Can the unspoken be just as powerful as the words that are spoken?
Text by Anna Miguel Cervantes and Marrian Pio Roda Ching
Photographs by Aidx Paredes
Like fireflies in the dark, smart phones and tablets rose one by one, flickering on and off and on again, every time Juan Miguel Severo began to speak. It hardly mattered if he was performing an old or new piece; the audience’s desire to preserve was seemingly far stronger than the desire to experience spoken word as it truly is—transient, fleeting, yet committed to one’s own memory.
Severo, spoken word poet of YouTube and “On the Wings of Love” fame, was the headliner for Young Davao Writers’ (YDW) event, #HabangMayHugot, last February 27. Along with homegrown spoken word poets from YDW, Severo filled the room that night with choice words of love and lust and longing.
Severo, spoken word poet of YouTube and “On the Wings of Love” fame, was the headliner for Young Davao Writers’ (YDW) event, #HabangMayHugot, last February 27. Along with homegrown spoken word poets from YDW, Severo filled the room that night with choice words of love and lust and longing.
Though now thought by some as passé or gasgas, the “hugot” still feels as real as ever, as Severo’s carefully timed delivery of lines hits all the right spots for giddy fans and new audiences alike.
At one point, he asked for a show of hands from the audience, wanting to see who were attending a spoken word event for the first time. More than half responded positively.
In a rare moment of silence as Severo readies himself for his next piece, a young lady manages to shriek "I love you," eliciting sparse laughter from the audience. Severo, no stranger to the unrequited, quickly replies, "buti ka pa." The audience laughs harder this time.
At one point, he asked for a show of hands from the audience, wanting to see who were attending a spoken word event for the first time. More than half responded positively.
In a rare moment of silence as Severo readies himself for his next piece, a young lady manages to shriek "I love you," eliciting sparse laughter from the audience. Severo, no stranger to the unrequited, quickly replies, "buti ka pa." The audience laughs harder this time.
If hugot, as Severo is quick to note, does not necessarily have to come from heartache, then one of its many other origins must be disappointment.
During the event, a piece from one reputed mainstay performer started innocently enough. Things took a turn for the worse when the persona he employed tagged repeated rape, abortion, and psychological distress as "gaba" (retribution). The fault found worthy of an uncouth literary tirade? Unrequited love. A woman the persona loved was not replying to text messages and was caught for lying about it. It is for this so-called misdemeanor that the persona wished the worst for a woman he supposedly loves.
It was difficult to tell which was more disturbing: that the piece slithered its way to the stage through the mouth of a poet, or that it was collectively received with hearty applause and knee-slapping laughter by a willing audience.
During the event, a piece from one reputed mainstay performer started innocently enough. Things took a turn for the worse when the persona he employed tagged repeated rape, abortion, and psychological distress as "gaba" (retribution). The fault found worthy of an uncouth literary tirade? Unrequited love. A woman the persona loved was not replying to text messages and was caught for lying about it. It is for this so-called misdemeanor that the persona wished the worst for a woman he supposedly loves.
It was difficult to tell which was more disturbing: that the piece slithered its way to the stage through the mouth of a poet, or that it was collectively received with hearty applause and knee-slapping laughter by a willing audience.
The show went on with more performances—all memorable for entirely different reasons. Nassefh Macla, who began with no introductions, punctured the night’s trend of ballooning heartaches with a detailed examination of the inequalities and oppression experienced by Moros in the South. Melona Mascariñas did not attempt to overpower other performers, but instead reveled in the quiet space she created, the sadness and heaviness of her poetry underscored through words soft spoken, peppered with short but pregnant pauses.
A total of eight readers and performers joined the stage for Young Davao Writers' Habang May Hugot, namely Darylle Rubino, Karla Singson, Nina Matalam Alvarez, Ria Lumapas, Reil Obinque, Nassefh Macla, and Melona Mascariñas.
Juan Miguel Severo
Can the unspoken be just as powerful as the words that are spoken? Text by Anna Miguel Cervantes and Marrian Pio Roda Ching Photogra...
