.
As if there was a sea of people blocking the door was that I had to push my way through it.
I finally and started running. I don't know where, but it seemed like the best idea.
I kept running and running 'till I just dropped.
I sat down on the pavement and as I looked up, I was in front of an abandoned apartment building.
Then I felt the presence brushing against me, over and over.
I ran across the street to an open diner. There, I felt the presence stronger, the voices louder.
I ran out and tried the other open establishments, they were all the same.
I found myself running up the fire exit of the abandoned apartment building.
I climbed in through the window.
I curled up into a ball in one of the corners.
Waiting, observing If I felt any presence.
Hours later I decided it was safe in here.
I don't know what time it is now, I looked out the window and everything is closed now.
I here noises on the street, like roars, screams and voices but I don't see who or what they are.
It's already dark out side but some how I don't feel tired nor hungry. All I feel is fear.
I'm writing this so I could keep record of what is happening. All I had was this pen and no paper so I'm writing this on my dad's jacket.
I intend to find out what happened. Tomorrow, at first light, I'll go back out there again and ask the homeless people what they know. And if I never get back, I hope someone would find this jacket and look for my mom.
(TABLOID NEWS)
"...At around four thirty yesterday afternoon. Mrs. Rodriguez, a government employee, the widow of a police officer and a mother of a teenage boy, shook the city with her cries as police escorted her to her son's bedroom..."
"...The police received a call from neighbors saying they heard what sounded like gunshots. Police discovered the teenage Rodriguez dead on his bed with his fathers 38.mm. revolver. Although the scene suggested suicide and witnesses claim that they saw no one else with Rodriguez when he had come home and no one came out after the shots, Police are suspecting foul play..."
"...'If the boy shot himself, he could have never made the second shot,' police said. 'As the scene reveals two slugs with brain matter, two empty shells in the revolver and two exit wounds at the back of the boy's head going in different angles..."
"...the gun was still in the boy's hand when they found him but police still say it could have been planted..."
"...Michael Rodriguez was sixteen years old and a student of ...."
-Orville "chubby" Basas
But the sound I heard was not what I expected.
I heard the hammer hit the firing pin. But then nothing happened.
I opened it and checked if it was a miss fire.
The bullet in the chamber was hit squarely in the center of its primer.
I shrugged it as a dud. So I tried it again with a new bullet.
I closed my eyes real tight and pulled the trigger.
"CLICK"
That was all I heard.
I opened my eyes and asked myself out loud,
"where's the bang?"
I sat there for a moment staring at the gun and savouring the taste of burnt powder,
brass, steel and a slight stinging from the cleaning agent dad used to clean the gun.
"Revolver' as he proudly called it.
I shook myself out of my reverie. I left the "revolver" on the bed and went out of my room.
The house was still quiet. I guess mom wasn't home yet and, well, dad died and was buried
a week ago.
I pulled out an old leather jacket from my dad's stuff in the closet and went out of the house
to find another way to end my misery. I was up a few blocks, walking, when I noticed it.
Silence.
This city couldn't keep silent in the middle of the night up to the wee hours of the morning.
Yet, it was silent now, between three and four in the afternoon.
I looked around me and saw no jeepneys. Some of the stores were open but there was no one
inside them.
No costumers, no clerks.
I looked around some more, no sea of people moving on the streets except maybe for a
few homeless people minding their own business.
I went inside the Internet cafe where I usually hang out. It was deserted, but the computers were still on and running.
A shiver wend down my spine as I felt a presence around me that I could not see.
I backed up out of the door, spinning around as I felt the breeze of the outside.
Still, I felt the presence all around me.
Panicked, I ran aimlessly, few of the homeless people staring at me and the neighborhood wacko screaming at me.
I found myself running towards my mother's office. This, too, was abandoned.
I started to look around and I calmed down when I saw a janitor doing his business with the floor. I approached him and asked him what was happening. He said nothing, like he didn't even hear me. If he did, he didn't show any sign of it.
I was starting to cry when I felt a shiver down my spine again.
I spun around to see if someone was behind me. Nothing, just the blank empty silence.
I turned to the janitor but he was no longer there. Not even the mop or the bucket or any sign of them.
I was scared now and ran out city hall.
I ran 'till I found myself in front of our house. I stepped in side hoping that it's familiar confines will keep me safe from what made everyone disappear.
But as I sank in the sofa, I started to hear voices. I couldn't understand what they were saying but I knew they were talking to each other.
Then I heard a howl of pain as if someone in great grief.
Then I felt the presence again. The presence of something I could not see and begin to understand. But I could now hear them and sense them.
Quietly, I sat still, observing as the howls turned into sobbing. Then the voices I've been hearing swelled, as if more and more voices came in o join them. And the presence grew stronger.
I felt the presence sink beside me on the sofa, sobbing and wheezing for air.
I was petrified when it called my name. As if calling out to me to come to it.
I started to run for the door but I couldn't go through it as fast as I planned.
As if there was a sea of people blocking the door was that I had to push my way through it.
I finally and started running. I don't know where, but it seemed like the best idea.
I kept running and running 'till I just dropped.
I sat down on the pavement and as I looked up, I was in front of an abandoned apartment building.
Then I felt the presence brushing against me, over and over.
I ran across the street to an open diner. There, I felt the presence stronger, the voices louder.
I ran out and tried the other open establishments, they were all the same.
I found myself running up the fire exit of the abandoned apartment building.
I climbed in through the window.
I curled up into a ball in one of the corners.
Waiting, observing If I felt any presence.
Hours later I decided it was safe in here.
I don't know what time it is now, I looked out the window and everything is closed now.
I here noises on the street, like roars, screams and voices but I don't see who or what they are.
