 | Overture for the Uninitiated | Mar 14, 2006 |
Visions and perceptions, ideas and representations. This is not something that is concrete. A virtual paper in a virtual world and perhaps, of a virtual self. Experiences and memories trapped forever in the mind and engraved in the soul. This is but a tinted canvass painted with swirling paints of emotions, experiences and passion. At best, this is a recollection of one's travels in the long and unwinding road of life. Written accounts of a beleaguered psyche of the author - A chronicle of moments passed and a divination of one's future. Strings of words matched together in a limited time - in a limited life. These are words given life, thoughts given flesh and ideas given body. I am an artist, a writer, a director, a programmer, a thinker, a virtual thinking machine churning out ideas one at a time, a heavy sleeper, a dreamer, a drunkard who drinks himself to death, a chain smoker, a listener, a speaker with profanity covering almost a fourth of his vocabulary, a poet, a voracious reader, a designer, a technology enthusiast who is at an anti-consumerism stand, a brother, a son but most important of all - a Filipino. Let us share a dream over a cup of coffee, a mug of beer, a shot of gin, a twist of lime, a rock of salt, a teaspoonful of sugar, a code of a program, a pixel in a digital image, a byte in a stream, a data lost in the lines of communication, a strum of the guitar, a beat of the drums, a stroke of a brush, a doodle of a pencil, an album of photographs, a writing of a pen, a chapter in a book, a roll of film, a verse of a poem, a chorus of a song, a frame of a movie, a glint of the sun, a squall of the winds, a downpour of rain, a streak of lightning, a whiplash of waves, a quake of the earth, a clap of thunder, a facet of a shadow, a fading sound of a whisper or better yet, and above everything else, a stick of cigarette. Sail to the treacherous waters of my mind; fly to the infinite skies of my thoughts. Dabble in my notions, aspirations, failures, creations, actions and everything that exist in between. Welcome.
I am constantly aging yet eternally young.
I am who I will become.
I see the wailing darkness
consuming the path it takes.
Head on I take on it
and I disappear.
Emerging, wounds scarring deeper
and I tread on, the darkness within me.
 Here, capsized on these unforgiving seas of water
Struggling to catch a breath as senses falter.
Now, I am nothing more than a quaint whisper,
A squall of warmth on the cold nights of summer.
It was hard taking a cab home earlier this morning. It was hard to look unto the streets as lights swivel and dance before my sight. It was a punishment to take a heave of breath for nothing more but a sigh is released from the heavy heart. Perhaps, and this I only realized recently, that I was heading towards the wrong direction - going after nothing more but a figment of my fantasies, a summer long reverie.
I waltzed and struggled on bed until finally relaxing on my back, looking straight at the ceiling and hoping for all sanguine dispositions to disappear. For is it not that until we lost all hope and hit bottom that we are saved from the burden of it all? A chance is nothing more but a childish dream, a senseless chase for that little something I absolutely adore.
Perhaps, preparation is inadequate for a decision. Bracing oneself is nothing more but damage control but I'll do what I can just to have things going again because simply I have to. And I guess, retrospection doesn't help at all. And amidst of it all, I still come to think of where it all stems even if it just pounds more on the sore.
Fuck, becoming overtly emotional once again. I just can't seem to relieve it all in one sitting or talk through it over bottles of beer or cups of coffee since I don't see the sense of it all. It was a decision I took and none could be blamed for it. We dig our own graves, close the hatchet and bury ourselves using our own hands.
I have to stop this crap.
It is in poetry that I seek solitary retrospection - a path of self discovery and an excavation of the emotions that wander through the ever evolving spaces of my mind and soul. It is where I meet myself and everything that concerns me, from the bleeding cognizances to the euphoric memoirs of past years to the wishful visions of what tomorrow may bring.
I resort to poetry when there are thoughts, emotions and other concerns that I cannot express fully. It is in the beauty of poems, the certain arrangement of words and the rhythmic connections of phrases, that I come to when I have the desire to communicate something I normally would not utter in a straight-forward fashion.
And yet with all the words coming together inside the head, those tiny lines forming phrases, I could not expound my current state.
Here I am writing, tapping away at the keyboard of the so-called paperless future, hopefully wishing to comprehend, even at the the lowest level, what I am feeling right now. Even with all the poems I came up during the waking hours of the two day weekend, it cannot still capture the thoughts that permeate through the walls of the mind and the flowing emotions surging through the chambers of the blood machine.
