Setting Sun, Setting Me

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Waves roll altogether

Droplets with other droplets splatter

The baby in the arms of her mother

 

“Can we end it? Cos I don’t want to,” she said

I didn’t understand her. So I just said yes.

I chortled as she gave me that sympathetic smile

“It’s going to be fine anyway,” I told her.

 

Things always seem to coexist with each other

 

The rhythm moves the dancer

Even birds tweet together

The guitar strums, the singer sings, the beat of the drum set,

 

If it applies to everything,

Why am I alone to watch the sunset?

 

 

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Dodge the Judge

1 Corinthians 4 (New International Version):

My conscience is clear, but that does not make me innocent. It is the Lord who judges me.Therefore judge nothing before the appointed time; wait until the Lord comes. He will bring to lightwhat is hidden in darkness and will expose the motives of the heart. At that time each will receive their praise from God.

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There are times in our life when we don’t know who we are. Not because we intend to or anything but it is because others try to dictate who we are. As a result, we are stuck in between who they think we are and who we are supposed to be.

I admit that I am not a good friend, classmate, brother or even a son. I can admit that without hesitation. But I also can admit that change runs within my veins, that I am capable of turning things around. The only problem is that people tend to create this picture of who I am and it will always be me regardless of my actions and the changes within me. If you’re bad, you will always be bad. That is the ‘fact’ created by these one sided spectators.

They tend to judge who you were and will let this image linger and never give you the chance to redeem yourself.

I am a Christian by faith. I am a sinner. I fell short of the Glory of God. I do stupid things day in and day out. But because I am a Christian, I try my best to learn to walk the path of what’s right and lean not on what is wrong within the context of my faith. Yet all this pressures of being a Christian and being human is being put to question. It is inevitable that I make the wrong decisions. That is my human side. My Christian side tells me I need to redeem myself and correct my wrongs. But their eyes would often wobble and tell ‘Don’t try so hard, it is not meant for you. You are a bad person.’

Are they not forgetting that no matter how dark the sky is at night, it will soon turn brighter? Or the dirtied white shirt when washed turns pure? We can change! Only if we put our minds into it!

Yes I know, what we should do is not care for what others say of us and that how we feel and know about ourselves is the most important point of view. WRONG.

It is not always good that we should only know who we are within for we are made to co-exist with other people. We are made by the Love of God and we are meant to live a life full of love. But how can we live this life if all we ever receive are criticisms and bad reviews?

I don’t know who I am and who I need to be now. People always see my bad side. It is just sad they are not able to see the better man in me. I can do nothing else but let out a sigh and just move along. They always see my bad attitudes, my conceitedness. But how can they not see the speck in their own eyes?

Anyway, what matters is that the Lord knows I have tried to let the better man out of me. That I have pushed my hardest. Indeed, we are not here to satisfy others and even if we tried, we cannot really.  We cannot dodge the worldly judge and all we can do is smile and just keep on walking forward.

Fragmented

The sky was orange that day

Fleets of bird flew away from the incoming dark of the night

She did not opt to stay. She left without any significant words to light my path

Why don’t people do what they say they will?

It will be alright she said.

But the streets they were empty. No cars. Not even a single shadow of a person

Perhaps, maybe because I thought she was the shadows or the cars

Or maybe perhaps, I was losing sight of what is really tangible and what is not

God come to my assistance

Take me to the mountaintops where the wind is soft and gentle

What if I never coalesce?

Lord make haste that thy aid come faster than the strike of your anger

No one understands me. I don’t seem to express myself very well

It’s too hard

What If? What About? How about? What Then?

Too many questions

Little Time for answers

Fragments are all that I seem to throw as if it was a caution to the wind

Yes. I know, I too am a fragment of this world.

Without others, I am but a small speck of nothingness.

That is why I thank God, not because he answered my prayers

But he provided before I even asked,

And filled the fragmented perception I had.

The World is Nothing More than For Sale

The alley is dark and the wind is chilly. A flickering orange light is all that keeps the darkness from eating away the path. It appears to be midnight, as the moon shines above bright along with the clouds that shroud it partly. I try not to stray from the orange blinking light that sleep will again be on my cold side of the pillow.

