writing to learn

The Beginnings

2011-02-15T00:02:00.002-06:00

The Bible boggles me, especially the Old part. I'm currently making my way through Genesis -- and sometimes shamelessly skipping the genealogies. I understand that it's fundamentally different from the New part 'cause of Jesus Christ and all, but some of it prompts me to pause, find a blank corner in my room, ponder about what I just read, and ponder some more to make sure I interpreted it correctly.

For one, there sure is a plentiful amount of questionable activities going around. People laying with maids, and the wives actually suggesting it. Cousins marrying one another. Slaying of entire cities. Women turning into mounds of NaCl. Ya know, the everyday kinda happenings.

My explanation and justification for all these things is... He's got a purpose. I could spend my time questioning it, or I could simply accept it and use my lack of understanding as a basis for strengthening my faith. I'm positive that every (seemingly) ludicrous act that has happened, and will happen, may be crazy in our eyes but perfect and necessary in His.

Blindly believing in the means to an end may seem inhumane, and doing so may turn others away from Christ, but it's an upside-down kingdom. It's true we're merely specks of dust on an enormous IMAX God-screen, but we're still looked after with unimaginable love and attention. Maybe one reason why His purpose isn't always revealed to us is because we wouldn't even begin to understand the final cut. It's better if we leave the micro-management up to the Director. The greatest of our duties is to love. I think I'm gonna just focus on that.

Living the Double Life (No More)

2010-09-29T21:54:00.011-05:00

"...we are uneasy most of the time. We go about our common tasks with a feeling of deep frustration, telling ourselves pensively that there's a better day coming when we shall slough off this earthly shell and be bothered no more with the affairs of this world."

-A. W. Tozer

Here lies the Christian dilemma. My dilemma. There are numerous problems with the Church, above and beyond what I'm going to share with you here, but this is the issue that relates to me the strongest. From my own experience, which may be limited at best, I find that in religious circles and communities, there seems to be a bold divide between fellowship and acts of love. By "fellowship" I'm referring to small groups, large groups, cell groups, bible studies, worship sessions, Sunday services, youth services, and all the like. And by "acts of love" I'm referring to anything along the lines of "...and whatever you do for the least of these, you do for me" (Matthew 25:40).

The dandy theoretical knowledge we study so earnestly in fellowship does not appear to translate into acts of love. It seems that the more "religious" we become, the more set apart we are from the world "out there". Suddenly we forget and neglect that Jesus would gladly have dinner with "those people" rather than his disciples. How did he do it? How was he able to connect with them, preserve his holiness and ultimately change their lives forever?

For Jesus, the Christian dilemma never existed in his thinking. In a sense, there was no separation of "I am perfect" and "you are ungodly". I think for Jesus, he genuinely wanted to bond with "the least of these" and "those people". Sure, if in the end they came to believe that he was savior, then all was well. But even beyond that, he yearned to become true friends with strangers in the humbleness of love. (To clarify -- and thanks to Vankim -- what I mean is, I believe the motivation behind Jesus's efforts was the love he had for his people. Certainly, his ultimate desire was for us to believe in his truth).

Jason as a carpenter:

"I have so many orders to fill. Gotta finish this chair and a dining table for the rich douchebag down the road by the end of the week. One day, I won't have to worry about any of this. One day, I'll be able to focus on doing God's work, something that actually affects the people around me."

Jesus as a carpenter:

"I do all things in my Father's name."

Before we can "go out into the world" and make a difference, we must discard the idea of two separate lives that we live: the secular world and the Godly one. Certainly there are secular aspects in life, but ALL things come from God. In order to live life to the fullest as God intended for us, we have to perform activities in a uniform state of mind. Otherwise, each day will continue to be filled with thoughts of future spiritual aspirations and freedoms that will never come.

To have a life filled with God's love and purpose is to begin seeing Him in every thing that we do. After all, He lives in us doesn't He?

"We're supposed to make each other feel safe, otherwise what's the point?"

2010-09-27T01:49:00.020-05:00

-Winnie Gekko from the film Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps

There are no buzz words for "love" or "relationship" in that statement, no covert metaphors or analogies. Heck, it's even rhetorical. But immediately after hearing this quote in theatres, I knew I had to write it down. And against all pre-movie rules, I pulled out my phone and clicked-away the simple twelve words and hit "save". I kept this sentence because "safe" entails much more than security or comfort.

Double-bolt locks help me perceive safety. A red brick house helps me perceive safety. But people? People naturally invite harm, risk, and liabilities. When we meet those we can trust, and usually it's only a certain few, that's when we label them as friends. But trust on the friendship level is brittle at best. Feeling safe with someone is continuous, it's assumed. Unlike locks and bricks which give you a sense of safety, in our minds, this person is safety. There are no "perceptions of" or "sense of" -- this type of safety simply exists independent of all else.

Feeling safe with someone does not oust the possibility of physical separation, because that would be impossible. Safety lives in the possible world, where anything can happen despite how much we pull the other way. Safety, then, is knowing that above all chaos and uncertainty, you know that the other person will unfailingly encourage you to be truthful in who you are, and appreciate all that they see.

