Taint

Standing right next to you

Is an old friend and all lost
Confused with the tainted world
Sick from flesh to bones
Resting a suffocating journey
He stands there staring
At the blank pictured faces
And broken records of a chord
You were watching yourself fall
Hurt like you’ve never been hurt
But breathing and breathing hard
You’re mind fails to rest
As much as you wanted to
For every blink of your eyes
You see a murky blot of a picture
A stained shirt and a broken wheel
But He was there all along
Protecting you on your way home
Standing right next to you

spill

there is no start in what I want to say
because as I look at the sky and
gaze at its infinity and wander off
with the misty wind that
tends to hug every part of
me, I see the details of 
the fine lines of ideas
and sparks and scraps of paper
torn and not, they lay
scattered on the cold floor
there saying something that
should have been spoken
yet still waiting to be unearthed
traces, just traces
of sweet summers
familiar laughter
meaningful glances
they were long gone
as the waves crashed upon 
the tiny ebb of
warmth, it dims its flares
as I bleed into another
torn piece of paper
I can't start what I want to say

Come Away

Come away with me
Let us sail the uncharted waters
And watch the sea
Paint things 
That cannot be seen
Come away with me
Let us walk the 
Moss and grass of earth
Have the wind carry us
And feel perfect mirth
Let us trace our steps
Make one at a time
Look up high to the heavens 
Make the trek worth a climb
Listen for hidden words of wisdom
Though walls may seem unkind
Because we will seek freedom
And define it for the blind
Come away with me
For there are far great things to see

Christmas Eve

For the first time, I spent this day away from my family. Apparently I'm still stuck in a big city that doesn't seem to be closest to home whatever way I adapt to look at it.

A few hours on Christmas eve, I bid my time in a long ride in a jeepney from Laguna to Alabang and to Taguig. I watched for a fragment of time how different kinds of people prepare for this special day. A tightly knit family was spending it in a mall, two dressed ladies must be on their way to be with their friends, a guy must be drunk since he can't get off the jeep properly. From afar, there's another kind of family making their way through a market and then there's a tall man seemingly off from work waiting to get a ride back home. You can't miss the people still on the streets at such time, selling Christmas things to people that pass by or blaring lights and sounds in a random house celebrating.

This time, I didn't have a feast like my childhood days, or played the speakers on our computer with Christmas songs just to feel the spirit. No moments of getting comfortable in my home cozy in a chair near the TV. My family is so far from where I'm at. The people I spend this day with aren’t present.

I arrived home tired from a long journey. It's already past 10 on my watch. The neighbors had their turn of loudspeakers to bring out a festive cheer. The children were glad lighting their own tiny piece of fireworks that wouldn't explode. There seems to be more people outside singing along with a karaoke, a group hung up on their corner drinking and a few brought out their prepared food outside for everyone.

I didn't think a lot. I didn't even want to think and feel anything. Like I said, I've given up asking for things that wouldn't happen. I made myself a dish, ate a small portion and have the internet tire me to sleep.

Youngblood

One of the books I loved so much way back. 

It is composed of well-written essays of people twenty something below who has something to say about the world. It has something about learnings of growing up, about loving life, learning from mistakes and taking hold of it and being aware of the happenings of the society. Its a book about being a youth. 

This is one of the reasons why I loved writing. I actually wrote for this 4 years ago because it has a column on a newspaper and they publish one work per week. I didn’t get published. gehe. ^__^

Anyway, it’s worth reading! I used to have this book but someone borrowed it and never returned. Makes me sad remembering it. :( 

Lesson: Take note of people who can’t return anything borrowed.  T_T

from the tiny notebook