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Posts Tagged ‘connection’

My thoughts are as directionless

as the moths seeking for warmth.

The fire within crackles

sending cinders to my realm.

My mantra of calm are as restless

as the grasshopper hopping

to some isolated and jotted

islands of images, dark-

that painterly abstraction.

Jarring and savage.

 

Some questions will burn tonight.

And answers will die on my bed.

 

I, like a squirming maggot

will never break it out.

My wings  would never ride

the wind like the butterfly.

The ants are climbing

this white walled kingdom.

The night owl squeals a secret.

While the lizard is ready

to pounce for vengeance.

 

That’s what is left of me.

An spectator to the scenes which

I could not connect in a thread.

Bare. Hope. Chance

snapping some strings

and shout eureka. I found it.

 

How shall I fill the blanks

that never beg for words?

Naked. Lying here like a piece

of shit and this suicidal poem.

Eccentricity finds no reason,

dangerous and hangs its limit.

That yielding point.

 

Sanity is a false shelter where

no one wants to be intruder

and break down the door.

Open wide discovering

another neck is lingering

asleep forever in dreams.

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Flipping through a newspaper  is like a world

in a still shot of words. A night sky of falling stars

against the backdrop of inkblots and faded graphite.

Filling out the whiteness of pages parched with yesterday

scenes captured and distilled in silence.  Here, where

its blackness became a cure to this ennui.  A distraction.

A flotsam of unhappy events, of somebody’s tale.

The never-ending saga of tragedies and its epic struggle

to survive. Looking for signs, of parallelisms

which might ephemerally keep that connection.

While tomorrow is another news rolling off the press

harping that life will still stay relevant. Each day.

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Two nights ago, I tossed left and right in my bed , restless and not knowing what I have been missing these past few days.  Isolation takes a toll and there are days that I can’t bear  the reclusivity.  Those were the days when I felt that I don’t differ to the things you can find in my room. A regular fixture, as if I am resembling to some  breathing machine with a pair of eyes traveling the whiteness of the ceiling.  I imagine the freedom of my mortal being mixing in the crowd around the city.  A stranger with an imaginary wall, like the others.

A study says that there is a silent epidemic  affecting millions of people, slowly killing and obliterates their very existence.  A persistent loneliness, that leads to severe depression due to non-interaction as a result of a person’s self-imposed isolation.  

People need inter-personal relationship with others.  In the world with the advancement of science and technology and the quick fix of web-based communication, people are making way to get connected, through multiple virtual identities impersonally.  Social networking groups in the Internet replaces actual person to person interaction and thus making the present generation  accustomed to getting glued to their computer screens, 24/7.

I admit that if I will not take steps to get out and mingle with others, I might succumb to the ill effects of my being passive and recluse.  That is why, it was a blessing that I have brought home something new in my life.  A living thing, but not a pet, since the landlord would not approve of any pets in the house.  It was a plant given to me by a friend, which has a life, and could share my space and can introduce me to first steps of rejuvenation.

If I can be able to take care for the plant and make it grow through constant watering, nourishment and exposure to sun and wind,  it can become a litmus test.  Wherein each new leaf that might sprang out of it signifies the measure of the heart ready to forge new meaningful relationship with people. A confidence that I can be able to nurture worthy life connection with them, in love and compassion.

The plant, will ever be a constant reminder, that people are not just things. People are people, who is capable of loving and be loved in return.

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At young age, I was severely smacked down by our pet dog.  When my father learned about it, he brought down his gun and pulled the trigger. The dog instantly died. But I was hospitalized, sending my parents into panic if I had contracted the dreaded rabies.  But thank God, there is no indication of infection.

Through the years, the wounds got healed. But the mark of that dog’s bite has deeply sliced through my heart.  Everytime, I see through their eyes are thousand words that connects me to their world. No matter how ferocious they can be, my heart will melt at the sight of those angelic beings wagging their tails when they meet you.