It's already dark out side but some how I don't feel tired nor hungry. All I feel is fear.
I'm writing this so I could keep record of what is happening. All I had was this pen and no paper so I'm writing this on my dad's jacket.
I intend to find out what happened. Tomorrow, at first light, I'll go back out there again and ask the homeless people what they know. And if I never get back, I hope someone would find this jacket and look for my mom.
(TABLOID NEWS)
"...At around four thirty yesterday afternoon. Mrs. Rodriguez, a government employee, the widow of a police officer and a mother of a teenage boy, shook the city with her cries as police escorted her to her son's bedroom..."
"...The police received a call from neighbors saying they heard what sounded like gunshots. Police discovered the teenage Rodriguez dead on his bed with his fathers 38.mm. revolver. Although the scene suggested suicide and witnesses claim that they saw no one else with Rodriguez when he had come home and no one came out after the shots, Police are suspecting foul play..."
"...'If the boy shot himself, he could have never made the second shot,' police said. 'As the scene reveals two slugs with brain matter, two empty shells in the revolver and two exit wounds at the back of the boy's head going in different angles..."
"...the gun was still in the boy's hand when they found him but police still say it could have been planted..."
"...Michael Rodriguez was sixteen years old and a student of ...."
-Orville "chubby" Basas
pages of a fantasy - RANDOM
Slowly, I'm regaining consciousness.
My mind is coming back ti it's focus.
DARKNESS...
Hollow darkness.
I'm opening my eyes but nothing. I'm still in darkness.
At least I think my eyes are open.
Nervous. I'll stay still. I have a feeling I'm not alone, like someone is watching me.
I'll lie still, observing, listening for any sound.
SOUND...
Nothing. Not even the chirping of insects or croaking of frogs I usually hear
when I wake up at night in the middle of a power outage.
I'll get up from my bed.
Nothing happened. I can't move!
PANIC!
KEEP STRUGGLING!
Still nothing is happening.
Calm down... relax.
Take a deep breath or two.
I can't smell the air.
I can't even smell the cigarette butts I leave in the ash tray that usually
stinks up my air conditioned room.
SHIT!
I think I am no longer safe, inside my apartment.
Someone must have taken me some place else.
But how?
When I was asleep?
No! That's impossible. Even the movement of my cat when she sleeps on
my bed wakes me up.
Unless I was drugged.
Again, struggle! Fight against the bonds you are in man!
...
What kind of bonds?
Straps?
Ropes?
I don't feel it...
What the-- I don't feel it?!
SHIT!
START MOVING YOUR TOES AND FINGERS MAN!
No response.
I got it. I'll scream and let my captors know I'm awake...
My scream...
I screamed! I screamed, I know I did.
Why didn't I hear it?
Not even my whimper.
I have to calm down.
Think, man think!
Where am I?
Hell, if I know!
Where was I last?
Sleeping--
Wait..
Now I remember.
I was at school in my political science class.
The class ended with the professor cancelling our next two meetings
with him because he had to go somewhere.
Then I got out of school, had a smoke and went up to the transit.
I was going home to my apartment. I even remember an old man picking his nose on the train. Then I got home--
I got...
I can't remember.
Am I still on the train?
Have I fallen asleep? But why can't I smell the other passenger's on the---
OUCH!
FUCK! THAT HURTS LIKE HELL!
FUCK! THAT'S TWICE ON BOTH SIDES OF MY CHEST!
WHAT THE FUCK IS---
MOTHER FUCKE---
Dr. Reyes' private notes on pathology:
the subject is male, Filipino, 5 feet 5 inches in height, approximately 60 kilograms, in his early twenties. He collapsed on a train on his way home. He was pronounced dead on arrival in (DELETED). When I got to working on his body, to try to find the cause of death, it was already going in to rigor mortis. I figured his blood would already be coagulated at this point but as I made the first two incisions, his blood was still fluid and warm. I checked his vital signs again, there was none. He was dead, I was sure of it. I continued the autopsy. to my surprise, there seems to be nothing in his blood stream that could be poisonous, let alone weaken him. His organs were all healthy, no swelling pancreas, no battered liver. Everything was clean except maybe for the lungs which had tar and nicotine, but by the amount of it could not even kill a five-year-old. The tests on his blood was clean, no poisons, no narcotics, not even a hint that used cannabis sativa. As I see it, he is as healthy as he could be. All his past medical records were all normal. Just a few scrapes and bruises when he fell of a tree when he was five and the common cold which his mother thought was dengue fever. Aside from that he was never hospitalized for any diseases.
How in the world could this young man have died?
No lacerations, no contusions, no bleeding, just die?
It's like he just seized to exist. This is the first case I encountered that had baffled me and my staff. A mystery beyond our grasp.
(END OF ENTRY)
-Orville "chubby" Basas
My mind is coming back ti it's focus.
DARKNESS...
Hollow darkness.
I'm opening my eyes but nothing. I'm still in darkness.
At least I think my eyes are open.
Nervous. I'll stay still. I have a feeling I'm not alone, like someone is watching me.
I'll lie still, observing, listening for any sound.
SOUND...
Nothing. Not even the chirping of insects or croaking of frogs I usually hear
when I wake up at night in the middle of a power outage.
I'll get up from my bed.
Nothing happened. I can't move!
PANIC!
KEEP STRUGGLING!
Still nothing is happening.
Calm down... relax.
Take a deep breath or two.
I can't smell the air.
I can't even smell the cigarette butts I leave in the ash tray that usually
stinks up my air conditioned room.
SHIT!
I think I am no longer safe, inside my apartment.
Someone must have taken me some place else.
But how?
When I was asleep?
No! That's impossible. Even the movement of my cat when she sleeps on
my bed wakes me up.
