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Posts Tagged ‘modern’

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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I am a bit choosy with the music I used to play in my playlist. Bluegrass and country  genre is a daily staple of my waking music life.  I have fallen in love with the soothing voice of Alison Krauss since day one, when I heard “Now That I Found You” and her own rendition of “When You Say Nothing At All”, all chart toppers in the late 90’s.  Like food, country music and bluegrass are organic and ear-friendly  tunes without  the toxicity of blaring and  shouting trend of modern-day rock gurus.

I like contemplative mood of country and bluegrass sound. Its melodic and heartwarming themes of simplicity of rural lifestyle of the typical Americana. I am being transported to the good olden days I used to have in our small town Gerona.  I remember the Sundays’ hustle and bustle at the coliseum in the middle of the sugar cane field, during the heydays of cockfighting.  I was a grade schooler then.

My grandmother used to help in the coliseum canteen, where she would allow me to roam around the tiered seats of wooden planks. Sun bleached as I was and waiting for the creaking sounds of the hurried footsteps of excited expectators eager to occupy their sacred spaces.

I will wait there fielding my gaze to the green sea of dancing sugarcane leaf breezing through the wind. It was such a pure sight. My unadulterated joy, a moment of bliss and happiness. My solitude amidst the maddening crowd. An honest time without thinking the polluting cares of this world.  I break away.

They say music is a therapy to the soul. A beautiful escape away from confusion and disillusionment.  And like Ally McBeal in a famous series on TV of the same title, every song has a journey of moments, significantly intertwined to the times of our lives.  And I must say, our souls never grow old with time like wine, these bodies are rotten away and growing old like those barrel containers but our souls just evolved into something profound and noble within.

Oh, how my mind travelled so far again to the time that was.  A time where the memory of how simple life it was back then, has left me longing to linger for a little while.  While listening to Alison Krauss, songs like “Simple Love”, “The Scarlet Tide”, “Restless”, “I’ll Fly Away”, “Whiskey Lullaby”, “You’ll Be My Ain True Love”, “I Will”, “But You Know I Love You”, “If I Didn’t Know Any Better”,  and many others, had me again facing back to where I was before.  Right there, at the colliseum with one of my treasured childhood dream of laying down to the green sea of pure joy touching its fragile earth.

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What if I finally embark on a mission to indigenous lands? How can I accept their way of life? Will I accept their culture as superior than I have born with and satisfied with? Will I ever change my way of life and draw some inspiration and become like them-unwary of the stress of the modern life, which to them is unknown?

What if  I am old enough to witness the First Quarter Storm, would I become a community organizer? Would I then be able to stand up for the right of the masses during those dictatorial times or I would rather clam up under the weight of fear and apathy? Would I be willing to be put into prison, or die in a firing squad like a martyr and become one of those missing persons that until now that their whereabouts cannot be found?

What if I become a priest? Can I be able to resist the temptation to marry and forever become celibate?  Would I be able to help others to know God better and make some positive impacts on their spiritual life?

What if I become a social worker? How could I keep the orphans, the old men and women and the widows from seeing life as still beautiful brimming with hope without them thinking of their circumstances? Would I be able to bear not to cry when I am so emotionally attached to their sentiments, their anguish and their fears?

What if I become a nurse or a doctor? How could I be able to be numb on seeing death everyday?  How could I try not to think of pain?  How could I not try to think about the families who lost their loved ones to sickness or a tragic accident? How could I not sleep enduring the hours spent caring and hoping for the  patients would ever live for one more day?

There are just so many individuals whose life are exemplary. Those who are still living or have departed from this world, whose life they have given unselfishly to the best that they can without thinking about personal gain or fame.  They have lived an uncommon life away from their comfort zones. 

The nameless and faceless strangers whom we might meet across the street. Or your neighbor. Or a friend.  We never know, until we came closer seeing their true light. These are the breed of people who dedicated themselves for a cause of uplifting humanity.  The kind of people who is not afraid of being different and dared to be what they are destined to be.

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Three years.  One hundred blogposts.  From country music to a foggy day rounded up three years of cent-worth of personal ramblings on life.  

At first, I only intended to try the blog feature of Friendster just for self-expression.  To speak up my mind more intimately on things we often neglect and have taken for granted.  

I am prompted to focus the themes of my blogpost on simpler things.  Of serene things that separates from the clutter of everyday.   A respite.  A balm to the soul. 

All around us are people of unending struggles to be understood and to be accepted.  Of  people living up to what this world dictates them to be.  Not realizing that their humanity is at stake among the many complexities and presumptions of these modern times. 

I believe that we need a pause to reflect and recollect.  To understand and to rationalize.  To put words written out from our minds and communicate. To put meaning into our lives and live through the years with hope of making this world better than we had found it.  To keep our feet rooted to the basic and essential.  To put the ignored and little things in life magnified into a vantage of inspiring thoughts and vivid images.

I thank all the visitors who shared their profound thoughts on the subjects I had presented, may it  be affirmation of their ideals or contradiction to what they believe in.  But in its essence, I welcome the connection among us and together, it has rekindled our interests to look inwardly among ourselves and search much more deeper within. 

I hope that my solitude and moments of silence in this page had brought you into a higher level of understanding.  I hope that it has brought you closer to the meaning of your own existence.  Of what it means to be alive and keep believing.

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