Taken For Granted
“Christians? Christians?”
happen that I don’t have any projects that Sunday.
Have you heard that call? They’re looking for me. That’s definitely me. You’re in doubt and Why? You want me to give you proofs? Oh! That’s very easy.
Ahhh! Fake?! I’m not a fake Christian; at least I go to church.
Who told you to doubt that I am a Christian?
Don’t shout! Ahhh! I said I’m not a fake Christian, I-I-I I-I-I pray… every other day. At least I pray.
I am a Christian! How? I went to church. I pray. I have my religion. I read the Bible. I love kids and I am giving them what they want. I sing gospel songs. Now you’re telling me that you are in doubt? How dare you to question me? Can’t you see? Or Are you blind? blind? I am the true definition of a Christian. You’re so pathetic; you don’t have the right to question me that way. What?! You want to ask me more?!… I’ll think about it for a second. Hmhm… Ok! I’m sure I’ll be able to answer all your questions fluently. Go… Ask me…. You’re asking me if I go to church every Sunday?! I told you… I GO TO CHURCH… ahmm b-bu-but not every Sunday. Every other Sunday I guess that’s fine with the Lord. Why?! I-I-I have a project every other Sunday. Yes r-r-right, I have a project. The Lord understands that. Liar?! I’m not a liar. I’m telling t elling you the truth in fact I went to church last three Sundays straight and Oh my Gosh Cris is in the stage he’s starting to play the guitar. Ooops I slip! Ok fine. I went to church three times straight without absent b-because b-because of Cris. He’s cute, he’s talented. And I’m still there for the Lord. Liar? I’m not a liar. I am still a Christian. It so
No! I said I am a true Christian I read the Bible. I open it… Every time the Pastor is telling me to do so. Ok stop. Why do we need to argue? I guess I really don’t know what Christianity is? Ok! I go to church not because of Christ but because of Chris! I’m sleeping every time there is a sermon because I only love the music. I don’t read my Bible because I guess that’s boring. I sing… “Jesus, “Jesus, I surrender I draw nearer, I fall down” but the truth I’m not sincere with that. But I guess my works will be credited in his name. I share my blessings to the poor, i give gifts every Sunday and I have a religion I guess that works…I don’t know. Right, Ephesians 2: 8-9 was right. It is not by works that I will be saved because Jesus is the only way. And I am so wrong I don’t even mind his sacrifices on the cross. I am supposed to be there because those are my sins. I forgot my purpose here on earth; you know what, he’s been good to me. But I always take him for granted. I’m doing things not for his glory but for my own. I should live for him because he died for me. I’m so ashamed now. But Lord you still forgave me. You’re so good. And you brought me to my knees. Now I’m talking and standing in front of you and I don’t care if you are going to laugh at me. I care to tell you things that I believe I must tell you. He won everything in me and he’s been waiting for you too… If you believe you have him, you may now shout what Carman once wrote “Jesus is the Champion”.
I Killed Her
I killed her because I do love her. These hands, these hands that give life to many, killed her because of my love to her. Ladies and Gentlemen of this honorable court, please listen to me, listen to my story before you give my verdict. I am Dr. Reyes, a cancer specialist. I was born in a slum district of Batalon. My father oh! I don't know him for I am a child of faith. My mother mot her brought me up in such determination and my ambition was to escape the filthy and horrible place of Batalon. I was nourished with hope that someday I might live a life different from her. My mother had a burning faith that she turned the nights into days. All her eff orts were not in vain v ain for I pushed through with flying colors. My mother who had given her whole life to me had tears in her eyes as she pinned the gold medal on my proud breast. Later on, I was sent as a scholar of the Philippines to the United States of America. I embra ced my mother… tightly as I've reached the plane….."Mother, mother,.." I whispered. You will always be my best mother in the world. After four years, I came back with laurels. I became a cancer specialist. I gave my mother everything but I was too late. I who had h ad used to ease the pain of many, came too late to the life of my dying mother. I gave the best treatment but the grasp of death was so tight around her. My God, what is the use of ten years of study if I couldn't even use it at my mother's pain. Then one night, I heard a strange cry. I run to her room. "Do you love me, child?"… she asked, as I embrace her. " Yes, mother….. If only I could get all your pain and agonies…" " Then….. if you love me, me , end my sufferings, kill me… Let me die." "But, mother, I promise to give life and not to end it." God…. She did not deserve the unhappiness. She deserves to be happy. I run to my room ro om and came back with a syringe. "Mother, forgive me…. God, please understand me…." "Mother, mother, you must not die….. die….. Don't leave, I love you. It I t was only a distilled water…..Mother…… Mother……. MOTHER……"
Now, Ladies and Gentlemen, give me your verdict. Yes, it was only distilled water which ended the sufferings of my mother. Judge me….. Punish me……… GO, punish punish me………….. Thy will be done!!!
