Sunday, November 15, 2009


I define human actions, future events, and chains of consequences. I see through hearts and minds, and i weave upcoming occurrences through the fabric of human interdependence. I send notions into action, and I choose the path of the universe itself. I am destiny.

I am the boundary of the vast unknown and life. I send souls to rest, and I pick dying candles into the places where they are headed to. I am a simple and timely visitor, yet my realm is hidden until I come. The living fear me, but the wise understand my existence. I am death.

I float in the world of possibilities. In the merging of minds through the slumber of should I create oracles and visions and phantoms of what can be. The endless labyrinth of alternate realities slip through my hand, as the sands of fantasy linger and disappear with waking. I am dream.

I am the icon of reality, as things created disappear. All of the universe are in constant change as I choose new forms soon to prevail. Humans loathe me, yet I maintain existence through the balance of movements. With my sill things perish, yet this simply makes room for the new. I am destruction.

Fires are my favourite, as I kindle spirits and put motion into human live. I am purpose, I am reason, I am the essence of humanity. With my will the world is under my control. I flow through the innermost chambers of one's heart, as I give meaning to life itself. I am desire.

I am eternal pain, I am suffering itself. I am the darkest entity of intelligence. I look out of mirrors of the unlucky, of the oppressed, and of the lonely. I cut off trees of alternate realities, as I block the paths of dilemma and create blank stares of disillusionment. I am despair.

I live by myself, as people think they do. I am the chaos of logic, the order of randomness. I am chance inside the unrestricted mind, as I dance in the vast skies of the unbounded consciousness. I am loss of control, I am the speeding kite in outer space. I am delirium.

Will, existence, reality, substance, hatred, hope, sanity, the governing aspects of the human mind at hand. Anthropomorphic metaphors of universal themes, they are the endless beacons of the conscious existence. Each with eternal power and unbounded obligation, the symbols now speak and reveal a message.

Will you bow down and be our servant, or face our challenge and be our heir?

Sunday, October 18, 2009


    To fly like a particle in the vast space of the universe, what existence is that? To move in the surreal fabric of time and eternity, what purpose would it serve? To glow in the vast realm of darkness, what kind of life would that be?

    What kind of existence would this be?

    In the interweaving of pluralities and idiosyncrasies, there is a united doubt as to what is what and why. The truth, the ideals, both words have blurred due to cultural diffusion and social revolutions. And the philosophers are bothered.

    From a worm's-eye view the entropic problems are massive and overwhelming. Societal deconstruction and behavioral liberation create a pandemic wave of dissatisfaction and genuine poverty. Sociologists are alarmed.

    Parallel histories have drawn up cyclic motions of distress and catastrophe. Even the physical world is crumbling down into a runaway reaction mechanism of climate instability, biological decline and resource scarcity. Scientists shake their heads.

    What, then, would this pathetic chain of events lead to? The downward spiral seems to lead to absolute despair, towards the bottomless abyss coined “hell”. The “End of the World”, isn't it? Or perhaps the end of this world, out of the many worlds that has so far been imagined? What is the answer? What definitely was the question? Why?

    The firefly flew out of its hiding place. It is night, and it is time. It flashes out its signal, it send bursts of yellowish green light while whirling in characteristic flight. Where would the other be? The insect dances, not knowing any better, as if the whole world is watching its majestic performance. The dance of nature.

    Indeed it has an audience, but it is a man whose gaze is blank and empty. As he sees the faint glowing thing, he is amused. Bio-luminescence, the conversion of chemical energy into light with the smallest amount of heat! Cold light, spectacular biological process, the audience stares at the fleeting streaks of green glow. Yet he sees it from a distance, his appreciation fading into the dark nothingness. He is somber once more.

    Yet, as if acting on cue, the firefly went nearer to him. It danced, it swayed, it went closer. Its light got brighter, and its dance seemed more slow and deliberate. And then, as if caught in the alien trance, he extends his arms and opens his palm. The insect drew closer, then landed in his finger.

    The light! In his finger!

    He was frozen, looking in disbelief at the little creature that rests in his hands. What had brought it to him? Was it tired of flying, or is it part of the drama? The insect wriggled, but to his amazement it did not fly away. It was just there, glowing on and off like a living Christmas light.

    And he marveled at its beauty.

    Yes, it is the problem of globalization that contrasting cultures are bashing each other. Racism, discrimination, exchange of insults between two groups who claim that one is a falsity of the other, all these things trouble everyone. Who should we follow? To whom should we believe? Yet to determine which is right or which is wrong does not matter in the end; it is to appreciate the goodness in each, and the diversity of the whole that is essential.

    Many people are suffering the pains of the world, and yet there also exists those who have been given much. This does not mean, however, that the current world is simply unfair and the society is to be abolished. In perspective each individual has been given the same, it is a matter of seeing what one has in abundance. And what one is in excess and the other in need, one gives. Thus the value interdependence arises, and what is important is not that differences should be abolished but the inner selfishness.

    The Earth is a large entity, yet it should be known that it is finite. It is a self-operating machine that acts in accordance to the laws of matter and physical existence, and what is put upon it the Earth simply responds in return. For centuries man fought its way against nature to survive, yet it has now reached a point that he should fight his own creations for survival; and at times man fights man for personal gains. Therefore how can man survive? He should first restore himself. If man finally understands why he must act, he would stop thinking of himself. And if he did, he would be able to cooperate with others. And once he understands his own machinations he gains insight as to the workings of nature itself,  to which he is part of. And thus he can restore the Earth at last.

