Decoding Life as a Millennial With Poetry in Deskaril: 5 Stations in Verse

While not many people may be interested in printed poetry these days, poems about trains, typhoons, and Facebook might have their own appeal. This can be true when the poems cover what it’s like to be a young person who worries about being Filipino, Kapampangan, woman, or a good person. 

The daily reality of trains for me began in the summer of 1999. My dad had us over in Mandaluyong from our mother’s house in Angeles. He took me and my brothers and sisters on one of the first trips of the MRT after it started its operations.

The air conditioning inside the cars was cold. There were hardly any people on the train – mainly other moms or dads and their kids on the same field trip. The seats were clean and new and shiny blue. And the train definitely didn’t have any unexpected stops or hiccups like it does today.

I didn’t know then that I’d be one of the many millennials born between 1981 to 1996 experiencing the transition from analog to digital and all its social and cultural implications. Hello to my fellow millennials! Those of you who are, as of writing this blog post, aged 23 to 35, leading their own nuclear families, startups, or teams in companies.

I didn’t know we would be called millennials. They used to call us Generation Y; we came after Generation X. We always did and still do ask “Why?” — about things like taking up nursing and medicine instead of something in the arts and humanities or in the other sciences.

ABOUT THE BOOK

Neither did I know that my notebook scribbles back then would be part of what is now my poetry chapbook, “Deskaril: 5 Stations in Verse.” 

Rae Rival of Gantala Press said that my book “captures the zeitgeist of our generation.” Thank you very much, Rae! But back then, I was writing as a form of therapy to manage the turmoil of my adolescence and early 20s. Secondarily, it was to do pre-Instagram documentation of the quirky things I saw on the street or at the mall.

And then as I grew older, the poems grew too —  in number, depth, craft, and insights. Until now, I keep returning to a notebook to express what I thought I didn’t have the authority to say or to identify how I really felt about the world and about people.

I can only be grateful that other people find these musings relatable, at best. Otherwise, it’s an okay read while you’re commuting. You can ponder on what your childhood superheroes like the Biomen have to do with your sense of justice right now. You can think of how dawn and taho vendors make you feel like you’re in on a little secret. And yes, there are poems for contemplating hugot and love.

“Deskaril” recalls personal, political, and cultural events that shaped young Filipinos like myself who grew up between Metro Manila and their own hometown that isn’t Metro Manila. The book is 45 pages long. 

After years of revising my book to try (and fail) to get the attention of a publisher, I decided to self-publish the book. After several months of research on layouts, printers, and ISBNs, saving up money for designer fees and printing, and fortunately incurring some windfalls, I was able to actually self-publish.

I need to acknowledge the design help of my friend Juju Gosingtian (he did the layout and the cover that is based on the PNR) and the encouragement of friends and my partner Arthur Francis D. Piccio.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR