Kwaderno

Hey! I was going through my stuff today and I found the only Kwaderno publication I had. I was going through the pages and i remembered you once told me that yo would write for this publication. I dont know if the one i have contains your writing. I went through the pages and i thought maybe one of the poems here was yours. I remember you once told me you never used your name whenever you write. Only problem is i dont know your pen name. I never really asked you about it. Even when you were here i never paid much thought in knowing your alias.

The Kwaderno I have is the 2002 publication, but remember that was the year you left. I guess i was 1 year late because your composition may have been printed in 2001. The book is pretty beat up its been read by a couple of people over the years. I like how its a double sided book. There is no front nor back. You can start reading from any side. The truth is, i haven't read all the contents. Sometimes i just browse through the pictures and wonder how the artists were able to come up with those impressive pencil drawings. The style is still influenced by the 90's. None of those photoshoped, super colorful vector art we often see today. Its gritty yet a work of art, its somewhat chaotic yet you can easily see the thought in each page.

I still envy that you had that publication. I always asked myself, "Why cant we have that too?" It defined who you were. It showed a form of freedom of speech. Like a rebel's yell in a dictatorial government. So radical...

I will never know your pen name now, but I hope one of the poems is yours. So, did your poem get printed in the Kwaderno that i have? I hope so.

Mike

Poems from the Book of Rage: "What I Am"

Disclaimer: This poem is not my own. This was written by someone I use to know. She was a budding writer back then, sweet and naive. This was how she let lose; a medium to get her mind off things that burdened her.
I advise you to read with your heart and understand what she means by her words and look past the grammatical inconsistencies.
I'm certain she won't mind me publishing her works. All credits go to her, but I will not identify the author.  Though she never wrote a poem for me, let's just say she is a big part of my chaotic yesterday.

...
 
What I am

For almost seventeen years of living I had never felt complete
Is like there is something missing in my life
And I don’t know what it is

In family

There are certain times where I  feel miserably living this life
There also times where in you’re so full of jealousy and envy
True happiness is so hard to conquest
Adjustments always comes when you think
You did your best

As a child I prayed to be seen and noticed not only by the things I do but also with the words I speak
Freedom misinterpreted and often times broken down into small pieces
Leaving only tears of agony, pain and distress

Understanding and honesty do the best complement of trustworthy
But anger, afraid to reveal so I had to conceal
Black is my favorite co’ z it reflect how I see life
  A mystery
Is my knowledge not enough?
Fame and fortune surrounds then soon poverty comes
Accomplishments…accomplishment seemed to have the  big part of the deal
I am too naïve and too dumb
Only me can understand
And only me can answer what  I really want

In frequent daily duties

My goal to finish BSIT what’s next in line
To write poems is my only pass time
It makes me happy and fulfilled
Whether  it  will or will not rhyme
I just knew that it is where I express my emotions what is within so read between the lines
Friends look almost all the same
But it is composed of different character and pain
Laughter enters and then a minute of regret
Past is past you cannot undo
Expect what they want is unbelievable and you would be able go  through

Life is complicated I wish I was born gifted
To solve those mathematical problems to answer those different question
Expectation and small appreciation harsh word cause life’s destruction

Dumb as I am I had this poem to let out of hand…

You Are Important to Me

Repost from my mutliply blog. Entered Jul 2, '12 9:15 AM

I thought I learned my lesson. I guess its true that people can't change on their own. I was very confident that I already know what to do in a relationship like this. I lost someone before, because i was too naive to notice something so obvious. I always expected her to be there and I neglected to make her feel important to me. It came to a point that I was no longer part of her world. I became just a memory. To her i was just a whisper in the wind. Before I knew it, she was already far away that no matter how hard I tried, my efforts to reach her were in vain and she was gone. Her words are still in my head, " I never felt important to you." I promised myself that I wouldn't make the same mistake again and for the longest time I was very confident that I learned my lesson.

Now I find myself in the same situation. Though I grew older, nothing had changed. I guess you can say I didn't grow up. You were crying out for me, but I was never there to listen. Now fear has once again come to me, the fear that you might leave because you feel unimportant to me. Is it really too late? Can I no longer redeem myself and make up for the mistake? Losing you would be the greatest mistake. I would be the dumbest man alive if I ever let you slip away.
I want to listen to your stories. I want to know your pains and frustrations. I want to know what makes you happy and what makes you sad. I want to be able to solve your problems, or at least share your burden to carry it. I want to be able to carry you when you are down. I want to be the one to make you smile. I want to teach you how to play the guitar. I want to listen to your corny jokes and your cheesy one liners.

Its my turn to cry out for you. I just hope you can hear me. Don't give up on me, I am certain its you I need. It may be hard to believe me now, but I hope you open your heart to me, I hope you will listen...."You are important to me."