Unless I was drugged.
Again, struggle! Fight against the bonds you are in man!
...
What kind of bonds?
Straps?
Ropes?
I don't feel it...
What the-- I don't feel it?!
SHIT!
START MOVING YOUR TOES AND FINGERS MAN!
No response.
I got it. I'll scream and let my captors know I'm awake...
My scream...
I screamed! I screamed, I know I did.
Why didn't I hear it?
Not even my whimper.
I have to calm down.
Think, man think!
Where am I?
Hell, if I know!
Where was I last?
Sleeping--
Wait..
Now I remember.
I was at school in my political science class.
The class ended with the professor cancelling our next two meetings
with him because he had to go somewhere.
Then I got out of school, had a smoke and went up to the transit.
I was going home to my apartment. I even remember an old man picking his nose on the train. Then I got home--
I got...
I can't remember.
Am I still on the train?
Have I fallen asleep? But why can't I smell the other passenger's on the---
OUCH!
FUCK! THAT HURTS LIKE HELL!
FUCK! THAT'S TWICE ON BOTH SIDES OF MY CHEST!
WHAT THE FUCK IS---
MOTHER FUCKE---
Dr. Reyes' private notes on pathology:
the subject is male, Filipino, 5 feet 5 inches in height, approximately 60 kilograms, in his early twenties. He collapsed on a train on his way home. He was pronounced dead on arrival in (DELETED). When I got to working on his body, to try to find the cause of death, it was already going in to rigor mortis. I figured his blood would already be coagulated at this point but as I made the first two incisions, his blood was still fluid and warm. I checked his vital signs again, there was none. He was dead, I was sure of it. I continued the autopsy. to my surprise, there seems to be nothing in his blood stream that could be poisonous, let alone weaken him. His organs were all healthy, no swelling pancreas, no battered liver. Everything was clean except maybe for the lungs which had tar and nicotine, but by the amount of it could not even kill a five-year-old. The tests on his blood was clean, no poisons, no narcotics, not even a hint that used cannabis sativa. As I see it, he is as healthy as he could be. All his past medical records were all normal. Just a few scrapes and bruises when he fell of a tree when he was five and the common cold which his mother thought was dengue fever. Aside from that he was never hospitalized for any diseases.
How in the world could this young man have died?
No lacerations, no contusions, no bleeding, just die?
It's like he just seized to exist. This is the first case I encountered that had baffled me and my staff. A mystery beyond our grasp.
(END OF ENTRY)
-Orville "chubby" Basas
Friday, January 30
pages of a fantasy - Legends of The Cosmos
I am Machree.
A few years ago I was a nobody but now I have a feeling the world will know me.
I have been experimenting with a melody on my guitar. I wanted to create my own style. Something I will be remembered for long after I die. I started to write a piece on sheet music.A few years ago I was a nobody but now I have a feeling the world will know me.
I was sixteen when I started.
Every night I would stay up late with my guitar scribbling notes, replacing some, sustaining a few.
After I finished the first four riffs I noticed that it would be far too impossible for a boy of my speed and ability to pull it off, but I decided to give it a try.
I ended up missing a lot of the notes so I decided to ease up with the tempo.
One night, I was eighteen, I finished arranging the four riffs.
I had in my hands six pages of the greatest melody. I played it that night and I found myself floating in the cosmos.
The greatest high I ever felt.
But it was not enough. I decided to make it into a symphony. For four years I kept writing. Making riffs, setting tempos and putting down notes.
Come to think of it, I do not remember ever doing anything else.
I don't even remember ever eating nor going to the bathroom.
But, anyways, I now have a masterpiece. Twenty four sheets of a great melody that could bring the tone deaf to the dwindling heights of the cosmos.
This music will put my name on the walls of fame.
I will become a legend.
EULOGY:
Today is a sad and dark day for all of us.
And even more for the dear parents of Machree.
Today we will bury a young boy of eighteen.
A quiet and kind young man of great talent.
A dear friend, a strong spirit and a loving brother.
My brother, Machree, had dreams. Dreams to become a great musician.
Dreams of writing music that could change the world.
Dreams that may no longer come true.
May we remember him in our hearts as a masterpiece in himself.
And as we lay him down to his eternal bed, may his first and last song
be heard, reverberate and resound in the hearts of all who hears it.
By mother's request, Machree's original, his masterpiece;
"Legends of The Cosmos."
