Sunday, September 28th, 2008 UTC

empires have fallen,
yet aeons after aeons,
a smile’s still a smile.

baffled and upset

Sunday, September 28th, 2008 UTC

agitated place;
a distant and foreign land…
I hear gibberish.

To thine own mask be true

Thursday, September 25th, 2008 UTC

We’re all one swashing salty sea;
And we’re the but the world, when it ponders itself
And we’re one entity, of a million identities
Because no man will be twice born,
and yet—all who are born, are one.

Decir Adiós Duele

Thursday, September 11th, 2008 UTC

Un dicho antiguo resuena al compás de, “Es una pena que las personas no sepamos bien con lo que contamos hasta haber saboreado la amargura de su ausencia”. Te declaro afortunado si trasciendes esta simple verdad, porque me atrevería a decir que una cantidad vulgarmente gigante de la población se identifica con estas palabras, con un pequeño retorcijón en sus estómagos que piden aquello dejado atrás.

La gente se pavonea por las calles de asfalto, con sus accesorios de lujo colgando a plena vista y su cuidadosa pinta, mugiendo quejidos de qué tan exasperante resulta su madre cuando no le permite ir a X o Y lugar, o mientras toman el bus sueltan una retahíla de gruñidos acerca de lo absurdo que resulta tal persona por tal cosa, o tal lugar por esta otra razón.

Pero cuando tomamos el primer paso hacia lo nuevo y lo desconocido, lugar que no permite accesorios ni valija repleta del antaño, nuestros corazones empiezan a dar una pequeña rabieta, añorando lo que se deja atrás. Cuando llega la hora del último abrazo, de la última mirada, del último respiro, del último vistazo, ya hemos abordado el avión o el tren que aumenta la distancia entre lo que fue y lo que será.

Y cuando ya es muy tarde, apreciamos que una vez pudimos decir (y con frecuencia, nunca lo dijimos), “yo era parte de esto… me acompañaba esto”. Nos duele mucho ¿verdad? Independientemente de lo emocionante que es voltear la página a cosas nuevas, nos duele la ausencia de la hoja anterior. Pues es tiempo de despertar.

A la gente que encuentra irritable su familia, o que no valora lo que esta tierra le entrega, envuelta en el regalo fresco y palpitante de la vida, que el mordisco de la ausencia sea un despertar, un abrir de ojos completamente nuevo, un destape de las fosas nasales al olor fresco de la renovada conciencia. Que aprendamos todos, y me incluyo dentro de los pronto-a-ser-concientes, a valorar lo que tenemos, antes que lo perdamos.

Viva la Revolución

Friday, June 20th, 2008 UTC

Have you any idea how grave a mistake it is to mar a young mind? And no, I’m not talking about beating children, or subjecting them to brutal work. I speak of an abuse far more subtle, a slow and lethal poison that seeps through the skull and corrodes the mind, threatening to squash the humanity out of the human heart.
I speak, of course, of the educational system.

As they join the ranks of schools, youths are force-fed an assortment of over-inflated values and priorities which constitute a forlorn and frightening mindset.

Indeed, youths are force-fed, binding them to a chair of eternal conformity. They’re teaching you all you need to know to go to college and get a job and a car and a family, so why would you bother looking for knowledge yourself? School has conveniently prepared a flimsy set of answers to the questions of the world, and bullies us into memorising them all. If we refuse, school sees to it that we are shunned as uncooperative, lazy, and misguided.

As if memorising answers flexed the mind at all. The most anyone could get from witless memorisation is a feeble semblance of self-discipline, which is rendered meaningless anyway as it cannot be applied to anything which has a worthwhile practical use.

—No worthwhile use? But how, if we just said that school will get us a job and a car and a family? Yes, it will. And that’s just fine. But see, the incentive process, for an average school-goer, goes something like this: You’re in school only so you can get good grades and get into college. And you would want to go to college just so you can find a job, and proceed to climb the interminable corporate ladder. And what’s at the end of all this? I dunno. No one really knows. It’s something extremely vague, like, oh, happiness. Or self-realization. Utter bollocks.

Not that I have anything against the white-collar life, or the working class life. What irks me is the neverending toil to a an end that is wholly meaningless. Working relentlessly simply to keep up with a difficult status quo holds no true significance and very little satisfaction. The small, hollow consolations it does offer are obtained at the tolling cost of losing something as dear as the mind’s potential, or the interest to tap it.
Such an existence is glaringly mediocre at best, and I wouldn’t call it worthwhile.

But of course, it is just this existence which our school system so champions, and urges us into. It is, perhaps, like snatching newly-hatched birds from their nests and forcing them to pilot bird-sized hang-gliders to and fro in embarrassingly straight lines, instead of allowing them to learn true flight.—Unnatural, criminal!

And then there’s the teachers, the great and ruthless secret police that holds up this rotten regime. The system is such that it not only allows ignorant people to teach, it calls for them, and they do their job magnificently.
There are some scarce wonders with something good to teach, but those few are, in someone else’s words, like drops of water in the desert. For the most part, entire class hours are reduced to either bravely enduring or dozing off to stupendously incoherent lectures ridden with fallacies and examples that hardly apply. Fascinating subjects are distorted into mechanical and thoughtless penwork. Overbearing counselors coerce you into taking SAT prep and registering on collegeboard.

And as opportunist corporate gluttons make millions by administering rubbish tests and other services, the students must suffer a watered-down parody of education in order to be able to support their businesses.

The system is deteriorated and doddering, severely entangled in faux-bureaucratical rules and regulations. Aptitudes are caricaturised and curiosities are squashed.
The very joys of life are rudely confiscated, one by one, as the system tries to take itself seriously.
And the very epitome and most cherished treasure of mankind—thought, of course—is mercilessly bastardised.

Come now, comrades, the system must be done away with. The time for revolution is nigh.

With that said, congratulations, graduates— you, who have braved classes and still retain a love for knowledge, are heroes; emerging triumphant against the perversity of the system.

Midnight Craze

Monday, May 19th, 2008 UTC

under a bright moon,
man uttered a voiceless thought
—Silence answered back.

Flowers for the aesthete

Monday, May 12th, 2008 UTC

Remembrances are the warmth that soaks the viscera,
while idle speculation ventilates the lungs
and beauty is the scarlet that rolls in the blood.

Addicted to the whimsies and antics of Life, and dying by the day.
Death overtakes all that ventures to live, snatching the softness of flesh and the sweetness of voice, leaving only bones, calcified regrets– vestiges of grace.
But it is because his most favourite flowers will shrivel by tomorrow that they smell so sweet to him today.

The aftertaste of melancholy will always linger over the aesthete, for his paintings are more human than he– who lived the lives of a thousand colorful portraits, but left his own frame unfilled.