POET©
There are people born cursed
to love only but never be loved.
Whose pure affections be returned
with plucked petals pierced by thorns.
To where promises remain as dreams
stringed with tears to drown the heart.
For as much as they all know
love is a vessel still to be waited on
the docks where they can feel, hear and see
a glimpse of the sea of tears
now called fate.
Its cold breath tangling their hairs,
stinging their skins.
Its cries drowning the frail, beating of their hearts,
screaming bargain for love
(only) to be requited with castles of sands.
Such a feeble excuse for existence
to only sing requiems for love.
Such an irony to build an empire of words
from such a small word as love,
causing people to reel with emotion
yet remain oblivious to the feeling.
For the seemingly longest of times,
surviving through
vision-starved dreams
and lucid desperations.
Though how can you tell
if the joys and pains
and the burning regrets,
if, are they at all real?
djf
11/21/08
12:28pm
I find it quite amusing how my sister gets bothered everytime she'd see candy wrappers or biscuit pouches or banana peels inside the bathroom's trashcan. I, of course finds it so, just because I am the culprit. She'd always bellow out, "Who's the sicko that loves to eat in the toilet?!"
Hahaha.
I eat when I'd stay up at night while whisking time away in front of the PC. By the time I'd decide to go to bed, I'd be too lazy to walk all the way to the kitchen especially that the entire house is already dark and the light switch is all the way across the room. The closest trashcan I could find is the one inside the bathroom, next to the toilet.
I don't see the point in her getting all worked up just because they're not the kind of trash one would get to normally see next to the toilet. What? Trash is trash, right?
Anyways, here are some of the pictures from Watzie's visit two weeks ago. Had a great time with her.
Here's Watz and I at The Showroom. Look at how tiny she is next to me. Tee hee. She's gunna bite my knee caps off if she finds out I called her tiny.
But really, she is.
Here's the lovely hot spring at Mambukal Mountain Resort where I took her on her last day here. It was a fun experience for both of us.
Another picture of the hot spring from another angle. Watz needed to change the camera's settings because using the normal setting would only make you take foggy and almost ghosty-like pictures due to the steam. You can smell sulfur everywhere. The water is directed into the pool from a nearby volcano.
And here's a picture of both Watzie and I. She had a small tripod with her and it was a hoot watching her make the tripod work, which it didn't. Hahaha. Epic failure. She had to run all the way from the rock where she placed her camera and rush back into the steaming pool. Look at how she looks like she's about to burst into tears. I told her she's turning into a lobster.
There aren't much picture of her since she won't let me take pictures of her because according to her, she's "shy". I have totally NO idea where she got that silly notion. I have been friends with her for over 4 years now, I think and this'll be the second time we've seen each other. The first time was when I came to Manila and now, she came here. Meeting each other half-way, don'tcha think?
I wish you know yourself better than the mere guesses you do and the feeble attempts of individuality and rather be sure of who you are and what you want.
Your skepticism and unbelief has blinded you from the truth that you have been desperately groping for. You could have turned and found love begging on her knees for you to see her yet you decided not to. You exploited time in your futile attempts at understanding when you don't really believe. Do you know that time alone can really see and appreciate love in her truest sense?
Science doesn't have the answers for everything and cannot be trusted for absolutes. For what can be true today in science may very well be a lie the next. Did you really expect science to understand love? What a tragic funny fool you are.
Please do not ask me questions you know I'm mincing my words to answer. Do not ask me questions I have spent the last decade of my life showing you the answers to. I don't want to break you so please don't ask me.
I wish you happiness and contentment. A love that's sure and true. May you find yourself at your own expense. Live and let live.
To whom much is given, much is also expected.
Expectations. This has been the cause of my many anguish since I was a kid. Some of the expectations from decades ago still haunts me. I guess, in some ways, it is flattering to know that people look up to me and expect me to do great things, both in having a career and in my personal life.
These days, I am struggling with my personal demons, the burden of living up to the expectation that I am the "mature" kid in my family.
Sometimes, I want to be the immature one. I want to be selfish and sulk and throw tantrums. I want to be a brat and pout. I want to be careless and inconsiderate. I want to play and be pampered. I want to be doted and have my elder siblings do things for me. All the things I never had. All the the things I had to give up and grow beyond their maturity level because I am expected to. And I am tired.
I remember when I was 6. My brother spent all of his allowance on computer games and took my money and my sandwich for himself. I starved that day and had to stand in a jeep all the way home because I had no money left. When we got home, I cried and told my mom on him, thinking that they'd reprimand him but was surprised to be the one who got the reprimanding. Until now, I still couldn't understand why. The bullying of my allowance lasted all through out my elementary years. I got called names, too. The ugly fat pig.
When I was in fifth grade, I had to accompany my bother to La Salle and enroll him in college. I thought it was a normal practice, then. No wonder everybody was staring at me.