-Orville "chubby" Basas
pages of a fantasy - Stranded
I open my eyes in dreadful fright as I wake in grim of silence
I lay full length and regained my sight and felt woe in all excellence
Wires and hoses run all over me and movement I cannot muster
All I can see is this light 'round me but thoughts are getting clearer
I cannot speak and I cannot breath but why am I still the living
I cannot feel and I cannot feed, all I can do is but hearing
Hearing the world sustaining the dying and to preserve a worthless life
I curse you for calling this living, I curse life for being my strife
I cannot dream and I cannot sleep, I cannot wake up from this slumber
I cannot live and I cannot weep even death would seem much better
I lie awake each night and listen, hear the living talk about my state
And all the words that they have spoken were pointless to my nearing fate
Stranded between death and the living, an aimless thought of the undead
A voiceless voice of a soul pleading for death to come and take my head
I beg you please, take this life from me, take your machines and let me be
I beg you death, show me your beauty, come for me and set me free
Come, take me out of this misery, death take me to across the sea
death of life please show me your pity, take me out of my misery
I am not dead nor am I living, I cannot go back nor forward
No ounce of strength to me returning, fated to be a fate less bastard
I pray for death but death never comes to lay me my eternal bed
Tied to machines that gently hums. tied to machines that gives me dread
Pull the plug and give me liberty, please take this life away from me
Let me die in peace with dignity, please take my breath away from me
Angel of death do me your duty, please take my thoughts away from me
Give me death which I thirst for, Please take these dreams away from me
I beg you, stop this insanity, take this soul out from this body
I call your name, death, please hear my plea. put me out of my misery
-Orville "chubby" Basas
I lay full length and regained my sight and felt woe in all excellence
Wires and hoses run all over me and movement I cannot muster
All I can see is this light 'round me but thoughts are getting clearer
I cannot speak and I cannot breath but why am I still the living
I cannot feel and I cannot feed, all I can do is but hearing
Hearing the world sustaining the dying and to preserve a worthless life
I curse you for calling this living, I curse life for being my strife
I cannot dream and I cannot sleep, I cannot wake up from this slumber
I cannot live and I cannot weep even death would seem much better
I lie awake each night and listen, hear the living talk about my state
And all the words that they have spoken were pointless to my nearing fate
Stranded between death and the living, an aimless thought of the undead
A voiceless voice of a soul pleading for death to come and take my head
I beg you please, take this life from me, take your machines and let me be
I beg you death, show me your beauty, come for me and set me free
Come, take me out of this misery, death take me to across the sea
death of life please show me your pity, take me out of my misery
I am not dead nor am I living, I cannot go back nor forward
No ounce of strength to me returning, fated to be a fate less bastard
I pray for death but death never comes to lay me my eternal bed
Tied to machines that gently hums. tied to machines that gives me dread
Pull the plug and give me liberty, please take this life away from me
Let me die in peace with dignity, please take my breath away from me
Angel of death do me your duty, please take my thoughts away from me
Give me death which I thirst for, Please take these dreams away from me
I beg you, stop this insanity, take this soul out from this body
I call your name, death, please hear my plea. put me out of my misery
-Orville "chubby" Basas
Tuesday, January 27
pages of a fantasy - the mind
Come with me to the valley of the shadows
To the darkest pits of which no mortal knows
Where the howls of hell are heard as melody
Where our distorted views of life and beauty
Are burning tides for the heart of the many
Etched in every man's bleeding heart's fantasy
Where listening to the sound off tolling bells
Echoing with sorrow in the empty wells
Wakes us all from slumber in the depths of hell
And gives us more of those bleeding hearts to sell
Where we sit with the wolves, dine with the reaper
Where we lay with death, take joy in the fever
Where the pleasures of life that shadows cover
Will always be on the road to the never
Wine will flow to intoxicate your being
To distort you from the joy you are seeking
Food will run to corrupt you and your thinking
It will make you see what you are not seeing
Air will blend with sweetness intoxicating
The streams will merge with nectar so enlightening
You will see the great fragrance of the dying
How mountains would replenish the starving
You will see the wind's chill comfort the crying
You will witness the great arch angels falling
The rivers will love all those who are mourning
And it will turn them all to a reigning king
Come with me to a world of death surpassing
Where all creatures are equal, dead or dying
There your thoughts of anguish are celebrated
And melancholy becomes the artist's bed
There the malevolent and the demented
Are revered, honored, distinguished, clothed and fed
There the foul roam free, the utopia of dread
There strident, painful cries resound in your head
There the sighs of the singed pacify the meek
And the hunger for death gives strength to the weak
There the wise surrenders to nature's mystic
And the fallen angels would dare not speak
Come with me to the valley of the shadows
A wondrous place which all life and beauty shows
To the darkest deepest pits of which no mortal knows
A great white river of grim, anguish and woes
-Orville "chubby" Basas
To the darkest pits of which no mortal knows
Where the howls of hell are heard as melody
Where our distorted views of life and beauty
Are burning tides for the heart of the many
Etched in every man's bleeding heart's fantasy
Where listening to the sound off tolling bells
Echoing with sorrow in the empty wells
Wakes us all from slumber in the depths of hell
And gives us more of those bleeding hearts to sell
Where we sit with the wolves, dine with the reaper
Where we lay with death, take joy in the fever
Where the pleasures of life that shadows cover
Will always be on the road to the never
Wine will flow to intoxicate your being
To distort you from the joy you are seeking
Food will run to corrupt you and your thinking
It will make you see what you are not seeing
Air will blend with sweetness intoxicating
The streams will merge with nectar so enlightening
You will see the great fragrance of the dying
How mountains would replenish the starving
You will see the wind's chill comfort the crying
You will witness the great arch angels falling
The rivers will love all those who are mourning
And it will turn them all to a reigning king
Come with me to a world of death surpassing
Where all creatures are equal, dead or dying
There your thoughts of anguish are celebrated
And melancholy becomes the artist's bed
There the malevolent and the demented
Are revered, honored, distinguished, clothed and fed
There the foul roam free, the utopia of dread
There strident, painful cries resound in your head
There the sighs of the singed pacify the meek
And the hunger for death gives strength to the weak
There the wise surrenders to nature's mystic
And the fallen angels would dare not speak
Come with me to the valley of the shadows
A wondrous place which all life and beauty shows
To the darkest deepest pits of which no mortal knows
A great white river of grim, anguish and woes
-Orville "chubby" Basas
Monday, January 26
Beauty after the rain
LOVE: So beauty, child, it has been a long while
who do I give credit for that great smile
Never have I seen you radiantly glow
Curious as I am, would you let me know
BEAUTY: He has found me, Love, HE has held me tight
He has made everything feel oh so right
I want him, Love, to take me forever
I want his swear that no one could sunder
LOVE: Who?
BEAUTY: An I think he loves me too
LOVE: You think?
BEAUTY: Oh, no. I feel it so
LOVE: What else do I don't know?