I think that's my definition of a human love relationship (different than love), romantic and platonic. And spiritual love... that's a whole 'nother quote. Goodnight.

Whoops...

2010-09-01T16:31:00.006-05:00

Pork sausage: done. Green bell pepper: done. White onion: almost done. Yesterday presumed to be a normal day... school, errands, meals, etc. As I was preparing breakfast tacos for dinner, I made a whoopsies and nearly sliced off half of my thumb tip with a butcher knife. I saw blood spilling out of my thumb so I put it under water for a few seconds before taking a second look. I expected to see a surface cut, but when I looked down there was way too much blood and so I knew I had to go to the hospital. Omar came home a few minutes later and then he took me to the hospital, but not before I placed all the cut meats and veggies in the fridge (duh).

The wait time was surprisingly short, albeit they recorded on my wristband and file that I was a female smoker. From the moment I walked in holding my thumb in toilet paper to when I left $100 poorer and with a red bandage wrapped around my finger, about an hour had passed by. Not bad.

I left with 4 stitches and a prescription for antibiotics and pain killers. Pain killers. That's a funny term, isn't it? Killing usually implies pain. Throughout this ordeal, Omar's iPhone 4 captured before-and-after pictures as well as the stitches video. I did not realize the depth or severity of the cut until the Doc pulled back the fleshy tip to clean the wound... I haven't seen the video yet, but hopefully it shows it nice 'n gruesome.

All details aside... why did God want me to experience this? I can immediately think of two reasons: 1) stop biting/picking my fingernails. If I would've had a normal thumb nail, my thumb tip would be in pristine condition under a trusting and sturdy nail. 2) remind me to calm down. The second one is less certain, but I think it applies. It was only the 2nd day of school and I was already fretting over the homework, law school applications, etc. I tend to over-think, over-worry, and exaggerate the amount of items I need to get done. With this impaired thumb, typing is a bit more troublesome and just doing everyday things altogether is more of a hassle. Perhaps this is God's way of telling me, "LEAVE YO NAILS ALONE!" and "CHILL OUT!!!". I'd like to believe those are the lessons I'm being taught, mayhaps there's more?

Oh, I suppose another lesson is this: finish what you started. I finally got home a couple hours later, by this time starving and pondering about life lessons. I ended up cooking those breakfast tacos I first set out to make two hours prior. I left the onions out -- but it was still delicious.

This picture, however, isn't so delectable:

"Natural Trace"

2009-07-27T10:23:00.003-05:00

(written on 7/24/09 for Steven & Aftan Tso)

Things change
once rings are on fingers
Those once horrid farts
become nice aromas which linger

Perspectives shift
after "I do" is pronounced
His constant pesky habits,
for now no longer denounced

Steps of the first dance
bring smiles which are brighter
And those light yellow teeth
magically become whiter

Cans begin to rattle
and the car reads "Just Married"
That squishy jello-y flab
now feels like a tightened belly

The wedding ruckus fades
as you two sit in pleasing silence
Rogaine seems to kick in
and works its wondrous science

So smudge those lines
and keep cutting the corners
It's just a natural trace
running behind love's borders

Thank goodness for its impairment
and the inability to see
They say "love is blind"
and for Steven's sake... may it forever be!

"Beyond the Yellow Border"

2008-08-17T22:44:00.002-05:00

(written on 8/17/08)

Two years ago I picked out all the differences between America and Africa. It was easy to do, not surprisingly. It’s true that all you see in magazines, online articles, and CNN broadcasts is reality; that the turmoil and chaos in the media is actually happening –- nobody denies that.

However, what we fail to notice are the similarities, the joys, and the quality of life Africans and Americans share alike.

My brief visit to Uganda this summer was all about relationships. Through relationships, I experienced the intimacy that comes with a humor understood by all people. Through relationships, I felt the presence of God and his ongoing work in all the corners of a growing church. And through relationships, Uganda’s dirt roads transformed to pavement as Texas’ brick houses molded into straw huts.

The liberating truth is… we’re no different at all.

Having been created by the same God, it should be no surprise to find an immense amount of similarities among the most differing of nations. However, alongside the obvious parallelisms there are also unique characteristics for each race, ethnicity, and all individuals. Our God has made us alike so we may know his omnipotence over all, but he has also shaped each of us into our own being to present his amazing idea of love by personal design.

I don’t expect this message to aspire you to pack up your bags, devote yourself to celibacy, and move to Africa. But, I do hope this rattles the hazy American perspective of third-world countries –- and maybe encourage you to someday set forth to a country that seems so far away. ‘Cause when the day comes (and it will), as you step off the plane onto foreign soil, you will not only see a snapshot of what [insert country] has been portrayed to be, but all the contrast that stretches miles beyond the yellow border of a magazine.

"My Own Mestizo"

2008-06-18T01:29:00.009-05:00

(written on 5/1/08 for GNED 1300-21 Final Project)

My takeoffs and landings are usually in planes of great size, roaring the moment it turns onto the mile-long runway until it hits again on, yet another, mile-long runway. These takeoffs and landings bring me to 1 of the 50 states, one island of an archipelago, or a port-city which sits on the edge and is apprehensive of its existence in comparison to the rest of its body. Sometimes, I takeoff in the morning and arrive a day before my takeoff –- a time machine. Other times, I scan a familiar landscape of green grids and brown grids. I murmur, “back to Texas” as I follow the plane’s shadow skimming over the natural patchwork.

