Not enough

You done everything for me.
What have i done for you?

I hate myself. I have no idea what I want to do with myself. Always throwing tantrums like that. I dunno just what I want. I don't deserve you. Sorry.

Today not Tomorrow

I need you now today, not tomorrow.
I don't plan when i need you.
Sorry i'm inadequate in that way.

Heavy

Heavy foot, heavy foot
Drag yourself along
The destination is not far
And rest is coming soon

Heavy head, heavy head
Keep yourself awake
The time is almost near
And you can go to bed

Heavy heart, heavy heart
Ah, what shall you do
Can't see any hope,
And where shall you head?

Heavy heart, heavy heart
Brush away the fog
The hurt would soon fade
And peace will be a start

Riddles be Condemned

Guessing can be fun,
If you get one
that you can trump.

But as times goes,
Repetition it is
Frustration just grows

Why can't you just say
What you meant and want
A much easier way

If it is pride imbued
One you can't release
Then keep it in you

To guess and again
Tired I have becometh
No more will I remain

I would not accommodate
Riddles be condemned!
That's the rule I dictate.

Peace of the Heart

When the heart is in a mess
Everything is hard to grasp
You know not how to love
Know not how to cheer
But only remain in fear
That you may never untie
In you, all the knots
That became your faults

If only there was a breeze
Bring up all the dust
Blow it into the vast
Let the heart slowly trust
That's its own love
Has nothing above
Just let fly the dove

Essay on Hope

Let me first start by saying I'm human, and thus i fall prey to Hope. In fact, hope is such a common companion in everything. I hope for good weather, I hope for a nice day, I hope for a friend. But... I really have mixed feelings about Hope.

Hope is the only good god remaining among mankind;
the others have left and gone to Olympus.
-Theognis of Megara

The above talks about the pithos Pandora opened, leaving only Hope. But how true is that? How good is Hope? Hope the Great Motivator. Hope the Great Illusionist. Which is stronger? Someone told me without Hope, life is meaningless. This really stunned me. Maybe because I never saw Hope as all important, maybe i saw Hope in different light.

I'm sure people would tell me about the exhilaration they get when they get something after hoping for so long. Because of the long wait, because of the anticipation, maybe because of the determined wait, the triumph in the end is sweet. However, how much of this triumph due to Hope? Would the triumph come even if you have not hoped? Maybe you'll tell me that although the triumph would come, but the sweetness would not. Maybe it's true, but is it worth it?

As Hope the Great Motivator can bring sweetness, conversely, Hope the Great Illusionist can bring suffering.

Again, I say I'm sure we all have things we hoped for, hope beyond hope, but never attain. Then, aren't we clinging on to something that probably not meant to be ours? All that wait, all that constant hoping, is ultimately bringing nothing but pain. Pain in the form of waiting, pain in the form of anticipation, pain in the form of worry, pain in the form of disappointment. Do we really want to bring ourselves through all these?

The greatest bane of us humans, is the ability to think ahead, but yet, the disability to know of the future.

That is where Hope attacks. Because we know nothing of the future, we can only hope. Hope promises us whatever we wish for, happiness, love, success. Promises, that some are fulfilled, some are broken. But we don't blame Hope. We merely say: " Don't give up, it will come. Maybe not now, but if we hope, it will come." Tell me, isn't that Hope in the form of Denial?

How different is Hope from a gamble, Hope from luck, Hope from denial, and Hope from illusion?

As I mentioned, someone told me Hope is essential for the meaning of life in us. Sure, in Hope, we can force ourselves to wake up everyday, telling ourselves "Today is The day". The day something great will happen to us. But is this the meaning we want? A meaning built on so weak a foundation. Having said that, I cannot deny I haven't found a meaning in life. However, Hope is not something I see myself believing fully in.

I do not like being a prey to Hope the Great Illusionist. Sadly, I cannot only embrace Hope the Great Motivator without also embracing his other half. So I try to distance myself. Is it really impossible to live with as little Hope as possible?