BEAUTY: We knew each other back when we were young
But our love song was never sung
He went away somewhere and stayed so long
But now he is back and we sang our song
He said Beauty's child is now a lady
I feel like fate has done so much for me
LOVE: Fate? I thought you did not believe in her
So I guess now you found your true lover
BEAUTY: Oh yes, Love, and this one is a keeper
I will not let him go now that he is here
LOVE: After that talk in the rain
After that fear and that pain
BEAUTY: Oh, Love, this is different
This is not your little game
LOVE: I know, I know, I have heard your song
I am confident it will last long
I am just saying after the rain
I hope that we would not do that again
I hope that you would really be happy
I hope he would love you true, dear Beauty
BEAUTY: I am confident he will, I feel him
Now I know it is he I've been missing
I felt it all last night when I held him
I want him to love me and me be loving
This heart is beating, I know it is he
After a long time I am happy
LOVE: That I can see, I am happy for you
Thank God someone has finally come through
So may you prosper and may your love grow
And may your radiant glow forever show
-Orville "chubby" Basas
who do I give credit for that great smile
Never have I seen you radiantly glow
Curious as I am, would you let me know
BEAUTY: He has found me, Love, HE has held me tight
He has made everything feel oh so right
I want him, Love, to take me forever
I want his swear that no one could sunder
LOVE: Who?
BEAUTY: An I think he loves me too
LOVE: You think?
BEAUTY: Oh, no. I feel it so
LOVE: What else do I don't know?
BEAUTY: We knew each other back when we were young
But our love song was never sung
He went away somewhere and stayed so long
But now he is back and we sang our song
He said Beauty's child is now a lady
I feel like fate has done so much for me
LOVE: Fate? I thought you did not believe in her
So I guess now you found your true lover
BEAUTY: Oh yes, Love, and this one is a keeper
I will not let him go now that he is here
LOVE: After that talk in the rain
After that fear and that pain
BEAUTY: Oh, Love, this is different
This is not your little game
LOVE: I know, I know, I have heard your song
I am confident it will last long
I am just saying after the rain
I hope that we would not do that again
I hope that you would really be happy
I hope he would love you true, dear Beauty
BEAUTY: I am confident he will, I feel him
Now I know it is he I've been missing
I felt it all last night when I held him
I want him to love me and me be loving
This heart is beating, I know it is he
After a long time I am happy
LOVE: That I can see, I am happy for you
Thank God someone has finally come through
So may you prosper and may your love grow
And may your radiant glow forever show
-Orville "chubby" Basas
the jar and the lid - a love song
R.J.:
It's been ten years since I saw you last
Ten pointless years of life living fast
Ten years since I lost the sight of you
Ten lost years of doing what I do
You were beauty's child and poetry
That child, that art is now a lady
Oh that radiant glow I saw in you
Now burns brighter, burns a brighter hue
Would you believe me if I told you
I have loved you since I first saw you
Would you believe that I say it true
Would you believe me and love me too
BEAUTY:
Oh, for so long I have been waiting
And for so long I have been waiting
To find that one that has been missing
To really be loved and be loving
This heart has been wandering too long
Too long have I waited for your song
Do you know that I loved yo then
But was too young to know way back when
So just take my hand and dance with me
Just hold me close and sway me gently
Just dance with me 'till the sun goes down
Just dance with me 'till all else are gone
-Orville "chubby" Basas
It's been ten years since I saw you last
Ten pointless years of life living fast
Ten years since I lost the sight of you
Ten lost years of doing what I do
You were beauty's child and poetry
That child, that art is now a lady
Oh that radiant glow I saw in you
Now burns brighter, burns a brighter hue
Would you believe me if I told you
I have loved you since I first saw you
Would you believe that I say it true
Would you believe me and love me too
BEAUTY:
Oh, for so long I have been waiting
And for so long I have been waiting
To find that one that has been missing
To really be loved and be loving
This heart has been wandering too long
Too long have I waited for your song
Do you know that I loved yo then
But was too young to know way back when
So just take my hand and dance with me
Just hold me close and sway me gently
Just dance with me 'till the sun goes down
Just dance with me 'till all else are gone
-Orville "chubby" Basas
Sunday, January 25
stealing sunset
Once under the gray twilight of a dawning light
Before her world would shine and make captive your sight
T'was a cold foggy morning to begin her day
And fate, with her, was already starting to play
By dawn, Beauty's eyes have seen radiance in a lad
He has seen radiance in the grace that beauty had
Yet not a word between them were spoken at all
Perhaps they were too young to know they were to fall
By morning Beauty's heart was exploring the world
Taking in lessons from the love songs she has heard
Yet no one else has seen her radiance and beauty
No one seeing the lady she can and will be
Come mid day she has learned to love another
Yet never seeing that radiance in a lover
She was loved yet fate knew she deserved much better
So she learned from what happened - getting much wiser
By that afternoon when it was time to come home
Tired and restless with no one to have but her own
The radiant lad too, had no one to call his own
Seeing each other and wanting to call it home
Before sunset they finally took time to dance
Giving credit to fate for all the pre-dawn glance
So they danced away waiting for the love to end
Yet sunset never came, nor waiting 'round the bend
-Orville "chubby" Basas
Before her world would shine and make captive your sight
T'was a cold foggy morning to begin her day
And fate, with her, was already starting to play
By dawn, Beauty's eyes have seen radiance in a lad
He has seen radiance in the grace that beauty had
Yet not a word between them were spoken at all
Perhaps they were too young to know they were to fall
By morning Beauty's heart was exploring the world
Taking in lessons from the love songs she has heard
Yet no one else has seen her radiance and beauty
No one seeing the lady she can and will be
Come mid day she has learned to love another
Yet never seeing that radiance in a lover
She was loved yet fate knew she deserved much better
So she learned from what happened - getting much wiser
By that afternoon when it was time to come home