    And how is all these possible?

    Because man hopes.

    The man was still gazing when he sensed that the insect was about to go. He looked at it more closely, as if seeping the light into himself. But he realized that it wasn't needed at all, that he was just reminded of a fact he knew all along. And as, at last, the firefly flew out, the man stares, marveling at how the tiny being can dissolve the darkness, his darkness.

Thursday, October 15, 2009


                            Bowed down

                            Across the audience of the world

                            Declaring existence

It is I

        The I that speaks


            It spoke many times

            It breathed the marred air

            And talked itself

    It has been with the world

                - it is one with it

    It is one with humanity

    And the unity of entirety

                            It speaks in behalf

        Of itself

                            It speaks of the goodness of life

“The gift bestowed upon man

Gratefulness, gratitude, silence


    It is impossible to separate unity

    Yet it is unpredictable to meet diversity

Grateful of the




The impossibility of existence with absence”

    And it speaks

                            On how others provide

                            Each and every need

            The nurturing and caring and support

            The first shards of loyalty

            The bonds through mere fun

            The roots of common interest

            The shared identity

            The interaction

            The opportunity to know

                Self and self-sacrifice

The chance to be


Monday, October 5, 2009


It is not pity. It is not sympathy. It is not a feeling of hopelessness. It is inspiration.

There are thousands of people who live by the outskirts of the standard of living, continuing daily life in the most unimaginable way. This, at least, is in the view of those living the “normal” (or better yet “pampered”) life. Day by day they undertake the same round of chores, each of which is of considerable workload. In an average household, virtually everyone has a work to do (this may only exclude very young infants), and this depends upon the capacity of each member of the family. What should be noted, however, is that the job requires the full capability of the individual, i.e. if a person can barely lift a load, he or she should lift the load repeatedly and as often as possible. Such is not inherent in the job, but the need to earn enough imposes a psychological rule to each worker. Thus each person is not really required to climb a kilometer up a mountain, but the need to plant as much crops as possible pushes every farmer to do so. And they do it every day without cease.

Another aspect of their lives is the simplicity of their ways of living. They only have to have food to eat, water to drink, clothes to wear, and people to talk to. They do not fuss over what food is brought up in the table, and their appetite is one which is relative to the amount of food available and to the number of people who are eating. They do not and refuse to know the dirtiness and possible contamination that accompanies their source of water, relying on their strengthened bodies to combat such illnesses that their water bring. They vaguely know about fashion, and if they do they do so only to praise their favorite actors and actresses. Their sense of style is one which takes into account the wear and tear that their work is associated with. Therefore with their indifference on the first three needs they make it up on the fourth one.

As “working beasts” they are surprisingly more humane than many so-called “cultured” people. They do not read self-help books on happiness, but they enjoy life to the fullest. They never knew formal etiquette and the “appropriate social behavior” but their meekness and courtesy (which is the heart of all social graces) is more than enough. They never went to universities, but their knowledge on both the workings of their communities and the details of their job qualifies them as scientists, political thinkers, and philosophers. They may rarely have church services, bible studies, or even a bible itself, but their unfathomable faith which sustains them through such hardships makes them holy. They may not know the luxuries of the world, but by doing so they have transcended reality. They are, in every way, awesome.

Now disaster has struck, destroying areas of both the poor and wealthy alike. They grieve for what happened and they lie helpless as their possessions are stripped to nothing. The wealthy will pull out their cash and simply repair or replace the things that were damaged or lost. The poor are left out, seeking refuge upon those who are unharmed and are willing to help. The wealthy may complain about their favorite car getting crushed or their playstation games getting corrupted or their laptops getting busted and thus no internet for some time. The poor, however, has to deal with the loss of shelter, job, clothing, food and water supply, all of which they cannot afford to replace. Is this absolute despair? Is this the end of the world for them? Is this a great unfairness of things, with the wealthy having a simple “loss-of-replaceable-things” event while the poor have a huge catastrophe? No, it is not. For them, this is another task that they have to undergo with. Yes, they would have to deal with a mountain of troubles, but haven't they conquered such things every day? And because the whole community suffers the same loss, wouldn't it be easier for them, now that they can do it together? Thus it is not the loss of their things that matters to them, but the welfare of their neighbors and relatives. They mourn for those who were washed away, drowned while escaping or simply trapped inside their houses while the water rose. And they do not see the sadness of the washed out community, but the glimmer of hope from the volunteer workers and fellow refugees alike.

Aren't they awesome?

Tuesday, September 29, 2009



A man is sitting on a wooden bench, staring at the buzzing traffic. He puffs his cigarette for a while, then scratches his bulging belly out of boredom. A loud shout calls him, and as he leans to the source he sees a fat woman carrying the laundry basket in one hand and an infant in another. Without blinking he turns away, and looks out again upon the busy street with an air of indifference.


The carpenter pulls out a hammer and a set of nails from the package. He starts climbing the scaffold of bamboo sticks, making sure that the nails don't fall from his grasp. As he reaches the roof, he starts putting the nails into place. He drives five nails for the ceiling's joint, five nails for the roof, and two nails for the gutter. Seeing that he needs more, he starts his way down. That is when the ladder breaks.


