Let It Bern

Can’t forget about that day from the year 2013,

Just another work day, rostered on the afternoon shift,

Hopped into the car, time to get the show rolling,

Unaware of the forced absence that was looming,

Ronan Keating on the radio as I approached a roundabout,

A frequent setting for many an accident, never would’ve guessed that I’d ever be joining ‘em,

Ran through it once the coast was clear, then out came another vehicle from left-field,

‘Why’s this fool speeding? I’m already in this roundabout crossing,’

Better brace yourself, Kiddo, this stretch of road ‘bout to claim another victim,

Tried to pass through quickly while the other guy slammed the brakes belatedly,

Struck my left side without much force, thankfully, but left a dent that was rather unsightly,

His front lights trashed and bumper hanging off the grill, gonna cost him plenty just to get ‘em fixed, 

Could see him gesticulating from his windscreen, safe to say shit’s about to get real,

Feral eyes on point while ranting incoherently, if he wants smoke I’m ready to unleash my inner Bruce Lee,

Gently pulled over to the side of the road, got out and waited for him,

He pulled up behind me then climbed out his vehicle, ears steaming as he stomped towards my direction,

A few cross words exchanged, accusations galore,

Didn’t come to blows though the temptation to swing was rather strong,

Cooled down after a while, left him to dial triple-zero,

Then chilled next to our respective banged-up rides, awaiting the po-po.

They arrived fifteen minutes later, both coppers Caucasian,

I don’t mention that for provocation but I do have my reasons,

Anyway, we got to talking, they wanted our version of events, they asked the other dude first, the reason I can’t fathom,

Off he goes ranting ‘bout how he beat me into that concrete circle on the street, practically spitting before dragging proceedings into places ignorant and cringy,

“See the way guys like him are driving?” he’s raging, “they drive differently from us,”

Playing THAT card huh, Buddy? Took all my strength not to cuss,

Thought he had the complexion for the connection but any privileges he thinks he’s entitled to ‘bout to be shattered,

But the reaction from the coppers truly was something quite disturbing,

Shared similarities to the culprit, yes I mean their skin tone, they seemed to look at one another, I don’t like where this is going,

Had to collect myself, can’t show no emotions, the odds stacked against me now, time to tip the scales in my favour,

Calmly told my side of the story, how I’d been at the crossing first,

How our old, angry and bearded friend flew from out of nowhere, it was pure human error so not gonna judge him by his colour,

Having heard both sides, coppers ordered us to our respective quarters, to call our insurance companies and let ‘em sort through the rubble,

Bad news for the other driver, took the low road and he ain’t even covered,

Way to play yourself, Mister, total costs are gonna give you ulcers,

Dialled my insurance folks, informed them of what happened,

Hoping I’d get off easy, that they’d proclaim me not guilty,

Sure enough they said that they’d handle it, sadly gotta get that car towed then repaired,

Gonna be without wheels for a while, going out and about gonna be real interesting.

Just a typical morning in an apartment block at UP’s Diliman campus,

Where Mom and Pops graduated, their alma mater, not far from the bustling city of Manila,

Lived in a building at the end of a long driveway, beyond our front door a small, paved walkway,

Overlooked by a tall, forbidding gate, behind it a dirt road where street kids liked to play,

Every day without fail, even during weekends come sun, wind and rain,

The peddlers are on time, always, going about their trade without fail,

During the mornings it’s the puto vendor, an old-timer in his 60s or 70s,

Skin brown and leathery, voice rendered gravelly, likely, from years of smoking ciggies,

A wide sombrero atop that dome, two baskets’ worth of confections hanging off his carrying pole,

Slung across his shoulders, he’s out there looking like a walking scarecrow,

Traipsing up and down the walkway, lined with small gardens and flowers in buckets,

Some on hanging baskets, adding color to the greyness,

“Puto! I have puto! Who wants puto!” he’s calling just as the block is waking,

Not many seem eager, it’s still nine-thirty in the morning,

Some kids and their parents come out to greet him, clearly early risers,

Might have already had their breakfast so might as well get ‘em some desserts,

No alarm clock needed while he’s grinding, that early morning call as loud as a rooster crowing,

The gruff exterior hid a gentle nature, naturally kids and their parents take a liking to him,

Then off he goes, hanging ‘round that walkway, in case other families are waking,

Admiring front gardens in the process, put away the side-eye he’s just chilling.

Behind that aforementioned gate, a dirt road spreads behind the complex,

Barrels and old construction equipment lie abandoned beneath the building, a gated stone home staring directly across it,

A shanty town lines the end of the road, chaos reigns as street kids and stray animals are mingling,

Rough play the order of the day, this well-off city boy willingly joined the fray,

Differences in social standings inconsequential, just out there running, tackling and enjoying it,

Once mid-day arrives it happens, that near-mythical being appears from out of nowhere,

Two tins of his precious cargo dangled from a carrying pole slung across his shoulders,

That would be taho, that sweet, sweet Filipino dessert,

Tofu, arnibal and sago pearls, comfort food for the general population,

‘Taho!!! Taho!!!’ he’s calling from atop his lungs and heart, the voice nowhere as hoarse as his puto-selling counterpart, they’re running several decades apart,

Playtime is halted, suddenly, kids rush towards him, excitedly,

Can only look on in amazement, he’s like a real-life version of the pied piper,

Felt like the odd one out, couldn’t have any said the parents,

Street snacks ain’t safe for eating, there’s no telling what could be in it,

So back to the apartment I go, lunchtime’s right ‘round the corner, rough play with the lads will just have to resume a little later.

