Photo Friday: insignificant

yes i believe that faith sees the invisible, believes the incredible and receives the impossible.. but tonight, i feel faith's insignificance as all the world around me revolves but me.

PhotoFriday: Unfinished

Today, in the deepest abyss of my loneliness,
in the endless pit I am falling into,
a rope suddenly surfaced
from the tedious plummet of my decline.

A rope that was hanging from some two years ago.
A forgotten page from my past,
from a wrecked book that I buried
with my hopes, with my passion.

Thoughts clash within me
as an argument linger in mind stating
that nothing is impossible,
but with the premise
that nothing is real.

I have met a destiny
that once opened the doors
for the resurrection of
the unrevealed madness in me.

And now that a tragedie is engulfing me,
preventing me to settle down
in the confines of my clouded dreams,
I extended my arms and reached for the rope.

An attempt that I know
would scorn others
and hurt my own being.
But I need to know.
I had the urge to seek.

In the restlessness of my dawdling fall,
I needed to feel the roughness,
the tangles, and the tightness of this rope.
I need to know that it is safe.
That it is going to be ok.

So forgive me if I held it
and even slowed down my fall.
But in so doing, I shall not tie a knot.
It shall not halt what I am destined to fulfill.

Now I am ready to face my truth,
and that is to plunge into my own demise,
my own death.
That in dying, one’s destiny is fulfilled,
one’s sorrow is finally eradicated.
And that the sorrows that strike others
will fade out with time.
And there shall be
no more unfinished business.

Illo Friday: Visitors

"walking thru the time machine"
a camera painting


i used to watch a tv series entitled “sliders” where a group of unlikely strangers got sucked into a warp vortex where they “slide” through parallel dimensions or universes. they were sliding from one world to another in an endless search back home. [read about it here]

what if there are really worlds parallel to ours? will there be another velvet living in a better world? or worse? would i ever switch places with her? or is her world a nice place to visit but would i like to live there? would she like to live here?

Photo Friday: Old

"It haunts me, the passage of time.
I think time is a merciless thing.
I think life is a process of burning oneself out
and time is the fire that burns you" - Tennessee Williams



today is my birthday..
and how i would love
to escape from
my busy city life..

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note: photo taken at the highest point of Tagaytay last year.. if i could only re-live that day, i won't change anything.. except to make time longer..

Illo Friday: Captain

O Captain, My Captain..

Papers flying overhead crawled up as a ball or folded as an airplane. A scream came from the front-seated girls as they giggle and talk about their summer puppy loves and silly boys from the school next to ours. A girl showing off a new gadget her dad from abroad just sent, while on-lookers awed with admiration. Another girl ran after somebody who was laughing and skipping across the room, apparently she took something from her. And I, sitting by the back row doodling on the back page of my newly bought notebook, grinned. An abrupt pause almost numbed my ears, being used to the chaos of the room, I raised my head wondering why everyone went quiet.

“I wish I could stand on my desk and look at you all,” a modulated low voiced man in a Hawaiian shirt came walking in the classroom. “Good morning class. I am professor Villegas and this is Economics. If this subject won’t change your life, I will. Dead poet’s honor.” These were the first words my Eco prof said back in junior year. He was a new teacher and that was a pretty brave dare on the first day of classes to the labeled “notorious section”.

I remember he laughed after he said he will change our lives, and the class laughed with him, in a sarcastic way. As the students were laughing I was able to jot down his last phrase, not knowing what he meant back then. I also remember that the first class activity was not about economics. Instead, we watched a movie, and the title, he didn’t disclose until we actually watched and read the screen. It was Dead Poet’s Society.

It probably had different effects on each student as some “fell inlove” with Ethan Hawke and some, the other actors. In my case, I fell inlove with the film and the character John Keating – A professor that inspired his students to a love of poetry and to seize the day. This film has influenced me in ways that I never realized until after some years after. Aside from my being fond of “men older than me”, (hehehe) I was also inclined to reading classic literature and poetry.

“Carpe Diem” was the popular expression of our class then and even after that school year, we call Prof. Villegas “Captain” and joked with him on the lines “O Captain, O Captain”. Although the tagged “notorious class” was not removed, I later learned that we were the only class where he showed that movie. Our only regret was that we can’t literally stand on our desks and tear out the pages of our school textbooks. Ha! Those who have seen the film will know why.

I guess the petty meanings were the things that sufficed while growing up having that as one of the hundreds, thousands… of experiences piled at the back of my mind. But looking back now, I must agree that a great part of my personality was somehow influenced by that past. And thinking of our brains as a puzzle, missing one piece will literally won’t make it complete.

Now, I stand upon my desk to remind myself that we must constantly look at things in a different way. O captain, my captain… thank you.



"looking inside a dreamer's dream"
900 x 600 (orig.)
MS Paint + Picassa



O Captain My Captain
by: Walt Whitman
O Captain my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up--for you the flag is flung for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribboned wreaths for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the deck,
You've fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchored safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

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drop notes:
- poetry by: [Walt Whitman"]
- Dead Poet's society [info]

Illo Friday: Emergency

The Interview
Swish! Zoomed the elevator. Ting! As the two mirrored doors parted ways right in front of me, I saw an empty room with plain white walls. A lone portrait of a woman hangs by the right and on my left, a glass wall with the encryption “Je Maintiendrai” served as a divider for the corridor and a smaller room.

Name please? A startling voice greeted me, without noticing that I have moved from the elevator unto the 26th floor lobby. As I gave out my name, a small piece of glossy paper was handed to me. V005, it read.

It looked bigger than what is seen outside. This smaller room served as a waiting room for the people who will be interviewed. A big sign that says no mobile phones allowed welcomed everyone that comes through the door. I sat by a wooden chair at the farthest corner so I could see everything at front. Either that or I would like to avoid people staring at my back.

A glace at my watch indicated that there was nothing else left to do. The windows will open after an hour, said the gateman. And by then we should be ready with our papers. I surveyed the room and it was only me and seven other fellas sitting. No word was uttered amongst each other and the distance of each chair didn’t help at all.

But the view... yes, the astonishing view made me gasp for a big gulp of air. On my right, the only thing that divided me and the whole city was a clear glass. How I hoped it was a very, very thick glass! I was afraid to put down a finger on it. My paranoia screamed in my mind that the glass will fall off and the air will suck me right out of the building! I moved a couple of inches further away from the glass but the city didn’t felt smaller and the streets down below didn’t disappear. Yes, I am afraid of heights…but nothing scared me the most than being the next one to be interviewed.

So for emergency cases as this, I took out my pen and ripped a piece of paper from my duplicates file folder. It was a photocopy of my bank statement. I folded it and then with the faint silence and an occasional clearing of throat from the person in front of me, my hand drew what my eyes saw. A quick three minutes is all that it takes to calm me down. And I stared outside unto the world. Waiting… for my turn.



"there but not here"
4" x 5" (orig.)
sketch on recycled paper

Illo Friday: Missing

"missing the moon"
500 x 670
MS Paint




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note: the title came from one of my fave songs of the field mice. lyrics cant be found anywhere in the net so maybe i post it in a while. pls support them by buying the original. tc!

Moody Monday: Lonely

feels so damn lonely without you..

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