poetry, prose, Uncategorized

Christmas Solo-bration

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Photograph taken and owned by Fran Veale (07/12/2007)

 

Footsteps and footprints all around town

Sounds of impatience, horns, and rumbles

Smiles passing by, lights shining down

Souls elated by gifts that tumble 

Except for one sitting on the corner

Foiling up his leftovers 

Six pm, but he unrolls his covers

Saying,

“Gon’ save this for later,

…for the 25th of December”

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life, random, Uncategorized

The Question We All Share

We’ve all heard this question before, and I’ve realized I never really had an answer up until recently.

The question is, “Are you happy?”

Three simple words, and yet, more than enough to send us into a perpetual cycle: walking down memory lane, with a cold bottle in one hand… Afterwards, insomnia, which is why the staring up the ceiling for hours and making friends with shadows on the wall (that’s what Rob Thomas said) happens.

“Am I happy?”

A simple sentence yet, for me, evokes a mix of emotions, just like that of a volcanic eruption.

And the more I think about answering the question only leads to more questions needing to be answered.

“What is happiness anyway? Why am I bothering myself with this question?”

What actually bothers me more, is why, long before, I never really have had any answer, until now.

Is it that I was avoiding such question after all? Or perhaps, is it because I feel a tinge of sadness everytime it hits me every 12 am of any random night?

Then finally I ask myself, is it really necessary to answer this question?

Obviously yes, because unfortunately, I have to answer the question for this post’s sake.

And to answer the question, “Am I happy?”, I have only one word.

Content.

Not happy, definitely not not-happy.

Just content.

And so far in life, I can say that for a long time I’ve straddled the fine middle line of contentment.

Maybe not the answer you expected, but I hope someday, on this journey,  I may find the true meaning of genuine happiness.

Because honestly, is it not happiness which we are all looking for after all?

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poetry, prose, Uncategorized

If I Were Anything…

If I were a place
I wouldn’t be a park
‘Cause like the birds
Noticing nothing but the scattered seeds,
You have forgotten my flowers
My freshness, my scenery
You before had noticed

If I were ever anything…

I wouldn’t definitely be the flower
Who for only a short time has been companions with a bee
As soon as it gets what it wants
It dances off and hops to my fellow flowers
Then I suffocate on self-pity
And question my worth and beauty
…Or the seashore
Because you love me to your high
Savour my salinity
But leaves when the sunset comes
And often, I’m left
Uncertain of your return

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prose, story

Doctor’s Yoke

“Doctor heal me!”

She cries out with desperation.

Yet when he asks her,

“How are you feeling, my dear?”

Her lips are sealed.

.

A doctor helps.

But how

If she restricts her speech?

If she conceals her inner cries?

If she assumes things to fall to place?

.

Whether or not the doctor asks

As long as no words pour,

Powerless he remains.

The expertise doesn’t matter.

.

But a doctor is patient.

He understands.

and hopes.

.

And under his breath, he swore.

“I will wait.”

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poetry, prose, religion

The Father is the greatest!

Breathe in!

One…two…three

Breathe out!

That easily, He commands

My worries to flee

Through my nostrils

Down towards the dirt on the ground

And with might I shook the earth

As I crushed all of them

While crystals fell from my face

Now, I claim nothing but victory

For with the Father, there is no defeat

And while the war inside me resumes

I predict my glorious return

Sword raised on one hand

And the free hand reaching for the heavens —

A gesture of joyful surrender

A taste of everlasting peace

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Uncategorized

Stars, Love

A SKIN-COATED LABYRINTH

“Stars have got something to do with love –love, whose distance I cannot fathom. Love, who could only be seen at a specific time and place. Love, so beautiful to look at. Love, who feels like it stares right back at me. Love, who could blow up anytime. Love, who could fall and vanish anytime. Love, who has its own world. Love, who has its own satellite to revolve around.”

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life, opinion, soul, story

My Kind of Traveling

To have set foot in another city, town, or country is never enough. Why?

Because it only increases our drive to travel more.

Don’t get me wrong. I love to travel.

I mean, who doesn’t love traveling?

Paris. London. Spain. Rio de Janeiro. Bora-Bora.Greece…the list is limitless.

Though some may deny it, we are all travelers. We are born to be travelers.

We love traveling so much to the point that we want to learn, perhaps, French so badly. Or if not, maybe Mandarin, German, or Japanese. We are so fascinated by the beauty of what these places have to offer. Their sceneries, the ambience, the experience.

Even some of us read books to dig treasures from their past. We read books to know their food, their people, their culture. And just by doing that, although we don’t have the resources to actually be able to fly towards the place, we experience a flush of fulfillment. A mental picture appears right before us, and immediately, we fill ourselves with undeniable appreciation.

In other words, we love to travel because it is a way for us to connect to the world and to others.

But can we ever be settled?

We are so engrossed about traveling, flying across oceans, and daydreaming about round-tripping the world, when there are places we ought to travel first…

And these places are found within ourselves.

There are places within us, parts which we haven’t, or perhaps, we cannot dare to explore. These places are deep within us, at cold corners, at dark pits.

Perhaps, there’s more than the mere act of traveling that increases our appetite to roam the world.

Perhaps it’s our thoughts, agitated inside our head. Contradictions in collision with one another. Confusions that lead us to divide against ourselves. And they are rooted underneath those deep, cold, dark corners of our soul.

And maybe that’s why we want to travel so badly. Maybe that’s why to set foot in a new country is never enough…because once in a while, we want to escape from all these silent tortures. Not knowing that all of these live inside us, giving us the illusion that we have successfully escaped them.

No matter how much we try to connect to the world by traveling, days pass and somehow we still end up feeling that hole in the stomach. A feeling tinged with a bit of blue, a shade of grey, and a drop of darkness.

Going back to the question, ‘can we ever be settled’, in my opinion, the answer will always be no…

Unless we close our eyes and explore every area of our soul, set foot on those cold corners, solve the puzzles, and sweep off the broken shards stacked on those pits…

Unless we learn the language of our hearts first, its desires and dreams, what it has to say, before learning the languages of the people….

Unless we travel back in time and understand our own personal histories, our own personal culture, principles, beliefs, and tendencies…

Unless we learn to appreciate our own beauty, to acknowledge our strengths, and overcome our weaknesses…

Unless we truly connect with ourselves first before others.

We are all born travelers.

And in my opinion, the only genuine kind of traveling is journeying towards to core of one’s soul…

A life-long journey in which we will ever be settled.

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