My takeoffs and landings open up days, sometimes weeks, of foreign adventures. Swedes on Monday through Thursday, Danish common-folk Friday through Saturday, and ending it off with the crooked and doped of Amsterdam for the connection flight. Another time, I land in a dusty airport and become the minority of minorities. Stuffed into a van fitting twelve, the driver weaves left and right as if driving down San Francisco’s Lombard Street. In actuality, our driver avoids the foot-deep potholes which appear just seconds ahead of the van’s single headlight, the other cracked with a brick thrown by teenagers. The only word I know here is “Jambo!” which basically translates into “Hi! I’m from America, sell me souvenirs and ask me for money!” I didn’t learn the correct Swahili expression of “hi” until a few days later, when our Kenyan guide finally decided to make us appear less-foreign. I realized that a single word can place me in a completely different perspective when looking through a Kenyan’s eyes.

My takeoff and landing this year was the longest yet, lasting an entire semester. Instead of roaring engines, I climbed three flights of stairs to the 3rd floor of Northrup Hall. And instead of anticipating a rocky landing, I walked out of the room after the last day of GNED 1300-21: “The Mestizo in Everyone.” This journey had no touring vans, dusty buildings, or potholes –- but there was an amalgamation of people coming from all over the world.

The adventure began on the first day, when the professor poured her heart into her performance. The films, readings, and journals urged me to write with the idea of mixture in my mind. No longer would I allow myself to write a single paragraph containing one perspective. I started writing with a mind from my Asian-American background, then a mind of a Texan, and yet another mind of Kenyan, Swedish, French, Alaskan, and all the other countries and its peoples I have experienced. My mind was my own but was not constructed of what I expected –- or intended.

I entered the classroom in January with a single, apparently confused, identity. I left the classroom with the same mind, except now compacted with cultures and peoples I met in that room, on campus, vacations, mission trips, and overseas excursions. The class, which I dreaded on the first day of Spring semester, turned out to be the airplane ride which took me from a single-minded state of being to an entirely complex and unfamiliar state of existence. Many perspectives and characteristics of my “new self” had been created years ago but were trapped under my inability to see myself as a person of many races, ethnicities, and cultures – my experiences in the classroom gave me the ability to see myself as my own defined Mestizo.

"For the Lovers"

2008-02-14T01:18:00.004-06:00

(written on 2/12/08)

A day for chocolates,
red roses, red wrapping,
and overflowing hearts

A day for opening mail
for those set apart
when only written words will do

A day for phone calls,
also for those apart
where miles separate the two

A day for hopes
for prayers, wishes,
and blessings

A day for renewals,
makeups filled with awe,
and memroable declarations

A day for "I do",
first kisses, honeymoons,
and years to come

A day for lovers,
reminiscent-lovers, future-lovers,
and for those like you and me,
lost in between the definitions of it all

A day for me
to wish upon you
a love-filled Valentine's Day

"Forever Never"

2007-10-25T15:51:00.001-05:00

(written on 10/25/07)

I thought I knew the things of life
The things that mattered dearly
I thought I had all I needed
Wrong I was you showed me clearly

I was caught by not a look
Nor by a turning head of wonder
I was caught instead by a heart
One that made mine fonder

Amazed I was by your care
And more even by your giving
Amazed again by your selflessness
Overflowing by your filling

With you my life contained
Feelings of new sensations
With you my life let go
My every day frustrations

Slowly did I learn
The heart of your desires
Slowly did I shun
My own I thought was larger

Taken completely by your hand
And the fingers of your heart
Taken wholly by surprise
Entirely we became one part

From then my life was ours
Intertwined at every detail
From then I changed my being
Your heart my soul entails

Even now words can't describe
The love you've poured on me
Even now my tounge can't speak
The being I've come to be

Take this love and words by heart
Forgive my faults and blunders
Take this poem and its truth
May it leave you with no wonders

Wholeheartedly have I written
And sincerely have I gave
Wholeheartedly my heart is yours
And yours I will forever save

Out of joy these words I write
And from my heart I dearly say
Embrace me with your love
And forever my days are made

Memories tend to fade
As do gifts come to pieces
But forever never lose
The love that leaves us speechless

"Life's Time"

2007-06-04T23:12:00.001-05:00

(written on 5/26/07)

When we look upon our past
we realize the many things
that have impacted us.

When we look upon the present
we feel the current experiences
placed upon us.

When we look upon the future
we wish for our hopes
to be wholly fulfilled.

And a friend is one
who has been, or will be,
in all those stages of life's time.

"Fresh, Familiar, Aged"

2007-06-04T23:11:00.001-05:00

(written on 5/24/07)

Fresh friends
help you move through a day,
they add moments of joy.

Familiar friends
are there for security
to aid you when in need.

But aged friends,
these are the ones
who share with you
an understanding of endless
love, support, and friendship.