Been more than 30 years, time sure does fly quickly,

Never knew their names yet they still exist vividly within my memory,

Still think about ‘em up to now, after all this time,

Certainly one of ‘em’s already crossed over to the other side,

Similar thoughts ‘bout those kids with whom I used to play,

Had they found a way out or stayed stuck in place?

For the record, Dear Reader, that apartment complex is still standing,

Nestled among trees within Mom and Pops’ alma mater,

Through a child’s eyes the ‘hood seemed so much larger,

Such thoughts come easily when one’s universe is confined to one area,

In a grown man’s shoes it seems shrunken, like homes had downsized and roads narrowed,

At times got me feeling like Gulliver returning to his old suburb,

Just a piece of my childhood that I’m sharing with y’all, a window into a time long gone,

Took two different vendors to pry it open, the ones loudly selling what they’re bearing on their carrying poles.

You’ve probably seen ‘em all before, the ones trapped in their own prisons,

Judged, hazed, sneered at and taunted, disqualified from counselling the masses,

By and large dubbed hypocrites, of calling the proverbial kettle, accused of throwing stones, you know all the idioms,

One can’t warn against the deed when they’re deep in it themselves, the height of hypocrisy they’re calling it, not to mention fakeness,

But it goes deeper below the surface, damn near close to the abyss,

Let’s hear from ‘em both, just might give you a new perspective.

Looking in a mirror can scarcely believe it’s the dude that came up in circumstances conducive to life away from activities no-good,

They called me the ‘Golden Child’, the apple of Mom and Pops’ eye,

Expected to carry on a legacy that would elevate their name beyond the sky,

That all changed on one fateful day, a simple encounter sealed my fate,

Crossed paths with him in college, from there became brothers from different mothers,

Became family with his crew but was on a collision course with trouble,

A good time can’t be had unless chemically-enhanced, that’s the way that they be rollin’,

Resistance was futile, the world felled by the might of one big hit,

Crossed over in the worst way, plummeted deep into the pit,

Ex-communicated by fam, friends were lost, opportunities dried, the habit came at a cost,

Initially felt abandoned but I guess it’s well-deserved, many times I’d cried wolf, further chances would’ve been absurd,

Fast-forward to the present, been evicted more times than I can count,

Grog, pills and crystal’s all that’s keeping me afloat, at least until I’m drowned,

They assume I came up Struggle Street, the reality is stranger than fiction,

A privileged kid-turned-junkie, threw it away over one bad decision,

“Don’t do what I did,” I’m telling ‘em on the daily, “take one glance if you don’t believe me,”

“Sallow features and self-hatred are where you’re headed, trust me it ain’t worth it,”

They laugh and judge and truthfully I get it, but if words can carry weight then mine must surely be gargantuan,

Nothing like experience to add credence to the warnings, for that alone they ought to take me serious,

I ain’t preaching to be uppity, to project a false sense of righteousness,

Coming from a place of atonement and regret, have to believe that there’s hope for me yet,

But it’s been many years and counting, a change of course seems unlikely.

All judgements welcomed, would rather honesty than false platitudes and pity.

They call me a slacker and a bum but trust that this puppy got dreams,

But there’s fault within the wiring though ambition’s bursting through the seams,

They ask me if I’m fine and I tell ‘em life’s good, not because it’s truth but rather so they don’t intrude,

Various demons in the way and I’m ill-equipped to fight ‘em, try as I might the war’s just never-ending,

They say to just do it, believe me I take that shit to heart,

But in the face of crucial steps all ambition gets blown apart,

Too proud to call for reinforcements, at times fear and pride merge into a toxic mix that tastes so sick but somehow I keep coming for another serve,

Some say I can do it, others say forget it, guess which of the sentiments register? Guess which goes in one ear and out the other?

So for now I’m telling ‘em to get what’s theirs, haters and doubters be damned,

Sure they raise eyebrows but if they knew they’d get moving fast,

Also to seek help when needed, they needn’t have to suffer,

To let ‘em in, the ones they trust, there’s much more strength in numbers

“Why don’t you do the same, you chump?” they’re likely saying, “who the fuck made you the boss?”

“You ain’t even doing shit, you ain’t following your own gospel, so how you sitting there crowing from atop your horse?”

“It’s ‘cuz I know how that shit feels,” I’d say to ‘em, “you really don’t want none of this,”

“I’ll get it done, just need a sec, just need to silence the noise inside my head”,

Life becomes rosy once those goals and dreams are accomplished,

Defy what’s stopping you, pay no mind to all the rubbish.