The dormitory was already silent, but she was walking frantically to and from her room. She had her books on both hands while her laptop was at the study area. She finally settled down on her seat, putting down the last pile of books beside her laptop. She first did the abstract for her dissertation. An hour after she stopped and started reading her review materials for the exam. She was flipping through the first pages of the book when she suddenly blacked out. She can't see anything, she can't hear anything. All she knows is that her stomach was very painful.


The real world is a jumble of conundrums, a web of causalities and forking destinies. Their seems to be no order, everything is in a chaos of chance events and random occurrences. Lots of choices, hundreds of opportunities, yet success is both exhilarating and frightful. Millions of lives upon the hands of a fearsome society, what would reality look like in eye of the All-Seeing? The jigsaw puzzle of the global daily life is an unimaginable mess. What is the meaning of choosing right? What would the different viewpoints be in the absolute scale? Define truth? Define freedom? Define justice? What are wisdom and reason? What is living? What is human?


Thursday, September 10, 2009

Principal Deception

Of what use is bitterness if it only destroys?

The framework of the human society is the desire to communicate, relate, and learn with each other. Man needs the cooperation of the immediate neighborhood to become an entity, to obtain an identity that is unique and personal. The actions of a single human being can only be successful if other human beings interact with the causal and consequential interplay that results from it. It is the work of a totally isolated individual that radiates pointlessly in the empty space of the inorganic, nonliving world.

Man cannot be the lone island of a lone ocean of a lone planet in a lone universe.

Why, then, do people try to withdraw, or even refuse and negate social interactions directed upon them? What is the overall result of the action of isolation, of defiance and degradation of what is natural?

Emotions. The fleeting realm of eternal change, which bears purpose from the identity of the self and the nature of the action upon it. Affects all, felt by many, and controls a few. But its total control upon a rational being is too irrational in itself. Feelings are mere responses, acting upon an occurrence without a true connection to a future, infinitesimal or eternal. In its essence, in its act of being, it conveys a message and a truth about the nature of the triggering stimulus, yet it only holds meaning to that particular stimulus and to no other. Thus to act in accordance to a feeling after the stimulus has been responded to is nonsense.

That is, to hurt a friend because of a lover is meaningless.

Yet the very nature of feelings affect the occurrence itself. It affects logic, in such a way as a very negative emotion can pervert the mind and bend the philosophy of morals. Thus the immediate guilt upon the person is seemingly diminished by this corruption of reasoning, but it is also because of a perfectly personal decision that the perversion happened (and with which the state of mind at the time of the decision is very sound and logical). An irony of situation is created, with the doer and the victim and the neutral audience deceived in different aspects. In a positive way, emotions bend logic as to shortcut the process of elimination and arrive at a visionary decision which is rightful. On the grave side, the person hurts others, hurts himself, and ceases to become a rational being.

And he dies, remaining un-human until he breaks free from the emotion.

What, then, is the use of rejecting someone who tries to make you happy because of an unintentional mistake that one cannot let go?

Sunday, September 6, 2009

Burning in Thy Love

                               The rediscovery of what is basic, simple, assumed, forgotten
                               The realization of the truth, the reason, the logic, the only way

There is nothing more to say. Mere fragments of untranslatable ideas remain. The night closes in.

And I dream of dawn.

Monday, August 31, 2009

Catharsis of July

The melancholy of a broken spirit
That shattered across the  desolate space
Of bitterness and cruel hatred
Of the evil blood moon that howls
At the putrid air of degradation
The vile corruption of the black river Nile
The tainted Euphrates from pandemonic Eden
The fiery blaze of hell's return
The eyes of the devil's advocate
Piercing the shield of human dignity
Destroying all worth
Fouling all value
Devastating the land of grace, of bliss
Capped anxiety, hug me tight
Suffocate me in your sorrowful spite!

The death of the wretched is the wealth of the world. To keep upon the light is to burn the body into ashes. The unbroken  chain of evil, released at the beginning, is nothing but a jail for the crudeness of life. The ability to do is the intuition to think of what would happen moments and millenia after.  The propagation of action is a continuous flow of what has been and what could not be  in the reference frame.  The flow of time  is the movement of the soul across the boundaries of physical and invisible, exerting upon the entropy of the universe a force that is opposite yet unequal. The fire which gives life to people is a power that drives perpetuity into place, moving the gears of luck, destiny, chance and probability. The world is full of what the mind can perceive, and this in itself is magic.

There is a death that kills the whole existence of what can exist, and it is that which consumes the desire of life for its perpetuation. The death resides in the gradual ceasing of the flame, which burns down into ashes and becomes the barren dust of chaos and nothingness. The inorganic world would continue to degrade without purpose and without essence, and total annihilation even of the reason to exist would happen. Thus there would be no world, no sky to look out upon the black empty space of negative identity...which would bring the catastrophe of the known universe. There would be a self-consuming event that crashes all matter into itself for the lack of repulsion between differences of identity, and matter disappears. There would be darkness. There would be chaos. There would be light.