"Not Given"

2007-06-04T23:09:00.001-05:00

(written on 5/23/07)

The soul and heart,
unlike the body,
cannot be torn by distance.
Friendship is not given,
nor is love and happiness,
these are earned with persistence.
As we go our ways,
the paths that lead to all
corners of the earth,
may we all keep forever
a part in each other's hearts
and give friendship
an entirely different meaning.

"A Friend Defined"

2007-06-04T23:07:00.001-05:00

(written on 5/23/07)

A teacher is someone
who has little to no
emotional connection
to his pupils.

A counselor is someone
who seeks to find
the troubles of patients
without finding the joys.

A friend is someone
who cares genuinely for another,
a person who raises
another to his highest ability.

A friend is you.

"Angels of Today"

2007-06-04T23:03:00.001-05:00

(written on 5/23/07)

Angels a year ago
meant white lights and soaring wings,
blonde figures with a sense of elegance
and peircing eyes of mystery.

Angels of today
is a girl dressed in normality
with a contrasting heart of extraordinary
and a life full of potential.

Angels of today
is a girl I've come to know
with a heart larger than any other.

An angel of today
is you.

"Fall And Ring"

2006-04-22T20:35:00.001-05:00

(written 4/4/06)

The church bells will ring,
and a part of each of us will fall.
Fall because of happiness,
because we have reached new heights.
Fall because of sadness,
because we haven't learned to let go.
Fall because we have realized,
realized that we are no longer kids.
Fall because we are proud,
proud that "we" still exists.
Fall because we have all loved,
loved the beauty that He has created.
And the church bells will fade,
but a part of each of us will ring,
ring for the unspeakable, the steadfast,
the undeniable, the unconsciousness, and the
splendor of Love.

"His Gallery Of Life"

2006-04-13T00:53:00.003-05:00

(written on 4/13/06 for 10th grade English project)

Throughout his life he took snapshots
to put in concrete and film the things of beauty
that he would find in life,
and his pictures soon came to define him,
and he soon began to approach his life with
a photographer’s view and a camera ready in his hand.

The two of them became part of his collection of pictures,
His own flesh and blood played their roles as extensions
from his own life,
And forever they stood by his side,
And forever they continued to share with him the many
worthy things in life that he may keep forever on film.

Each new airport that he arrived at,
And every new language that he learned to accept,
And all the different cultures that he encountered,
And the hour-long flights across the Earth’s oceans and seas,
And the historical landmarks each to its own ground,
And all the realizations that he was now standing
in a place where many have seen on postcards,
but would ultimately never visit or even fathom to see,
These new experiences of travel he also kept in his album.

But there was doubt that filled his thoughts,
and those doubts had the same effect as the
blood did that was dried and cloudy in his sight,
The incident had caused many complications,
And the entire process of going from expert
to expert was excruciating,
And the forever lasting checkups and questions,
And the blinding lights that were put to his eye,
And the silver, and bloody, and sharp tools
that would cut, and implant, and seal,
And the contrasting joy that was achieved from
the eye-opening and eye-closing experience,
Every lasting day in his chaos was documented with
the clicks from the opening and closing of a shutter.

From childhood they were made part of him,
And through the ages they became parts in him,
And by their bond they all shared an
unbreakable, an undeniable, and a lasting amity
that would weaken, or maybe strengthen,
the day each of them would
become bonded with another in matrimony,
But until that day arrives, their bond
will live on its own unconsciously,
And their love for each other will do the same,
And they will all create memories with each other
and put it all together in their scrapbook of memory.

She had found a way to his heart,
And she forever lived in him whether either of them
wanted it to be so or not,
He was never exactly sure of the things which
Drew him to her, maybe it was her look,
And the way she would make him feel a part of her,
And the long phone calls from sunset to sunrise,
And the fact that many associated
her with him and him with her,
But that haven never lasted forever for him,
For days came when they would not see each other,
Days when the two of them refused to talk,
And days when their connection that they once had
began to atrophy into a mound of bitter ashes,
And he couldn’t help but to take his camera
in his hand and make permanent the emotions which he felt.

He had a relationship that would forever change his life,
It consisted of humility, and respect, and it fluctuated
as do the colors of the sky on a dying day,
Yet, this relationship continued to thrive and
it was hindered by temptation, and apathy, and it
had many highs and lows just as the course
of emotions throughout a day has,
It was still worth a spot on the film
where it would forever be and forever continue
to flourish because God’s love is everlasting
as are the seasons of the Earth no matter
the troubles of life.

As he grew older, he became attracted to the simple
and beautiful things that he saw in life,
Like the numerous shapes of clouds in the sky,
And the way they moved so slowly that was unnoticeable,
And how they were amorphously familiar,
The beauty which came with notes from a guitar
also caught his attention and the way
he could make tunes on his own,
The sunsets and sunrises were worth waking up for
and worth staying up for,
And the way they peeked over the horizon
ever so slowly and discreetly, like afraid to be seen,
And how watching them would create its own time
in our world, because minutes would fly like seconds,
and the seconds would blink themselves away into
the future, into the realm of time, if it ever did exist,
He cut his apples in a way so that the unseen seed star
was able to be appreciated and loved as are the
stars in the sky, except now he had a star in his green apple,
and that made life much more beautiful than it seemed,
and that made life much more accepting,
And these aesthetic aspects made his life
a simple extravagant collage of photographs.

