Revolutionary Pawns
Let me long for Sundays
The brunches we look forward to
Let me stay for the wine and laughter
And let me fall asleep beside you.
Let me help you follow your heart
And show you how this could be
Real, certain, gentle and lasting
If you take a chance on me.
Hey, I’d like to know
Where do we go from here
Hey, I’d like to say
That I want to keep you near
Hey, I’d like to be
All that is right for you
Hey, I’d like to go
Wherever this brings us to
Hey, I’d like to stop
Delaying what this could be
Hey, I know this poem sucks-
yeah, I was rushing.
Hey, I’d make a better one-
I swear it’ll be rhyming.
But hey, can I first tell you…
Happy Birthday.
Why should one come clean
In a dirty world
When one knows that rotten apples
Spoil the good ones, too.
How far must one go to insist on his principles
In a society which values reputations more.
Hey bidders, in this never-ending auction of our souls, at least offer some health benefits.
And hey, you, let us be marketable. Who cares if we’re damn suffocating, anyway.
The sooner you realize that everything is but temporary, the lighter you would feel. You will realize that nothing is worth hoarding, material or emotion it may be. You would live in the moment and allow that moment to consume you as well. It will all be okay then. There was nothing to lose to begin with. You will merely advance and walk the road available for walking; experience will be your guide.
You will have many goals and dreams, impractical it may be to try completion. But you will try. Not for its realization but for the experience of trying. You would be awakened. You will hear a little voice assuring you that to feel well you must not try to control everything.That you should listen, observe, and do more- just for the kick of it. Above all, be a learner. For in every second lies a lesson awaiting an examination in the future.
You’re nothing to me
During the day
I couldn’t care less
About what you do or say
I’ve got things to do
And that’s alright with me
It doesn’t really matter
If you’d disagree
But then daytime goes
To sleep too soon
And the night’s a relentless confessor
For you had me at my honest hour
Where lies couldn’t be used as armour
And as you had me at my honest hour
Where the truth ticks in every second
I told you I love you
And I regret that happened.
We Are Walking Questions
We are walking questions,
Moving toward running answers.
Sometimes we walk too fast,
And often we walk too slow,
That the answers dart out of sight,
And the answers we fail to know.
We become the walking questioned,
Without the present answers.
We walk too fast; we stumble.
We walk too slow; we get left behind.
The answers? They are ever-changing.
We fail to know. We fail to know.
BTW, HAPPY HOLIDAYS! 🙂
Chill. Not that kind where one’s life gets taken away. But that kind where the rut goes away.
Sometimes the planning is what makes something not happen at all. More often than not, planning consumes the energy we should have exerted into the execution of things planned. We end up staring at the list we made, wondering where all the time went. We are left with a piece of paper of things we did not do. We go to sleep, with full determination that tomorrow will be the big day- the day when we see checkmarks on our list. And yet tomorrow is that unicorn-like fantasy where we achieve everything in our list. But fantasies are mere fantasies; they only elicit sheepish smiles.
I was always a planner. I still am, really. So basically, I liked the feeling of finishing something before the deadline. Nah, just kidding. I have never felt that way before.
I know the feeling of pressure, though. The feeling where you block everything around you, and all your energy is channeled into that thing you have to get done. Where you do not get hungry, sleepy, and distracted. As if your life depended on beating that deadline. And that happens every single time.
So I tried fooling myself, acting as if every day was a deadline. But c’mon, how do you fool yourself?
Well, the reward system was going along well, until I began reaping the rewards before doing the tasks. Hopeless case, huh.
So I ended up removing the roots of distraction… and crashed into looking for new sources of the same.
Then I realized I needed to be watched like a toddler. Or guided. Or supervised. Or scolded.
Or I just needed a friend to remind me. Or a trainer.
But the execution part, that’s actually something I realized that should be started only when you’re ready. Physically and emotionally. Not halfheartedly, but with all the guns blazing. But all these realizations should only be contemplated when you have your list done. So the planning and the “realizing” are ruining my “executing.”
Enough.
Time to get my game face on– I mean, work face. what.
