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Posts Tagged ‘youth’

Think about the pen and the fingerprints

romancing in the glistening dust against the sunlight.

The faded photographs with watermarks

of remembrances salvaged from the past.

Brittle to touch and slowly turning to ashes.

 

Think about the bookmarks of dried rose petals

and the faint smell imprinted to the pages,

rescued from the years of forgetting the ones

that mattered most. And the dreams that never

meant to be owned like the earth where I stand.

 

If the promise of coming back becomes a distant memory-

counting each sunrises and every new moons. Let hope

travel its feet while I sit beside by the window waiting.

For innocence will turn my graying hairs to white

and youth will leave me like the wilted leaves of autumn.

 

The season changes and they say time heals every wound.

But the scars of our love-thorned lives remains relived

in our book of days. I wish the summer winds will carry

the ashes until forgetting. I wish sleep will banish the things

which I failed to tell you when you left me. I moved on.

 

I have written letters with the pen until it dried out of ink

I have recorded our memories for fear that it will be lost too.

And my waning mind gave birth to words I have bookmarked

with fresh flowers that blooms from the same earth I will lay

with my dreams. I am not afraid anymore of the longest night

 

until tomorrow.

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The storm had passed

and left pellet marks of rain

to my parched earth. An afterglow

radiating and pulsating

 

with warmth of whispers

and silent promises

about the sea of softness

under the night clouds.

 

Like the shepherd moon

it clings in the presence of moments,

of minutes and hours, sweet

love talk by the angels of youth.

 

Words, words I have to rinse away

thereafter- extinguish this flame.

Long before the dawn breaks

the transience of tenderness.

 

My intimate surrender.

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I once had the chance to swim the Pasig River when I was just about five or six, I guess.  An uncle, who was a robust teenager that time, invited by his friends, tagged me along with him one afternoon.  We walked across J.P Rizal street and descended some flight of steps going to the not-so-murky water.

Uncle led my hand and told me not to be afraid. And when we dipped ourselves into the water, I felt the river current slowly pushing its force against my fragile frame. Suddenly uncle let go of his hand, and I was left wading by myself. He just laughed and laughed, along with his friends to see me panicking and gasping for breath. When I was just about to submerge into the water, he just snatched my hand in time and landed me safely back to the steps.

I was panting heavily as I watched amazingly to uncle and his friends vigorously swimming against the river current. Hoping that I could grow instantly  and have the strength to swim as long as I wish. 

But when aunt, uncle’s big sister, learned of our little river escapade, she scolded uncle for taking me down to the river, saying that the polluted water could make me more sick.  And aunt blares her disappointment at the two of us and told  me that it is too dangerous to swim in Pasig River, and I could get myself drowned.  My mother has allowed me to stay at aunt’s home for the summer to have my routinary medical EENT checkups. 

I just kept on listening to my aunt’s endless rant to uncle and heard her say that she was really disappointed with me and could send me right away back home. But I just  smiled  and throw a toothy grin to uncle, silently thanking him for taking me down the river.

I am thanking him for expanding the fragiled radius of my being. A new-found freedom, to allay fear of not sizing up to what other boys of my age can do. I don’t want my being sickly hamper the extent of what I can do. To belong and be accepted to a fraternal brotherhood like uncle’s.  And it is a feat that begins my tearing down of the walls of my sheltered existence.  A youthful independence. 

I am thanking him, because that’s when I have learned to stand up and defend myself when I am being wronged. To keep up heading on even when the circumstances are getting against me like a fierce river current drowning all the strength I could muster.  To exceed the limitations of what my mind tells me that I can only achieve that much.

As a child then, I believe, most of us, have become warriors against our own. When we have learned how to be brave even when we were afraid and often get discouraged.  When we  are walking out there in the world,  somewhere, winning our inner battles and living uncertainly day by day, and never giving up. 

Pasig River is my Rubicon,  where a warrior child in me has been borne out of the mighty rush of the river current while bailing myself out for survival. An invisible force pushing me to edge out and discover frontiers I have never been to before, now possible and within reach.    