Sadness of the City

saw this old man while looking out the window in my apartment. he was carrying a bag... a bag that looked heavy... too heavy.
i ran downstairs and out to the sidewalk where he was... he turned when he heard my footsteps.
"can i help you with that?" i asked him.
he smiled and shook his head.
"oh no... i'm the only one who can carry this." he said to me.
"you sure... it looks heavy?" i told him.
"it is heavy... no doubt about that." he replied.
"what's in it... if you don't mind me asking?"
"you really wanna know." he said.
i thought about it for a second... maybe he was right... maybe i didn't need to know.
to hell with it, i thought.
"sure. what's in the bag?"
he walked over to a bench and sat down. he motioned for me to do the same.
i walked over and sat down next to him. i stared at the bag when he began to speak.

"i'm filling this bag up with all the sadness in the city." he said. "every last bit of it."
he stared off into the distance after he said this, focusing on something that seemed to be steadying him.
"all the sadness in the city?" i asked him.
"every last bit of it." he repeated without breaking his focus on whatever it was he looking at.
he turned to me.
"got anything you wanna put in it?" he asked.
i thought about it.
"yeah... i do, actually."
"what?" he asked.
i ran up to the apartment and gathered everything i could think of... i looked out the window before going back down, to make sure he was still sitting out there.
he turned when he heard me... and watched me walk over and sit back down next to him.
he looked at the things i had in my hands with a curious expression.
"what do you have there?" he asked.
"got these postcards," i told him, "postcards that she sent me while she was away... all these plans and promises are in them... that never took place."
he took the cards from me and looked at some of the places they had been sent from.
"got this mug, too... would keep it in the freezer for her... she liked having a beer whenever she came over... just hate opening the cooler and seeing it there."
he took the mug from me, and put it, along with the postcards, into the bag.
"also have this box of band-aids."
"what's the story behind these?" he asked while i handed them to him.
"the first time i kissed her... we had gone up to the roof of a friend's apartment building... on the way down, she slipped and scratched her knee... i ran to the store and got her these band-aids... they remind me of that first kiss every time i open the cabinet in the bathroom."
he shook his head and sighed as he put them in the bag.
"got anything else?" he asked.
"that's it for now, I think... the other things i'll just have to hide from myself."
he put his hand on my shoulder and laughed a little.

we sat there for a moment and watched the cars and people pass by.
"what will you do with all those things?" i asked him.
"you really wanna know?"
i smiled and said yes.
he let go of the bag and took a more relaxed posture.
"i grew up in this house," he said. "and many terrible things happened in it. i won't go into the details... but there was a lot of suffering in that house... a lot of bad memories. and when i left to go to school... i took all those things with me. and after graduating, i got a job and worked real hard... saved everything i made... saved every last dime... so i could buy a house i'd never live in.
"i don't understand." i told him.
he continued.
"i went and bought the house i grew up in... for the pleasure of being able to bring it down... i suppose i wanted to make sure that no one else would have to be confined to such a structure."
"that bad a place, eh?"
he nodded his head with glossy eyes... then finished the story.
"didn't know what to do with it after i took it down... just a big pile of dirt with a chain link fence all around it. i'd go there every now and then, hoping it would come to me while staring at it..."
"hoping what would come to you?" i asked him.
"what to do with it... the land, that is... and this went on for tens of years... it went on until the most wonderful thing took place."
"what happened?"
"amidst all that dirt i would go and stare at for all those years... were these little yellow flowers."
tears were running down his face at this point. i put my hand on his shoulder. he looked over at me and smiled... swallowed with a great effort... then pulled a handkerchief from his shirt pocket and began wiping his eyes and nose. he took a deep breath before speaking.
"so i took the fence down... and i leveled everything off and started growing more flowers, and plants, and trees, and herbs, and even vegetables... anything really... anything i could put into that soil, and water."
"so what are gonna do with all these things in the bag?"
he looked down at it, then back at me.
"fertilizer... i'll burn it all and use it as fertilizer."
"all the sadness in the city?"
"every last bit of it."
"gonna grow all those wonderful things with it?"
he nodded his head proudly.
"that's the plan."
we sat there for a few moments and thought about it. the image i had in my head of what that patch of land must look like, made the pain and sadness i had put into that bag, seem more meaningful.

the old man stood up, tightened his grip on the bag... and began dragging it down the street... just the way he had been when i had ran down to offer him help.

i watched him get about a block away... headed face first into a sagging sun that was swimming in a sea of blue.

