this i can't hide...

a poem for someone who ransoms my emotional drought, someone who taught me how to love a portrait...

Somewhere behind his smile
Akin to the depths of his soul, rests
My yearning, if he only knew...
Under the precept of heavenly gods,
Relieve the pains of my flaming passion!
Intoxicating, captivating as he is
Cursed with a perfect physique, and leaves
Endless waiting stealing my sanity...

I adore his humanity and sanctus
and everything that lies in between
My first glimpse of him was beyond recall
Yet here and now, his chassis
Is in no way thrown into oblivion...
My pleasure is to see him, i know nothing more
And heed me as i revere him, though i know
Not a chance will i fall out of this dream, only a dream...

quotes from Hemingway...

"I love sleep. My life has the tendency to fall apart when I'm awake, you know?"

"It is better to sleep on things beforehand than lie awake about them afterward."

"A few hours of mountain climbing turn a villain and a saint into two rather equal creature. Exhaustion is the shortest way to equality and fraternity, and liberty is added eventually by sleep."

"There are some things which cannot be learned quickly, and time, which is all we have, must be paid heavily for their acquiring. They are the very simplest things and because it takes a man's life to know them the little new that each man gets from life is very costly and the only heritage he has to leave."

"There is no friend as loyal as a book."

"Writing, at its best, is a lonely life. Organizations for writers palliate the writer's loneliness, but I doubt if they improve his writing. He grows in public stature as he sheds his loneliness and often his work deteriorates. For he does his work alone and if he is a good enough writer he must face eternity, or the lack of it, each day."

"There are events which are so great that if a writer has participated in them his obligation is to write truly rather than assume the presumption of altering them with invention."

- http://www.quotedb.com/quotes

a flight of fancy

just when the night was about to come down
she found, from the holy rains of diety,
the harmony of mythos and veniality,
a reproduction of that
who was loved by aphrodite
a Latinized visage,
without defect or ommission and
who was, usually one of high birth
pledged to chivalrous demeanor

she lured herself from the mildness,
docility of the luscious resonance
proximal within somatic reach
but a fortress of fine edge,
sharp, more often implied
a harsh cutting quality
permitted her to discern
her feet were not on the same earth anymore...


intense addiction: samurice

read and digest... these may help

got these from Compton's Encyclopedia. great thoughts from great minds!

1.Judge a man by his questions rather than by his answers. (Voltaire, 1694-1778)

2.Without music life would be a mistake. (Friedrich Nietzsche, 1844-1900)

3.Wonder is the feeling of a philosopher, and philosophy begins in wonder. (Socrates, 470?-339 BC)

4.To read without reflecting is like eating without digesting. (Edmund Burke, 1729-1797)

5.The man who does not read good books has no advantage over the man who can't read them. (Mark Twain, 1835-1910)

6.Don't go around saying the world owes you a living; the world owes you nothing, it was here first. (Mark Twain, 1835-1910)

7.There is more to life than increasing its speed. (Mahatma Gandhi, 1869-1948)

8.Wise men don't need advice. Fools don't take it. (Ben Franklin, 1706-1790)

9.If your head is wax, don't walk in the sun. (Ben Franklin, 1706-1790)

10.Make haste slowly. (Ben Franklin, 1706-1790)

11.Do not use a hatchet to remove a fly from your friend's forehead. (Chinese proverb)

12.Never put anything bigger than your elbow in your ear. (Anonymous)

13.Don't let the sun go down on a debt or a quarrel. (Anonymous)

14.Nothing in the known universe travels faster than a bad check. (Anonymous)

15.Anger makes dull men witty, but it keeps them poor. (Francis Bacon, 1561-1626)

16.He that lives upon hope will die fasting. (Ben Franklin, 1706-1790)

17.Be in general virtuous, and you will be happy. (Ben Franklin, 1706-1790)

18.The trouble with the rat race is that even if you win you're still a rat. (Lily Tomlin, 1939- )

19.No one can make you feel inferior without your consent. (Eleanor Roosevelt, 1884-1962)

20.Life was meant to be lived, and curiosity must be kept alive. One must never, for whatever reason, turn his back on life. (Eleanor Roosevelt, 1884-1962)