Thursday, August 6, 2009


A million occurrences every second hit the history database. Billions of people, trillions of point of views, each moment reaps a multifaceted diamond of memory, bound to be kept or ignored 'til dusted. The jewel maker is unceasing, operative despite decay and entropy; in fact, both act as cogs for the perpetual motion machine of the ethereal verse. Yet this orrery is immaterial, lacking structure and tangibility; it is fluid. Thus the idiosyncratic vision shapes the machine itself, and the machine takes its own form. And every form of the billions of visionaries


What is the purpose of the event maker? Or should it be the memory factory? Within the fabric of synthetic interactions lies the commanding official, the master to which history is a slave of. Whims of whimsical creatures, insights of the gifted, all occurrences become the sugar and spice of a melting pot of differences. Plurality of opinion carves the eternal space-time continuum, and the random probabilities create a balancing nature in the products. It is never random, however, as the human entity is but a singular organism. Thus cavities and protrusions give patterned sculptures, humanoid and eccentric, outstanding in its own sense.

And flawed, in a general sense.

Humaneness has always upheld unity despite diversity, the electric impulse among the sea of particles. It resists erosion, defies chaos and recreates the universe into the valid. It is, however, of a pooled consciousness with a common linkage and a shared administration. This creates a vacuum of vulnerability, as internal corruption could simply reverse its goals its goals without any of its parts noticing. The majority effect can allow error overrides, and in no time the essence of humanity can destroy itself.

Once destroyed, harmony is at last achieved.

Or is it?

Monday, August 3, 2009

Sleepless Nights


Sunny, rainy, cloudy, windy; springy, fallen, wintry, sky; cool, fresh, breeze, water; green, mist, sunlight, life

Flapping, rustle, tweet, kapoosh; thudding, beat, drumming, roll; repeat, delete, parade, justify; tweak, flop, ding, bash

Water, cold, living, wood; soiled, rock, mossy, dew; concrete, dry, lighted, hot; furious, tired, walking, horn

Orchestrate, harmonize; twinkle, gaze; inspire, amaze; flow, spin, dance

Saturday, June 27, 2009

Detachment and Impurity

The feeling of change brings about a kind of pang whenever one is caught unprepared (which is most of the time). That pang turns into disgust, however, when one scrutinizes further upon the transistasis that is going on.

Two cases can be cited, one self-inflicting and the other obliging. For some adequate reasons of more gravity and immediate need, the latter case becomes more disturbing. In one of the bottom populations of the impoverished places of a poor country, the people are wrapped in a dimension of self-deception. At such a time of exploration, one would be startled as to how extensive this "curiosity" is, and it can rightfully be called an atrocity instead. The intricate workings of the young mind is at work, but given ample exposure to the vices of the elder populace this sophistication is mingled with sin that develops into a unique evil itself. The newly elected members of the legal world boast of achievements even senior citizens would admit to have gotten just now. Machismo perspectives, feminine initiation rites, and heterosexual norms are simply too vulgar to both the moral and the innocent perspective (though these two can be taken as one and the same). The peak of popularity by physical wealth i.e. beauty, wealth, power has shifted, and is not on the old social structures as one might think but rather on the youthful organizational units. The devil should be this desperate, and the end of the world this near.

The former would entail a more personal insight, and a much more emotional bearing upon the discussion. As a person living a life that is stable, one would bear the woe of unfulfilled dreams and unquenched aspirations. That is, one who stays with his homeland feels stagnant and low. On the other end, however, the person who pursues his dreams would end up being haunted by the feeling of loneliness, coupled by a doubt upon the true value of his goals. This person moves on to a brighter future, but leaves behind too many memories that might only remain as they are. The things he leaves behind would haunt him every now and then, and he becomes lured to the illusion of selective homeostasis even when he himself is changing rapidly. Every so often he clings to the hope of participation even amidst his being alone among a crowd of strangers who know each other. He endures loneliness, seeing the refuge of his birthplace as a source of hope. If by chance, however, he is able to return, he realizes that he is no longer welcome to that place, that the people have changed just as he did. He longs to feed on the fruits of his past, but realizes that the trees have become too old to flower. Instead the field is blossoming with new kinds of plants, all of which are foreign and all too unfamiliar for him to eat.

And he feels detached. From the world.

And to complicate things what if a transition through social classes is involved? What if it was a poor kid who was able to break free from a lack of opportunity, tastes something of the privileged person's lifestyle, but he realizes that it is too temporary and that he still is not welcome in such a society, and when he goes back to his own world finds out he has changed too much to be part of it, and has instead become a civilized yet down-to-earth person too poor to take part in the modern world yet too moral to follow the brash ways of his own kin?

Butuan, I see too much evil in you.
Davao, I have to leave you for my future.
Manila, I cannot afford your ways.
Heaven, am I welcome?

Sunday, May 31, 2009

Man Shall Live!