The brother and sister,
And their lasting presence for memories,
The happiness of travel,
And its new sights and heights that it had to offer,
The traumatic experience,
And its hidden and mysterious didactic nature,
The childhood friends,
And their huddle that would forever be,
The girl that he loved,
And will continue to love unconditionally,
The higher being,
And the death that would be his living breath,
The minute splendors,
And their ability to capture his heart,
All these things he found drawn to,
And all these things are collected in his gallery of life,
And it is added to each and every day
according to his current emotion which flows
like the raindrop that flows down the lens of his camera
on the rainy day that called out for a portrait.

"Watching The Minute Hand"

2006-03-26T23:26:00.003-06:00

(written on 3/26/06)

(Written for baptism testimony)

It’s easy to describe my life without Christ even though I was born into the Christian home. Having been placed in that situation, I am still a sinner like the rest, I make mistakes like the rest, I argue with my parents like the rest, I disobey like the rest, and I doubt like the rest – except I know that forever I am saved, and that makes all the difference. I say that it’s easy to describe my life without Christ because from time-to-time I still live that life. There are days when thoughts of God slip my mind completely, days when I’ll overreact over something mundane, and days when I doubt my faith to a point of apathy – except I know that forever I am saved, and that makes all the difference.

Tomorrow would be Easter and I was seven years old. It was a sunny Saturday afternoon and I had just gotten home after a bike ride around the neighborhood. I took a seat on my driveway and leaned against the garage door. Then I started to notice the cloud’s shadows on the pavement, and I tried to make something of the shapes. The thoughts about clouds soon changed to thoughts about the skies, then the universe, then the location of Heaven. “Where is heaven? What’s it like? Is there food? What is heaven?” The last question stayed with me for awhile, all I knew was that I was to go there … supposedly. At that point I was quite confused with my religious standing; I had been attending church for the past few years, I had prayed on the nights I remembered, and I had accepted Christ one random day at church. But all that didn’t matter anymore, because I was at a point where I had to accept Christ without a parent by my side, leading me through a prayer that I barely understood. And so I did. A few days later, I was back living my life like that afternoon on my driveway had never happened. So I accepted Christ again, and again, and again, hoping that maybe each time I would feel the change. But we all know the things we want, especially change, are never immediate. So after the 3rd or 4th time of accepting Christ, I stopped because I knew change was not going to be the next day, I knew that change would come in its own time.

Change has come, but I don’t know when it arrived. It came gradually, sometimes so slowly that I couldn’t even see the change; it was like watching the minute hand of a clock move. I don’t think change is what I feel, because I don’t have a past to compare the present to, being that the change came so covertly. What I experience is simply a greater understanding of Christ, an understanding of the beauty that comes with accepting Christ. Being a believer requires a certain degree of asceticism, what I mean by this is that by being a Christian, I must accept that my current dilemma, my present being, and my occurring life is not really an issue at all. I have to accept that God is greater than me, that God is my guide, and that I am merely a tool. It sounds harsh, but the cost of following Jesus is a ruthless one – yet beautiful at the same time. “Foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head.” Whenever the subject of being baptized comes up, I always have a mindset that I’m not ready. But if I wait until I’m ready, then I’ll never get baptized because all my life I will continue to doubt and sin. The splendor of it all is that even though I will continue to make mistakes like the rest, I am given the gift, the pure pleasure, of repentance. Because of repentance, I am able to put my sin upon Christ so that He may take them away and leave me clean so that I may worship Him without hindrance. When I feel burdened, I can feel it physically, so I know that feelings have a direct affect on my soul. So when I ask God to take away my sins, I can physically feel the pain being lifted. The soul is a mysterious thing, it is intangible, but yet I can feel its senses when it is touched.

"Up So High"

2006-02-02T22:47:00.001-06:00

(written on 2/2/06)

Maybe the stars watch us too.
Or maybe they're scared,
scared of the lights,
afraid that crowds might gaze upon them.
No wonder they hate the cities.
Have you noticed,
they only put on shows when few are watching
like they don't like being praised.
Flattery isn't their style,
no, not at all.
They would very much like to sit and glimmer
then move along with the flow of the universe.
Because they have no worries or arguments,
they simply glow.

Maybe they were created
for us, so that we may see them
in our most solitude of times.
Up so high, to keep close but not touching
because we're people and they're stars,
we weren't meant to be one.
And so for ever will they stay,
high above us at night,
watching us live our lives
and die doing it.

How wise the stars are,
to know beyond themselves.
If only we were also made to live
the life of light in darkness,
and to watch others run around
so frantically with no finishline.
But no, that's not our destiny.
The stars are there to watch,
and we are here to perform.
A show that has no plot,
no script or set characters.
How spontaneous this act
can be, maybe that's why the stars
love to watch us.

And the day that we know beyond ourselves
is the day that we might
join the stars, sitting up so high,
and just shine.

