My feet are ready to test the water,
to kick the waves, to be carried away
into the wilderness of the ocean floor.
What’s underneath, I am not certain
but I’ll be here indulging the ride.
Let the waves crash on me,
Let it break my solid form,
Let me learn how to stay afloat.
Highs and lows,
let it carry me,
to where I should be.
Let me write about those eyes in my poetry,
Deep as black holes.
I’ve never been in the outer space
but I just know.
You’re a universe on your own.
Full of stars and ocean,
Someone whispered into my ear –a voice shared by a thousand men. It says ‘Take little steps, my child.’
And the echoes run through the walls and begin to explore and conquer my mind.
The rubbing of my sandals against the ground made an eerie sound in the silent night. Like two people fighting within one body.
The voice, it dictates the way and my feet were like submissive soldiers bowing to the ruthless queen. Telling me what I should do that I should not.
If my sanity was in human form, the evil beheaded it. Now it took full control of my body.
I ran fast to my MASTER as I perform the venomous kiss.
As soon as my lips touched HIS woundless face and so does the fulfillment of the prophecy.
It was like those puppetry where the object moves its feet as the puppeteer lifts the strings.
This they never tell you.
Disclaimer: The content written was only a by product of the writer’s imagination.
This mind could still remember the chilly air of October
and the booze in our hands,
the flickering lights in that careless night,
it was still all fresh like a damp stamp in a paper.
But it was all that I remember.
A drunk night, the spirits, a boy I mistook as an adventure and the longing for the spontaneity at the age of 23.
** I’m really getting old. lol
Don’t do good.
Everyone thinks you’re a bad person for not taking any actions.
Everyone will judge you and even doubt your intention.
Which is which?
I rather be the latter. It’s satisfactory to know that I’m giving the last drop of me helping people and I can wash away the criticism. I can forget about them but I can’t live in so much apathy.
Like water swirling and going down into the drain, I can forget all of those unkind words but not the faces of people who needs help.
At this moment, I’m supposed to be writing on my English/diary/budget planning notebook but I chose not. Instead, I’m tapping the keys of this laptop again tuning on my freemium spotify, chill OPM playing, coffee at the side of my right hand.
I’m again digressing with my should-be to-dos tonight and started blogging rather. I have long planned this online marketing and career stuff on my blog but it seems that all I could write were short length poems (except for that post about Marawi) where I poured all my sentiments in there.
I started the week a little bit hung up and puzzled of what happened over the last weekend. My selected memories of our company party made me think that I did something stupid that night, brushing off my ever-clean reputation on that night. Surprisingly, I don’t feel any shame. The gossip hype of me being wasted lasted 3 days. Well, you know they had to get back with their own lives.
You know, embarrassing moments were genuine. The funny thing is when we become grandma/pa after 50 years, those stories where we get ourselves in trouble were the most interesting bedtime stories.
I’m not saying to get intoxicated and collect drunk stories but these not-so-good memories were part of us and that makes life, life.
This week, I get into 2 interviews with demo classes with the online tutor companies. It’s quite a miracle that I passed because I was talking shit with the hr manager already. Not necessarily swearing but my words were lost like cluttered words inside a box of an English exam.
Yes, I did it. All with prayers and quivering knees. It wasn’t on my bucket list to go out of my comfort zone this year but it became my mantra and a challenge I put out for myself. Breaking out from my jail-like mindset. Turning can’t’s to cans. 🙂
It was all worth it. People always believe that I’m contented to stay in one place that this is all I’m going to be. A timid girl in a black-and-white office. I didn’t know that routine killed me.
7am thumb on the biometrics. Scanning. There you go. You go to your desk, pick up your mug, hurry to the pantry before your boss sees you when you should be in your seat.
11am. Lunch time! Time to pick up my favorite compartment plate. Oh goodie.
I’ll be leaving this boring place soon but boy, I’ll surely miss all these people. It had been a nice place to start but wasn’t the right place to stay.
I’m surely going to miss everyone even my faulty computer CPU will give me a heck of separation anxiety.
I’m surely going to miss those pretty eyes. That’s all. 🙂
Like the old tale of every workplace, when someone leaves the team, everybody has to function accordingly.
I’m not sure what will happen next. All I know is, God had already made His plans for me. With the wave of His hand. With the wave of His hand.
The privilege of being able to sit tonight in front of my computer with the deafening silence to accompany me is gold.
Our house isn’t big but I’m still fortunate for having enough space to stretch my legs and arms. I might not have eaten the most exquisite dinner yet my stomach had no room for another bit of food.
Once, the news about ISIS killings were just horror stories that you could read on social media. What I thought was a wishy washy issue now costs lives of civilians and more than 50 Filipino military officers and counting.
It’s sickening to hear statistics of fatalities on the radio every morning but like they always said, truth hurts, truth tastes bitter but you still have to eat it.
In the morning, you woke up with the sound of your alarm and get yourself dressed for school or for work. Easy.
For the evacuees in Marawi, seeing another sunrise is a blessing but being woken up by the sound of airstrikes is both a curse and a gift.
It gives them hope that one day, this war will finally be ceased. This will pound the enemies to death but sad to say, it is the same bombs that destroyed their homes, pharmacies and some other places that once erected in the land of Marawi. Airstrikes were crushing the buildings, schools and roads they built from ashes. Considering the length of time, roads and infrastructures are built in the Philippines. It will surely take time to mend and get things back to normal.
The fallen heroes and the ones who are still fighting until now, bargaining their normal life for the love of country. I could not send through my ‘thank you’ and so I wrote this blog post.
We were just lucky to have brave men to cover us from the bullets, some of them even made their bodies a human shield to protect civilians. There names and faces flashed on the screen once, yet their deeds and heroism will always be engraved in the lives of those whom they saved.
I know how the death of a loved one crushed the heart and I may not transcribe the pain I saw in the eyes of a tearful Military Officer as I stop scrolling down on my news feed. I can not write the words for it. But the pain wires through. It was infectious.
It crushed me, seeing these armies in a straight line, carrying human-sized boxes, a coffin of their own comrade. There’s nothing as painful as that. Made me question why good people die first?
To give chance for the bad people to change? To be a great example? Whatever that is, it will serve its purpose. It will inspire, it will touch lives. I hope.
I am just saddened by the apathy most of us are showing. Only a few shows interest in donating and helping our Maranaonan brothers and sisters.
I just hope many would care to the survivors in the evacuation area. Health problems were arising, infectious diseases have killed some of the evacuees. Children were getting thin. While we indulge our normal life, earning pesos or dollars a day, I wish we could share a little and send baskets of food, that will not only sustain the victims physically but will also restore their hopes.
But even how bad the war is, we could still hear stories about Muslims defending their Christian friends, despite the differences, the religious perspective was set aside. And for that moment, there were no Katoliko or Muslim.
There were only Filipinos.
If they were only no factions, no divisions, no walls.
Photo Credit: Abs Cbn
You see a glimpse of silver lining to every people you meet.
Not all of them will stay but each of them will certainly have a purpose.
They will find you with no might, no purpose, no hopes left and they leave you fixed, robust than the moment the day found you.
We live in irony where the blind could far better perceive hope and has infallible optimism than the ones who have vision yet can not see the beauty of life.
Ironic that the ones who couldn’t see the light have outweighed the others who have seen every inch of the world.
I guess it is the mind that is paralytic not the arms, nor the eyes that is impaired.
The one who couldn’t see the light is actually the source, the one who has the ability to glow and lit other’s life with inspiration.