Tired and restless with no one to have but her own
The radiant lad too, had no one to call his own
Seeing each other and wanting to call it home
Before sunset they finally took time to dance
Giving credit to fate for all the pre-dawn glance
So they danced away waiting for the love to end
Yet sunset never came, nor waiting 'round the bend
-Orville "chubby" Basas
Tuesday, January 20
to rise and fall
I do not care who you are, what you do or what you want to be
Burn the bridges, ride the tide, paint the town, cast them all out to sea
Light the pipe of peace, live a life of ease and penny royal tea
Let music hit you, paint a diff'rent hue and come along with me
Sleep now with the fire, be the honest liar, let music take control
Live life without fear, treasure every tear, free your mind and soul
Appreciate the arts, mend and touch some hearts, keep track of what they stole
Let all your hair down, truly smile or frown, But keep stomping your sole
Shake your fist to tyranny and wage a war for good and beauty
Call things what they are, let them not go far, leave all their dignity
Fight for the righteous, learn what is taught us, seek serendipity
Remember the dead, hear what they have said, lay people down gently
Love those who love you, hate if you have to but never you despise
Love simplicity, know complexity, always ask to be wise
Love true, love sweeter, give all you muster, never fall prey to lies
Hold hands with your love, love free like a dove, hold your love as it dies
When your life closes, refrain from noises, respect your deaths angel
Live free, reach higher, live to be better, do what you are able
Accept your demise, just like with your rise, it's unavoidable
go out with blazes, smiles on their faces, sleep well in your cradle
-Orville "chubby" Basas
Burn the bridges, ride the tide, paint the town, cast them all out to sea
Light the pipe of peace, live a life of ease and penny royal tea
Let music hit you, paint a diff'rent hue and come along with me
Sleep now with the fire, be the honest liar, let music take control
Live life without fear, treasure every tear, free your mind and soul
Appreciate the arts, mend and touch some hearts, keep track of what they stole
Let all your hair down, truly smile or frown, But keep stomping your sole
Shake your fist to tyranny and wage a war for good and beauty
Call things what they are, let them not go far, leave all their dignity
Fight for the righteous, learn what is taught us, seek serendipity
Remember the dead, hear what they have said, lay people down gently
Love those who love you, hate if you have to but never you despise
Love simplicity, know complexity, always ask to be wise
Love true, love sweeter, give all you muster, never fall prey to lies
Hold hands with your love, love free like a dove, hold your love as it dies
When your life closes, refrain from noises, respect your deaths angel
Live free, reach higher, live to be better, do what you are able
Accept your demise, just like with your rise, it's unavoidable
go out with blazes, smiles on their faces, sleep well in your cradle
-Orville "chubby" Basas
Monday, January 19
lone
Death is now my friend and companion
As life dennied me her compasion
Now I step into a darker light
As angels cast me out from his sight
I lay making love with Misery
As the World dennied me her beauty
I dine with Sorrow and drink her wine
For Happiness turned away from mine
I sit with Dread under starry skies
Joy was taken away from my eyes
I sing with Distruction by the fir
For all your truth was but a liar
I dance alone beside this river
For you are by myside no longer
-Orville "chubby" Basas
As life dennied me her compasion
Now I step into a darker light
As angels cast me out from his sight
I lay making love with Misery
As the World dennied me her beauty
I dine with Sorrow and drink her wine
For Happiness turned away from mine
I sit with Dread under starry skies
Joy was taken away from my eyes
I sing with Distruction by the fir
For all your truth was but a liar
I dance alone beside this river
For you are by myside no longer
-Orville "chubby" Basas
torment
I lose myself in your heartfelt tears
I feel your pain, your heartache and fears
Your torment makes me want to love you
To love you better, to love you true
You tell me things he has done to you
Happy memories of brightest hue
The pain he caused and heaven he brought
The wine and the songs and beauty's thought
You tell me these and you love him still
You live in pain only he can kill
You long for him still, though he has gone
You still see him as the only one
All though I know that I should not fall
For one who gave another her all
For I know you still love the other
Though I am here to love you better
Your heart is still his, all though broken
But my stagnant heart you have stolen
I know that you would never love me
As you love him in all his glory
So her I am with all time to spare
Listening to your misery bare
Wishing that I were he you long for
To have, hold and love you to the core
But I am not, so I should not be
Wanting to have, and you to love me
But still, here I stay, lending an ear
Wiping your face free from any tear
-Orville "chubby" Basas
I feel your pain, your heartache and fears
Your torment makes me want to love you
To love you better, to love you true
You tell me things he has done to you
Happy memories of brightest hue
The pain he caused and heaven he brought
The wine and the songs and beauty's thought
You tell me these and you love him still
You live in pain only he can kill
You long for him still, though he has gone
You still see him as the only one
All though I know that I should not fall
For one who gave another her all
For I know you still love the other
Though I am here to love you better
Your heart is still his, all though broken
But my stagnant heart you have stolen
I know that you would never love me
As you love him in all his glory
So her I am with all time to spare
Listening to your misery bare
Wishing that I were he you long for
To have, hold and love you to the core
But I am not, so I should not be
Wanting to have, and you to love me
But still, here I stay, lending an ear
Wiping your face free from any tear
-Orville "chubby" Basas
Saturday, January 17
truth is
an angry, violent cry shakes the walls of Angels' Hill
as the words she spoke, in your heart, resounding still
and now tears flood your eyes as her words are sinking in
truth really does hurt, huh? tell me, how long has it been?
how long has it been since you thought of not loving?
how long has it been since you took joy in hurting?
was it not you who said that you will never love again
when you had your heart broken way back when?
since she left you, you have not been the same.
