believing two extremes

visions

i believe in all things beautiful
the kinetics of when everything works out well
i believe in the ugly truth of reality
this is a narrative i’ve been known to tell
but isn’t it ironic
holding to both extremes?
I think not
for a dreamer has in them the ability
to juggle both worlds
though apart they might be
living with hope
amid cascading tilling
as dreams get shot in the head one by one
dead and buried
but from death comes patches of new leas
to dream new dreams
to live to breath.

a hypocrite’s song

if for then the church’s conviction is humanity’s depravity
why then can i not churn in tune to the voice of a broken reed?
why must i hide if sometimes i don’t feel well?
why must i sing a hypocrite’s song and say “i am strong, i am strong?”
why hide when i am a sinner through and though when i am also too a saint?
why must there be voices that say “there mustn’t be a hint of doubt!” when all in scripture prophets wrestled with God thought to them his voice was sound?
as if it were that one decision would make a magical turn in my selfish behavior,
as if i could not hone ever to make some mindless clutter,
some will then slay me with words that say “Unimaginable!” and underneath a subtext of meanings that says “You must be PERFECT!”
and yet we teach of grace,
of forgiveness,
of love!
i for one know they need unpacking,
but on the surface,
we don’t give much hope for those we see as second time partakes of forgiveness when they have fallen.
if then this is your Christ’s teaching,
is there then any possibility of a thing called hope?
because i have to admit i am tired of singing this hypocrite’s song and say “i am strong, i am strong?”

i am not.

RE-BIRTH

This poem is my attempt in interpreting the of story Bryon Widner. This one really took awhile to write. The story echoes a narrative of what I’d call “second chance.” As much as I’m interpreting what I read, there are parts where this poem is auto-biographical as well. It is my hope that you resonate with the tone and emotions depicted in the poem. 

SECOND CHANCES…

…are hard to come by.

 

The PAST is at times like bloodstains on white colored fabric.

 

This STAIN
one that would never go away
it stays
there…
Remaining on the surface.

A disfigurement of a former glory
even after washing
though
fading
still remains.

 

BUT

 

Like seasons where a caterpillar weaves up into a cocoon,
an anticipation occurs,
ugly takes a makeover,
in the form of a whole transformation.

 

BUTTERFLIES

 

Call it evolution
Call it rejuvenation
Call it a reincarnation
call it metamorphism
call it redemption
call it
to be HUMAN.

Widening the chasms of the past,

…who i was,
a fire breathing dragon.

to who I am,
now
inhaling back the flames…

…is not always easy…

…Even if it is as far as the East is to the West.

Erasure? is it even possible?
of one’s disclosure,
of an already written story,
the past forever.
To one being written,
the future
an unraveling.

 

 

...CHANGE...
Is it just, skin-DEEP?
 Or 
A Heart, REBIRTH?

Though murky echoes,

of past lingers by,

reminding…

The horizon speaks,

of another story,

pertaining…

Hope

amid the stains below my feet,

Faith,

amid the fumes of my confession,

in the anguish of breathing penance,

in the narrative of second-chances,

my restoration,

made complete by,

LOVE.

Reflections on Hopeful cynicalism and Realistic expectations

“Cause if one day you wake up and find that you’re missing me,
and your heart tries to wonder where on this earth I could be,
thinking maybe you’ll come back here to the place that we’d meet,
and you see me waiting for you on the corner of the street,
so i’m not moving
i’m not moving”
(The Script: “The man who can’t be moved“)

I have to say that it’s a catchy song and that it somehow expresses the notion of a relentless belief in hope and things would come together. A lot of songs out there hold on to this principle; that some sort of miracle might happen and things will come together kind of vibe to it.

Mariah Carey’s song “Always be my Baby” talks about two people parting ways and the narrator who depicts the emotions of the story says that though separation is inevitable, they will always be part of each other, regardless. The narrator believes this without a doubt, or so it seems to him or her.

But isn’t it ironic that in reality, such stories in real life do not occur as much. I have no statistics to prove this but I do believe that I don’t have to convince anyone of this matter. By simply exaggerating that in reality, only 1% (or maybe slightly higher than that), of what we do find in songs sung on mainstream radio which depicts a “forever” kind of love or waiting, in that they happen in terms of people do actually have stuff like that happening to them. The other truth is the other way round.

Some who go through heart break will eventually move on and those who felt that they will never forget the one who parted will eventually find someone else. Or that the hope of letting go of ones partner and hope they will return never turns out that way in reality. So it does seem to say that there is something faulty in the way songs and lyrics are expressed in a sense.

