Sweet Downfall

Gray days are here again;
Fear envelopes for certain.

Familiar voices, I long to hear;
Gentle caress, I looked for everywhere.

To walk not in fear;
Look straight and be sincere.

When its time, then it is;
Embrace life and never hiss.

I heard little laughters -
Oh, they belong to my well loved sisters.

I looked at Jerome as he stride;
He promised to be by my side.

I shoo him for awhile;
But look, this friend of mine is such a guile.

Alone, I am not;
This fight seems endless; To give up, I will not.

There's no holding back;
And hold on to Him; such a huge Rock.

For His plans are always for the good.
I just had to trust Him more than I ever could.

Lorenzo's Tomorrow

This poem I wrote was inspired by a photo taken by a good friend, Jojit. One can tell, my heart belongs to kids.

Read on.

Of laughter and innocent smile;
Captured by this shutterbug as they bathe for awhile.

Basking in simple joy and pleasure;
Watch them bathe in such wondrous allure.

Here they stumble -
Certain spring and bubbles;

Notice - such unfledged brood;
They seem to be in a playful mood.

They live in their perfect world;
Place forgotten by the old.

And then they scream, "Look at me! See us!
Tomorrow is for us."

Reading Sheets

More often than not, I would usually be caught reading broadsheets and I find certain "wisdom" in it but of course, nothing like what I get in figuring out certain methods, analysis, many mathematical and mental exercises I'd get from school and The Good Book.

Thanks to Lolo Oeng, I've this unbreakable habit of reading several broadsheets and I sure learn and unlearn certain thoughts from it.

First thing is last. For some undefined reason (or at least not yet), I read the newspaper backwards always and I almost always skip the showbiz part (Ha! To hell. Kidding). I stay longer in the Editorial and Opinion section - because I have this penchant to not only read things written but I decipher those using both my heart and mind.

I love it that such journalists make their readers think and not just bombard them with certain stupidity. I admit, I am fan of Borja, Benigno, Soliven, Ocampo and yes, De Quiros. Young as I may seem, these journalists made me realize that all is not good out there. Outside my own little world. That there is some danger I could handily stumble upon should I continuously play pretend that "certain trash" is nowhere.

Below is an excerpt from PDI's "There's The Rub".

"Certainly, this “new” Mother Teresa has infinitely better lessons to impart to us, Filipinos, a presumably deeply religious people whose religiousness has always been a little suspect. It says at the very least that people who do not suffer a crisis of faith do not really have much faith to suffer from.

Mother Teresa’s saintliness had little to do with spending endless hours on the pews of a church searching for God, it had to do with spending endless hours in the streets of Calcutta searching for those God presumably created in His image and likeness but forgot about soon afterward, or so it would seem. Mother Teresa’s saintliness had little to do with embracing the rosary and tending to the calluses on her worn knees, it had to do with embracing the skeletal frames of famished orphans and tending to the leprous, the dying, the damned occupants of earth’s version of Dante’s Inferno. Mother Teresa’s saintliness had little to do with sighing, ah, but all this misery is God’s will let’s just accept it and move on, it had to do with trying as best one could to push it back however daunting the task, and crying out to heaven in moments of anguish and despair, as Christ himself cried out at the Cross: “Where are You, God? Why have You forsaken me?”

The priests of Latin America lost their faith in the smithy of struggle, Mother Teresa lost her faith in the bowels of wretchedness. The priests of Latin America found their God again in their struggle to transform their world and themselves, Mother Teresa found her God again in her striving to fill the famished bodies around her with food and the even more famished soul inside of her with laughter."

Made you think, yes? That's why I love Conrad de Quiros' writings - passionate and definitely no non-sense.

I Only Have Today

I arise and saw something else;
I know beyond that door, somebody cares;
I'll try to be extra genial every single day;
For I only have today.

I uttered my morning prayer;
Surprisingly, it was a bit longer;
Hymns of praise, I sang as I may;
I know, I only have today.

Letters, I started to write;
Recipients will know I carry such blithe;
Loved ones at bay;
Shush! I only have today.

I throw my hopes for tomorrow;
Embrace not certain sorrow;
To live one day at a time, I'd say;
Because I only have today.

Hon and Beb

He is an educator;
Books - he oh so adore;
Dreams big for the nation;
Works hard for the next generation.

She loves corporate training;
So cosumed by continuous learning;
Always has the heart for kids;
They inspire her to unleash her wits.

A better tomorrow, they both hope;
The process is difficult; makes them mope;
On Him, they both lean;
In Him they found courage when lights turn dim.

The same direction, they gaze;
In each other, they try to find such blaze;
Time and time, they argue;
You can say, the town turned blue.

Opposites they are;
But both looks on the same star;
Generation gap, you can say;
But that does not make their love go away.

Both tries to stay committed;
Even when both are limited;
At the end of each day;
As Hon and Beb, they both stay.

1:53 Prayer

In this certian abyss;
I sure cannot find much coveted peace.

Father, please don't shy away;
Guide me with your words; not be astray.

Remind me that You are sovereign;
And in all ways, You reign.