    In the event that the world is extinguished, man will live on. And this is a matter of fact.
    The immediate reasons for the discussion of an absurd idea is limited to the opinion of a misfortuned audience. It has, however, become exceedingly important in infinitesimal proportions. The notion of a defeated man amongst the monsters he has created is a widespread agenda, one which many holds prophetic and inevitable. The current degeneration of man and society and the physical world it lives on points directly to an apocalyptic disappearance of life itself. The universal law of increasing entropy drains power to all ideas which defy destruction. And the suicidal culture which pervades the world through addictive pleasures and ecstatic illusions brings about the non-fictional tragic novel that everyone reads, sees, and hears (though the latter is somewhat helpful in stopping the population explosion, it should be apparent with further research on other environmental sources that too much culling would lead to a population crash). This hellish perspective is bound to be thrown to itself, however.
    The open system with which living things operate cannot continue on its own. The close association of all life in the biosphere is what poets and biologists deeply acknowledge. The circle is not a simple one, however; each link is a level higher. This impossible but real relation can be likened to a surreal river which flows round itself. The circle of life is also the pyramid of levels. To further confuse the analogy, the pyramid's bottom is as high as the pyramid's top. How would that be? Tracing the lineage of organisms from the most primitive to the most modern, the development is apparent. Life formed itself into bigger units, with greater complexity. Thus is the move from the unicellular to the multicellular (and if science fiction would be right, to multi-organism). At first look this is a linear progression, from something crude to something better. It is a very important thing to note, however, that unicellular life has advantages over multicellular life, and vice-versa. That is, bacteria possess better survivability than humans. The diversity of conditions that these single cells can live on – from the extreme conditions of temperature, salinity, etc to the median of which we could call “normal” - they simply cannot be eliminated. And they, in association with viruses (of which, even if there are strong arguments against its being “living”, can give rise to life i.e. evolve into a living thing if the need arises), are in many ways indestructible. On the other hand, however, is the complexity with which even man cannot understand, and which renders invincibility in one way or another. It is the difficulty of a brain contemplating itself, but the other end of the spectrum could be roughly labeled as “reason” with adequate logicality. The way bacteria survive is by mere adaptibility through simplicity; man, on the other hand, survives by adaptation through intelligence. If a bacteria can live by altering itself to suit the situation, man is known to alter situations to suit himself. In some ways technology is limited, but in the core of each one's hearts is the truth that time is science's only constraint. Thus the human end of the pyramid defies entropy through understanding.
    Of course, one would be disturbed by this mad-scientist point of view. It should be clarified, however, that the term “reason” is not limited to science. Faith has logic in itself, and the spirit is ever as powerful as matter.
    Thus man will survive. If the world degenerates, man would be able to refresh it. If Earth explodes, then other planets would be colonized. If the universe collapses, then dimension-hopping would be the solution. And if Armageddon comes, then let us all be saved by the cross!

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

Sonnet Rage

To taste the fine air in this Earth
The moment of life which runs fast
It's but a period, death and birth
And everything which does not last
Yet dreams woven and passions baked
Till gems of satisfaction fade
Ambitions pushed high, desires staked
And persons bring you harm and aid
The end is a veiled ecstasy
Through thorns and roses is the way
Yet living is a fallacy
If to live's but living today
Then what does this conundrum mean
If life's purpose has never been?

Standing by the moonlit river
The rustling woods, the chilling air
The stars that seem to dance and quiver
There is no cure to grave despair
As the howls of the wind dissolve
So are the cries of cowardice
The single flare of act involve
The surest path to a dead bliss
For nothing is yet worse enough
Than the murder of happiness
The absolute freeze, a grim trough
The downward wave of loneliness
The greatest frustration abounds
When decisions are without grounds

The sands that flow away unstopped
Drain finite possibilities
One's reflections unsure, abrupt
Vague objects become certainties
Motives behind all previous acts
Wasteful deceit and vanity
When one discovers what one lacks
Fulfillment's disability
Keeping promises is one thing
Pay debts, tell truths, smile, sing a song
Principles entail everything
To obey for safety is wrong
Simple as it seems, it's not all
For at it's best death deserves a call

Sick as the livid muck of blood
Throbbing termination at stake
Untamed emotions gush and flood
To a deadly sulfuric lake
Tremble, ye who destroys poor lives
The torture is yet to come by
When disease and fire and deadly knives
Fall down the blood-strewn sky
Marching bands of  cosmic beings
And minions of the hideous beast
All of pain's repugnant siblings
Clamor for the infernal feast
What a pity, what a sight it should have been
For the evil-doers to be caught in between!

To look through the eyes of the past
To remember things  created
In a lifetime which would not last
And a self that's isolated
One holds on to what is dearest
Whatever that something could be
To bliss or that which would be nearest
But that is a cruel decree
For man, as he can be the worst
He carries a dignified face
In nobility his is first
There's none a more chivalrous race
And as I gaze through the looking glass
My friends are there, having a class!

Time, that which flies across the sky
Like an eagle, lives on its claws
Like a leech, draining man's life dry
A soldier charging without pause
Many have sought to turn it back
Or retard its unchallenged march
Eternity, they seem to lack
The sea of seconds they parch
Yet all comprehend how they're in vain
To battle the gentle keeper
For, fearing age, in youth they are slain
And they sink even deeper
But wisdom owl speaks of one adage
Time is generous; it is we who should change

Friday, February 20, 2009

Stars in the Sky

Stars and sky
looking up
facing God
and His face
looking through
seeing with
knowing what
or when or
why; question
seeking in
the life, of
yourself; you
you who lives
in you, who
is yourself
staring at
the mirror
of the me
that they see
but who is
me? the me
that I know
is it still
me? the me
that they know
is it me?
Who is me?
Thinking of
thinking that
thinking is
thinking which
thinking would
think of. Me
or the stars
and the sky
it is not
it is like
thinking, for
thinking is
thinking that
thinking is
thinking for
the thinking
of thinking
and I am
I who is
the I that
I am, as
I see it
or they see
for what they
see is not
what they see
but it is
what I see
that they see
and this I
who sees what
they see, and
knows what they
see as what
I see on them
is the me
that resides
outside all
not reason
no logic
can ever do
can ever reveal
can ever excise
this self and the selves of others
that sees what others see
as I see them, or
sees me as what
all others see
as what I see them to see me
no other reason
except for itself
and that is Him
within us
where all our hope resides.

