Sometime within this month I had my first spoken poetry. No, I’m actually never a performer. My introversion — especially now that I’ve been having existential crisis — is a bit, well, extreme.
Aside from that one, the only time I managed to perform on stage was when I was in Kindergarten: we were having our lesson in writing when the dancers for the upcoming event were asked to go out for a practice.
Looking at the length of paragraphs I still needed to write, I raised my hand, called the attention of our teacher, and volunteered for Macarena. Ha! That was a good childhood memory.
So, yeah. Sometime during this month I managed to deliver a poem. I wrote the poem of course, and it was dedicated for the community of war torn areas, in particular in Bakwit in Maguindanao.
It also aims to shatter the petty bourgeoisie tendencies inherent in an urban environment and among the urban dwellers.
Tomorrow I’ll be doing it again — spoken poetry. I am yet to write my piece, but I can see now that in light of the recent events concerning Marcos, it will be about the pain of historical amnesia, the failure of our educational system, and the abusive remark of the bullies and trolls who hide behind their laptop screens and false social media names.
Well, at least I’m considering that. I hope my existential crisis don’t catch me tomorrow night.