That to You I should lean on;
And die to myself from now on.

Your promises, I yearn;
To completely trust you, I still learn.

Your goodness, I am in awe;
You bless me even in my low.

I thank you for the conflicts;
These works; In you I stick;

In times, I almost rue;
Lift and love me still; oh, that's what you do.

Tomorrow, I know there's more;
I'll tuck my fears; with me is my Creator.

That Woman

"You can be mad but you cannot be disrespectful".

That's my Mom talking.

She's a gem in its truest essence.
Makes sure I always made sense.
Or even if I am not,
She never thinks I'll rot.

Greatness is what she requires;
But she said its okay to inquire.
Failure is part of life;
That I shouldn't be afraid of strife.

Her wisdom is unalloyed.
Such values - one cannot be destroyed.
I bathe in her words;
In such battle when I have lost my sword.

Her love cradles;
Even if she carry some bundles.
I am not my own woman;
If not for her; she molded me to be one.

Daughters

Been downloading his songs long before John Mayer became this John Mayer we now all know. I was hooked long before I am ought to be hooked. You know what I mean?

Ha. Nonsense!

Point is, I've been strangely singing "Daughters" over and over - in the car, public vehicle (yeah, with my earphones plugged), at work, in the shower and even before I doze off. I know, this is old school already but what can I say, I am insanely hooked.

I am so banausic - forgive me, will you?

Happy Endings

Trapped somewhere in the midst;
Searched for the familiar;
Walked on a beaming line;
Trying to balance the huge weight;
Alas! Fell hard.
Looking still - everywhere;
Hoping to stumble the light;
Hallways and streets;
Tired - almost.

Hoped to find;
Thought to wait for awhile;
Nowhere, I can sense;
Hidden amongst the bushes;
Consumed by such fire;
Locked up and saw the stars;
And on these grass where I sat -
Embraced this silence;
As the heart shouts and longs.

This has to end;
So much for tragic endings.

Just trust;
Await - such promise is homebound.

Some Goals

Love more;
Ask nothing in return;
Demand nothing;
Think more of others.

Understand more;
Commit to the long term goal;
Worry less;
Pray more.

Be extra, extra patient;
Cry less;
Watch words;
Accept that am out not to please everybody.

Hope more;
Grow up;
Learn new skills;
Rely on Someone bigger than any of us.

Ultimate Ultimatum

My argument is not with you.

After hearing this sentence spoken in Russian, I knew I'm up for something beyond cool. He's back. Jason Bourne.

We all know what he's up to. While he can be some sort of CIA's James Bond, he's not out to save the world. He just wants to know who he was and who trained him to be an assassin.

Minus my bout of sudden dizziness while watching Bourne Ultimatum in Greenbelt 1 as my beau held my right hand, the third installation of Bourne films is just great.

In Bourne Identity, we saw him being chased, mysteriously hunted and he's got amnesia. Supremacy, made us buckle up our seats tight and we saw Marie (Bourne's girlfriend) die and he's getting closer to answer his long time bout - Who am I? And now in Ultimatum, everything is just better. And the script was enticing. It makes you think hard and as you try to also decipher as if you're answering for Bourne. And he found the answer.

Ultimatum starts where Supremacy ends. And here we realized that Treadstone is just a part of a larger CIA division coined as Black Briar. As expected, we were treated with endless chasing and CIA used every human and technology resource possible to trace him. Almost surprisingly, we found two familiar characters that are on Bourne's side - Pamela Landy (she led the charge against Bourne in Supremacy and is now seeing things in a different light - Bourne is a victim) and Nicky Parsons (yes, they met again!).

Of all the endless chasing, hand-to-hand combat, surveillance technology, I fell in love with all the excitement and uncertainty watching Jason Bourne's equivalent mental soundness with CIA. While Jason Bourne may not be that well equipped compared to all the other assassins we can name but what made him stand out is his natural aptitude to think so fast than anyone else. He's one hot, clever b*stard, you know!

Matt Damon, at least to me, made this character his own. You know like, when I'm old and cannot remember his name anymore - I'll probably say, "you know, that guy in all the Bourne films" or "you know, Jason Bourne".

Just great. Enough said.

Doodling

It just dawned on me that I haven't been writing much lately. Oh well, blame it on me being so preoccupied with so many things to do both in work and school. The hang of being in both worlds has become difficult even in my throat.

And over the past few weeks my body has somewhat gotten used to staying at work for more than 9 hours and getting a few hours to doze - sad, I know but I have found something "glamorous" in it.

No, am not telling - I guess, its just that feeling inside that I have delivered well. And such deliverable screams and spells quality.

Its funny that sometime last week, I have been hoping I could stretch 24 hours to say, 25. A local food chain, Goodah screams that. Such cliche - so many things to do yet with so little time. And everyday, I am thankful that I am this busy. That I can retire on a wonderful bed with mixed thoughts in my mind.

Yeah, you can hear me complain about this and that - and I have learned my lessons the hard way. I try to watch my lips every time it opens - you'll never know, I might be uttering some words of complain again.

Tomorrow is just another day.

And some things are bound to be conquered - and I am all up for it.