"Julius Caesar"

2006-01-18T18:51:00.002-06:00

(written on 11/24/04)

(Written for 10th grade English class project)

Prologue
For they are words on paper,
meant to be replayed in all ages.
Words on the tip of tongues
released in all worldly phases.
For they are the language
manipulated in any form,
every time replayed
a new version is born.
One hundred times over
have the lines been recast.
Now this, the hundred first,
yet definitely not the last.

Act 1
Fickleness, having no ability to restrain.
The people needed someone to praise
and next in line was Julius Caesar.
With a hidden tyranny, destruction also came.

With kind words and a humble heart,
Cassius approaches Brutus with terms of praise.
Words of comparison between Caesar and Brutus
along with criticism and all other ways,
in the intent to sway Brutus
to the side of conspiracy,
to spill the blood of Caesar
with the look and purpose of intimacy.
But which was not the truth,
for the senators wanted to hide
the true purpose of the murder,
so their reason consisted of a lie.

Unheard to the ear and unseen to the eye,
strange sights around the city.
Casca faces Cicero with thoughts,
puzzled by the chaos an filled with insecurity.
With blackness and streaks of white,
they filled the sky on that very evening.
A sense of anger from the Gods,
a wrath of Rome was beginning.
In aid for Brutus to accept the invitation,
Cinna writes in other identities
hoping to reveal support of people
while relying on Brutus' credulity.

Act 2
Filled with confusion and ambivalence,
Brutus is at war inside his heart,
torn between two forces:
either to love or to part.
For the notes arrive
from many identities,
and Brutus rethinks
all the different possibilities.
Yet when the murderers arrive,
hoping to add a name,
Brutus finally joins,
now the head of the game.

Images of the people of Rome,
washing their hands in the red of Caesar.
A terrible sight in the eyes of his wife,
Caesar refuses to look any weaker.
The murderers all arrive
in masks to hide their plans,
they are Caesar's "friends" indeed,
yet he will die at their bloody hands.

Act 3
The senators kneel before Caesar,
not because of love; but for an opening.
For Casca sinks his sword in first,
Caesar's first screams of moaning.
But the last stab is not from metal,
rather of betrayal and confusion.
For the face of Brutus is over his body
as Caesar ragingly enters a dark reclusion.
Antony and Brutus quickly converse,
make terms for speeches to the people.
Antony agrees to Brutus' words,
Brutus' decision to go first is feeble.

Antony had agreed to the terms,
yet he bends them to his own favors
turning fury hearts against the murderers.
Now the power of Rome wavers,
fury once again breaks out,
hatred for conspirators and all related.
Slaughtering all around Rome,
for now the disgust is elated.

Act 4
The same sides fight,
between Brutus and Cassius both.
As a civil war between the two,
anger arises to the most.
For Cassius threatens to take away
himself and his life.
Brutus calms himself down
and releases the strife.
Now both in preparation for battle
against Antony and Octavius,
for the winner claims all of Rome.
While the people are all furious,
both sides hope to conquer.
Antony and Octavius for revenge,
and for Brutus and Cassius,
a justified murder that none can comprehend.
As Brutus is fast awake,
Caesar approaches as an apparition.
For he will see Brutus at Philippi,
words and sights of apprehension.

Act 5
Four of Rome's greatest
all stand together on a field,
facing one another,
having no intention to yield.
Insults go back in forth
just before a massive battle,
a battle that will shake Rome
and make its statues rattle.
For the next hundreds of deaths
would determine the winner.
Who will take Rome and rule
into the present and the future?
Cassius and Brutus say words of ends
before entering the gruesome fight,
little do they know
that it will be their last sight.

Dagger after dagger,
spear after spear,
they plunge into flesh
and watch their opponent's fear.
As Cassius hears news
that his friend is captured,
he misunderstands the information
and ignorantly runs into his dagger.
As the conspirators fall and fall,
Brutus seems to be alone,
for he knows his defeat
and he dreads to return to Rome.
Antony approaches the noble body,
for Brutus was one with true intentions,
yet the murder of Caesar
still has no possible redemption.

And because Brutus was great,
Octavius decides on his part
to honor Brutus
and bury him with the heart.
The heart of Rome
and Caesar's great fall,
for Brutus was a man
and the noblest Roman of all.

Epilogue
The great words of man will forever repeat
in mocking and in reality.
And the mistakes of the world will continue,
because fear arises along with ambiguity.
For as long as man shall exist
faults in them are impossible to resist.

"So Let It Be"

2006-01-05T17:46:00.001-06:00

(written on 10/13/05)

Neither of them could remember the day they met, the words they spoke, nor the impressions they had of each other. They just were. And from that moment, whenever it had taken place, they had an attraction to one another. No one was able to explain the pull between the two, neither could the two friends. One would try to analyze it, and in the process he would lose himself and then dismiss it. For the other, he was not quite sure what she felt. But no matter, maybe after all it was never meant to be uncovered and naked. So he let it be.