Words can never capture the imperfect beauty of humanity - love, lust, desire, longing, hatred, arousal, gluttony and every emotion and sin that describe the human state; no words can compare to the real embodiment of each.
So where do I stand now? It would be injustice if I said I am standing on the edge of falling or of depression.
Words are no means of a measure of what I want to fully express but I might as well die trying for isn't it words and promises are all what we we have left?
You are the pain that drives the heartbeat
Ineffable smile of disarming charm
And yet I keep wanting it more and more.
Heart scarring deeper still
Convoluted words soul-scathing
Searing slurs immolating
Plunging articulations piercing
Rhetoric poetry flowing
Apparitions still haunting
And it's you I'm still wanting.
You are the source of all grandiosity
Exquisite beauty fiercely radiating
Drowning the world at your wake.
And here I am standing
on the edge of everything
waiting...
longing...
ready to take flight
in one moment's notice
and take the plunge
even to the darkness
of forgotten recollections
and burned papers
of poetic remembrances.
Hand over hand
watching the sky's color change
from majestic blue to the saffron hue.
Under the constellation of stars
dancing to an unnamed tune
prancing with silent beats.
Wrapped around the heavy stench
of perspiration and heat,
the undeniable smell of sex.
Juxtaposed somewhere in between
calmly sleeping, eyes laid upon you
face worth of worship and adoration.
I whispered upon your ear with slow
breath, "You are my first."
and you retorted back, "You're exercise."
A picture perfect view
of could have been memories
splashed with the unforgiving
blank ink of regrets.
Laid in perfect poetry
sat still in a picturesque
posture emanating charm
and a fleeting smile meant to disarm.
Arranged in lovely patterns of
grandeur visions and compositions
an epitome of art and elegance
a map of chaotic destination.
Marching on down the street,
trouping the unknown
against the turbulent winds
and the punishing storms.
Thoughts slowly eating away
as we lay still bleeding slowly
crimson spelling out the words
L O V E and D E S P A I R.
An exercise on sensual and sexual poetry. Pardon to those who are inexperienced in reading such. Vulgarity is my addiction and I love to indulge on it.
________________________
Clouds casting shadows
of uneasy feelings
our bodies trembled
under the pouring rain.
Yours against mine
tongue in cheek
colliding in a smorgasbord
of lust and love
and undying devotion.
Feverish bodies
crawling down the fields
clawing at every inch
of exposed flesh
as tattered clothes
fly with the monsoon winds.
Hush, kisses, hush
whispering delights
unto the ears bleeding
and pleading just to hear
slow breathing in every second
of the carnality we indulge.
Rain fell down
as every thrust gained momentum
pushing vigorous, standing stalwart
and here we are
naked,
vulnerable,
delighted -
and for the first time
we experienced...
orgasm.
|  | As I take those little conquering footsteps on the peaceful beach front of the little paradise I found, I caught myself smiling just by thinking of you. And then I hoped you to be there so that I can share with you the beauty of it all. The prints of my feet on the fine sand echoed as I left them behind, the waves came to wash them away forever into nothingness - a fleeting memory that once I was there smiling. I want to tell you how you snatched me in the unrelenting hook of your charm and even if you throw me back into the waters, I'd swim back to you. And all the words and thoughts I conjured up are nothing compared to the reality of you.
More stolen pictures from Tin's Cybershot and Ian's and Pagc's Lomo Cams (Diana F+ - NHG 800, Fisheye 2 - Superia 800, Horizon - Lucky 200, LCA - Provia 100F, Vivitar UWS - Provia 400F).
Again, thanks to the travelers I went to with.
|
The sun shines on the distant east
lonely willows bend
casting shadows
of cyan hues.
The moon displaying its lunar might
orchestrating the tides
against the jagged rocks
of an empty, far away shore.
On the steps to the heavens
the boy reaches out
grasping the skies
catching the stars in his palms.
He jumps up and high
bravely leaving all logic
for that just one moment -
the burning sensation at his fingertips.
From the heights he fell
dying breath slowly fading
hearing the crashing sound of waves
and seeing the willow's hues.