I had never been hateful of dogs, even if I had that bad  incident. And I am just into thinking, if that one incident has something to do with this affinity to the canine creatures. I guess so. There are just so many dogs who came in and out of my life.  And I can feel the pain whenever the time of separation ensues. I can’t bear the thought of leaving them there when I have to be somewhere.

I remember Cotton. A fluffy haired white dog who lived long enough with us since childhood and became part of our family. Everybody just adored her though she never had any puppies. But she became a loyal and faithful dog who never tires to come to you when she is called.  I remember as a child, I would join in whenever my aunt will bathe her by the garden hose. Oh, I would just love chasing her running away whisking out the water away from its body.

When I was in gradeschool, my father and my mother have left us to the care of our grandparents  to return to Manila for work.  I felt the loss of connection.  I am in limbo. I felt emptiness. But a dog has saved the day and made me assured of company from then on.  But like the others, the dog died and I was in deep sadness. I can still recall how I invited my playmates to come with me under the guava tree , to have a funeral for the dog.  I made some wooden cross, some santan flowers plucked from a neighbor’s garden  and put in on top of the mound.  When my grandmother have found out, she was so angry with me and shouted to stop the ridiculous thing or I would got spanked.

I have forgotten some of the names of my dogs. But most of them, I remember them giving birth underneath my bed.  Then in the morning, I will hear some little cute noises from its newly born puppies.  There is a dog who still remembered me even after three years of separation. When I held her to my arms, she gave out a heartfelt cry like a long lost child.  There is a dog that looks like a tiger who have gone missing after a New Year’s celebration. There is also a dog who  one day came home before dying. We later discovered that he got a huge knife cut in his stomach by some heartless bystanders in the street.

I remember Vladimir, the  dog who is sleeping during the day but a guardian through the night.  I remember Ella, my aunt’s dog in Cavite, who walks like a polio victim due to some birth defects, but she managed to have two beautiful puppies Jack and Ace. I remember Fubu, An-an’s dog in Fujeirah who loves Filipinos that much.

But for now, I try not to have a dog.  I don’t want to have the same feeling of loss anymore when something happens to them.  And the  pain of losing them just lingers so long.  I can’t help it. But the fondness I would remember, is when those innocent eyes of the dog would  search you through and start wagging their tails as a sign that they trust you enough. That you can be their dearest friend for life.

A dog is indeed a man’s bestfriend.

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I was searching through the friends list on my Friendster, when suddenly a name came accross my mind.  Yeah, I was looking for this friend for so long and now I am typing her name on the blank spaces anticipating that the search engines will come up with some positive results. Voila!! There she goes. She is all, well, right there in front of my eyes.

I read through her profile page and there I go clicking my way through her photographs.  Satisfied of what I have seen. I glanced through her friends list and to my surprise, she managed to keep track of almost all our classmates in grade school. For eighteen long years, I have tried to veer away for possible contact, I must confess. I just have this gut feel that my grade school life should be shelved like a book. Because I felt, it must end there.  Right there at the graduation night.

But tonight, my mind wanders back in time, and in disbelief on how we managed to age wonderfully through the years up to our primes. Some have proudly become mothers and fathers. Some still remained single like me.  Some are on the other side of the world.  Some have chosen to stay back in our hometown. But regardless of what each of us has eventually have become and have been to, the truth of the matter is, we will always be classmates.

That is one connection that binds us all.  That is one connection that transcends above social status, lifestyle preferences, idealogies, and religious differences. What matters, is that we came to know  an essential part of each other during those old school days.  That there are some things that had remained unchanged. Within. And that is what worth holding on.

And I am glad to reminisce those times. Those silly times, that you would rather forget, but you can’t. Puppy loves, crushes and the like. Bullying, crying games and spanking from teacher moments. Cramming for periodical exams, copying of assignments before classes begin and all sorts of cheating. Those mid-afternoon games we used to play like tumbang preso, patintero, chinese garter, hide and seek etc.