For one, there were no words to be spoken, no poems to be written, and no songs to be sung to get his point out to the other. He was so convicted of the amity that they held; but at times he was also confused with their relationship. He would again try to analyze, figure out, and pinpoint exactly what the two of them had -- but it couldn't be done. He would repeatedly tell her by written words that he loved her, cared for her, and felt for her...but rarely would he truly show it. He knew not why, which left another question to be answered. And so there he was, content and confused in the relationship -- but of course, being human, he always wanted a little more. He just didn't know what of, nor did he know her thoughts. So he let it be.

As time went by, their connection changed in ways that both knew not of. Both could not recall when it started to fluctuate, in the same way how neither of them could remember the day they met. But maybe all relationships were like that, he for one didn't know the answer. So he let it be.

So now he's here -- I'm here, writing out yet another group of thoughts that have been stuck in my mind. These thoughts have been wandering for months, maybe even years, I really don't know. As I've said before, there are things that I can't get out to you, and these things I can't say in words. The best I can do is to write what I know and what I feel. But in the process my words get "lost in translation", going from the thoughts in my head to words on a paper -- which to me are two very different languages. No matter, I'll let it be.

One thing I do know for sure, even though it may be difficult for me to say, is that I can feel that I love you. Maybe after all "love" isn't meant to be said or spoken in words. But maybe for some it is, who knows? Maybe love "just is", for instance it's hard for me to define a friendship. I never know when it really began, how it started, why it started, and what drew me towards that certain person -- it just was. So in the same way, I know there's a love inside me that reaches out to you. I can't explain it, and I probably never will; but then again, maybe it's not meant to be known.

So let us be.

"Beautiful"

2006-01-05T17:45:00.001-06:00

(written on 9/11/05)

The girl was beautiful because she put her dear heart into the most precious of things. She knew the importance of life, devotion, and relationships, which she kept hand-in-hand all her life. She paid attention not to the ephemeral objects, but to the everlasting. Her compassion yearned to serve the all-knowing, her kindness sought to hug the most deserted, and her love rushed to kiss the most glamorous of treasures.

The girl was pretty in appearance, but even more stunning were her actions. A look from her would make your pride melt away, and then she would reach inside you and make the most beautiful rose blossom. Her beauty and grace were oases for the soul's desert, and you would never quench for a droplet of anything less than perfect.

The girl was gorgeous, so soothing to the heart's eyes; she had a scent so captivating that would make your senses weak and weary. She had a look of serenity on her face, a look that would pull you away and set your feet upon the clouds. That same look would stop the tears of a crying infant, and the child would sit, mouth-wide, lost in the frozen moment of time not knowing what his eyes had lain upon.

The girl was more than just beautiful, more than just precious, and more than just gorgeous; the girl was blessed with the gift of Love. And this Love gave her discernment and it took away her ignorance. For she knew and cherished the things that her heart took attraction to, the things that had true worth, and with wisdom and Love she knew how to make life much more than just Beautiful.

"Sweet Apathy"

2005-11-05T13:55:00.001-06:00

(written on 11/5/05)

So what's this issue that
brings tears to our eyes?
This group that hates
the other's words.
This camaraderie that screams
with pain and hatred.
How futile have we made it?
So many issues to solve
Impossible, impossible.
Like a nation under a
Godly ignorant King.
The irony in love is
we all feel it, but it's only a word,
at least on our tongues.
This feels broken, but I'm
not even at the edge of falling..

Maybe sleep with solve all this.
With time on our side,
impossible? What's impossible?
But we only white it out,
no eraser marks here.
Comparison kills; deadly.
Each to his own self,
and each a beautiful thing.
Acceptance and silence--
Is altogether a different language.
How the emotions take hold,
I'll never understand.
Clouds replace the sun
as do feelings to the mind..

How sweet sweet apathy can be,
the wisdom in silence and
self-thought and assessment.
And woe to the sinful irony of family.

"Testing Gold With Fire"

2005-08-27T16:25:00.001-05:00

(written on 8/27/05)

I bruised my knees and my chest
talked to space and saw no light
Sweaty palms and knuckles burning
fading purple like a fight

The madness of my words and actions
the hypocrisy that I was murmuring
Smite me now and it will end
kill me from my squirming

The illusory people that have died
at my hands, my bloody hands
I washed them clean, but stays
the wretched scar of evil's brand

Break me down and crush me
rebuild and make me perfect
Shape me by your hands
a man that's truly worth it

Hear my faint whispers
and the prayers of my soul
Unworthy am I to speak and ask
worthiness is my goal

This place I've kneeled before
last time with the same desire
Test my heart and rip it
like testing gold with fire

May my words become to ashes
my wants melt to substance
Take away my lofty wishes
barren in your presence

Don't put upon this lightly
armor yourself in layers
Cover your eyes with holiness
the power that comes with prayers

I'll bleed and sore for days
but healing will come quickly
Stronger will my stance become
because You have rebuilt me

"Our True Sins"

2005-05-28T01:33:00.001-05:00

(written on 5/28/05)

And so I write,
as a Christian
and as a hypocrite.
To the wonders of my mind,
the palaces of my imagination,
to the realities of the world,
and to the urges of my flesh.
I am merely one out of many
who all hold the very same feelings
of hate, love, and wonder.
And so we all write,
whether on paper or in our heads
to the dreams of our souls,
the pull on our bodies,
and the temptations of our hearts.
Truth is what we seek
which many will never find,
love is what we have
and it is what we have destroyed,
imagination and wonder
is all that we live
in our cells of this world.
And only our flesh
mindlessly searches
for rotten treasure,
dreams, hopes, and success.
While in our deep, deep
trenches of our hearts
do we sit, motionless.
Only thinking about
the diamonds that we
will someday get up and find.
And even deeper, darker
in our souls do we reveal
our true sins of laziness and apathy.

