Posts Tagged ‘forward’

I give and you receive

and you get but I didn’t

expect it to return. To pay

forward and give

to another. Until I beg

and ask the other.

He gives but never

asking back. Help.

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We lived in a world where

statistics is synonymous

with being number one.

Measuring up in a yardstick,

struggling our lifetimes

competing for spaces

reserved for subservient

imitators of culture and class.


Like crabs crowding and grabbing

and pulling each other down

wanting to rule the world. People

above people. Force against force.


For those who dared raising a fist.

For those who questioned authority.

For those who defy their masters

raised from the land they call-

the first world. Their birthright.


Is it about what you’ve been taught?

Is it about how you’ve been raised?

Have I been misplaced by fate?

My skin’s darker, hands dirtied,

swollen by hard labor. A gap

so wide I couldn’t leap forward

a privilege’s bloody to break.


The one with the skin much paler

has the prime seat in the house.

The one whose ideals are taller than the tree

had their palms oiled by the scent of money.

And their minions bow down in worship.


Supremacy over self-worth. Fanaticism

over humanity. Millions, blindsided

servants to little gods awaiting benediction.

I can’t do but keep silent and curse

the soil in which you were born,

giving you a seething stare in envy.


Shall I borrow then, your language

slipped out of your tongue? For I will

put sounds to the syllables of freedom

to speak and tell you, “our time has come”.

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I’m No Frank

Frank Lloyd Wright

and his falling water. Masses

of concrete cantilevered,

and extending outwards

like hands reaching- symbiosis.

But I’m no Frank

and dreams might be

my little fingers clasping

hard and pushing pencils

for somebody else’s utopia.


The hewn boulders of rock

resisting the foundation

on which this grand design sits,

I bear the weight of expectations.

Balancing upon the scales

on which the measure of cement

is mixed in sand and water.

The lapping over of slates into a bond.

The forward thrust of hammer to nails.

The tightening of ties around stirrups.

The alternate laying of the roof decking.


And the network of drain pipes,

cables and ducting, and waterlines

resembling the veins and sinews

of the building’s skeleton. I build

a symbol- the framework of the mind.

The genius envisions an edifice

in his intellectual acrobatics,

justifying to the world the modern-

reality that build themselves on paper.


Summoning the masons to lay

its plaster to newly cured blocks.

The painter to swab the walls

in fresh coats. The decorator

sets the chairs, the beds,

the mirrors and the tables.

The vases and layers of curtains.

The lifeless sculpture pieces

and paintings hanged to the walls.

Fixing rolls of wallpaper  and carpets

over polished granite floors.


The carpenter assembling

cabinet boxes, ledges and shelves.

The windows fitted to the sills.

And the doors hanged on frames.

The location of the chandelier.

Installing wooden slabs on stairs.

The green patinated balustrades.

The landscaper to plant shrubs, and ferns

and vines and trees and patch of grass.

The water fountains and the waterfall

arranged mimicking a natural set-up.


But I ‘m no Frank.

The hours stretched for miles and miles.

The drafting table becoming wet with fog

until  the first  hours of the morning.

I can hear the mad conversations

of the vellum and the graphite saying,

“deadline nears, it’s almost here”.

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Friends come and go, they say. But the memories of them while you are so much younger then, gives you the feeling that they will never leave you somehow. I wonder, what happens to each one of them.  I wonder how they look like now.  I wonder how they fared better in this life.

Deep in my heart, I am envisioning them enjoying their life among their own set of new friends right now.  I am seeing them in a distance of their own daily routines and living it out.  And the thought that whatever happens,  a part of me goes along with them, when simple things that remind them of me has been triggered by circumstance.

I may not be as expressive as I can to show how much I cared. But silently within this heart, I am keeping prayers.  Prayers that the Almighty endow all his love and blessings to each one of them.  May He empower them to move on and conquer their own set of fears and tribulations. And how I wished that in the time of their agony, I am being there like a pillow that will cushion it out.

Well, the essence of friendship is not about who got farther.  Who got stronger.  Who got happier.  Who got richer.  But it is in the knowing, that within the many superficialities of self, they remain the same person like when you first met them.  They remain the person who might be changed by their present countenance or life circumstance, still bears their truest identity that gels well with you after all.

But fate has its way through the course of our lifetimes.  And  I still believe. I know that someday, our paths will cross again. Just like in a song . Even after the time has scarred our hearts and souls with many life lessons along the way. Even after the time has rendered us visually unpleasant.  Even after the time have already shown the verdict of our future. 

What is worth remembering is the person that once been a part of our lives.  The person who has his own fragilities of a human being trying it out in the world like a first time performer.  The person who also struggled to stand up and who has to learn his first steps to personal freedom from being a newborn baby.

What is worth remembering is the person that one has to become.  After all, that one has to grow up and act maturely. And taking all the responsibilities to become a real man or a real woman. Now, I understand why friends have to be apart sometimes.  Allowing each other have great leaping forward to life.  Creating their own set of a world where one has to belong. And make it his own.

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