Ah, you would always remember the noisiest, the silent ones, the nerdy types (I think I am), the beauty queens and kings of the class. The tallest, the shortest, the fairest, the brainiest, the smartest and the laziest. And who would forget the one being assigned to list down the noisy and troublesome in the class, the class president? And the sergeant-at-arms in tow?

The morning cleaning times. The flag ceremonies.  The drum and bugle practices. The choir. The calisthenics.  The recess time, anyone? Oh, how about the district meet. The sports meet. The demo week. The Linggo ng Wika. The Christmas parties.  The Boyscout and Girlscout camping. And most of all, the recognition day.  Oh, I almost forgot the slumbooks, the songhits and of the spiders hidden on some yellow matchboxes.

I must admit, I enjoy most of the time climbing star-apple trees and perched among its branches like a monkey observing other school girls and school boys who either play in school grounds or just seating on concrete benches poring over some notes. And my memory of the grade school never ends with wonderment. Did I really have gone through that?  What a joy to be so young! Such an enjoyment! And who would believe that we are so far-away from being those silly school girls and school boys from what we are today?

I regret to have said that my grade school life should be shelved like a book.  I felt that  there is a need for a time that this book will be inevitably opened. And each of us who had became part of the book, should step forward into the light and give it some life.  Possibly,  to begin writing some new chapters on the book, about lasting friendship among us.  Definitely.  Definitely some of our paths will yet cross again. We’ll see.

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Just the other day, I have been to province of Fujian, China and it has been a pleasant visit to meet with a client for a design project presentation. And during the whole period, I keep my eyes fixed to the many sights and glued my ears to the different rhythms of this Chinese region. The construction activities are non-stop, might as well the effect of the hosting of the Summer Olympics by Beijing in the 2008, nonetheless Fujian is rearing to absorb the influx of would be visitors.

I must admit I am overwhelmed to witness China transforming into a modern and exciting nation. In the years to come, China will become a superpower nation to beat, sitting next to some of the most developed nations of the world.

Fujian, is the garments capital of China, may it be shoes, socks, under garments, shirts, winter clothing, business suits, pants, sports apparel and endless array of specialty apparel. I have seen their economic and development zones full of large scale factories and manufacturing centers. Every corner of the highway, you can see the billboard signs advertising different companies specializing in a specific apparel.

Fujian, a province where you can find big cities of Xiamen, Jinjiang and Quanzhou, is somewhat similar with the lifestyle in the Philippines. As I have been informed that most of our Filipino-Chinese ancestors come from this region of Fujian. No wonder, I happen to see SM City in Quanzhou, where Henry Sy paid homage to his ancestral beginnings.

I could not forget the taste of the typical Fujian cuisine where it seems quite the same with Filipino food but with a more spicy tone and texture. I happen to see the limestone mountains, the pasture lands, and the mighty rivers winding in the landscape. Night in Quanzhou is like a nightwalk in Malate, literally the same scene in Manila. The lightpost, the brick sidewalks, the vendors and the air pollution. Different retail shops dot the streets in dizzying number. Apartments are decorated in an European Continental style with a mixture of Mandarin elements. Butterfly trees are splendid in their purple flowers. And freestanding bronze sculptures are many to behold.

Xiamen, is the music capital of China. This is where aspiring Chinese musicians are going for training and enhancement in the classical music. Xiamen, is a city where music is a way of life.

And how I could forget the jolly nature of the Chinese people, they could tell you stories that concern everyday life, everyday happenings and family. I am amazed how they find happiness sharing pictures of their children, brothers, sisters and relatives; and tell a brief description about them.

The more I visit China, the more I understand that somewhere, somehow we are in one lineage with them. Of how our Filipino culture has got a big slice of Chinese life. We cannot deny the fact, that our civilization, the way of life, our culture have a home in China. Because, if we really dig deeper into our ancestry, we will be amazed to know that in our lineage we got the China blood mixed in the process somehow.

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