Scribbles

LoneWolf 1999

Im walking on a candlelit path, written with markings from the past.
I am but a grave overture shifting with sands this pure,
time stopping still at every gate; all called, perhaps tempting fate.
Yet this road, however peaceful it may seem, is filled with traps.
Obscure looking thornless roses are but signs of how unreal this world is.

The world, like a figurine ready to break, plays a crystal glass upon the creators --
gods of unseeming beauty.
I hold the world in my hand, for whatever I want to mean, speaks nothing
of the gods who watch.
They cry, for life stories that touch them.
Perhaps those life they made tragically horrible, sorrowful.
And sometimes, great ONES do appear in the grand theatre they created.
The ONES who change the world -- the gifted, the visionaries...

The world, teeming with people like these,
living their life in a corner,
all their talent wasted.
And all because they have grown cynical of this world.

"You see, this what life is all about," said they, referring to a shell.
And I'd look into the shell and see it empty.

The shell is empty because you choose it to be.
But a wise man would know, nothing can ever be empty.
For even in that emptiness, everything is filled.

Walk along with me on the beach.
Stand beside me, prismed in the sun's afterglow.
Aren't we but dreamers, dreaming of a life besides our own?
Time is continous,
life is monotonous.
The world, like a figurine ready to break,
is broken.
Play me for a violin.

For how long will you walk?
For how long will you sail?
For how long will you be?

Just be.
Not a name.

Lemons, and Women

Jao 2003

The smell of you makes me delirious

Why should i breathe when i'll go crazy?

I'll know nothing but the scent of you

And that makes me nothing

Not a flower, nor a breeze

Lemons and lilies float in my mind

And none of them even comes close

To what i smell in you

Heaven and paradise come in one

But why should i believe?

This sense of mine must lie
As all other senses do.

My eyes always deceive me
How many times have i fallen in pits,
As dark as blackness itself?
Because my eyes never told me
Look but don't leap

And words, why should i trust them?

When gods made hearing only for fools

And feeling for the blind.

So why should i listen to sweet music and coarse promises?

Language that never mesh.

So what about touch?
Ah, pleasure that gives me
Is nothing more but signals to the brain

But oh, they feel wonderful
When you kiss me, do i feel joy?
Not a whisper, nor a bird has moved

I am a prisoner, so shall i be happy?

Four senses, where is the fifth?

Ah, now we come to the last

Not the least i tell you

After all has been said and done
Then shall you taste a multitude of flavors, I do promise you
Bittersweet sadness and heavenly pain

But wait!
I wait for the lemons

When shall i taste them again?

Perhaps when i drive by that garden once more

And i shall say:
Lemons make me cry

But i am happy because of that.

Inheritance

Jao 2003

Will you be sad when i tell you
That one day i might leave?
Be gone not for hours, or minutes
But days without end.
Will you be teary-eyed when,
On the day i leave you nothing
But a fistful of memories
And one hell of a heartache?
Will you cry and be brave
After that and everything else?
Life still hold something dear
And i am but just a passing stranger then
Who gave you but a piece of himself
Will you be free when i let you go?
Or hold on dearly to what can't be?
I gave you nothing but mere choices
You chose not to,
I don't blame you
Will you be as i am
When all this had passed and i am gone?
And words and kisses are but a memory
That was you, this is me
But where are we?
This is my sadness.
Now it is yours.

Is this me, or am I on a happy pill? Naah, I wrote this a long time ago (as someone dear to me insists)

Believe in yourself and in what you can do. Have faith. Whatever you can do, if you do it best, you can never fail.

Count your blessings no matter how few. You never know. Those few blessings may become many miracles.

Pray for goodnes of heart. Good intentions are rewarded by God.

Value your family, cherish your friends. Family give you stability, friends give you comfort. You can live without one, but not without both. They are the basis of who you are. Family mold your values, while friends influence your beliefs.

Be forgetful of all things, but this one thing you must remember: Your life has a purpose. Your life is meaningless, until you fulfill that purpose. Search for it, and fulfill it.

Don't be afraid to make a difference. It's what makes our world change. Remember, geniuses tread paths where no one else would dare. So have courage. That lonely path may someday be humanity's route to greatness.

Tragedies have that mysterious power of goodness. Put it to use. Sadness can be turned into inspiration. Loneliness, a light. And regrets, a great fountain of hope and wisdom.

Treasure life here on earth. It is but a brief blink in time.

Give care to relationships and treat each one as an elixir of life. For indeed they are.

Every human emotion is a minefield of diamonds and pearls. They are mysterious and beautiful. They have the power to heal, and the power to destroy. Cultivate each minefield wisely.

Once in your life you wil fall in love. When you do, hold nothing back. Many may argue that this would probably be the stupidest thing in the world you could do. And maybe it is. But here's the thing: success is defined in many ways. And giving love your all is a success all on its own.