21.Lost time is never found again. (Benjamin Franklin, 1706-90)

22.Don't look back. Something may be gaining on you. (Satchel Paige, 1906-82)

23.There is no substitute for hard work. (Thomas Edison, 1847-1931)

labor day: additional labor for laborers

this applies only for those who spend this holiday at streets, shouting, fighting for fellow laborers' rights, because for those who slightly feel the oppression of the government, this will naturally be a rest day.

no permit, no rally:
queer. why ask for a permit? it's just like asking for your parents' permission to shout against them and insist your own rules. the reason why it's called a rally is that it is a breakout to recover public strength, to summon or bring persons together for a common purpose and bring them back to action: revive, and knock on the gates of the state leaders to remind them that the society still kills.

not all people languish under the draining sunbeam but everybody profits. then people condemn them...

thoughts to ponder: borrowed thoughts from few good thinkers

--title borrowed from my cousin

i would like to make myself believe that the world is still inhabited by people who cultivate its lands by merely living as authentic human occupants...

"...her beauty reminds me there is a God, nothing as perfect as her could have happened by chance"-- adrian, my cousin's bf

"jealousy permits you to think that the reason why you get annoyed is that you couldn't and wouldn't do how that 'fUcKin' biAtCh' do the flirting!"-- my friend jaycee

"when we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. a friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness"-- some testimonial in friendster

"the more people i kill, the farther from home i feel"-- capt. miller, saving private ryan


1. "people expect you to maintain a level of winning or at least transcend it. but sometimes we lose, and peolple don't get that!"
2. "he who witnesses a crime in silence commits it"
3. "after being rejected, just save some dignity for yourself!"
4. "God determined man to be indeterminate."
-- sir emer

"what's wrong with being number two?!"-- morrie

"charity is not a debt of gratitude nor debt itself. it is what is due to them- a right that the society fails to provide"-- sir pabs

"could it be, that if we really understood death we would see it as the deepest healing of all? is death the great healing? is our life on earth partially a wound that death finally heals?"-- macrina weiderkehr


teka, ako din dapat bida! haha!!

tanong ko lang,
-why is third time always called stupidity?
-why do we have to submit ourselves to systems? education and labor are cults that leave us no choice but ride the wagon.
-why do we strictly care about what others will think of us? they do not make our lives! we have our own self-project and they, too, have their own lives and problems. they care less about us.
-why are we all afraid to say "i love" you toward a person the moment we feel it? yes, restrictions are often considered, but did we ever make it an excuse that the feeling might be gone tomorrow? it's momentary. we just have to let them know. no issues, no friendships broken. thing is, we just can't...
-how can we afford to suspend bliss for people's remarks? real happiness is always a one-time offer. its escape is always expected.
-why do we sometimes let people decide for ourselves, directly and not? we are the ones who suffer the consequences and all they give is sympathy. they just talk and talk, and we swallow the pain.

i am deceased
my soul was captured by the ills
of emptied shell and broken vessel
buried down the earths of yesterday

my history is just a shadow
a silver tint in the frame of my humanity
my youth was killed and burned to ashes
and vanished along the perils of the wind

what i was yesterday, i know no more
it was a reflection of my reverse
an inanimate whose dreams were stolen
churned in a particular cycle of absurdity and greed

i was my own guillotine
i wept under the blades of tensions and tortures
and rudeness of the hike to intellectual riches
i had it before... i had them all before...

yesterday ended last night
it perished along with all my might
those dreams died and crashed to the ground
and i just learned it too late when then night came down

a journey of pain

i walked into the garden of wild dreams and pushed myself into the thorny bushes to reach its heart. then i felt a sudden gush of blood dripping down my face. i asked myself what it was and realized that my forehead was scourged as i pressed in. it was as if my body was painted with blood and water in small slashes of pointed stalks. skin was cut into two and some flesh was screaming out. nevertheless, it wasn't that painful. was it because i had become so vulnerable to pain that i am now unable to distinguish bliss from distress? numb, i say. well, answers never come quickly, and i cared not to ponder on it anymore.

humid was violent, it made my walk a little exhausting since it was hard to manage a scorching walk and the whirl of biting memories enshrined in your heart. my eyes began to grow teary but no defense made the tears fall. then i stopped and started to wonder... where do fallen tears go after the dark moment of tranquility? apart from its physical composition, let me know where they lead were they unable to land on someone else's shoulder and wash away the excruciating pain you hardly bear. how do we tell that a good cry was enough to throw away all the anguish one deeply hides?

still, i walked, i pushed through...
at last i was there, but the heart of the garden did not give me any answer...

and now the journey begins... once more...

