talks with pol arellano


the queries, your majesty
Message:
hi honey..
here are the queries..if you don’t mind, i would like to ask you for a
piece. a poem, anything.:)

MAYA ANGELOU’S COAL

god close my eyes to survey father africa.i have survived too much chaste in this towni need to bite the dust from its wispy lightness.let me balLet through the muscular shapeof his baked terrain. hear every screechof my fingers along his pulpy skinwhile i rest my head by the safari bend.let me serenade those starry soulsdown johannesburg.tongue gospels inside street riots and let me slakemy thirstwith his streaming velvet brine.let me cycle dunes and crash with his jaguarsuntil the sun rises up north.entomb my red solesupon his sleeping strandwhile i confess to his torrid son bathing,naked in the rapids.dance his sweet chamois girlsinto my sacrificeseize the biting blackness of his bitter rileon my breasts and light his deadnessinto lasting fires.

Jon1.Salutations, Jon. How are things ? like

you relate to your current realm? he

world’s safest destination? How does a

Dubai is having a bug. Balmy in the afternoons and chilly in late evenings. The weather is ocular. Oranges and greys. A cat like me breathes through the slides of its coloured dominion, sometimes oblivious of time but watchful of its accidental requiems and involuntary smiles.

2.Kindly enthrall us with a succinct

introduction to your being.

There is nothing much to enthrall really. I have always believed that all of us discern the fact that there are two people (or more!) living in us. Reaching full adulthood, I have managed to know myselves to extreme consciousness, being a happy person, a sad person, a mystical person and a person who can laugh at Sandara Park or cry to a movie like Finding Neverland.

3.Describe your childhood, dear lad.

The ancestral house in Vigan. The Paulinian sisters of Saint Augustine’s School in Zambales where I spent most of my growing up years. My father’s sensuous armpits, collecting ants and putting them in a jar, paper dolls, stick dolls (made of walis tingting), my mother’s spaghetti, eating mangoes, running with my father in the beach every Saturday, rosaries, sleepwalking, listening to Frank Sinatra and doodling the word SCOURGING (it being my favorite word since time immemorial).

4.Speak of your profession. Is your

employment due to passion or practicality?

I belong to a working class family. I worked odd jobs while in college. I decided to go into the restaurant business because I am good at it and have made good money with it. I guess that is the practical part. My passion for literature and poetry is another story. On the other hand, I have a passion for people and being a restaurant manager, it gave me a certain playground that required a lot of sensitivity and delicate maneuverings so I guess I have interlaced practicality and passion through this medium and believe it or not, it makes me happy no matter how phony that sounds. . . I have a feeling that I did not answer your question. J

5.Who and what inspires you, Jon?

A flash of lighting, people like you Pauline, a splash of rain, a tattered shirt, a dead cat in the street, a strum . . . the inputs can go on and on but really, it is still love that inspires me the greatest. A lover always adds an impetus fiber in my being that drives me to walk and stretch through the stenches of life. I mean, don’t we all? It has been said before but there is nothing as complicated, as simple and as painfully gratifying as love itself. It is both a gift and a curse. A sadomasochistic net we fall upon on. So much like life itself.

6.You write such wonderful verses, what

stimulates your literary veracity?

My version of truth. I have to admit that I never write for an audience. I write for myself. I am happy that way. I like poetry for its courage and I am aroused with the fact that seeking the truth is dealing with your OWN SELF and not through critics or spectators. We don’t bring opinions to our grave anyway, so what’s the point?

7.Who or what event opened your artistic

windows?

I was 8 years old and the family went to the beach. I remember diving from my uncle’s shoulders and slicing through the blue green waters. Fascinated by the sensation of falling and crashing through the waters that felt like smashing through a clear glass made me wonder soon after that there is something there. Later on, my grandfather, who was a published poet, told me to keep a journal. I wrote ever since.

8.Where would you rather dwell?

Melancholia or bliss?

I dwell on melancholia to obtain bliss. Did I answer your question again, Pauline?

9.What is your current state of mind?

I feel so lightheaded I may float. I may need to drink tea to feel my tongue’s now-timbered muscle. Am I beginning to sound unsound? My apologies the clock says 4:53 AM. Existential fangs!

10.What is the greatest debt that you have

yet to pay?

Apart from my credit card and mortgages that I have yet to settle big time, it is my mother’s obsession to us. I am in debt for life by her constant maternal interferences and her childish love for all of her children. And ladies and gentlemen, we are all way past our twenties. And ladies and gentlemen, yes, I am a mama’s boy!

11.Who would you rather be? Adam or

Eve? Kindly expound, dear lad.

Eve. Her character depicts all womanhood and to this day, her temptation has been associated, hated and celebrated by feminists everywhere. I want to behold that. Being a man, there is a part of me that wants to explore her threshold of being a wife, a mother, a victim and a sinister character. Being Eve means having to understand the plight of being a woman and experiencing a man for the very first time, without Freud, Cosmopolitan magazine and/or promiscuous friends. Wouldn’t that be a treat?

12.Your life’s nightmare.

Eternal amnesia. Dying and not remembering what I did when I was alive. This is why I chose to believe in the afterlife no matter how blurry it can get. What is the point of dying anyhow when you cannot live again?

13.The most enchanting tragedy you have

ever witnessed.

Seeing the entire province of Pampanga and Zambales scraped to the bone after Mount Pinatubo belted its mightiest. I felt, for the very first time, nature’s wrath. I learned to respect even bugs since then. Literally, I was drawn to its power.

14.To whom would you entrust your life to?

Kindly expound, dear lad.

I do have a God. I have always imagined him to be dressed in shiny velvet and drinking margarita. He is androgynous and very fine looking. He always listens to me and plays the piano when I am sad. He tells me I am special even when I am at my worst. He knows me more than anybody else. He tells me I can be his friend. He tells me I am capable of love. He tells me he will take care of me.

15. What would it take for you to

compromise your art?

Death.

16.The fitting metaphorical statement for

your corporeality.

Metaphors about me kill me! I would say a walking rogue. A mastermind of concepts and a Caesar salad of laughs. I live for comedy anyway so there goes my corporeality.

17.If you were given the wonderful

opportunity to abolish anything, anything at all,

what would you abolish? Kindly expound, dear lad.

This century’s vanity. Everything is being eaten up alive by full frontal. Everybody is so attached with physical beauty. Pride has taken its toll and it is about time we reinvent it. I was checking my zit in the mirror the other day and I was slowly loathing myself. I knew there was something wrong with the mirror, not me. Now isn’t that sullen?

18.The last song that you would like to

hear before you physically expire.

Tori Amos’ TEAR IN YOUR HAND. I still want to think that the people I am leaving behind have that power because it will be me who will be in tears. No, not them.

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