And then the majestic star
whispered upon his ear,
"That's what you get trying to fly,
without any wings at all."
| | Pictures stolen from Ian, Sai and Debs.
Thanks to Bry, Tin, Choy, Ian, Pagc, Debs, Sai, R-Jay and Fred for making this trip a whole lots of fun even if the storm came rearing its ugly head upon the little paradise we found.
Even if our conquering footsteps on those beautiful islands are washed away forever by the waves, this is one trip I would never forget.
Thanks again guys!
|
I write all these words for you but to be frank, you just make me do.
______________________________
A gunshot to the heart
Your fading smile the weapon
I bleed of love and harmony
As I smile with sheer glee.
Stab me here where it stings
For I open myself to you
Pounce the delicate body
Then cut me open, I'm in love with you.
Mark this flesh with your smile
Your name sears in the back of my mind.
I'll let my guard down for you
I'm here falling, ask me, it's true.
I can't sleep. I am thinking of you too much. You are the reason for staying up late at night, staring at the ceiling cracks and wake up early in the hot and humid mornings. To you I offer this piece of stringed words caught in the tiny spaces within the mind, pieced together with little fragments from the heart. You know who you are.
_________________________________________________
You are the drug I long and crave for
A shot of tonic that takes away life's bore.
You are the voice that wakes me in the morning
As I watch, with a wide smile, the sun burning.
You are the music that my heart beats to
And the accompanying colors of different hues.
You are that sweet scent that lingers still
The aroma of white lilacs way beyond the hill.
You are my muse, dancing and prancing
Through these hallowed halls, sweeping.
You are the silver shivering moon that shines upon
As I walk that empty street, up to the end, until I'm gone.
You are the imagery in every blissful dream
As the soul sings sounds of praises and hymns.
You are the reason that makes me want to fly
Soar through the skies with you tucked in my side.
I'll shift and wander to and fro any of these worlds
Speak and plead with all their gods and lords
And to them I pray you'll be the one to walk through my door.
So that I can whisper upon your ear,
"You simply are the wonderful woman I'm falling for."
I'll stare into your eyes
and look further than the soul.
In there my eyes will gaze upon
the shapes of sorrow
and lines of melancholy
and the shadow of sadness.
And yet in you I know I'll see
and find the happiness I've been
longing for.
Stare into my eyes
and look further than the soul.
There, listen closely and hear
the crashing sound of cacophony
and the subtle and sweet melody
of falling.
Senses failing to a burning degree
soul burning, arms reaching
and the heart racing in a beat.
Stare into my eyes
and look past everything,
And find yourself there
as I imagine and hope
even just a chance
of a could be future.
Technology is holding us too much in our balls. Such in a way that the children now a days are going about running and smiling with their PSPs or DSs in tuck anywhere they go. It's like Sony and Nintendo took over the sperms and egg cells and injected themselves to the DNA.
What about the games that we grew up with? Patintero, tumbang preso, agawan base, taguan? All they have are virtual delights that drain their strength since they don't use it at all. The advent of portable gaming meant that children would go on waste their precious youthful years playing under the dim lights as the small LCD screens make them "ooh" and "ahh" over some pixel moving from one point to another.
I had fond memories of playing late until 9 with my friends, chasing after one another. And it didn't bore us to death. Now, children are comparing stats in Final Fantasy or Need for Speed, fighting over Tekken and they go screaming and shouting. Isn't it more fun to shout "taya" than "ooh, you're pawned" or "huli ka balbown"?
Portable gaming perverts the essence of youthful strength, producing children adhering to the beat of synthesized explosions and slashes and punches and what not. Its okay as long as there is a healthy balance between physical activities. I for one believe that some games enhance the mental capacity, forcing you to think first or formulate strategies before you go rambo on the enemy. However, the way I see things, more children are getting an unhealthy dose of this so called "portable gaming zenith". There are only a few children I see on our subdivision actually engaging in physical activities, so as in other subdivisions I come across with. Playgrounds deserted, only the sound of the bouncing basketball of adolescent men echoing.
I guess it is how children are exposed to certain forms of technology.
And I think I'm babbling too much. Need to sleep. Until the next post, whenever would that be.
Let it crash down upon me and sweep me away from these safe shores. Let me flow with the current take me away as far as possible.