With this borrowed time
Should I stop and consider
What to do, where to step
And where to linger
Is it criminal to breathe
A little more cheery air
Or to simply pass through
The judging, lonely stares
Is it proper to choose
Those things not life-like
And hold on to the
Opaques non-spiritual
Could life be
A little more people-friendly
And give us all a walkthrough
Far from this paralyzing insanity
Still I wonder
I do too wander
And lost I’ve become
Like every unmoving thinker.
(Because I am temporarily blue. Yet not as happy as a smurf)
And to think we tried- to tip the scales
in our favor. To battle Reality who shoots
for no reason. Who bruises our fantasies
just because he can.
Like misguided little birds who lost coordination
we were all bound to lose direction in the end.
And one after another our feathers fell.
One wing now broken- can the other wing
still manage to bring us to the skies we
have imagined?
This Time
It will be right this time, I’ll choose not with my sight
But with more than five senses; It will feel right this time
Regardless of the flaws I might instantly perceive
I swear I won’t leave
This time, I’ll wait for redeeming qualities for surely
You must have some, every one has some I know
But would you hurry up please, I’m anxious to know how I’d
Behave and how you would too
For I’m certain we’re both longing for that feeling
We thought would never be felt again
Would you promise me though,
That when your clothes have finally fallen,
You’ll bare to me your heart instead?
-KKIB
Dear Soul of Mine.
One day, I’ll try to please my soul.
To understand my soul’s needs
To stop my soul’s frustration
Every time my soul tries to understand me.
I’ll mend this inner conflict, forge a lasting compromise.
I will look for that silver lining that is marred
by black and white.
I’ll speak pure words, untainted by pretension, so you
my soul could smile.
But for now my soul, please bear with me.
I’m being human for awhile.
Writer’s block; not my type of sunblock
Writer’s block is like a woman’s menopausal stage; hot flashes of creativity followed by cold flashes of artistic futility. One day we are all going to lose our touch and be sterile so we better be active while our left brain permits.
I shudder at the thought of losing something I did better or even best during childhood. It seems as though the peak of my creativity left me when I stepped into college. Ironically, it is always when you need your special powers to activate that they start malfunctioning. Pity, how I became rusty when I know I grew wiser. Or so I think. I say all of these now because of this freaking writer’s block I experience every time I see an empty paper or when I face the computer. What will happen to me now? (Thesis).
So how do I loathe thee, writer’s block? Let me count the ways. I hate how you choose to stun me for a maximum of 12hours before allowing my creative juices to flow. I hate how you make me feel like a dunce every time I decide to write. I hate how you pick to assault me with your uninspiring boredom just when there is a deadline and I hate how you leave me when I’ve already decided to do something else. I hate you. Period. No erase. Are you a parasite? Feeding on people’s creativity? Or are you just lonely like me? Scratch that. I wasn’t serious.
Maybe mom’s right. Let me push the replay button. “Pirmi ka magsurat ta pag dae tiga gamit ang tinao saimo kang Diyos, babawion an.” Then I’ll give an arrogant and philosophically erroneous reply. I know now how right she is as I struggle with the simplest arrangements of a complex sentence. I don’t want to be a subordinate clause; I am an independent clause so butt off you leech of a writer’s block.
So I’ve got a theory that the epidemic called “writer’s block” was sent by an evil plagiarist from the depths of his uncreative abyss to suck all of our original ideas so that he or she would become the best writer. Why yes. If all else are losers, then he or she would be the winner. Bow. I’d like to believe in that theory. Because it’s plain madness. And also because it would make a good film. To protect yourself from the evil plagiarist’s army of “writer’s block”, you chant “I do believe in fairies.” Again. I’m kidding.
Or maybe I’ve just lost all sense of creativity. Oh no, I did not just say that. Knock on wood three times. BS. But then I believe that we can relearn what we’ve known all along. That what is latent in all of us would always find its way out again. It’s all a matter of wanting it and not whining about it. Whiners never become winners. So I’m ignoring writer’s block for the nth time and waving my middle finger at it, together with my pointing finger of course. Haha. Peace out. Happy writing!
(Written on June 28, 2011. Found this while deleting files.)
I can see clearer from
a distance, those things which
are but a blur when zoomed.
I need not inquire to
understand how things went
from perfect to twisted.
The light may give warmth
yet warmth can be extreme
and extreme never leaves
one unscathed.
Life. We are but leaves. We
shall all fall down someday.