I am who He sees me to be.

Monday, February 16, 2009


Valentines. Why is it on February 14? Why does everyone call it “love's” day?

Crush. Why do people think of them during Valentine's day? Why are people ashamed of telling their crushes?

Gifts. Why do they give gifts to their crushes? Why do they do it secretly?

Roses. Why do people buy roses during Valentine's day? Why do they bloom only on that day?

Red. Why are roses red? Why is Valentine's day red?

Chocolates. Why do they give chocolates to girls? Why does chocolate taste sweet on Valentine's day?

Sweet. How do we know some thing's “sweetness”? How are people, and people's girl crushes, sweet?

Girls. Why are people spending so much of themselves trying to “get” a girl? What is “getting” a girl?

Date. Why do people go out on dates during February 14? How does it “get” a girl? Why does it have to be “romantic” and “intimate”?

Romance. Why is love a Roman thing? How would romance be in another world's perspective?

Intimate. What is the reason for the “closeness” that people want with a girl? What will this “closeness” lead to?

Courting. How do boys and girls fall in love? Why do they have to “court” in order to get in love?

Relationship. What is a relationship? Why wouldn't it last these days?

Hands. Why do people hold each other's hands during Valentine's day? Why do they do it often?

Kiss. What is with the touching of the lips that binds two souls together? Why is it pleasant?

Love. How does one love?

A fleeting passion
What do roses mean to you?
I love you is all.

Distant everyday memories...

STolen from yoni...for some reason ginawa ko 'to...

Here are the rules:

1. Put your iTunes on shuffle. //musicmanager lng ang akin eh...
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer
4. Tag at least 10 friends who might enjoy doing the game as well as the person you got the note from.


"Cinema Paradiso-weplay" //eh???


"Dream" //haha...dream-y pla ako ngaun


"My Immortal" //WTH haha...gusto ko ng zombie.:))


"River Flows in You" //ooh...emo huh...


"Tattoo" //okay...ano to,literal or heartbroken ang labas ko? aww...:))


"Code Geass - Hitomi no Tsubasa" //ok,so may "wings in my eyes" i.e. geass ako..oooh


"Cruel Angel's Thesis" /*wat. neon gen antagonist emo misunderstandable shinji-ish dork... na                                 pla ako...*/


"Cannon in D" //ok...

9) WHAT IS 2+2?

"No me Ames" //wahaha...


"True" //oh no...:D


"Crush" //ok...hahahahaHAHAHAHAHAHA


"Beethoven 7th Symphony" //waaaaaat


"No Air" //ok...SPACE!  waaa


"The Prayer" //waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa


"Row row fight the power" //is this even possible????


"Snow Station" //ooh...5cm/sec death at train station...:))


"Say it again" //waa,sirang plaka ba ako? :))


"Feeling that doesn't reach" //oops...haha,cno kaya makagets nito




"Code Geass - Mosaic World" //pwde...


"end theme" //okay,mamatay nga ako sa train...


"Sorairo 'Blue' Days" //but i'm emo...hehe


"feeling of power" //ha? haha? hahaha? hahahaha...huh?


"Love Song" //wcdvyjv ydfcLH8QD27377r&^$%^^....


"Burn" //ano,masusunog ako? :D pero yes ata to...wahahaha


"Standing at the edge of the Earth" //ok,that's SCARY


"Code Geass - Colors" //ok,di ko gets...


"Light on" //eh? isasara ko ang ilaw???


"poem of the sky and sea" //haha,ewan


"Distant everday memories"

ok,so sira na ba ang blog ko dhil dito?

well, naisip ko lng mg-unwind...or treat? haha...dhil ba 'to sa nangyari...:))

anyways,thanks to yoni (may collaborator pa cya...:D) nabuo yun lng.

time check:05:05 sleep yet.:D

P.S. i tag everyone!!! hehe,joke lng.