I'm ready to take flight. And if descent would be my fate, I'd gladly let go.
Wait. Things are bound to change.
I miss the Influence days of Urbandub.
Back then, seeing them live was such a great honor - a wonderful spectacle of great performers and bodies smashing against one another as the music rages on the stage. It was one hell of an experience; listening to them as they play Fallen on Deaf Ears, Gone and Soul Searching was something more than exhilarating words can explain. And then, when the crowd thought the night was over, they'll pull out Sailing and give them something to dance about. But perhaps the most memorable would be the incredible riff of A New Tattoo. After the night is over, it would be the talk for a week - citing how great they play on live, how their sound is at par with the ones found on their album.
But what do I regret the most? Not being active when Wolfgang was still live and kicking, spewing out metal madness as they perform the night away. Now, its just the stories of the older generation that I listen to, craving for one shot again to see them live even just once. I want to see them wowing the crowd with Center of the Sun and Halik ni Hudas. Hell, I just want to see Manuel Legarda perform the riffs of Hell Looks as Basti sings the most hateful words I found in any Wolfgang song.
Now, at gigs when the entrance is a mere a hundred bucks (worst when its free), you see all these kids garbed in blackness with hair standing out. They crowd the streets and push each other in a violent manner, never minding those who just want to enjoy the night and listen to great music. And the most irritating part? They throw bottles, stones, piss and worst of all - shit.
Do they think that by behaving in such manner, going to "rock concerts" would make them different? Do they think they are in a rebellion of such a grand scale that people would notice them? Rebellion is doing what you have to do and become what they do not expect you to be. Rebellion is living your life unafraid, living it like no one else.
I miss the good old days when I pop my brother's cassette tapes into our component and sing like it was my own concert, follow the beat of the drums and strum an imaginary guitar I hold in my hands. I miss the days when labels and genres were a blur and music was enjoyed as it is. No complications. No bickering. No marketing bullshit.
Thanks to those who did not forget. Thanks to those whose greetings made that day wonderful and special. And thanks to the CSC team for the cake and the alcohol. Many thanks!
Thanks to those who drank with me and let the alcohol flow into their bodies. Thank you, thank you, thank you. You know who you guys are.
And I still have a Bombay Sapphire, some Bacardi 151 and an Absolut Kurant left. Drinking time, anyone?
Again, thanks to those who remembered.
 | Falling | May 17, '08 4:23 AM
for everyone |
A song from Plastic Eyes, Static Minds album of Sheila and the Insects.
____________________________
Tell me, tell me which way to see
I can't find my way
I'm blinded by the message in your eyes
Searching seeking finding nothing
All these years gone by
Still walking on the restless hands of time
Help me oh help me
Help me oh help me
I'm falling
Tell me tell me whats this I see
I don't understand
As if a wind just blew upon my eyes
Searching seeking finding something
Something in your smile
If its good enough I'll take it for a whle
Help me oh help me
Help me oh help me
I'm falling...
Tell me, tell me which way to see
I can't find my way
I'm blinded by the message in your eyes
Searching seeking finding nothing
All these years gone by
Still walking on the restless hands of time
Help me oh help me
Help me oh help me
I'm falling...
Point taken: never put a picture of your significant someone in your yearbook. Just don't. It's a curse. Haha.  | Guestbook | |
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salamat...dun tyo samen mamaya gabe... |
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Ang ganda at ang haba ng site mo. Haha. :-P |
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happy last birthday!!!...sabay pala kayo ni chique... |
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kamuka mo si zack lucero sa pics mo.
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pakiss naman ako sa gwapo! :* teehihi teynks papah! |
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wala na tayong problema sa equipment if ever! wahahaha! ayos ung nagooffer di ba?? |
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uy! ganda ng mugshot ah. hahaha! galing ng photographer! =P |
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Kung damit man yun, puro hiram lang. At pag matagal mong suot ang damit...well...hehehe. |
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Salamat sa Y The Last Man chuvaness. Depressed ako at malapit-lapit na ata cya matapos. |
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belated Merry Christmas din! ^-^ |
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ayos layout mo.. Hands down ako! |
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hahah! we both have cool pages! :D |
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hmmmm sino kaya ang adik sa css at html? di ako. hahaha |
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wala dito ko nalang daw tapusin. :) in UP Diliman :) hehe |
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