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Sylvia, you struggled with the night, they don’t see you.  And the madness you have kept along since your youth, stand watch to the agony of your desire, I feel you, even if Ted fades away. They seem to like you and your outbursts of anger, unmindful of the things you are so capable of destroying; your fragility, your womanhood.  They had made you as faceless like girls of Kabul wearing burqa. 

But I must admit, Sylvia, that beyond with your innocence, beyond with the frailty and your true self repressed by layers and layers of hate and uncertainties, you will rise like a phoenix redeeming its immortality.  Like a golden lotus emerging from the fiery flames, and a thousand death might come but it will never win its argument against your indomitable spirit. Yet Sylvia, you left the world with a scar that won’t heal in time, putting a strong voice to silence unheard of, in decades past.

Have you ever met Frida Kahlo? Your fate runs almost parallel to hers and through your gift of art, the pangs of pain are shifted through the bittersweet beauty of your words, though they say it was staid and conventional.  But I don’t believe them.  Yours an endless laughter like the one you made with Ted when you first met him at the party in Cambridge. Yours a happiness since the first time you have published “The Colossus”.

How could you keep as perfectly as it was to squeeze in the time breathing life to a poetry waiting there at the dining table and lay you sleepless in the night?  How could you tear yourself apart open and shed the light withholding nothing and the truthfulness of the turmoil you’re going through?  The days that lingers almost unbearable, in between the soiled dishes in the sink, in the soapy suds of the dirty linen and in the keeping of your children who are innocent of the struggles your dealing with Ted. 

In the night, that you have sealed the doors by wet rags, have you thought of just keeping on, pressing on- to deal with your pervading loneliness and disillusion? When you precisely turned on the ignition of the cooker, as you inhale the gas, Sylvia, did you think of finally  avenging your fractured self against Ted?  Of how your  jealousy could have made you insanely and sweetly surrendering to impending death?  How intense is your longing for Ted to reconcile with you, knowing that he is just a man, and you are so afraid of losing him?

Sylvia, if you only have known that after forty years have past since your death, your son Nicholas might have taken his life, too; maybe because he might be carrying the gravity of questions left unanswered since the day you died.  Would you keep on existing? Would you be strong enough to let go of Ted and spend the rest of your lifetime for your children? And see them of what they have become in the twilight of your years?

But the time has run out.  And you have to choose between life and death.  But you chose the latter. Sylvia, you have chosen to end the sad stories in your life, cutting away Ted and his chains around you.  You have chosen freedom.

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What a way to celebrate one’s age is to actually defy it by internalizing that you are still in your early teens. Until today, it became apparent that another year will be added to the heap. I am so sure, that I am not quitting my celibacy because I am not ready to surrender it.  Ha ha ha.

Honestly, the more I contemplate about getting old, the more I am perplexed.  I feel  powerless over some matters that I can obligingly do back when I am still younger.  And regretting that there are some things… Some things I have left empty and void because I am unaware. And still afraid of getting to the other side.

I suspect that adulthood springs so late for me.  I am always wanting to do things which are unconventional but  I am not brave enough. They say I am unpredictable, but hey, if you could only see the monotonous cycle I am grinding here.  For others they say my life is dull.  Who cares?  I presume that each one of us should mine his own business.

I remember grandmom says that we should study and get a good job before thinking about marriage. But now in my late twenties, she is pushing me to marry one and start  producing babies.  But before I do that (it seems I have a plan or something), I  should think about the more pressing concerns of my being which are…

1. Am I capable to love another person in my life? Have I demystified the idea of love? Have I completely understood it in real perspective?

2. Am I prepared to handle such a  situation?  What if it fails and gone awry, will I be able to cope the tremendous pressure of being a family man or broken man?

3. Am I capable of being a good husband, a good provider and a good father?  Will I be able to send my kids to school and be able to bring them up to be good citizens of this country?