since she left you, you played this game.
a game of lies and deceit that you called Love's.
but the point of Love's game is to be loved.
yes, she has hurt you, but that was her loss,
you should have risked loving again no matter the cost.
instead you explored and played with other hearts
and now it comes back to you and your pain again starts.
after all you have done, do you expect this girl to trust you?
after all your games, you expect someone to love you?
truth is, you are a good friend, but you are not a lover.
truth is, you are loved, but you are not a lover.
now you are burning, now you are hurting
now you feel how it is to be loving
now you can see just what you have done
now you know you are not yet a man
not a man who deserves to be loved by her.
but I trust you know you could be better.
as the words she spoke, in your heart, resounding still
and now tears flood your eyes as her words are sinking in
truth really does hurt, huh? tell me, how long has it been?
how long has it been since you thought of not loving?
how long has it been since you took joy in hurting?
was it not you who said that you will never love again
when you had your heart broken way back when?
since she left you, you have not been the same.
since she left you, you played this game.
a game of lies and deceit that you called Love's.
but the point of Love's game is to be loved.
yes, she has hurt you, but that was her loss,
you should have risked loving again no matter the cost.
instead you explored and played with other hearts
and now it comes back to you and your pain again starts.
after all you have done, do you expect this girl to trust you?
after all your games, you expect someone to love you?
truth is, you are a good friend, but you are not a lover.
truth is, you are loved, but you are not a lover.
now you are burning, now you are hurting
now you feel how it is to be loving
now you can see just what you have done
now you know you are not yet a man
not a man who deserves to be loved by her.
but I trust you know you could be better.
Thursday, January 15
the tripper
How does one get over the greatest love that he has felt?
How does one get over a loosing hand that he was dealt?
How does one survive when everything he lived for is gone?
How does one love again, as when he loved, the other ran?
Now, am I to endure this life as a loveless being?
To walk around and haunt the streets, heart empty but beating?
A soulless and aimless man to stride throughout the evening?
A loveless, empty demon,a creature wanting - burning.
Oh, now tell me this, What the hell am I suppose to do?
When all I thought in this worthless life, thoughts of loving you
Oh, now tell me this, What the hell am I suppose to be?
When all I think is you and why did you leave me?
Now am I to live this life as an angry bitter pill?
To walk around and haunt the streets, to wound but never kill?
A soulless and aimless man to stride throughout the evening
A lonely empty demon, a creature wanting - burning
now I am the tripper, loveless, haunting, bitter
now I am the jackal, an aimless, soulless reaper
now I am the devil, a wanting, burning creature
now I am the lonely, longing, thinking of her
-Orville "chubby" Basas
How does one get over a loosing hand that he was dealt?
How does one survive when everything he lived for is gone?
How does one love again, as when he loved, the other ran?
Now, am I to endure this life as a loveless being?
To walk around and haunt the streets, heart empty but beating?
A soulless and aimless man to stride throughout the evening?
A loveless, empty demon,a creature wanting - burning.
Oh, now tell me this, What the hell am I suppose to do?
When all I thought in this worthless life, thoughts of loving you
Oh, now tell me this, What the hell am I suppose to be?
When all I think is you and why did you leave me?
Now am I to live this life as an angry bitter pill?
To walk around and haunt the streets, to wound but never kill?
A soulless and aimless man to stride throughout the evening
A lonely empty demon, a creature wanting - burning
now I am the tripper, loveless, haunting, bitter
now I am the jackal, an aimless, soulless reaper
now I am the devil, a wanting, burning creature
now I am the lonely, longing, thinking of her
-Orville "chubby" Basas
I am Alive
I, as it was, never thought of loosing you
I, as it was, thought the love of ours was true
I, as it was, thought the world of only you
I, as it was, paint the world a diff'rent hue
WAS I wrong to have given you all I am
WAS I wrong to love you and keep myself warm
WAS I wrong to love you with all that I am
WAS I wrong to put all my life in your arm
DEAD was the world to me, you were the only
DEAD was all else when I gazed at your beauty
DEAD, all stood still when I was in your embrace
DEAD was everything when I was in your grace
TO love you was all that I was living for
YOU went your way and left me to love no more
-Orville "chubby" Basas
I, as it was, thought the love of ours was true
I, as it was, thought the world of only you
I, as it was, paint the world a diff'rent hue
WAS I wrong to have given you all I am
WAS I wrong to love you and keep myself warm
WAS I wrong to love you with all that I am
WAS I wrong to put all my life in your arm
DEAD was the world to me, you were the only
DEAD was all else when I gazed at your beauty
DEAD, all stood still when I was in your embrace
DEAD was everything when I was in your grace
TO love you was all that I was living for
YOU went your way and left me to love no more
-Orville "chubby" Basas
I, as it was
I am alive, but am I living my life?
As I believe love is part of living
It seems my life ended when I lost your love
When your love was all that kept this man going.
I am a man, but do I stand on my feet?
As I believe you made me a better man
It seems I am in fear. I am in defeat
When It feels you are the best and only one.
I exist, but what is existence but grim?
As I believe I am no longer complete
It seems I died and living in misery
When it seems you were who knocked me off my feet
I think, therefore, I am, I am left alone
As I believe that you were a part of me
It seems I am none because you are my home
When I know you are my life and dignity
I am dead, nothing but an empty vessel
As I believe you are all that is in me
It seems I am alive, but I am empty
When all I know is you and your beauty
I ask you, put me out of my misery
As I believe, life is nothing without you
It seems that I should have been dead long ago
When you left me alone with no where to go.
-Orville "chubby" Basas
As I believe love is part of living
It seems my life ended when I lost your love
When your love was all that kept this man going.
I am a man, but do I stand on my feet?