I wake up the next morning and again live with my daily routine. Breakfast at the table awaits me. I see, money enables food on the table to exist as tags along the plastic contours of the bread and tin can of the milk were spread all over.

I walk down and see people. They wait. What for? A cab appears. I know that before they go out of the vehicle, a little piece of paper marked with faces be handed to the driver.

Sigh. Money. As rich people say, is what makes the world go round.

I dare not disagree. For the world I live in is commercialized and nothing comes free. And not even the smile of the most beautiful person, no it does not.

For money is what keeps us locked away from death. People strive to survive that even they sell for money which they buy with. Some thrive from alms and gain what? Little metal objects that in turn become food.

Love? For what is it? It is not anymore a powerful tool today. Money. Money. Money. People’s greed to this unusable paper in paradise is unparalleled.

I walk and still keep walking. I arrive at my college. Suddenly I asked, why do we go to school? Because money is what people say we need? A sham these people are! Even Education and knowledge now correspond to money. To be cured is to have money and to have a decent death will be possible if only money feeds the pockets.

I am afraid that I will no longer see the beauty of free giving for as long as I live. I am afraid the world is nothing more but for sale. The lights that flicker along the road will not flicker if not because they were paid for. The moon nor a smile of a beautiful girl I will not see if I died of hunger. Hunger from what? Food given by money?

Is it even true that this money-centered ball of earth is as civilized as they say it is?

To live is to buy the earth. It is the only thing free that was passed when we were born. This is the protocol given and handed down by older generations for us to inevitably follow. Unluckily, there is no turning back. The only thing free, I guess, is the coffee I am drinking right now. Not really free but it is sugar free. Sigh.

The Old Brewed Coffee

Who am I? What am I?

Broad queries yet take dusk till dawn to know

Can I and Will I be the wind’s master and be able to fly?

Or be the stagnant water, reticent and unable to flow?

For all I know,

I am a cactus

Thorny I may be outside, but inside is something smooth or rather soft

A pigeon, crippled by fear and ruckus

Afraid to fly or even try albeit it knows unlimited is the blue cloudy loft

The red hanger at home that hangs alone, aloof

The backpack unused, enough space yet empty

A rock although hard still stepped over and cracked by a mighty hoof

The tree that stands firm yet gets blown a weak calamity

I live in indefinite possibilities of who I am

Living in possibilities made feasible by what I do

Like the brewed coffee, stirred, added with sweets and getting cold

The only fact I know is I am getting old.

Then again, corny, it appears to be, is the kid behind the usual semi-fit shirt, baseball cap with dark sneakers below the dark fading jeans.

I am number 2

The author, he starts. My spirit, it jumps. To feed the ecstasy, I let collide my pen and paper until the ink is devoured by the white thing. On a separate occasion, my pencil turns leadless and my brush, hairless. My eyes are tired like the flapping seagull against the wind. The dark ate the light and hid on top white fluffs in the dotted horizon. Meanwhile my eyes are already succumbing to the black silence. No. It was not silent. I had crickets for company.  I was restless but still I was trying.

Before the moment comes, I picture myself. Indulged. Like the kid who was made happy by the fake Santa during winter when the lights are never out. I am my best. I push with all the air in my lungs. The person pushing, he smiles. His eyes spoke that he was serious and prepared. I sure was, I told them. The initiator, his lips, they moved. The sounds coalesced and I understood them before my mind wandered and reached places I never thought it could.

His words were soporific to me. If I had one of those fluffy cottons, I would squander my time above it with my eyes closed and my mind open to new ideas. My daydream was disrupted when the speaker said start. Start? For what? I was getting it. Reaching it. Then I remember where I was.

I started later than those that were there. Every stroke, I backed away to see if it was beautiful. It was fine. I wrote. And read from start to see if it was good. It was okay. I sketched the contours and tried to see if it were as good as what my mind conceived. It was forgivable. Though in my eyes they were fine, Good, okay and forgivable is not enough to bring the gold around the neck.