When I was in high school, there was a time I loved wearing these really baggy shirts that I'd buy from Vintage stores and my brother would always take them and wear them. He'd return them with ink stains or torn hems/sleeves and when I'd get mad, I'd get reprimanded. Why? Because he's the eldest child and he deserves all "respect" - NO MATTER WHAT. That I am the lowly youngest and that I should understand and have patience with him. It wasn't until college that I learned how twisted my family "rules" were.
Another high school scene. I saved my allowance for months so I could buy my very own [cheap] radio and listen to music that I like. One day, my sister and I were listening to my radio when my brother barged into the room and announced he wants to take the radio. I said no but he persisted. He snatched the radio and took out the tape we were listening to and threw it away. I called him jerk and he threw the radio at me and it fell on the floor after it hit me and shattered to pieces. I got reprimanded for hours for "fighting against my brother" and spent four hours kneeling on mung beans.
Yet another high school scene. My sister, her bf and I went to the mall. They decided to ditch me in the arcade while they go and watch a movie. I waited there for 4 hours and never saw then again. I didn't have any money so I walked all the way to my mom's office for 30 minutes and asked the guard to lend me money. It was dark by the time I got home and I can see my parents were fuming already even from afar off. Turned out my sister forgot about me and left me there at the mall. To say that I got a reprimand would be an understatement. According to them, I should take better care of my OLDER sister and not be careless. I didn't understand it until now. Needless to say, another four hours kneeling on mung beans.
The list is endless but these particular memories are the ones that's etched and is burning in my mind. And I cannot help but feel bad. And now that we're all older and supposed to have matured and grown, it's still the same story. I get blamed for their faults and for the chores they didn't do.
A huge fight broke out last Monday because my brother didn't make his bed. It was supposed to be my job to make sure he does. SERIOUSLY. I finally asked why. Why? Why? Why for all those times I've been robbed of my childhood innocence. Why? And the answer that blew me away was, "Because you are the only mature and trust worthy of them all."
Wow.
Seriously, I still don't get it. But when I can help it, I'd rather not think of these things. They make me bitter. Times like these I wish I'm jaded.
I despise this, this need so great.
I would love to think that I am, that I can, that I will and that I can stand on my own, turn away and never look back.
But alone in my thoughts, when robbed of the majesty of light, when feeble chatters and needless want grow mighty and consuming, I still always find myself crumbling, so insecure and filled with doubt.
Oh, but where I am weak there mirrors your strength. And when I cry, there I realize I am most blessed that I feel, that I hurt and that I bleed.
I am a human being, made of flesh and blood. I am not stone. I am a woman. (And perhaps the insecurity and state of being so emotionally needy all the time springs from the cold pit of men's insensitivity.)
----
Not of my flesh,
nor bone of my bone,
but still miraculously my own.
Never forget for a single
minute, you didn't grow
under my heart - but in it.
~@~
Fleur Heylinger
As I grow older and by God's grace, more mature, I come to realize that it is our choices that make or break us. That we carve our own destiny and we man our own ships. And with fervent prayer and faith in God, we can let go and let God.
These are excerpts from Max Lucado's book called Grace for the Moment. I feel truly blessed when I read them and feel inclined so to share them. Enjoy and be blessed!
---
It's quiet. It's early. My coffee is hot. The sky is still black. The world is still asleep. The day is coming.
In a few moments, the day will arrive. It will roar down the track with the rising of the sun. The stillness of the dawn will be exchanged for the noise of the day. The calm of solitude will be replaced by the pounding of the human race. The refuge of the early morning will be invaded by decisions to be made and deadlines to be met.
For the next twelve hours I will be exposed to the day's demands. It is now I must make a choice. Because of Calvary, I'm free to choose. And so I choose.
I CHOOSE LOVE ...
No action justifies hatred;
no injustice warrants bitterness. I choose love.
Today I will love God and what God loves.
I CHOOSE JOY...
I will invite my God to be the God of circumstance.
I will refuse the temptation to be cynical...
the tool of the lazy thinker. I will refuse to see
people as anything less than human beings,
created by God. I will refuse to see any problem as
anything less than an opportunity to see God.
I CHOOSE PEACE...
I will live forgiven. I will forgive so that I may live.
I CHOOSE PATIENCE...
I will overlook the inconveniences of the world.
Instead of cursing the one who takes my place, I'll
invite him to do so. Rather than complain that the
wait is too long, I will thank God for a moment
to pray.Instead of clinching my fist at new
assignments, I will face them with joy and courage.
I CHOOSE KINDNESS...
I will be kind to the poor, for they are alone.
Kind to the rich, for they are afraid. And kind to
the unkind, for such is how God has treated me.
I CHOOSE GOODNESS...
I will go without a dollar
before I take a dishonest one. I will be overloaded
before I will boast. I will confess before I will
accuse. I choose goodness.