Thursday, February 5, 2009

Sonnet 16: La Vita Circulare

the newborn sun has come to take its place
and reclaim its throne from such aweful darkness
ugly to behold, yet cunning in its ways
the night has deceived the world
but now it never will
to pierce the eyes of judgement
that was sharpened by darkness itself
it is nearly as cunning, and doubly protected
for through the impenetrable cloud of black
shines forth a single star
and then another
and then the next one
until the sky is sprinkled with them
of light
of rays of perseverance
that brings forth joy
and brings about change
and asserts hope

For there was no one who sees through
There could be no one who'd achieve
Yet everyone, within them, drew
And everyone in each believes
The soul of souls that give what is life
And that which decides its own course
The union of substance and disarray of strife
The contemplator of happiness and remorse
This, and existence in itself undeniable
Yet still seeking self-approval
Is this quintessential; is value dependable?
The vanity of this world consequential
And so humanity on imperfections live on
'Til the final moment of the Easter dawn

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

Epitaph to Joy

The sadness that could envelope any glimmer of hope has dawned. Seeping through the soul. Stealing the lifeblood from each facet of this gem. Worthless, the gem has become another ordinary stone across the road. Lost value, lost substance, no one has ever thought that trans-substantiation could exist in humans as well. Or is this degradation, corruption of what was potentially beautiful? Shame, such shameful existence in the shameful universe of shameful beings. What is being something? Will it ever justify the existence of such a useless squander of matter? Such crap lying around, bequeathing ugliness to the grand mosaic. Why should such unpleasant things happen to what was just dormant? It never really asserted itself, it never really showed of, it never was outstanding, yet it is the one chosen by the devil to become his. Why should evil want to take over something that never was of value in the first place? Have they become foolish enough to take what was not useful to them? Tongues of flame devour this pitiful creature, the blanket of despair burning each and every aspect of it. The creature doesn't fade away, the creature does not burn out due to its encasement of what could be called life. Thus it is left bearing the tortures of its own, never to see happiness yet never to bid pain goodbye. The torments of the cruel world simply crushes the tiny value it could have, and it is left with nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

The loss of the meaning of life. What am I living for? Apologies to everyone for the worthlessness, and for the trouble that the worthless has done in such a way that everyone would exert the effort of being concerned. Sorry.

Sunday, January 25, 2009

A Glimpse of What Was

The village was silent

and the houses were dark

except for here

except for the light

silhouetting the gaudy figure

bent over

a piece of paper

rapidly writing with his pen

and reading with his books

at the same time

it was past midnight

The sun was shining

upon the green grass

swept by a gentle breeze

as we watch

under the shade of white

and chat

about life

with amusement

and amazement

it was dawn

The room was silent

the ceiling was white

and blank, it was clear

as the minds that flutter

as the chalk that grits

and leaves a mark

in rhythm with the voice

of learning

it was morning

At the armchair

with a spoon on one hand

and the pen on the other

asking, reading, laughing

getting over

with a quiz

or doing the impossible assignment

over the lunch box

and under the same roof with friends

it was noon

Tapping the ball pen

upon the stack of books

looking for references

authors, topics, all that can

be of use

to the paper, spilled with

inorganic blood

in awful figures of corrections

it was afternoon

Steps upon the gravel-coated stairs

conversations and final plans

walking among the santan bushes

and feeling the wind

stopping by the kiosk

or flagpole

or guidance office

or guard house

to feel the wind

and the company

it was dusk

The sight of the familiar

house, stall, dishes

cats, food, room

the backyard and the study place

the sound of welcoming

groans from a companion


it was evening

Lying down

on the ever-present bed

staring at the dark wall

and the dimly-illuminated ceiling

with the clock ticking by



savoring the time

when will all this end?

It was high school.

Monday, January 19, 2009

Warring Mind

Out of the dark horizon

springs forth the blossom of tomorrow

the breaking of a coldness

and the end of chronic stagnation

the beginning of the day

the start of life

oh, how lovely living is!

A cold despair all over

drenching all energy

sapping the light

and life itself

awful, horrible, terrifying

evil itself, apocalypse coming

loss of hope

what is left, then?

A hero, a hero!

someone will be saving!

he comes, He comes


freedom, security, a sense of relief

spark of hope

momentary energy, vision of a future

tomorrow suddenly rising

from dust

But why is everything

suddenly coming into focus

the battleground

suddenly arrived?

silence, momentary quiet

is the battle over?

has it been won



How foolish! this is my battle!

(but not my own)

Saturday, January 17, 2009


If anyone would pause for a moment, at any hour of any day, there is what one calls life. There, in the center of the motions of the world lie things unseen, and such relics of history that looking would not penetrate. The collective movement of people pursuing their own motivations, the dilation of time as the stationary remains, this universe revolves with differing dimensions experiencing chains of causes and effects. Then there is the motion of the self that puts forward every occurrence into its own accord, embedding the physical into a subjective ideal that becomes, in essence, more real than what may exist alone.
The existence of our very own thoughts, however, is not justifiable by ordinary circumstances. The purpose of a thinking man cannot be seen in a simplistic way, for it is by no means simple in itself. It is a wonder that the world seems so normal even with a very large social structure of rational beings. How can reformers of existence change the world but still make it whole? The capability of the human will to edit what is would be such a sovereignty over things, and in fact it is too powerful that differences between persons will rip existence apart. But the shared uniqueness of each individual is undeniable, and thus the harmony of the universe would become unreasonable. Is life embedded into a still higher order of being, and that independent activities are actual manifestations of this? If this is so, man becomes a slave of what can be termed as fate, that the will is actually a gear in an eternal mechanism and, in essence, do not exist altogether. If not, however, the other conclusion is that every individual acts and thinks exactly alike, that human beings are actually a single organism with a very huge and complex mind, subdivided into portions that represent the highest form of logic - and which would give birth to every human on earth. This is mysticism on the other hand, and further deductions would lead us to a self-schizophrenic perspective. What, then, is this life for? How do we exist? What is there to being a man?