Yes. Inevitably, I am always number two. I rarely become number one. And if that happens, its either the first placer got disqualified or I won by default. Excluding the times I was cheated, I was always second.

The recipe, I asked. I searched. Nooks and crannies I was found. Still, I was in no position to have enough luck in queue for the search of the recipe. I looked back. The little kid was good. He was not great but good enough. Better than the others. His roots dug deeper on the ground but it loosened. He grew, his leaves sprouted but never did he flower nor bloom. No. Not yet. Instead he forgot the nature of his quest and the identity of who he was. He was able.  Deep down he knew it. But his roots kept it away and from the light, he was shunned. It was not to be. I regret not being able to be the best with my best. There is no reason that is allowed compensation I believe. What does it take to win? The boy grew, Yes, I laughed. But ‘tis true. I guess, The boy needs to grow more. Because from growing, comes learning.

In such way, when learning comes like how the light always conquers the blatant dark, I will never be inevitably number two. I may still be number two. But I can be number one.

Dark Behind. Light Infront.

The birds fly as of late September. The sky is dark gray with its angry clouds and cold hands. I remember my little hands on the ground, playing with the dirt. It was moist and it felt like the ash of the burned old narra. I can recall the plants swaying as the wind tried to talk to it and the rocks stood firm while the little insects under the little quarry made their domicile.  No time did I recall when the sky wasn’t gray, the soil not humid and the plants do not hush. I was 5.

As the second hand ticked away the simple days, the ruckus slowly crept out of the tightly sealed rucksack. I watched and stood aloof yet undaunted. I knew it would creep out. The wisdom and wrinkles told me. So I watched as it slowly wrapped around me. And like the snake, it constricted. It bit. The poison I wasn’t aware of until I was the poison. I was 10.

Gone were the days when the wheel was yours to take yet the wheel was in somebody else’s hands and drove you off to where the grass is greener. In came forever, with its sandstorm of hopes and wishes that only the strong and hopeful can withstand. The bamboo is full of words yet bows to the strongest of winds or even to the zephyr. I was 16.

The wrinkles gripped the skin as it grew thin. As stale as the vultures menu, I lay in silence, stagnant. I tried looking for the hole in my sky and I did. To bring the arc on the lip, I wanted to tie where the head meets the body and finally the period to the long and unanswerable question. I could not. For the hand that held the world held back my hand and glued the fragments.  Fixed the distorted tumult, He did too. It removed the growing dark spot. Day in and day out, it was polished by Him. I am 18.

We are molded and spewed with blood, fight with our blood and die without it. The vehemence is prevalent yet very questionable. The question is right where I stand. I am perplexed of what this rented skin and bones should do. It is but proper to repay the maker. I know I cannot give something of equivalent value for all I have seen and done are vivacious shames. I want to give something beautiful but to give it is to know what it is. I have seen the glimpse of it before. I will see it again soon. And I will give it back. And in such way, I will be fulfilled.

Pity. It is not what the bag contains today after the storm turned my boat upside down. It is, on my opinion, what was thrown out when love surfaced it.

Co Exist

Waves roll altogether

Droplets with other droplets splatter

The baby in the arms of her mother

“Should we end it? Cos I don’t want to,” she said

I didn’t know why she asked. But I said yes.

I chortled as she gave me that sympathetic smile

“It’s going to be fine anyway,” I told her.

Things always seem to coexist with each other

The rhythm moves the dancer

Even birds tweet together

The guitar strums, the singer sings, the beat of the drum set,

If it applies to everything,

Why am I alone to watch the sunset?

My brain and it’s unknown relations to TETRIS

Twelve years ago we had this little portable gaming toy that will never compare to today’s PSP, PSVita, Nintendo DS and such. It is generically called ‘brickgame’ and although it has very low graphics allowing only shapes that formed blocks, It allowed us to play snake, tetris and etc.

The younger generation does not recognize such toy because of the rise of gaming and techie giants like Apple, Microsoft, Sony and others. Although others do not acknowledge the existence of such a toy, I am happy to have encountered it. It paved the way for me to know what tetris is and the lessons my freaking mind came up with from my (cheap) gaming experience.

