From the Bridge with (Love) Despair

Lately I've been seeing a lot of them. Does that confirm it may be part of something big? Boxes are all the same. It fails to amaze me this time. What I see, when I saw the other individuals doing the same thing gave me a sense of what might be really happening. It's not pleasant. Hope turns to despair. Faith now is a different story. What I see now is the harsh reality. They may not be able to see it with their eyes, not because they're blind. It's not for me to decide, I hope I hadn't stumbled into something so deceiving. I didn't mean it with Ms. Guitar's intentions or whatever thoughts are going on with all these guys' minds. I love that they do what they're doing. It helps me do good in things I have to do myself. That right now is true.


But I was wronged into thinking something beautiful can only be created from good things.

From the Bridge with Love

Bakit nga ba ang puso
Pag nagmamahal na
Ay sadyang nakapagtataka
Ang bawa't sandali
Lagi nang may ngiti
Dahil langit ang nadarama

Para bang ang lahat ay walang hangganan
Dahil sa tamis na nararanasan
Kung mula sa puso ay tunay ngang ganyan

Nais ko'y ikaw ang laging yakap-yakap
Yakap na sana'y walang wakas
Sana'y laging ako ang iniisip mo
Sa maghapon at sa magdamag

Init ng pag-ibig ating pagsaluhan
Kung mayroong hahadlang
'Di ko papayagan
Kung mula sa puso ay tunay ngang ganyan


Walked passed by a woman sitting alone in a bridge. Guitar strap on, amplifiers up. That was 4:00 in the afternoon in a sun scorched March day. An umbrella as her shield, not in the right position to give her enough shade. Believe me you don't want to be hit with the sunlight at this kind of hour. But she sits there, singing. Strumming in on her electric guitar she hums, without a view of the world around her. A voice that cuts through all the noise.


I don't know. They say this might be a part of a syndicate. The same thing that uses kids to go beg for pennies in the streets. There's this box in front of her, I don't know where the money goes. I do hope that it's hers to keep, she deserves each and every money dropped on that 'donation box'. Hell, I don't want to call that thing a donation box. She earned that money through hard work, her dedication, through her music. It's compensation for her work. She has a unique job. Whatever amount that goes in on that box serves as her daily wage.


I don't know what goes on in her mind. The way she sings all those lovely notes, with tenderness. It can only be through love and inspiration. How would you be able to get inspiration in a situation like hers? Faith? Hope? She deserves something better. That better is not something for me to decide. I love that she's doing what she does. It helps people like me do good at things I have to do myself.


I can only smile when I heard her, can't stop looking and be amazed. All the city noise and busy people seemed a distant world to her. That's what's important isn't it? That you love what you do and you give it your all. Therefore, she's in a league of her own. Ms. Guitar wherever you are, you passed something unseen. Something that's so important. But like a fire it burns. I can feel its heat in these words.

Death is Just a Sleep (The Poem)

Every night I drown to it, 

One of my most done things in life.

Probably the best experience of my existence, 

Apart from eating and. . .

Each night i train for that one moment.

I like the thought of it,

My final never ending rest. . .

Death is Just a Sleep

There’s this border line in life that eventually, you’ll reach once everything in your life falls apart. The line between life and death.


Continue the life that made you suffer? Or live with your belief that you can live no matter what? I’m caught between these two choices. I’ve been happy, felt it always, on a daily basis. Then there’s sadness, always there, ready to take charge once happiness leaves. But life's a constant replay, no new things come my way, if ever there was, everything would be momentary and it’ll end up in me feeling sad after all. Is it just me or is it life? Was it the way I lived life or was it life itself playing out on me? Then there’s God, do I believe in God? That’s a hard one. I do believe in something. I hate religion, any religion. But I believe there’s Someone out there, watching over. I don’t know if He’s going to punish me for thinking He does not exist. Stupid? Yes. Now what is there to life that would make me want to continue?


How did my life fall apart? No, it did not. I’m just over-exaggerating. I just tired-out. Tired of the boring life i’ve been in. Never really found happiness in anything. Money can be useful sometimes, made me forget that there’s this hole in my brain looking for contentment. Sometimes there are thoughts that are worth something. But the meaning will fade in time. And you’ll feel lost and guilty, you'd simply want to end all your search for purpose.


Am I selfish? Am I supposed to live for myself or others?  Am I supposed to believe in something? Do I have to continue for others or do I stop because i’m lost for words and strength to carry on? Did I give-up too early? Is there hope? Why do I feel empty? Why do I want to die so badly? Why, when people are fighting for their lives, would I waste mine? Did I ever care? Did I learn love? Did I earn love? Have I given too much? Have I received too much? Is my purpose done? And who the hell said, people have purposes? Why am I at war with myself and can’t win the battle? Why is my character weak? When did I learn surrender? Why can’t I be happy, plain and simple? What have I done in life? I’m an unaccomplished man. I’m not old but why have I accepted defeat? And I call death defeat. Who knows what is there after life? Is it hell? Or heaven that they say you’ll receive once you embrace God, or religion? I have no way of telling the truth. I don't even think I'm still thinking rational anymore. I’m just a man, who accepted everything as worth throwing.


Then I cracked, and I cried. I’m lost I know. But in this situation, when do you say stop? I’m like a child, weeping. I want to call for Mom, thought everything will be alright once she arrives. But she left, years ago, probably there in heaven. No one’s going to save me now. Who’s to blame?

Wrote this sometime last year when I'm feeling really depressed. I was sad that I felt helpless. But I did not end this little soul inside me that we call life. I fought and pressed on, thinking everything's not lost.

So here I am.