Bad Girl
Hey! Every Body seems to be staring at me. You! You! All of you! How dare you to t o stare at me? Why? Is it because I’m a bad girl? A bad girl I am, a good for nothing teen ager, a problem child? That’s what you call me! I smoke. I drink. I gamble at my young tender age. I lie. I cheat, and I could even kill, if I have h ave too. Yes, I’m a bad girl, but where are my parents? You! You! You are my good parents? Good elder brother & sister in this society where I live? Look…look at me…What have you done to me? You have pampered and spoiled me, neglected me when I needed you most! In trusted me to a yaya, whose intelligent was much lower than mine! While you go on your parties, meetings and gambling sessions… Thus… I drifted away from you! Longing for a fathers love, yearning for a mothers care! As I grow up, everything change! You too have change! You spent more time in your pokers, mahjong tables, bars and night clubs. You even landed on the headline of the newspaper as crook, peddlers and racketeers. Now, you call my name; accuse me in everything I do to myself? Tell me! How good you are? If you really wish to ensure my future then hurry….hurry back home! Where I await you, because I need you… Protect me from from all evil influences that will threaten at my very own understanding… But if I am bad, really bad…then, you’ve got to help me! Help me! Oh please…Help me!
Casablanca
There was a great battle at sea. Once could hear nothing but the roars of the big guns. The air was filled with black smoke. The waster was strewn with broken masts and pieces of timber, which the cannon balls had knocked from the ships. Many men had been killed, and many more had been wounded. The flagship had taken fire. The flames were breaking out from below. The deck was ablaze. The men who were left alive made haste to launch a small boat. The leaped into it and rowed swiftly away. Any other place was safer now than on board of the burning ship. There was powder in the hold. But the captain's son, young Casablanca still stood upon the deck. The flames were almost all around him now but he would not stir from his post. His father had bidden him stand there, and he had been taught always to obey. He trusted in his father's word, and believed that when the right time came, he would tell him to go. He saw the men leap into the boat. He heard them call to him to come. He H e shook his head. "When father bids me, I will go", he said. And now, the flames were leaping up the masts. The sails were all ablaze. The fire blew hot upon his cheek. It scorched his hair. It was before him, behind all around him. "O Father," he cried, "may I not go now? The men have all left the ship. Is it not the time t ime that we, too, should leave it?" He did not know that his father was lying in the burning cabin below, that a cannon ball had struck him at the very beginning of the t he fight. He listened to hear his answer. "Speak louder, Father," he cried, "I cannot hear what you say". Above the roaring of the flames, above the crashing of the falling spares, above the booming of the guns, he fancied that his father's voice came faintly to him through the scorching air. "I am here, Father. Speak once again," he gasped. A great flash of light fills the air; clouds of smoke shoot quickly upward to the sky and --- BOOM! Oh, what a terrific sound, louder than thunder, t hunder, louder than the roar of all guns. The air quivers: the see itself trembles; the sky is black. The blazing ship is seen no more. There was powder in the hold.
I Demand Death
My hands are wet with blood. They are crimsoned with t he blood of a man I have just killed. I have come here today to confess. I have committed murder, deliberate, premeditated murder. I have killed a man in cold blood. That man is my master. I am here not to ask for pity but for justice simple, elementary justice. I am a tenant... My father was a tenant before me and so was his father before him. This misery is my inheritance and perhaps this will be my legacy to my children. I have labored on a patch of land not mine. But I have learned to love that land, for it is the only thing that lies between me and complete destitution. It is the only world that I have learned to cherish. And somewhere on that l and I have managed to build what is now the dilapidated nipa shack that has been home to me. I have but a few worldly possessions, mostly rags. My debts are heavy. They are sum total of my ignorance and the inspired arithmetic of my master, which I do not understand. I labor like slave and out of the fruits of that labor; I get but a mere pittance for a share. And I have to stretch that mere pittance to keep myself and my family alive. My poverty has reduced me to the bare necessities of life. And-the constant fear of rejection from the land has made me totally tot ally subservient to my master. You tell me that under t he constitution, I am a free man-free to do what I believe is just, free to t o say what I think is right, and free to worship God according to the dictates of my conscience. But I do not understand the meaning of all these for I have never known freedom. I have always obeyed the wishes of my master out of fear. I have always regarded myself as no better than a slave to the man who owns the land on which I live. You tell t ell me of the right to t o life and liberty and the pursuit of happiness. But I have known no rights, only obligations; I have known no happiness; only despair in the encumbered existence that has always been my lot. My dear friends, I am a peace-loving citizen. I have nothing but love for my fellowmen. And yet, why do I kill this man? It is because he was the symbol of an economic system which has made him and me what we are: He, a master, and I, a slave. Out of a deliberate design I killed him because I could no longer stand this life of constant fear and being a servant. I could no longer suffer t hat thought of being perpetually a slave. Here is another touching piece. This was also written by someone anonymous so I suppose it is alright to post this here for those who need a piece. I am still searching for the pieces that I have loved from childhood.