As I have mentioned, it introduced me to the game TETRIS (Nowadays, I usually play it on facebook) which is only considered as a mini game today. This mini game taught me a lot besides having fun even when there are oodles of pending projects and articles to write.

If you really think differently it can teach you a lot.

The idea of tetris is to complete a horizontal line from edge to edge to make it vanish. The more lines, the better and you should never make the mistake of letting the bricks (or whatever they call it) reach the topmost of the screen or else it’s sayonara to you. By the way, the level gets harder as you progress.

I put it this way. The disappearance of a line is like making things happen.  The more work you will put to the game, the more lines will disappear. This means the more you work, the more you can make things happen. And the more you can contain the rush of things, the longer your life will be (maybe not the years but the moments will be, I can assure you that). As we progress in life, i can 100% say that it wont get any easier.

Another idea in the game is to fit the right blocks to the right empty spaces. Making the wrong move of putting unfitting blocks on top of each other makes it worse and easier for you to lose the game.

Again, this is what I have deciphered. In order not to get defeated to the usual routine of life which offers failure, we should always make sure things fit other things. We should do things when it is needed, where it should be done and in the best way it should be done. Remember, you don’t want to put pants on your arms.

Ahhh. The HOLD button. This is one of the most important in tetris. If I can see that a block cannot be suited anywhere else, I use the hold button and save it for later. Also, I usually save the long parallel line to make something which I like to call ‘Shalala-4-hit-combo-disappear-block-baby’ which makes 4 edge-to-edge lines disappear instantly and simultaneously! Oh yeah brother!

First of all, there are things we need not rush. HOLD IT! That’s what we say. We wait until the right time to strike and when that time comes, we strike hard!

Second of all, We save things for a rainy day. Saving really helps you in times of trouble and need. It can really be a savior and wipe the despair off your face.

Lastly, is we learn when to let go or hold on to something (or better yet someone :D). And if we hold it and not try to let go, we will not know what could have happened in the game. Maybe if we let it go, it can make things happen and if not. Who knows what could have happened? It may cost us our game dude!

The last thing I can mention about tetris and life is that everything that happens is just an implication of HOW we manage things. That is the sole destiny maker in our life. We can enjoy despite the pressures and like everything, there is something we all recognize as the end. Whether you like it or not, we will all stop playing in the end. Thats not what matters. Instead, what matters is how we play the game.

I’m at a consistent losing streak at tetris. I hate it. Ranked down for how many times now. But I still enjoy playing it. That’s just like life. We may fail and get browbeaten by life itself but hey, that’s life for you. We win some, we lose some. Win or lose, we gain more knowledge and EXP. I keep on losing on tetris but I don’t give up. I keep on getting shoved to the ground but I stand back up again.

On top of everything, Tetris, like life, is just pure good ol’ fashioned fun!

Questions? Questions!

There comes a day when the answers to the questions that seem to have us perplexed,  arrives and feeds us until we are full. It comes and the sky will seem bluer even though it is gloomy outside.

There also days that all we seem to have are endless questions after a wild goose chase for the right answers.

We fail more often than we succeed. I can guarantee you that.

It hurts to know that our questions lead to another question.

What if we stopped asking questions and live life as to what it has prepared for us. Then we wouldn’t be creating images beyond what is really physically touchable to ourselves nor would we be giving birth things that aren’t supposed to live within us (like questions).

I am person vexed by the words WHAT CAN HAPPEN? about the future. Baffled by WHAT IF’s of the past. But I am also the same person carried by the words STAND UP, CAN YOU?  in the present. In my own perspective, it doesnt really matter how you see the past and how you can predict the future. But it is how you handle your present. Then everything will follow.

No matter how big your question is, if you live it right you can have the answers to it. It is a step by step process that the answers will come to us. Not just a finger flick and it comes slamming right on our doorstep.

Life is like a maze or a labyrinth. Some go right, Others go left. But there is only one way to follow in going out. We can only go out if we stopped asking and start working. Who knows, the exit might just be on the next turn.

Don’t rush in looking for things because things will never rush for you. Take it easy. KEEP CALM and STOP ASKING.