So there you have it, two different voices, their wisdom viewed with cynicism,

It’s understandable, how dare they don’t practice what it is they’re preaching,

But stop and think about it, they have a head start over many a so-called expert,

Living it counts, doesn’t it? Who better to warn the masses than ones who’d borne the brunt of it?

Why write ‘em off when instead you can sit and listen?

Might learn you something, be smarter for it, maybe get you to make changes you never knew you needed.

The setting was idyllic, young love’s a beautiful thing,

Crossed paths at uni, since then inseparable, day by day googly-eyed at one another,

If the love is real then consider yourselves lucky, passed the game of love already,

While others are breaking up and making up, distinguishing the real from the fake, riding on that rollercoaster of emotions ubiquitous within the game,

Y’all can sit back and smirk at ‘em, but the tectonic plates were awakening,

Slowly began to shift, the resulting shake left one of you blindsided,

It was a bolt from the blue, struck you while you were gearing up for mid-terms,

A Dear John letter that pulled no punches, sent via text message for good measure,

It sure was unexpected, but has a right time ever existed?

One month of bliss had come to this, all that time and commitment wasted,

Hit him back for an explanation, clinging onto faint hopes of reconciliation,

For half an hour y’all went at it, you even wished him all the best, ‘til he’d had enough and bailed, left you glassy-eyed on read.

Keep your chin up, Girl, it ain’t the end of the world,

Happy endings ain’t guaranteed, might have to go through different suitors ‘til it’s achieved,

One and done’s an exception for the most part, could take time to find they that deserve the keys to your heart,

The dude quit on you, and by cowardly means, too, so don’t even get hung up over that fool,

Take all the time needed to get over him, shed all the tears required,

But do make an effort to move on, like the proverbial phoenix you must rise from the fire,

How can you find the so-called one otherwise? Can’t attract the new unless you de-clutter,

A brighter future lies ahead, you need only to turn the page and start a new chapter,

Now you’ve loved and lost, others would say you’re a better person for it,

A learning experience or the start of the fall, on which path will you be treading?

Born overseas but moved to the Land of Oz at six,

Confused and bewildered but over time found my feet,

Language barrier was a problem, cultural clashes were inevitable,

The resourcefulness of children underrated, to go with the flow seems second-nature,

Fast-forward ten years, ya boy well and truly made himself at home,

Sadly at the expense of the identity forged in the South East Asian nation he came from,

Learned some valuable lessons along the way, the good and the bad,

That folks are generally welcoming but others preferred you’d stayed in your own land,

‘I come from The Land Down Under’ but not all were offering vegemite sandwiches,

Even fellow transplanted compatriots weren’t above hazing and pettiness,

Such was the case in high school, a setting that was equal parts jail and something kinda tribal,

Your place within the hierarchy seemingly beyond control, affecting how you’ll win and influence people.

Can’t forget those days, a mixture of highs and lows,

Idyllic beyond school gates, it was a stable life at home,

Befriended mostly denizens born and bred, fairer-skinned and speaking with perfect Aussie accents,

Some on the strine side if not borderline bogan but such is life in Sydney’s wild wild west,

Wasn’t well-received by aforementioned fellow transplanted folks,

Up in arms over why I ain’t riding with my own,

The dude did try but was met with the stink-eye,

Tenuous grasp of the mother tongue had y’all branding him ‘acting white’,

While others griped I was too traditional, too similar to those from the motherland,

Better to move on now than tear my hair out to the last strand,

Am a hip hop head now but back then was a punk, alternative and heavy metal fan,

Perfect genres to voice out anger but deemed counter-cultural said the kababayans,

Can only bang against bricks for so long before that skull be cracking,

Friends and allies don’t come easy but thankfully found some that were willing,

But just ‘cuz you’re accepted don’t mean that you belong,

To others born and bred this outsider was a disturbance to them all,  

Wearing that bullshit on their sleeves, you know exactly what I mean,

‘Cat and dog eater’, ‘skin tone same as poop’, ‘Flip’ and ‘Gook’, jokes ‘bout small appendages, too,

Should’ve cracked the fuckers with minds stuck in an era before ‘73,

Would’ve meant suspension if not expulsion, at the time I’d sooner hang than self-destruct for their amusement,

Can’t lie, though, a generous serving of punches would’ve been well-deserved,

Smack ‘em til their faces broken, maybe a few limbs and ribs, too, for good measure,

Dunked on by both sides over identity politics, how the fuck did it come to this?

Seems the universe saw it fit to assign me the role of the picked-on-kid,

Stateless on campus, marooned on Point Nemo,

Ain’t nobody worth trusting so the struggle was mine alone,

Friends came and went, had to fend for myself sooner or later,

Such was the case by high school graduation, frowning in that picture for a reason.

But fuck it, it’s in the past where it belongs, no point crying ‘bout it now,

Gotta move on to level up, it’s been done and dusted about,

Might as well forgive and let go, but for the target it’s hard to forget,

Great insults last a long time, should there be a reunion these eyes will serve to remind them.