and the quote of the day is....

  "The first step in believing is have something to believe in."

-Cyrell

ephemeral interludes

   the more i think about you the more your picture becomes clear but the feeling vague. 

i hadn't seen you for quite a long while now and i don't know if i'm really missing you or not. the fact that we spent ephemeral time with each other didn't really made a tight knot for me to be tied on your memory. that also goes to you. retrograding about how short our past interludes are, nothing really made sense. moments here and there are just like pictures not worth keeping in a wallet nor burning down to ashes. 

   so what are we now? i mostly believe that we're just two people unlikely to meet in some uncrowded and uncertain intersections. when we again walk on our each paths and happened to run at each other, we pass like strangers.

    there are no strong ties that bind us with each other, nor sand marks that we left so we can walk back to each other. nothing. no ties nor marks. perhaps just a plain knowing written by the vividness of the moments we had. written in some corners of our minds.

untitled

the residues of the forgotten

are left hanged on twilight walls

pain deserted unwritten

words taking solitary strolls.

behind the trees' silhouette,

sincerity and lies gradually waning,

hues of the truth and counterfeit,

what a sad, grotesque painting.

alas, night will come, and i shall

be comforted on her bosom

the faking stars will fall,

upon flowers in half blossom.

sweet hollowness creeping,

and shall contaminate me soon.

twilight glows dying,

leaving a disguised boon.

the night is suicidal

her silence assailing

lights flicking: ephemeral

soon forever fading, fading.

- nothing but the inspiration of nothingness that inspired me to write this.

because faith and belief beats simultaneously

   There's nothing wrong with believing. again. 

   There's nothing wrong with being a hypocrite, and betray knowledge for faith's salvation.  there's nothing wrong in believing that the Mighty He is there, though a few would say it's crazy to believe on such. 

   Belief- i thought I'd already hidden this in a chest of past memories and self perplex. locked by knowledge and knowing, confusion and doubt. so when I'm on the verge of throwing this chest to the vast sea of oblivion... a gravity so strong pulled the chest back and i unconsciously embraced it... embraced it so tight.

   After the feat, i asked myself, who or what pulled me back? then i came to struck by a mystic epiphany... it was my faith.

   Faith and belief has a connection and that a strong lock can't set them apart. faith beats for belief and belief beats for faith. it's simultaneous.

   But then i asked again, if i already forgotten my faith and locked up my belief what is the source of that strong pull? .. i deeply meditated and then i came to realized that even in the verge of surrender to great knowledge i hadn't forgotten my faith... and that's the reason why my belief slowly beats because it knows that my faith isn't dead.

Just Give Me a Break!

Semester break is silently, boringly, and rapidly killing me!!!

   Semestral breaks shouldn't be this boring. i think i should do something to make this break productive and exciting!

(- how can you do that?? aber??)

i can read a lot of books!

(- do you even have any?? you're done reading all the books in the shelves my dear.)

i can go and hang out with friends!

(- that will be great if you have money to pay the fare going to there houses.)

i can go out shopping!

(immaterial. you got ZERO balance in your wallet.)

i'll go swimming! 

(you can actually do that.... in the bath tub which is more or less than 10 steps away from where you are sitting now.)

i'll go swimming in the beach!! SAMAL!!

(epic rebuttal: 1. your mom won't surely allow you. 

                      2. even if she'll allow you, your father won't and so as your granny.

                      3. even if the above mentioned allows you, remember that you're in the verge of    

                           bankruptcy, or i think, you already are. you can't afford it. )

nice suggestions from me: your other side:

1. clean the house. 

-i've been doing that since the first day of the sem break.

2. walk the dog outside.

-as always, as i always do even on non sem break days.

3. write something.

- like i don't write at least 2 essays everyday. alright!

4. proofread past writings.

- and ridicule myself... brilliant!

5. wrestle down your dogs.

- and they'll wrestle me back and give me a  fractured bone. 

6. this is the perfect time to settle your career choice crisis.

- i talk to myself about that everyday and all it did is triple my confusion. 

7. BLOG!!

-wow! that's what i'm doing now! great! it amazingly decreased my boredom for about an inch! 

8. watch anime

-there's nothing much interesting series.

9. watch philosophical debates

- and absorb all the radiation! very much healthy suggestion.

10. read jessica zafra's blog.

- the least thing i can do that is interesting enough to make me wake each morning.

GIVE YOURSELF A BREAK! 

(break in the neck??)

                   

the poetry of ennui.

   today, i want to write something profound and romantic. I've tried every thing, maybe not every thing but every possible thing that is doable and reachable to extract out romantic juices. 

   i want to write something beautiful for you, though not even ones you had written something beautiful or something for me. though you always write your poetry, and you write these poetry not thinking of me but your recollection of somebody's  memory. of a girl who is far from me. very much far from me, of upbringing, of likes, of character and of beauty. and you always write your poetry for her, for her that you adore the most, for her that you adore through binding nature and forming it into a splendid bouquet of art, of words. and you, with your ever secretive admiration, offers these bunch of art to her in secret, in painful loving secret.

   who ever that girl is, she, i painfully think, is the luckiest daughter of a mother can have. for from a great distance, a boy, is loving her and writing poetry for her.

   my love, as i read your poetry, i always dare to think and dream that these are all for me and i was that girl your offering your bouquets to. while i'm reading them, i feel so happy, and after that, it feels like dying. for i know, i always know from the beginning, even if as i am about to read it... it's not for me. :(

   writing these words is not my style in writing. i self-proclaimed to write humorous. 

and though all of these things I'd written is nothing but a tarnished and hardly to be forgotten cliche of unwanted circumstances. i would still like to write them. though it made me sound pathetic and, i hate to say, hopeless. i would still write them for in the first place i have nothing to write now... if it's not you I'm thinking and not for you I'm writing.

   I'm supposed to write something beautiful for you. to make myself more worthy even of your friendship. but i guess the spontaneous flow of words from my head going to my hands and into the screen gave nothing... gave no beauty at all. but just the plain and grotesque evidence of my despair, of the unbearable truth in its blunt nudity.

   i don't know when will i write again a poetry that is worth of your glance or i dare more to say, of your interested pause and your eager reading, your profound understanding, and your secretive smile of likeness, and your seeking for the author and your seeking for the author's friendship... and soon for her love.

   some day i will just know, though i don't know if how will i ever know. if ever i can still come to know. who knows? who knows better? who knows better than me of course, the know-er.

though i hadn't still knew how and when i came to know this feeling i had for you... all are just scribbles of words dangling above my effervescent heaven and i can't seemingly find the thread to knit them all into one serene sky. all are just feelings. or just a vague memory of a happy feeling.

   some day, it might not be too soon, but just wait, just wait with patience and nonchalance. for i'll just come to write for you a poetry so beautifully made that you will be writing for me a poetry with par excellence.

destiny??

I KNOW THAT WE'RE PREDESTINED FOR EACH OTHER. HAHAHA!