As I believe you made me a better man
It seems I am in fear. I am in defeat
When It feels you are the best and only one.
I exist, but what is existence but grim?
As I believe I am no longer complete
It seems I died and living in misery
When it seems you were who knocked me off my feet
I think, therefore, I am, I am left alone
As I believe that you were a part of me
It seems I am none because you are my home
When I know you are my life and dignity
I am dead, nothing but an empty vessel
As I believe you are all that is in me
It seems I am alive, but I am empty
When all I know is you and your beauty
I ask you, put me out of my misery
As I believe, life is nothing without you
It seems that I should have been dead long ago
When you left me alone with no where to go.
-Orville "chubby" Basas
Wednesday, January 14
stand
BROTHER: She has loved you more than anything and anyone has done
She gave to you her strongest arm and her ever shining sun
She has given a gift to you that you never can repay
but open your eyes and look around, that was but yesterday
Your once bleeding heart is bleeding no more
And for three years running you locked your door
I know you were hurt but it's time to stand
The happiness you seek is by your hand
HE: Then tell me how, my brother, for my heart is no longer young
For three silent years my heart could not love, my heart has not sung
I want to move on, my brother, but my heart is still in fear
Will I be able to love another as I once loved her?
Brother, I fear I could not love better
Anyone at all, as I have loved her
I want to move on, my brother, I do
But am I ready to love a love true?
Am I that ready to be loved and have so much of that pain?
Suppose I am rushing. I would love and get burned up again.
Or suppose I will not burn, but be a burden of a love
Am I ready to risk, to hurt, to cage a free flying dove?
I tell you, I have not been that better
As now I think of love, I think of her
I want to move on. I say this true
But am I ready to love just like you?
BROTHER:Your once bleeding heart is bleeding no more
So pick up your head and burst through that door
Risk it all, risk all that is in your hand
Now pick up heart, and by all means, STAND.
"Across the River"
Lying still, bleeding out on the wooden floor
Satisfied and quite excited as the sickness is no more
The tormenting waves of the river, bashes me no more
As we inch closer and closer to the darkened shore
Thank all the heavens, I'm no longer life's whore
I have left all sorrow and those rotten to the core
No longer will I feel any pain and sorrow
I paid my toll to the boat man, to my home forever more
I paid my toll of two coins for the service I implore
I take this ride across the river and the world, ignore
A world full of thieves and to kill they outpour
A world i so loved and now leave to return never more
And as journey is ending, my absurdity into smiling
As I rejoice in not existing, lying bleeding on the floor
All the works stolen, all my grief not spoken
my spirit they have broken and my beauty they ignore
But all that now matters not, I know I have done a lot
But not recognition I got as we got closer to the shore
I am no longer, life's whore, pain and sorrow I feel no more
As i lie dying on the floor
-Orville "chubby" Basas
Satisfied and quite excited as the sickness is no more
The tormenting waves of the river, bashes me no more
As we inch closer and closer to the darkened shore
Thank all the heavens, I'm no longer life's whore
I have left all sorrow and those rotten to the core
No longer will I feel any pain and sorrow
I paid my toll to the boat man, to my home forever more
I paid my toll of two coins for the service I implore
I take this ride across the river and the world, ignore
A world full of thieves and to kill they outpour
A world i so loved and now leave to return never more
And as journey is ending, my absurdity into smiling
As I rejoice in not existing, lying bleeding on the floor
All the works stolen, all my grief not spoken
my spirit they have broken and my beauty they ignore
But all that now matters not, I know I have done a lot
But not recognition I got as we got closer to the shore
I am no longer, life's whore, pain and sorrow I feel no more
As i lie dying on the floor
-Orville "chubby" Basas
"Ludwig Wittgenstein's Cry"
For everyday I fall deeper with everything you do
For every time i get closer I fall again for you
I try each night to forget you, set myself free from this
Unsavory winter of wanting someone else's - bliss
I fool myself each morning - everything is alright
I'll stop myself from wanting to take her home each night
I'll do my best to fight it, i know that she is not mine
Though every time I see her, in my eyes she's sweetest wine
A loving force- a voyeur- this is what I'm reduced to
Forced by self to love from far a pale and a fading rue
A shadowed heart- a broken heart- wanting just to be loved
But as my love belongs to another- can this be solved?
Each night I take to dreamland every woe and want of love
Come morning as I see her again, I fall in love
A fool playing a fool's game what chance do I have?
For her to take me as I am and be the one she loves
How i wish you would take all of me
But reality bites, we're not meant to be
You are a whole, I but an entity
Fated to see I can't have what makes me happy
How I wish that you could love me
But reality bites, your love is he
You are loved, I a nobody
Fated to fall deeper with someone that should not be
-Orville "chubby" Basas
For every time i get closer I fall again for you
I try each night to forget you, set myself free from this
Unsavory winter of wanting someone else's - bliss
I fool myself each morning - everything is alright
I'll stop myself from wanting to take her home each night
I'll do my best to fight it, i know that she is not mine
Though every time I see her, in my eyes she's sweetest wine
A loving force- a voyeur- this is what I'm reduced to
Forced by self to love from far a pale and a fading rue
A shadowed heart- a broken heart- wanting just to be loved
But as my love belongs to another- can this be solved?
Each night I take to dreamland every woe and want of love
Come morning as I see her again, I fall in love
A fool playing a fool's game what chance do I have?
For her to take me as I am and be the one she loves
How i wish you would take all of me
But reality bites, we're not meant to be
You are a whole, I but an entity
Fated to see I can't have what makes me happy
How I wish that you could love me
But reality bites, your love is he
You are loved, I a nobody
Fated to fall deeper with someone that should not be
-Orville "chubby" Basas
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