last last week wednesday, before proceeding to my 10 am class for geography, i stopped by the restroom to answer nature’s call. i kind of developed a habit of reading the writings on the wall by vandals once inside the cubicle searching for something that might probably make me:
a)cringe b)laugh or crease up c)mull over it then agree or disagree in my mind d)upset e)dumbfounded f)exist in a state of skepticism g)exist in a state of wonder.

questions, swears or profanities, statements, names, phone numbers, threats, declarations, generalizations - name it. there are a wide variety of topics but quite a large portion of the space are consumed by those mushy questions about boyfriend/girlfriend relationships and provocative sex inquiries that are, needless to say, surrounded with amusingly different advises and remarks. yes…there is a massive forum or message board going on inside the girls’ restrooms! anyone who would read those things in the cubicle couldn’t help but participate or react on it even without literally writing it on the spare spaces - seeing those networks of assorted markers, gel pens, ballpoints, lipsticks, fossilized chewing gums (hehehe) and unknown entities that i would rather not examine.

anyway, that’s just an introduction. ok, then there are also some kind of literary attempts (so it’s also a sort of a huge open journal) and one caught my attention because written below its title (of course there should be a title!) is the name "Lourd Ernest H. de Veyra" (not sure with the spelling). yes, the front man of Radioactive Sago Project, one of the most controversial and most loved pinoy bands. i presume Lourd composed it and that it was written by probably, one of her devout fans or girl friends, whatsoever. it’s actually not hard to believe that Lourd did this poem, for through the way he speaks and writes songs, there’s blatant proof that he possess profound comprehension in things. and he’s got a sense of humor so, yes…i admire him for that. but the composer of the poem isn’t such an issue for me. the poem just striked me like a shaft and in a short while, i was already searching for a pen and a paper inside my bag - copied it.

GOD
Lourd Ernest H. de Veyra

That night, he was a beer bottle
Wrapped in cold sweat
Radiating over amber light

The Greeks believed he was a circle
Nietzsche said he was dead
But the conclusion of the tale
told by fifteen bottles

God is a bed