Story by billy gomez on flickr

"May the sun
bring you new energy by day
May the moon
softly restore you by night
May the rain
wash away your worries
May the breeze
blow new strength into your being
May you walk
gently through the world and know
its beauty all the days of your life."
— Apache Blessing

All that is Left

Hope is the only good god remaining among mankind;
the others have left and gone to Olympus.
Trust, a mighty god has gone, Restraint has gone from men,
and the Graces, my friend, have abandoned the earth.
Men’s judicial oaths are no longer to be trusted, nor does anyone
revere the immortal gods; the race of pious men has perished and
men no longer recognize the rules of conduct or acts of piety.

Theognis of Megara

Time

What do we think of Time?

What is Time to us?

Time is something we all have, yet we can't see, we can't hold, we can't control. So what is our Time? As we blink, Time goes by. And we have lost some of it. Sometimes we think of Time as so important. We can't afford to miss that train, we can't afford to miss that traffic light, it wastes Time. Yet, we can sit there thinking about nothing, doing nothing, and Time becomes something that travels by unnoticed.

Time, however unlimited, is yet to limited to us. We only have that amount of Time. When we leave this world, does Time still applies to us? Time would continue, but where would we to know.

So what shall we fill our Time with? Does whatever we do even important? We live everyday, see things, do things, feel things. Ultimately, what is all this? Is it all a dream? What is the point? We're here in Time to finish out quota of Time, then we leave. As by doing that, what have we actually accomplished? Would we even leave a tiny mark in Time?

So what are we doing in Time?

Closure

Time to close the old chapter and move on.
No more going back.
Move on and hope things turn the better.
Need to take everything off my shoulders.
Maybe now i can be happy, or at least relaxed and light.

Beauty

Everything can so beautiful, if we take the time and heart to look at it, and know it for itself. Things do not have to be ugly just because they have not been beautified by man, not acknowledged by man.

Slow down. Look up in to the sky. Look into everything you see. Breathe the air. Feel the wind.

Love everything you have. Enjoy.

Heart

The heart is weird. It can be so strong yet it can be so weak. Sometimes infront of others, it can be so strong it allows you to be someone else. Someone so much stronger, so full of courage.

Yet inside, the heart is crumbling. In that way.. it's so weak. Cuz everything can affect it. Even things you don't think ever will. But it does. And there's nothing you can do.

But why? Why does it happen?

Magic

I need a little magic
Just a little to opens my eyes
Just that spark

Protect

For once i thought i was going to admit.
Admit something i protected so much.
But again, it retreated.

Sleep

We all act differently at different times in all sorts of different occasions. But i like to believe, that when one goes to sleep, that's the purest and most innocent moment.

This is the time where we cannot control what we think (dreams that is), we cannot hide our desires, we cannot hide our fears. We become who we really are. Even if we're not all that good, this is the time where our emotions are stripped bare, and everything is returned to the most basic form, one that we're born with. This is the time where people are the most beautiful.

Of course... sometimes even when we sleep, our troubles haunt us, our worries blankets us. But even then it's beautiful. Maybe because we look helpless, not able to cause anymore harm. Or maybe just because we are who we are. There is no longer a need to hide, to cover, to change.

So why can't we always retain this form? Why does the world forces you to constantly morph? Why do we not always see this innocence as good? Why do we always have to complicate matters?

Thanks

"more often than not, what we do is a true reflection of what we really want to do, and we just think otherwise. be honest to yourself, good lady.

and nobody said size is a factor to an object's significance.

had, and lost them."

To whoever who left this. Thank you. I truly mean it.

Thinking, Hunger. Waiting.

Sometimes i really wonder... What should i think? Is there a right way of thinking? I'm really confused sometimes, like what am i to do? Sometimes it feels wrong to think a certain way, but yet that's the way it is, that's the sad truth. Sometimes we try to be optimistic, but that doesn't really work out either. Sometimes we dream, but that's also wrong.

Sometimes there's this hunger chewing up inside you. What kind of hunger? There is no answer. It's just gets worse and worse. Maybe til there's is nothing left. Or is it not hunger? Something larger than that? Or something from outside, just impacting you so much, you feel it's like you?

When the world stomps on you and leaves... what are you to do? Rebuild your world? Run after it? Stay to cry and die? Wait for a miracle? There is nothing that is not painful.Just how much we can bear before we give up, or get crushed. We wouldn't know til it happens... or til it's all too late.

Ever

Ever cried and don't know why?
Ever wondered why something so small meant so much?
Ever had the answers to them?