"punk cakes" in the morning: good with some play

nothing beats hot pancakes for breakfast! much better when you eat them with bare hands. up one goes and slides down in a saucer of slowly-melting butter, heading for a shower of sugar sprinkles and a tub of milk creamer. yummy!



no one stops you from laying your artistic hands on them...



think:
a) 2pcs; 1 tiny pack of butter; an unlimited supply of maple syrup, you can even play with it or take some in a small plastic tube
--> costs P35 at McDonald's + P20 reg drinks

b) number depends on how starving you are; XX number of 225g butter from your kitchen; maple syrup taken home from McDo, sugar, milk creamer
--> maya hotcake mix: P28 (mother allots for gas, butter, sugar and milk)

touch and go

yesterday's shift would be one of the saddest moments we had in cap1. the verdict: more than 2/3 of the part-timer team had to transfer to ICT Marikina and the rest, although it was favorable to stay, had to undergo retraining for a more hectic program--the consultative.

when, who, heck! that was our initial reactions but never had it gone through our imaginations that it was already planned that night. it was like we were just talking about this junk then all of a sudden the decision was announced and it was hell!

they said it was because cap1 was growing and that we need more space to occupy. cap1 was growing and it made us grow apart, just in time when we knew ourselves better... gonna miss them like hell!!





those were the days...

waves

what the!

funny how we all start with warm hellos
and end with sad goodbyes...

well, goodbye isn't good at all...
although something bigger lies ahead of those who leave--hopes, dreams
being left behind weaves another story...

it chills me to the bones

I used to cry myself to sleep at night
That was all, before he came
I thought love had to hurt to turn on right
but now he's here, it's not the same, it's not the same....

he fills me up, he gives me love
more love that I ever seen
he's all I got, he's all I got in this world
but he's all the man that I need

And in the morning when I kiss he's eyes, he takes me down
and knocks me strought
and in the evening when the moon is high
he holds me close and don't let go, he don't let go



--but then again, how do we mend a broken heart?
there are no spareparts,
no drafts, no cure...
it bleeds...
then it clots,
but it will always imprint a mark,
a scar, a mirror for bitter memories...

holy? week

on my way home this morning after spending our time at my colleague's unit, the ride seemed so absurd it got through my nerves! it actually did not have anything to do with me but it was something that should bother us catholics. streets were congested, drums were heard from almost every corner and droplets of dried blood patterned the floor. it was a thursday morning of the holy week and one must not ask why the hell people go crazy scouring themselves hard as their Lord, our Lord i mean, felt.



blood came forth gushing from his lacerated skin. he was sun-tanned and sweat wrapped his body all-over. funny strips of bladed bamboo leaves tied on a stalk slashed his integument on hard beats of the drum. it was awful. it was grave, yet it was funny. people followed him. they were dressed in shiny robes, as if weeping, breaking their hearts when sounds of slashes burn their ears. drama, that's all it was.

on almost every corner stood iron pillars decorated with white lacy garments and yellow flowers, and some table at the center of the group. they were crying in prayers. solemn? i doubt. leaders throw the loudest. growls, i say. and people behind them nodded while painstakingly washing themselves and their sins under the burning rays of the sun. sweat drooling all-over their bodies. with their booklets polka-dot-wet with mouth rains and body fluids, they sung in chorus. amen, i say.

children lead the group. little voices scraped the roofs-loans. they cried in chorus. they led older people. now i ask, did they know what they were doing?

keeping up with tradition never seemed worse lest the intentions were clearly understood. if people just jump into the wagon and follow the clowns, then who, now, looks foolish?

soy cross

read it right... we were eating at chowking after getting our clearance form and... yeah... kids do play before and after meal. a masterpiece of joycee! hell rock gurl!