And the questions will get longer as the tracklines of the MRT… So many questions before I get them answered. Waaaaaa.

Marriage is an option.  Being single is an even more harder option. But I need to clarify my notion on singlehood. I believe that the growing pains of marriage is apparent in the world today and the casualties of getting divorced, or annulled is getting out of hand.  I  cannot accept to bear the brunt of having my family life broken such as that. 

I have nothing against to others who have gone divorced or annulled.  But what makes me dread about this, is the effect of broken relationships to bringing up broken human beings. Broken human beings tend to distort the very idea of society and makes an even more complicated scenario  by justifying their brokenness to be acceptable.

For me, I am still upholding the value and virtue of a family.  But I don’t believe that I should be pressured to do so when I know I am not ready to forge this stage. Getting married is not a solution to fill in the voids we might be having inside.  And we cannot expect another human being to complete us.  It would be unfair.

I dont want to burden this society of another human being who might destroy it.  I dont want to raise another uncivilized human being who might contribute to an ever worsening problems of our country.  I dont want to pressure our country by thinking how to keep up feeding our huge population and strengthening economy.  I dont want to drag along my children to the ever pressing malady and misery that is gripping our country. And its getting worser by the days and bring along the pains of growing old.

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Its all about the strict regimented all boys school where Robin Williams play an English Literature teacher who defied the conventions of traditional thinking and methods of teaching.  His character delved deeper into exposing the ills of the educational institution that keeps the medieval   struggle for  prestige and shallow self-esteem among its students. 

It is no different in our present society.  This film carries the obvious. Exposes the classic battles. Of wits and prejudice. And the politics of norms and standards.  What mars the genuine purpose of education is the mediocre visualization of intellectual propensities and ullulations by higher echelons of academics.

They have profited like vultures.  And the carcasses of hapless majority still claiming education as the only salvation lie in wait the doomsday knocking.  Education teaches us to be consumers of vomitted intellectual trash hanging in there for almost centuries. Education miscalculated the need of a society for consistency and diversity of cultures to sustain civilization.

Real education is an expression. A culmination of  life’s experiences. A spirited consumption of the senses. The one that divides stratifications of a human being into a vivid image of self. A euphimism of realistic to abstraction. And the metaphor of plain into ornate.

Who needs irrelevance? Being contained like a fish in a bowl. Living in a four-cornered wall of existence. Standing beside the picket fences of high class rundown. Does irrelevance make sense to those who breaches the edges of sanity to ascertain the worth of this pseudo-learning?

An artist. The one who have been in a kaleidoscopic juggle of uncertainty to pinpoint the certain. Exploring the condition of the society that reflects an era. And where wisdom never fails to connect the future and its simplistic cycle of rebirth. 

If all in this world may decay, the words of the poet will not.  If all the world falls deep into the abyss, the vision of a painter will not.  Theirs is a world who can hold their own against the vagrancies of the hypocritical and the commercialized.

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The iPODCAST Roundabout

#10- CARTOON HEROES– Make your own custom avatar. Your own character. Define who you got to be. Be supernatural.

#9 PUMP UP THE VOLUME– Get into the groove.  Feel the vibe. Be louder and evolve into a new rhythm.

#8 ELECTRIC YOUTH– Live life to the extreme.  Show them your fire-starter.

#7 STOP, LOOK & LISTEN– Need to stop for a while.  Look beyond your future.  Listen to your mind talking.

#6 LARGER THAN LIFE– Be your own superstar. Be bold. Be beautiful.

#5 SOAK UP THE SUN– There is great adventure out there. Discover it. Pursue it. Live your dream.

#4 FRIENDS WILL BE FRIENDS– Bond together. Laugh together. Share together. Belong together.

#3 FREE TO DECIDE– Try new things and new experiences.  Brave the world and make things happen.

#2 HIGH– Raise your hands up to the air. Say ho and say yo.Everybody clap your hands.

#1 CHANGE THE WORLD– Dream big things. Fulfill your vision.  Get ahead and be the best that you can be.

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