Labels: Calculus, Ellipses, Yahoo Messenger

what the crap?

crap- something that will give you great cyber joy when you play Harvest Moon ...(?)

hmm.i don't know what i am supposed to write as an introduction here. the quicktime player download is getting on my nerves. anyway, i wrote a poem (i rarely do that) due to sudden influx of colossal inspiration from someone who up to now, wouldn't even bother entertaining me. fuck love. nothing is a failure for as long as we live.hahaha. freak.

A Silent Poem for You

Mino Nous

(pseudonym ko)

I spent the night in liquor

The burning heat of the evening chill

As the fluid crept into my being

I sing a song, the soul to kill

Though the liquor blows the essence of my worth

It is as useless as looking back

When you sat close near my yearning stare

And there sparked an unspoken pact

Even if the liquor tries to soar

Beyond my being’s time

The bitterness of my uncertainty

Corrupts the sting of the silent lime

I am drowning in my liquor’s dream

As I write this weeping poem

Though I tried in vain to seek you one

We may never find a home

And my liquor spoke in tones

Louder than what my mouth can speak

Like a needle pierce it said

Better die than to live so weak

Yet there lies a deceit in my liquor tonight

Like your intoxicating breath

It’s not as divine as it seems, my darling song

It shimmers like our sunshine’s death

Hear me now, the cause of my liquor dream

You are the only ear I seek

You are the desire that corrupts, my failing pulse

The silence of a dying creek

You may not like the sting of my liquor breath

But it’s not what my soul does hold

It’s just my failure tonight, oh weeping star

The cowardice of my song so bold

My liquor song, is the truth of my world

And it is my hymn for you

You are my pulse that sustains, my heart that gives

I don’t know what my worth is without you

I have told you once, a thousand if you like

How much desire I am overflowing with

It is for you, my sunshine dear, cradle of my toil

You are the echo of my every beat

You may not have felt what burns within

But it is as warm as my weeping pain

It’s the song of the broken trombone

It’s the barren shower of a pouring rain

My world, the colossus of my everything

You are the joy I never found

You’re the song of the stars, the howl of the moon

You’re the end of an earth of round

It’s not as easy as the other love hymns

Where the man kisses the lady in the end

It’s something unheard by many, my love

But I have every ear to lend

Oh song, my undying melody of affection

Your whisper is the titan’s scream

Like how soft you would beat at every pulse

But as big as the ocean pristine

That will choose not to see

Do not speak, never doubt

Of the journey of this frail humble love

Though the world does not nod

Its ours, not theirs to have

Oh my soul, my liquor’s worth

Sing with me tonight

And tomorrow when we wake up

There is no wrong, there is no right

Labels: Love, Poem, Poetry

Dear Baby Sophie,

It’s me, your Uncle Bok. The one you slap and punch when you get annoyed, the face that woke you up a lot of times and the hands that would often carry you since the day you arrived from the hospital. I am your mother’s youngest sibling, so it’s not hard for me to understand your mood swings. Like you, Baby Sophie, I am a child of the world, I roam freely and I defy the rules of the universe. We are both babies, Baby Sophie, even if I will be turning 16 this month. I am a baby because I refuse to yield to the monotonous solemnity of adulthood. But, Baby Sophie, even if I am afraid to grow old and wither in time, I don’t have any choice but to grow up.

It’s hard to be a child in an adult’s world, you may never know who you are. Unlike your everyday routine, I don’t have a lot of time to play, to hop and to skip. I can’t afford to cry because the world might think I am weak, and weakness is the seed of vulnerability. I cannot act like a child now, Baby Sophie, because my age dictates my being. Nobody likes to see an adolescent playing with your neon-shaded plastic toys, we are supposed to be in school studying, courting, romancing or doing things that society expects us to do. I can no longer be like you, Baby, you live within your world, oblivious to the desires of human morality. I am an adult now, or so I think, and I have to do what adults do, succumb to existential desires.

Unlike you, I don’t sleep all night. My nights are saved for the worth of my learning. Your pleasure of sleeping is my greatest yearning, for my soul keeps itself alive with the fading night. I drug myself literally, I drink coffee, take some medicines, do some exercises and pressure my brain to keep my system functional. I am perverting myself, Sophie. I no longer enjoy the freedom of life. I am now bounded to my obligations for my own future that I have never seen. I get jealous whenever I see you sleeping soundly in the silence of the early mornings, you seem so free. I had forgotten the joy of my own being. Right now I live for something I don’t know, but something to which I offer the many sleepless nights. If you see me tonight you won’t recognize me. I am no longer the Uncle who carries you around tirelessly, the Uncle who sings and plays with you uncomplaining. I am now an “adult” of the books, the slave of learning, and yet I feel contented, it is where I belong.

But when you grow up, Baby Sophie, try to aim beyond the glory of education-fulfill yourself. Never let the desires corrupt your appreciation for joy. Or if you do not want to get hurt, even if pain is inevitable, make yourself deserving of comfort. Never yield to the superficial woes of mankind, sharpen your being, and strengthen your will. The weak are the melting snow of spring, and you should be the majestic tree that prevails through the cold. Do not cry for things you cannot fix, instead, replace them. Tears are but the expulsion of inner pain, and never the solution to your problems. Rule yourself and never be open for slavery of thought. Be your own master and lead your life according to how you look at the world.

Don’t be like me, I made mistakes. I am not pushing you into perfection, but I want to spare you from the dreadful feeling of committing errors that can no longer be undone. I am you Uncle and it is my responsibility to educate you about life. Aim high but expect little, great expectations have the most potential to push you back down to the reality of your earth. Don’t think that humility is hypocrisy, humility is survival. Nobody adores an arrogant and boastful man, show them modesty but never degrade the worth of yourself. There are many things you should know, Baby Sophie, things that I only learned lately. They are great lessons that you need to sustain your life not just with decency, but with profound satisfaction. Life itself is one great opportunity, never waste it because you’re sad, or because you’re depressed or frustrated. The feeling of sadness might be overwhelming at times, but if you lull too much over the meaninglessness it brings, in the end you feel robbed of time. Every second is your chance to be happy, and a single frown is an ingratitude to this noble gift. You are a child, and make the most out of it.

Right now Baby Sophie, I am done studying for our Physics quiz. My eyes had been blackened by all the sleepless nights, and my brain is getting slower and slower through the night. Perhaps you are already asleep behind your snoring mother, or you are still busy watching TV commercials while ate tries in vain to slip a spoon of cerelac to your tiny elusive mouth. I don’t know where you are now, because you have moved out of the house a year ago. But what I know is that one day you will feel like growing up, and when that day finally arrives, never think that you are compelled to leave some things behind. Just grow up and be so, it’s better that way, believe me.

Your cute and sleepy Uncle,

Uncle Bok

Labels: Coffee, Senti, Sophie