I CHOOSE FAITHFULNESS...
Today I will keep my promises.
My debtors will not regret their trust. My associations
will not question my word. My wife will not
question my love. And my children will never fear
that their father will not come home.
I CHOOSE GENTLENESS...
Nothing is won by force. I choose to be gentle.
If I raise my voice may it be only in praise.
If I clench my fist, may it be only in prayer.
If I make a demand, may it be only of myself.
I CHOOSE SELF-CONTROL...
I am a spiritual being...
After this body is dead, my spirit will soar.
I refuse to let what will not, rule the eternal.
I choose self control. I will be drunk only by joy.
I will be impassioned only by my faith.
I will be influenced only by God.
I will be taught only by Christ.
I choose self-control.
Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness,
faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.
To these I commit my day.
If I succeed, I will give thanks.
If I fail, I will seek His grace.
And then, when this day is done,
I will place my head on my pillow
and rest.
---
Grace for the Moment
Max Lucado
I am excited to see her again. It has been exactly two years since we last met and this time, she's visiting my sugar laden shores. A lot has changed with her and I am taking this chance to see her again before she move on to conquer another mountain, before she blaze another trail.
Things are well again and as always, I have this silly grin plastered on my face.
--- * ---
Today, I have come to gather the courage to face the death of another dream. I am not broken-hearted, amazingly enough, I feel no pain. Perhaps I have grieved for this death long enough and now is the time to move on.
Sometimes, the winds of change brings along with them seeds of possible relationships. People who touch us and we let them grow into the soils of our hearts. But although love is too grand, we still need to choose wisely on who we let grow in our hearts. we are but mere humans, feeble and can be emotionally depleted and if we want to be there and last for the ones we love [that really does matter], we have to choose.
Some seeds grow only to hurt us, their roots constricting our hearts, choking us until we're all too parched up to give anything more. The problems come when we too, are so enamored by this creature that the thought of uprooting it causes us pain. Some of us doesn't appreciate ourselves enough to know that we should only love the ones who love us back. So we allow it to grow and cause us misery until the time comes that we all sucked out of anything we turn into stones, jaded and spent.
I am in a way, happy that I chose to uproot you. I grieved for you in more ways you can imagine and deserve. I saw you slowly die, withering away but what can you have me do? I still have people I love and want to be with and in turn, loves me back the way I deserve to be and I cannot pick an oblivious death over a blessed life.
--- * ---
Love is too grand, I don't think we could ever contain it, even if we tried. It can overwhelm our reasons and doesn't play by any natural laws we try to restrict upon it. We cannot box it up and say that's that. It's so fluid, it moves like the ocean. Sometimes you think it's gone and then it comes crashing over you, drowning you.
Love will remain a mystery
But give me your hand and you will see
Your heart is keeping time with me
What a feeling in my soul
Love burns brighter than sunshine
It's brighter than sunshine
Let the rain fall, I don't care
I'm yours and suddenly you're mine
Suddenly you're mine
---
(Brighter than sunshine, Aqualung)
-------------------------------------
I know it is a struggle and it is a fight, with the distance straining everything else we try to hold but damnit, I didn't say anything about letting go. And such a fine prize, a blissful plunge to ecstasy and heaven of ardor, I don't mind being broken again.
What a feeling...
These things I do not fully grasp.
These trivial madness
of desperation and fleeting comfort,
where bane urgency
drives the need for brazenness
because warmth is no longer felt.
Perhaps,
contentment has gone the way of the ashes.
Do you feel my pain?
Where I demand for romance,
I burn every breath
then cower in the shadows
bruised and ashamed,
not knowing what I am
or what I have become.
In the darkness where I bury my tears,
and in echoing sobs
where my cries are drowned,
suffocated by my fears;
terrified that if I dare face the light
my unhappiness will swallow me,
shackling me to the chains of my griefs.
How can you touch me
and not feel me?
How can you love me
and be blind to know
the anguish that eats my soul?
I try to have faith
but even the sweetest melody
falters to soothe the cracks.
And doubt strips me naked,
weak and void,
severely lacking of anything
worth hoping.
And the nights are cold and mean,
the dawn bleak and ashen
and once again
I am haunted.
Last night,
you broke my heart.
I miss having someone to really talk to. I have some serious things I need to unload and I recently just lost you for good. Have you noticed how off we have been since then? The half-hearted laughs and the forced mesh is flaky and pathetic.
Once, there's always been an us. That natural flow of oneness was great while it lasted. I'd be a hypocrite if I'll say I truly want you to be happy. At least, not with her.
You know what? I just realized I hate winter. Guess I'm fucked then, aren't I.
Too bad we can't talk anymore because you're too busy screwing her. I hope, at least for an ounce of your self respect that her breasts glow. Otherwise, you're just another bastard. Nothing special...just a fool who blossomed to douchiness late.