Vendetta
Vendetta... Vendetta... Vendetta....
"Oh madam, madam I am so sad. I am so unlucky! I am so disgusted."
Please, please leave me alone! Stop! Stop! No! No!
"No Vendetta you are luckier than the street children who have nowhere to go and do not feel loved"
Leave me alone! I am free! I know I am free! Hahaha!!! Do you know me? They call me Vendetta. They say I am ugly. Well... I am. I am not deceived by my looks. I love and know that I am ugly. I still remember, yes, we were very rich. My father was the most successful businessman in our place. Everyone respected him and my mother; oh she was so lovely that everybody admired her. And me? Look at me! I am so ugly! Everybody hates me! They laugh at me! Everybody loathes me! They spite me! I don't always agree with people, I am uneducated, I am unfortunate! "Vendetta my business associates are coming, I do not want them to see you. Do you understand?"
"Love? Love? Where is love? Am I loved by my parents? I envy the street children who are poor but are loved. Me? I may be rich but nobody loves me, nobody cares about me. "I am really sorry Vendetta." One day, I was playing with a child with a lovely place. Mama got angry, she said to me: "Vendetta, how many times do I have to tell you to stay in your room?" She then faced her friends and said: "She is somebody's child that was asked to stay with us." "I heard it and it crushed my heart and it kept bleeding! My own mother despised me and she is not proud of me!"
"Oh Papa, papa, papa! Please!" "No! Do not disobey. Do as I tell you! I want you to stay in your room! Stay out of sight! Is this clear?" "But Papa why are you doing this to me? I am your child. Your flesh and blood, Why are you so cruel to me? "No do not say that. Not with that ugly face! Josefa, Josefa bring that ugly child to her room right now!"
I wanted to shout, I wanted to cry until I have let out all the anger inside me! Oh God, why, why do they do this to me? I love them. I do. I love them. Ah! I better just run away to a faraway place so that they can see me no more! Yes! I am certain! I want to be free, free from fro m prejudice, free from rejection! And now judge me and tell me do I have the right to take myself away from them?
Labor Pains
I was at a young age of fifteen when my eyes were opened. How I long for the days when I would wake up and just worry about unfinished homework or which color of ribbon t o put on my long beautiful straight hair. I long for the day when my only worry was my friends laughing at me because I have had my first period and stained my school uniform. How I long to go back to that day. Stop staring at my bulging tummy! Don’t judge me. I know I am too young to be carrying this baby inside me. I am too much of a baby still I know but before you judge, hear me o ut. I fell in love. Is that a crime? I fell in love with a boy about my age. My mother always told me not to do things that I would regret. My sister pounded me with lessons I could learn from h er friends who got pregnant out of wedlock, got pregnant too young... yaddah... yaddah... was all I heard. After all, who could care less? I was in love and my boyfriend, he loves me too. Never mind that I caught him cheating this one time. He tells me he loves me all the time anyway. One night, we forgot ourselves and one thing led to another... A month later, my period did not come. I was pregnant. I knew my mother would disown me. My sister would hate me. I had nowhere to run. So I called my boyfriend. “I am pregnant”, I said sobbing on the phone. “I have much more that I can still do. I cannot commit to this. I am sorry”, was the only reply I got. I never heard from him again. I thought he loved me. When you are young, you assume too many things. How I wished I listened. We were not in love. We were nothing but delusional kids who were way in over our heads. It’s too late now. I cannot bring back the hands of time. I have to face what I am dealt with. I ran away from home because I could not bear to tell my mother who has done nothing but shelter me all my life. I could co uld not face the wrath of my sister. Now I must face this consequence of a mistake I had made one night when I thought I knew everything there is to know. When I thought I knew what love is. *Screams in pain* AAAAhhhh!!! I think the baby might be coming!!! AAAhhh!!! Somebody help me!!! AAaahhh!!!!
