worth of a woman: not contained in any single-paged writing

i found this on our cap1 part-timers yg...


To All the Meantime Girls

She's the one you call when you're bored because she makes you laugh.
She's the one you talk to when you're feeling down because she's willing to lend an ear and be a friend.
She's not the one you call when you need
a date to your company's Christmas party, or to go dancing with on a Saturday night.
She's the one you spend time with
between girlfriends, before you find "The One".
You know, the one who you keep around in the
meantime.
She's not one of the guys, not a tomboy, but you
don't look at her as a "real" woman, either.
She's not bitchy enough, moody enough, or sexy
enough to be seen in that light.
She's too laid-back, too easily amused
by the same things your male buddies are amused by. She's too understanding, too comfortable - she doesn't make you feel nervous or excited the way a "real" woman does.
But she's cool, and nice, and funny, and attractive enough that when you're lonely or need intimate female companionship, she'll do
just fine.
You don't have to wine and dine her because she
knows the real you already, and you don't have any facades to keep up, no pretenses to preserve.
You're not trying to get anything of substance out of her.
She's not easy, but you know that she cares about you and is attracted to you, and
that she'll give you the intimacy you need. And you know you don't have to explain yourself or the situation, that she'll be able to cope with
the fact that this isn't the beginning of a
relationship or that there's any possibility that you have any real romantic feelings for her.
It won't bother her that you'll get up in the morning, put on your pants, say goodbye, and go on a date with the woman you've been mooning over for weeks who finally agreed to go out with you.
She'll settle for a goodbye hug and a promise to call her and tell her how the date went.
She's just so cool . . . why can't all women be like
that?!
But deep down, if you really think about it (which
you probably don't because to you, the situation between the two of you isn't important
enough to merit any real thought), you know that
it's really not fair.
You know that although she would never say it, it
hurts her to know that despite all her good points and all the fun you two have, you don't
think she's good enough to spend any real time
with.
Sure, it's mostly her fault, because she doesn't
have to give in to your needs - she could play the hard-to-get bitch like the rest of them do,
if she really wanted to. But you and she both know that she probably couldn't pull it off. Maybe she's too short, or a little overweight, or
has a big birthmark on her forehead, or works at Jollibee.
Whatever the reason, somehow life has given her a lot of really great qualities but
has left out the ones that men want (or think they want) in a woman.
So she remains forever the funny friend, the steadfast companion, the secret lover, and you go on searching for your goddess who will somehow
be everything you ever wanted in a woman.
You'll joke to her that she should be the best man at your wedding, and she'll laugh and make a joke about a smelly rental barong.
She doesn't captivate you with her beauty, or open doors with her smile.
Mainly she blends in with the crowd. She's safe.
She doesn't want to be
the center of attention and turn the heads of
everyone in the room. But
she wants to turn someone's head. She wants to
be special to someone,too. We all do.
She has feelings. She has a heart. In fact, she
probably has a bigger
and better heart than any woman you've ever
known because she's had a
front-row seat to The Mess That Is Your Life, and she likes you anyway.
She obviously sees something worthwhile and
redeeming in you because
although you've given her nothing, absolutely
there's no reason for her
to be with you but she still is.
Do you have a meantime girl or are you one?

lost, yesterday, somewhere between sunrise and sunset, two golden hours, each set with sixty diamond minutes. no reward is offered, for they are gone forever...
-horace mann


there has never been any moment when humans were beyond the mercy of time. at some point of rush we often say there is none left, only to realize that where we are running and what we are chasing is time itself.

time, confined in my philosophy, is a system of measuring isolation... moments when we feel we lost ourselves to war and things unfathomable... and we let ourselves be guided by the earth. experience is our teacher; time is its master... runner's time, the rhythm and tempo characteristic - life told in something we call music.

neutral as time is indefinite, the entire period of the existence of humanity is tasted and defined by its three flavors: the past, the present, the future. every moment there has ever been or ever will be.

life. we give time the privilege to determine it by clock and calendar... by second, minute, hour, day, week, month, year. we may have regrets and what might have beens...

on one's hand, time is an interval with acting or having nothing to do...
out of mind, it is immemorial...

and when we look back, our memory always begins with, "there was a time."

i killed my lover

three in the morning, the meeting of cross currents
minutes before, his gaze was mine
eyes bleeding as he studied me shiver
my only vice dressed my body black and blue
a fist i once adored, now the last claw
that scraped my body sweet
like that of saccharine, intoxicating
cloyingly sweet, in spirit and manner

he held me close, in his arms
tight, rivers cannot pass through...
i silently battled for the dagger
beside the open fire, behind his chest...
i no longer see my lover
but horns, black as silhouette
he must be ready to die and
i was ready to kill...

the dagger flew right next to my core
my hands were the pilot...
i knew he loved me
with this, i knew, he would die...

seaside suicide...

the waters, clear and calm... it is when a human walks toward the seafloor that he becomes united with the elements of life: earth, water, wind, fire...

the pureness of sand
the sanctity of water
the perils of the wind
the brilliance of fire, fire within...

the next best thing is to unite with the divine, the quintessential...

haven of poetry

i just love it how Mario Eric Gamalinda, a native poet and the author of Las Ruinas del Corazon, does the writing. intellectual, passionate, melancholic, deep and sensible - even these are not enough to describe how i indulge in his poetry. his web site left me open-mouthed that the only thing i had told him in a message box was, "when i read your poetry, i just can't make my imaginations behave..."

this stole my attention yesterday. how beautiful it was!


Autoportrait in Black

I was so small the angels decided

not to give me a name. I lived

all my life in obscurity, except

once, when the cypresses applauded

my bravado. I knew the language

of birds, but they still refused

to reveal the harmonies to me.

I lost not one parent, but three.

At the same moment that I learned

love, a blue thunderbolt ripped

the sky open, and I went insane.

Midway in life I traveled through

six time zones, the past, the future,

and every satellite in between.

The words bounced off my tongue,

incandescent, warm. When I died

a megaton of light tore itself

out of my bones. I became pure

particle, a spy among opposing

magisteria. I became an iris, a stone.

This consciousness so dear to me

closed like a flower. I could not

resist the beauty of nothingness.

In my place another being came

to lodge, and I moved quickly

to give it room. I don't know if this

is joy, but my absence was joyful.