Such questions dwell on a realm we may never ever reach, that in which human logic would not understand. Purpose, however, is a consequence of the continued existence of thought. A thinking being cannot exist - and would not continue to exist - if not for its knowledge of self-importance. Curiosity would penetrate the questions of being, and a lack of true purpose would lead to suicide. Thus the answer lies deep within the workings of our mind, inside the composition of the self that perpetuates our being us.

Why do we walk around the grocery, looking for the things we ought to buy? Why do we buy things, and look forward to consuming it or to giving it to someone? If we are to use the things we buy, why do we want to use it for ourselves? Why do we take care of ourselves?

If we are to give the grocery items to someone, for what reason do we do this? Why do we give others what they need, enabling them to be well like us?

Why do we care for other people? Why do we have friends or loved ones that we feel concern for? Why are we happy with them? Why do we need them?

Why do we talk to the people we consider closest to us, things which we think are important, things which affected us, or things which simply are part of ourselves?

Why do we desire to be with our parents, to hug them or talk to them or to simply be with them? Why do we feel secure when we are with them?

Why do we gaze at that person from a distance, longing to be near yet fearing what will happen if it comes? Why do we feel uneasy when that someone is with us, and is simply looking at us equally unsure of what is happening? Why do we close our eyes, when the universe seems to be just between the two of you?

And why, one really wonders, do we become mesmerized at the stars at night, thinking of the beauty this world contains?

Why do we live? Why do we desire to live? Why do we have life? Why do we love?

Am I living?

Thursday, January 8, 2009


Grave. What is the better adjective that can be used to describe humanity's point of view? The eyes of evil, misery, and pain, which see the circle of misfortune of its own kind repeatedly. One could even ask what is good with humans; and the sober sage would get even worse with such a question. A creature that imprisons himself in the hands of darkness, plagued by such mortality which he has tried to break many times, man is an embarrassing spectacle. Or is such a limitation a gift itself, which restrains such hideous things from totally destroying the universe? Man's key instrument is his logical mind, and with it he is able to come closest to God. But what a paradox: the vilest of creatures is most loved by the Creator, and has the best chance of getting to Him, but the motive is in contrast to what He has willed. Indeed, several attempts were made by man to make himself God, and many were lured to such a belief – even now. As close as we are to Him, it would be a relief to know that the gift of mortality was given to us; otherwise, we could have been worse than Satan himself. The tainted conscience springs from the union of the soul and the body, and this is of such delicateness in that it bridges two very different worlds. The mere existence of mankind creates a combination of the spiritual world and the Earthly physicality. The two are usually alluded as contrasts, the “perfection” and “goodness” of the spiritual world and the “vileness” and “darkness” of the physicality (i.e. heaven and hell). Man stands at the horizon, looking up at the bright sky while standing tall upon the earth. This is what separates man as a being and entity in the universe; yet all this greatness is lost, as a seemingly unjust history seems to inscribe man's self-chosen fate to a vicious circle of self-atonement. Again and again man gets to suffer, not merely because of his own doing but for the sake of another. The person will then break under the pressure of injustice, as one sees it to be unfair to suffer because of another's action, and continues the chain. Then besides man's tendency to overthrow God is his weakness towards sin, the essence of vileness itself. Standing between light and darkness, man grasps goodness only to be followed by his shadow. It seems that an unseen force darkens individuals' minds during a certain period of vulnerability (usually after one enters the cycle of oppression, where injustice is done upon the person for the first time), which would then cloud his vision until darkness envelopes everything he sees. Either its shrewd Satan or the entropy of the soul one cannot know, but this is the second structure that supports the unending history of man's unhappiness. The chains are binding every human being, and with each passing generation the stronger populace struggles with stronger and more clever constraints. These structures of man's doom then operate in the most sadistic way: man's own fruits of labor turn sour, and eventually become his own doom. Because of the strife created by the vicious circle, man's creations will turn against himself, and will apparently cause his extinction. This seals man to an almost definite path of destruction.

Why, just why can't man defeat his own shadow?

If only every human being realizes such a thing. If only those who have been worn by the chain enlighten the next generation, the next wave of mourners. If only every person extends his goodness just a bit, realizes that each one has a burden to carry. If only every individual understands that his offender is as offended as him, that sulking or planning revenge would just hurt someone else like himself. If everyone can see not the differences but the striking similarity with everyone else, the shared experiences and the sympathy. If everyone just screw their heads back to their places! Where is logic? Where is common sense? Where is intelligence? Where are the good qualities that man boasts of, even to the extent of trying to play as God? We can't even think in an acceptable fashion, yet we insist of doing wrong as if we know better than God himself! Are we really that stupid? Man, get up, and don't act like a sore loser! We hold the power of two universes, and we are endeared by the Creator Himself: why, then, do we become slaves of disgusting things? We are willed beings, we can choose our destiny, and we can do anything with the resources at our disposal. Why bow down when we can stand tall and reach for the sky? Why condescend, and put our potentials down as if we are worthless when we can be what we want to be? And why, being loved by such a perfect Being, loved by love itself, do we hurt, agonize, sulk, and disobey in return? Then, when we can answer all these troubling doubts, we would be revived from the fall of ourselves, and from that point onwards there is nothing that can stop us.