Would it even matter if the wind
blows you away- when you know
you’ll eventually be part of the brown.
The wind never saves. It only
cushions the fall. For fall, we will.
Reality- the crusher of dreams.
I stopped believing.
-KKIB
Will I remember the words I’ve written
if I chance upon them on some other page?
Will I recall the ink-stained abstraction the pen
created while my mind strayed?
For I doubt I’ll be able to if repression occurs-
Protecting me from words in opposition to reality.
———–
To clean is to make another place dirty. I have often
witnessed the dust and the dirt change residence when I
evict them from my room.
I wonder if they are happy, squatting someplace else.
—————
Right now I feel like an emotionless cactus. No. I just feel emotionless. I just miss using that word “cactus.” A week to go before the final examinations. I am weak right now, miserable and dramatic. To the nth power. I probably am not making sense.
Ah. But I found a new good vibes song.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=chXJFjrl-Q4
Oh well. I shall read again. Take care, people of the internet.
Pore over the individual words, each letter befriend
and earn an enemy when you ignore the collective intent.
I have been ignoring the collective intent. OR maybe I am just ignorant of the collective intent. That’s where the danger lies.
Ignorance of the law excuses no one. Really. Especially during classroom recitations. So here I am, taking a really brief pause from my pseudo-reading to type some random words which hopefully would make me feel guilty for closing my book this early. This early as in 3am. This is going to be one interesting summer. This shall be a test of determination and concentration. And right now, I doubt I have even registered.
Playlist for the summer: Michael Learns to Rock. Old but gold, dudes.
Here’s a poem I wrote exactly a year ago (How random I know)
10.41pm
5/17/2012
UNFINISHED RAINBOWS
The artist carries his palette with colors predefined,
The million hues to furnish the rainbows in his mind
A shadowless foresight of golden ink, dirtied fingers
Was a pleasure — but dried up they did in the warm
Wetness of tears, new paintbrushes eventually despised
The rainbows in his mind conceived was an unfinished
Black and white without the pot of gold
In the company of a barkless dog, the question of protector
Arises— Another malfunctioning gun in a draw favors
The underdogs from the subplot of the subplot
Hindered by the clink of coins, atleast Icarus had a chance to fly
…was a little break. :’)
The 2nd semester ended two days ago and like a criminal who just finished serving sentence, this brief and limited freedom is something I’m not going to put to waste. And even though that comparison was not the best choice, I guess that’s the closest I can get to describe my life in school. School is enjoyable, yes. And knowledge is something I value highly. However, sleep deprivation sends me reeling towards depression and that I cannot handle. But that’s all over now. Okay, maybe for now. Classes resume in two weeks, I guess. And who am I kidding? I have to write a lot of case digests and a reaction paper as requirements- which I haven’t even started.
Anyway no more school talk. I have been taking really long walks and I realize that my feet loves flirting with the ground. Every step I take boosts my solitude-inspired musings about the world. I also found out that many places in the city improved their buildings. There are a lot of new coffee shops too. Still, nothing tops my favorite Dunkin Donuts store. Whenever I get too distracted or too dramatic, just being seated there with some coffee and a tuna sandwich calms me down. It’s just one of those places where I could be all by myself, absorbed in my own thoughts, and undisturbed by the chaotic city life.
I have gone back to playing basketball, while my dog stares at me unamused. And I have been spending a lot of time with my dog too. I guess dogs are the only living things I don’t get annoyed with when they get too clingy or needy. I am assured that they don’t judge me, and will love me regardless if they are terrified of the bouncing ball I am so fond of. Our rooftop-turned-basketball court is one of the greatest gifts my parents ever gave us. Aside from it improving my accuracy in shooting, I have learned that there will always be that spot where you can shoot confidently. That spot where you’re great at, and no matter how anyone tries to distract you, the ball always goes in. Relating this to life, it’s that subject or sport you’re excellent at. Something which comes easily, and with a little practice, you’d reach that level of greatness. Like that certain subject you can cram overnight and still pass with excellent grades. But there’s also that spot where you seldom score. That no matter how you focus, you always miss. That spot where you get really happy and uncertain when you score. That’s your weak spot and that’s where you need to extremely improve. I realized that I have been spending a lot of time shooting where I was certain I could score, and every time I am backed up into that corner where I could never score, I can’t even bring myself to let go of the ball. It’s the situation where we feel helpless, where we need to help ourselves. I am currently trying to improve my weak spots. And relating this to life, I guess I have chosen the flight response every time I am uncertain. And so I told myself that I have to get out of the comfort zone- and run back there if I fret. Haha. No, seriously. I think it’s time I take some risks. Not just those ziplining and mountain-climbing risks, but those life-changing risks every person must take.
