I Am Buraot

Some conspiracy theorists had it coming.

They theorized that the Maguindanao Massacre might be a ploy to justify the issuance of a declaration of Martial Law. Besides, they say, the alleged culprits, the Ampatuans, are known to be supporters of the Arroyo administration.

Far-fetched at it may seem to be, I remember the same argument of post 9-11 conspiracy theorists that argue up to this day that the Bush administration’s and the neocons of Washington had something to do with the 9-11 attack.

And given the Arroyo family’s unsatiable thirst for power and plunder, it may not be so hard to think so. Continue Reading…

The Barrio Siete Collective Blog was conceived with a common goal of responsible freedom of expression, radical tracing of one’s provincial roots and the upholding of democracy via the written form of communication despite of various differences and diversity among its members.

One proof of this is the fact that Barrio Siete writers consist of members with different faiths (including Islam), with different financial and legal status, with different political views, with different ideologies, with different citizenship and with different principles in life. Continue Reading…

The degenerating parts of me are the tragic but nevertheless concrete consequences of my previous actions, and quite simply, an unavoidable baggage of having just too many birthdays.

Like they say, you would appreciate something as trivial as your sideburns only soon after you had lost it. Only then you would realize that that small something actually had a use and a purpose after all.

I used to run with the bulls, and do it calmly. Like a light feather dancing, touching the most violent breeze within the eye of the storm. Continue Reading…

Five little squirrels sitting on a tree, the first one said, what do I see?

I gazed past my little angel giggling and mumbling her little rhyme. Behind her was the face that launched me to sail my sunken ship, straight up the northern shores where the majestic auroras are kept.

Its inner glow radiates outwardly and shone on me that I wasn’t able to see the fine details of its source. I thought it was making me temporarily blind.

What do I see…..? Continue Reading…

Summer’s almost over. The days are still hot but the nights are getting cooler. Outside, I can see that it was beginning to rain. It was just enough to wash away the haze that’s hovering over my head.

Even without the aid of beer, my belly begins to flab. My legs, now embedded with gout, are stiff for the lack of exercise. I couldn’t walk a mile without feeling the pain. Even the simple task of going down a flight of stairs takes me a while to complete.

I can only walk, not run. I can only jump, not leap. What was once a simple disparity is now a big difference. Despite this, this year, I will undergo yet another leap. Thankfully, one that wouldn’t require the use of my legs.

For this is a leap of faith… Continue Reading…

Here I am in my usual void, flipping and pushing pencils until they ran out of lead. It was dull and as always with this restless mind, I was beginning to bore myself to death.

There’s an empty sheet of pad paper lying embarrassingly white in front of me, as if seducing the pencil I was holding to finally give in and touch its bare nakedness.

So I just let Pavlov’s hand do the thinking by letting this fair writing implement run wild in different fashions all over the barren paper hungry for its undivided attention. It responded in kind ever so dearly by willingly giving itself up and embracing the charcoal being spread from within. Continue Reading…