Now that you've read the ingredients of success, let me give you the spices to mix it with. Happiness and contentment. True measures of success.

And in success, strive not to ask for more but instead, give to those whose failures prevent them from achieving their full potentials. Share what you have, and always look back where you came from.

Your life is now an offering, God would tearfully accept.

Remember: goodness of heart, and cleanliness of spirit.

counting days

... at lumipas ang mga araw

at ang mga buwan ay naging taon.

At ang awit ng kalungkutan ay nagpatuloy sa pagtugtog,

pilit na ibinabaon ang pighati at luha...

umaagos at tumatagos sa damdamin at kaluluwa.

Isang patalim na nakasusugat,

tulad ng iyong mga matang

puno ng lungkot at pamumugto.

Tumutupad ako sa aking pangako

na kailanma'y di ka na mamahalin.

Ngunit ang puso ko'y sadyang mapagpaalala

na ako ay mahina at marupok.

... at lumipas ang mga taon.

Ang kalungkuta'y naging kabaliwan.

at sa kabaliwang iyon ay --

katahimikan.

Patuloy sa pagtugtog ang himig.

Kahit kailanma'y di ko inisip na ako'y iyong patatawarin.

Subalit kung ang araw ay dumating

na ako'y iyong hanapin,

sundan mo ang hangin...

patungo sa puntod ko'y tatahakin.

God Is Everywhere

From my Blue Book. (all articles here in Pen and Ink are my original works. Feel free to copy and paste, but please do give credit to me. I believe I've earned it.)

Allow me now, to wrench you out abruptly from the busy and wretched world you're currently living in, and immerse you in a world of wonder that only a mother and her child can share.

Close your eyes for a moment, and picture yourself walking along the park. You see a middle-aged lady sitting on a bench, silently watching someone running towards her. You see that it's a little girl, runnning hard, only stopping abruptly to catch her breath before calling out:

"Mommy, mommy, look what I've got!" extending her left hand to show a wilted flower.

The mother who was sitting on the bench, smiles warmly at her daughter.

"What? what is it?"

"It's God mommy. You said God is in everything around us. Everything beautiful has God in it, remember?" said the girl, in all the innocence that only a child can muster.

The mother still smiling at her child asks patiently, "Yes, honey. Now, what is it that you've got?"

"It's a flower mommy.I saw it in the park and it was so beautiful that I thought God was in it and I thought that you might want to see God and so I picked one," her face aglow in the retelling of her story. "But when I got here, it wilted," suddenly frowning. "Now it's ugly," the child now sporting clearly a disappointed look and throwing down the flower on the ground. "I guess that means God isn't here in this flower anymore. I'm sorry mommy. Next time, I'll run faster so that God won't have time to run away from the flower," the child ended sadly, as again only a child in all her sadness can muster.

Slowly, the mother got up and gently placed her arm on the child.

"That's okay honey. You don't need to run that fast to show me God. See now, I think God is still here in this flower you have," picking up the flower that the child threw down the ground and motioning for her daughter to look .

"Really? But I thought you said God was only in things beautiful around us..." asked the perplexed child.

"Oh, did I?" said the mother with surprise. "I guess what i meant to say was that God is in all things beautiful around us because to God, everything is beautiful."

"Even in this wilted flower mommy?"

And the mother, speaking with all the love and patience that only a mother could show, said:

"Yes, honey. Even in this wilted flower."

A Beginning...

    I was
walking along the beach, gliding my feet along the sand. Enjoying the warm
earthy feeling it gave. I looked beyond the horizon, searching for that
sailboat that was always there. I did not find it. It must’ve gone beyond the
horizon, beyond where my eye can see.

Yes,
perhaps beyond where my eye can see.

    I have
always likened myself to a sailboat. I am a drifter, going aimlessly to where
the wind takes me, to where the waves push me. To where, ah, and that is always
the question – to where?

    I focused my
thought upon the seagulls, gliding ever so smoothly in the air, not a single
strand of flaw in their flight. It was in truth a picture of perfection -- but
perfect to what degree of perfection? I know nothing of this world it seems.
Understanding not what drives men to seek for more, to strive for more.

Maybe that
hunger is beyond my understanding.

Ah, perhaps
nature is the only thing that is perfect.

In its
beauty and grandiosity, in its darkness and mystery, is the epitome of the
perfect circle of nature.

    The flowers
blooming in the fields in spring, leaves falling in autumn, the lake freezing
in winter, and the puddles drying up in summer. The worms being eaten by the
birds, the birds being eaten by other predators, and still those predators
being eaten by much larger ones; and when those larger predators die, their
bodies decompose, returning once more to earth, and the worms, the worms are
the ones who’ll be there, to start it all again. (to be cont.)