For now, I am enjoying the limited vacation days, eating some fried rice and watching movies.
Btw, I watched “Coyote Ugly”, and yes, it’s an old movie but I only saw it on YouTube recently. I like the soundtracks. And here’s one of them:
Happy Summer! Take some risks! :’)
I guess I found the ingredients to speed up my death.
With a daily dose of sleep deprivation coupled with reading philosophical works-which only let me realize that no matter how idealistic one can be, the world can be such a cruel place- plus realizing that I suddenly am allergic to mangoes, I could dramatically say that my dopamine levels are in low tide.
It doesn’t help either that I opted to listen to songs coated with heavy feelings. Those songs only add up to my misery. I can’t play a happy song though, I will feel more miserable. It also annoys me how I constantly use the word “feel” when just seeing that word makes me grimace. Well, the month of March last year was horrible and I would choose this month over it, but somehow the feeling (ugh) is still pretty much the same just with a twist. I’m practically drowning myself with Coke now, wondering why it’s happiness boost is not working. So sure it’s not expired too. I guess the final examinations are making me feel (seriously, I’m going to regret this) anxious and depressed and unprepared. Yes. I guess being unprepared is the root cause of all this. And maybe due to the bipolar weather which unceasingly ruins my jogging plans. I just wish the exams would go as quick as they arrive. I have to do a lot of “life-smoothening” tasks. Somehow, I feel (the hell) like everything conforms to the visual pattern I have observed in my growing up years. The predictability of it all makes me happy that my assumptions are correct, but somehow I wish that someone or something breaks that pattern.
I have been listening to Coldplay’s “The Scientist” for three (3) days now. It’s my favorite “thinking about life and what a suckish living thing I am” song. Too much for my temporary sensitive soul. Too much feelings. -.-
Breaking a habit to revive the broken one.
Vice after vice. To tame or to tolerate.
It’s how we cope. How we hope. Or lose it.
Can we pretend for a moment that somehow all our dreams can come true and we’re simply waiting for the moment when they all do? Would we experience real joy like that feeling we get when luck intervenes and we win? Or would we treat every dream that comes true like the passing of days, oblivious to the setting of the sun and the number of stars that appear? Will life still be that enjoyable when anyone can have what you have, and it’s only a matter of wishing it that they can have it? Hard work shall lose its meaning, and its mandatory nature shall be an amusing philosophical theory. All shall wish for luck and perfect timing for just how lucky you are will determine how soon your dreams come true. Will our world be a better place then? And will we still maintain a sense of propriety? To be able to have everything you wish for, just how scary could that be? Will we still need one another, at all…
It was only now that I noticed that giving a title to a WordPress post was optional. Whether it was due to lack of observation or excitement to see letters on the screen, it makes me toy with the idea that maybe the story of our lives sometimes is left untitled unless we decide to give it one. And maybe sometimes, it’s the people around us who are left with that task, and it might be a good thing too else our arrogance or “humility” takes over. Yet I am certain that whatever title is to be attached would be the summation of the things we are known for, stuff we did and stuff we did not do. That with every adjective or adverb tagged to a noun or a verb above our life story, somehow it will strike us either in a good or bad way.
Anyway, time for randomness. There are a lot of caterpillars migrating in our balcony. I don’t know if they like the mango trees. If they did, why are they crawling away from it. I admire caterpillars. They are like a symbol of metamorphosis. And their transformation to butterflies is the best part. However, my skin turning to itchy red is not a good transformation. BUT, it means summer is near. And I love summer.
Thank the little stars
They seem so far away
Cause the closer they get
The moon’s not gonna stay
They’ll steal away the spotlight
From one who stole the sun’s
Thank the little stars, dear Moon
One might become our sun, someday
Crossing the Other Side 