stigmatized.

A second had passed,
----------But I sat still.
I hear the clock saying: tick tock, tick tock
My ears were deadened by the mute beleaguerment,
The sweet abhorrence searing through every finality
Of my body.

"The end is near", the voice had warned.
They came to get me.
----------But I sat still.

All along, I was alone. Was alone.
Senseless notions have been raised,
The talks that assasinate the innocent,
The unprepared vagabond walking through.
----------But I sat still.

Every move I make is crucial.
One mistake can be fatal.

They thought I didn't know --- of the lies,
The betrayment --- they sold me out,
They have gambled at one painstakingly price ---
At the cost of my freedom.
The very thing that was left of me.
They stole.They crushed. And they have won.
----------But I sat still.

The truce has been casted, but good and evil
Split still.
Man has to choose only one.
And I have got
No choice. No choice.
----------But I sat still.

They were calling my name out ---
Faces I can't comprehend,
Voices I can't apprehend.
They all want me. No one but me.
----------But I sat still.

The war is ablaze.
People are getting hurt,
No one wants to yield.
The pact has been sealed.
There's blood everywhere.
----------But I sat still.

Lives have been rendered,
Still no one has surrendered.

They all want me.
For I,
I hold the power.
The power to alter
This life's course.
The power to make a change.
The power to turn it all back. ..
--------But I, I chose to sat still.

23.45
28June06

kismet.

images of black and white
flashed before me
with an unknowing purpose,
it struck me into oblivion

we meet again
not a star in the
sky tonight --
not again, not never

we stay as we are
locked into each other's gaze
we held our lives
intertwined, to be one, as one

unfazed by uncertainty
we flew together
away from this,
away from here,
-------------in a heartbeat.

1:29pm
26june08

77.

Someone said, that: life, is not about “fitting in”, it’s about appreciating that you are different, and all of us are. We have to realize that there is more to what is beyond us, that we have something else other than just our superficial facets. We have to understand that we are far more precious than we think.

Scott Peck once wrote that “life is difficult”. It is difficult. It is very difficult. But once you get out of your way to seeing life’s difficulty as something far more elusive but is of worth, then may be, you would know what life is to you. When we’re in a situation that demands us more than what we expect, we feel scared, to the point that we would give up something we shouldn’t have. But if you actually push yourself to doing the unexpected rather than just waiting for someone to pull you up, then definitely you’ll be up there waving your own flag of success.

Being judgmental can sometimes blind you to what the actual thing really portrays. Sometimes you have to dig deeper to what the naked eye sees.

Life, is not about “fitting in". It is about appreciating yourself in your own terms and not letting others manipulate the way you see things as they are. As you are. For one thing, we all are hoping to seek new avenues to explore, to take a chance to be different. And to take risks. After all, true is the saying: no pain, no gain.

You don’t have to change anything. Dare to be bold. We have to learn how to cross boundaries, to walk on intercessions and be brave to fight for our right. So be real. Be your own unique person. It would definitely change the way you see your life now, and make those screwed up situations seem worth everything you work hard for, more meaningful even just in ordinary ways.

.thou shalt write.

A blank sheet. An immaculate representation of man’s momentary
solitude before he puts his pen down and make a 360 degree turn from reality.
The ink. To which he
is subjected to, gaining impulses from his soul to another. Translating it into
words, possessed by instinct, greed, longing and truth.
The writer. The
communicator, the maestro, the heart and soul to which another learns from. The
one who steps into his usual reverie, cunningly keeping pace, unravelling his
worth.

The cause for which we all are fighting for, to free ourselves and those who are enslaved by their innocence and ignorance --- to serve as instruments to voice out what is unseen, what is unheard, what is unspoken and those that are left forgotten.

For centuries, writing has been the fundamental method for relaying and exposing various ideas and notions. It has witnessed countless stories --- to which we have learned and benefitted from and to some extent, has even saved us from eternal damnation.

We write not for the sole purpose of wanting to eradicate the loose ends of our consciousness. When we write, our souls take over. It immerses with our intrusiveness and melds the way we think. We are not trying to impose our ground for idiosyncrasy we are merely hoping for a vindication for our conjured work.

Writing is passion. It creates a whole new avenue for us that we could call our own. However, it remains as a risk, a gamble --- a territory we know only too well. But we thrive on it, to give us drive and to make our works a little more profitable for the public to read.

Living in writing. We continue to exist in the belief that we are serving our purpose to reach out to those who need it, to educate the uneducated, to enrich the lives of those who are in despair and to spread the good vibes to those living in the shadows of darkness.

We say, bring it on. We are but one. We are not trying to stain the impeccable and the pristine state of literature before us. We are not even half-way there. We are simply but defiantly screams the word write.

Write, so be it.

.ire.

As I began to contemplate on the more pressing issues of mankind today (like the never-ending poverty, the non-sense killings, depression, etc.), I realized, there’s not much that I could possibly do to make the situation better.
I have always believed that man, everyone, has their good side. Or so I thought they have. I could not fathom why evil hovers around us like it is some ritual we have all come to inhabit and eventually, succumb into. It is a very harsh but true realization. I never imagined that I would have this bit of an inkling about this matter but sadly, I have. Rather because the reality was there all along and I was just too blind or too naïve to be sucking up all my pride trying to justify man’s goodness.
You might think I am all for the gore but I am not. It’s just that what I have come to see right before my eyes could not anymore contain this side of mankind.


Is there no place to hide anymore? What fear do we have that our faith could not battle? Is this how the world is supposed to end? If only we have the courage to remain as ourselves and let some divine intervention wash away all our impurities and take that chance of turning over a new leaf --- for a change. A change that would venerate the real purpose of our being.

…And then maybe all those people who have and had lived in fear, of doubt, would never have to feel that same way, ever again --- including myself.