While, in the space of emotions and longings sprung to life by being sung to music or simply by writing them, projects a reality of hope, reality in the physical realm on the other hand counters it by saying it does not exist. To which we ask the question, “Why do we then love or long to believe what is other than what we encounter in the reality projected by the physical state we live in?”

It does seem like some sort of paradox.

Although I do not have any definitive answer to this, here’s some bits of reflection on how I try to understand this paradox.

Hope is label true in the unseen realms of longing, but on dusty roads of factual reality or lived experience, it seems, hope tussles to lose with it and inside sometimes we make it die if this tussle continues. Sometimes to the point that we can become cynical of anything called hope.

But if we seek to be enlightened to another point of view, on hope that is labeled true in the unseen realms of longing, it should always be held because we know deep down there is such a thing as hope even when reality says “no way.” Because sometimes reality cannot explain why there is hope.

My philosophy, and I’m cynical to anything understood as “happily ever after,” but even if we don’t believe in it, the fact is, we are reacting to a “happily ever after” that is unrealistic. One that avoids the notion of things going awry or tragic. We should seek one that is more grounded, where our hopes and longings understand that there is a realm that reacts against it. But it should not water down or choke away our longings and hopes. It should in a way divert a more realistic passage way of thinking about hope and longing.

So, I think, there is nothing wrong if we do sing and believe that there is such a thing as a relentless pursuit of hope, or as songs always sing out, something called “perfect love,” or simply “a beautiful thing called love.” The only thing we have to change is that, we do have to balance it out with realistic expectations.

In life, I do believe that we don’t really have to side on the extremes of being overtly pessimistic about anything hopeful or on the side that thinks that anything can be triumphed upon. There is a thin line that walks between them, and in someways hold them together.

Life is a paradox; in gazing a beautiful rose and being careful as to not hurt one’s self in the process of trying to get hold of it.

Just is

Sometimes in life
When we tun to the question
Seeking out answers to find.

Of viable leanings
For reasonable answers
Hope to breathing in time

Chorus:
What explanation
Do we give
If beauty resides
Even when
Darkness
Sometimes prevail
The journey all take inside

To sing even though
In the valley of shadows
Depriving whatever seems calm.

Still there is peace if we
Desire to seek it
Not beyond our grasps to find.

Note: I write some stuff which I put to a tune. This is one of them that came spontaneously after watching something uplifting and some reflection on a statement in my head which went something like this: sometimes we can’t explain any reasonable logic to why we hope, sometimes it just is.” I’m not sure what to call this piece so I’ll just name it “just is.” I’ll probably rename it if I find a better title. I’ll post a recording of the piece later.

cherish now

the ground below-where my feet tread,
the soils that should-exhibit mud,
orange-yellow red,
feels like-watery substance,
and so-this is not strong foundation,
and slowly-but certainly,
this journey will,
sink
and-bury me.

i kneel as though-to motion prayer,
my lips as if-quivering whispers,
my arms extend to-sky blue heaven,
this disposition,
is but-mere pretension,
is but a desolate cry,
of broken man,
of wounded child.

was there a time when belief-was certain,
asserts my thoughts-to hollow reason,
did i possess not words uplifting,
they taste now all,
a bleeding red.

i long for-arms extending,
for care to kiss me-on my cheeks,
the gaze of beauty-to mend the weak,
but alas-i say to my soul,
it has been-dispossessed.

we are all-but mire,
one day we stand-in escalation,
and next,
we kiss the soil-we stand,
how fleeting are smiles,
we thought would last, forever,
cherish now,
your careless whisper.

hope exists

hope exists,
not because…

of clear blue skies
or flowers blooming.

or when couples,
tie the knot,
and we find them kissing.

or that someone wins the jackpot,
and is photographed smiling.

or when estranged relationships,
of parents and children,
are seen reconciling.

or because now there is reason,
for seasons,
to begin smiling.

hope exists,
because,
it breathes in the middle,
the possibility,
of nothing.

the wind

Splash-down(try large)

i plead
to the wind
in the hope
for it to hear
i long to be placed
back to the east

i walk in the shade
under sunlit rays
after rain
for traces of rainbows
to color today

i whisper a prayer
uttered from the lips of my heart
why do dark clouds
come my way?
why does silence
speak my name?

when hollow nights
embrace my pain
and kiss my cheeks
goodnight
i hear not silent whispers
but screams
this is my find

is there now meaning
in shades of grey
when light is infused by night?

black rose

Black Rose
Black Rose Tattoo (image taken from Black and White Rose Tattoos)

words that give the mind to speak,
beauty of an unsettling,
though death is what one perceives,
living inside this vessel,
a hopeful becoming.

Here are some meanings behind the image of a rose and what some of the color signifies. I’m contemplating of getting one (not this particular design thought) as my next tattoo together with the words above. Just a thought.