"Masterpiece"

2005-05-09T20:48:00.001-05:00

(written on 5/8/05)

The Genius at work
his greatest masterpiece
has been proven to be
disastrous at the least

A beautiful object
made of the finest materials
all to be shattered
into millions of particles

The Potter's greatest sculpture
has been chiseled down to grains
then burnt to ashes
to destroy the left remains

There are only few
of the countless numbers
who share the Artist's burden
and millions of wonderers

They have rebelled and spoken
the flesh has taken over them
their souls and habits
altogether robbed and stolen

Weep, weep, weep
for the broken unity
shed your tears
for the burdened community

We are the stolen masterpiece
the shattered sculpture
the burnt canvas
and the Artist's lover

"Only Prayer"

2005-04-19T16:22:00.001-05:00

(written on 4/17/05)

I can only pray
that your faith may be cured
by a deep motivation from a source
holy, just, and immaculately pure

I shut my eyes
murmuring sweet phrases
so that He may see and act
upon your different spiritual phases

I lower my own head
in shame and sorrow
as I hope and wish
for the good to come tomorrow

I weep, tear by tear
falling into the palm of my hands
as I call out for his mercy
for your life by which I firmly stand

I can now only pray
that you see hope through my words
and take my hand, because your laughter
is a beautiful thing to be heard

"Everlasting Eternal"

2005-04-19T16:21:00.001-05:00

(written on 11/1/04)

Slowly drifting away, passing you by
Gliding away, with one closed eye
The farther, the harder it pounds
Leaving enough, for on more round
Years, that have seemed like eternity
To come to this, apathetic amity
Perfect and ideal, to the ignorant soul
That sees, only part of the whole
Truth is hidden, in what I call the past
Constant love, which must last
Searching for it, prying through a wall
No eyes to see, the endless hall
Of darkness, with hints of love
From present, into the past far above
Falling short of grasp, no place to hold
Futile, while determination folds
Stitched up, once hitting rock bottom
Now closed, the soul begins to rotten
Hours of staring into nothing, now habitual
One day, liberation from this everlasting eternal.

"Strolling Along"

2005-04-19T16:19:00.005-05:00

(written on 5/28/04)

The old and young,
yearn for the same feeling.
To hold dear in there hearts,
the blithe and the ecstasy.
All within the one word that,
only humans may contain.

It is known to be refreshing,
like heaven itself.
and at times,
it is possible that you've
quietly stepped onto a cloud.
yet the white will not cradle you forever.
weakness of the puff,
falling down with tremendous
speed and exhilaration.
all the way through,
until you reach the end.

numbness overcomes you,
your soul and body altogether.
at once, in an instant.
you're heart is paralyzed.
Slowly the hand of above,
lifts you up,
and restores your inside.
So that you might,
as once again,
keep strolling along,
contently on the sidewalk,
of love.

"Yours Truly"

2005-04-19T16:19:00.004-05:00

(written on 7/10/04)

As I talk, and as I see,
I remember the moments,
and the one where we were not meant to be.
Makes me think, makes me write,
about everything and nothing,
now gone with all the hype.
What were we sincerely?
Steady or not?
Was it really, "Yours Truly"?
Was it love? Or just infatuation?
Based on appearance,
as in an outward sensation.
Was it lust? Or was it love?
Was it set focused,
on the world or on the one above?
What went wrong in this "love" we had?
Just an accident?
Or was I really that bad?
Through the relationship, many things I lost.
Stripped away along with "love",
a piece of my heart was the biggest cost.
And so it goes on,
time after time,
I think right, but ends up wrong.
Until I finally come to,
that one true love.
But what's left after all I've been through?
Nothing more than a half filled heart,
due to my passed infatuations,
the biggest mistake on my part.

"Impossible to Resist"

2005-04-19T16:19:00.003-05:00

(written on 11/26/04)

The great words of man will forever repeat,
In mocking and in reality.
And the mistakes of the world will continue,
Because fear rises along with ambiguity.
For as long as man shall exist,
Faults in them are impossible to resist.

"Little Do You Know"

2005-04-19T16:18:00.001-05:00

(written on 9/16/04)

You’re on the other side,
Looking at a panel
Just as I am
Little you know
That I cry for you
For the words that leave you
And for the words that enter
The honesty builds up in me
But they are not of any help to you
For you interpret them wrongly
And accuse me of hating you
Your life is tough
As we all know
I sincerely try to calm you
But you beat at me with sarcasm
My way is direct
And you take it wrongly
Thinking that I am biased
Out to get you and to anger you
Little do you know
That I am on my knees when it’s dark
Talking to space based on faith
Begging for your contentment
My tears run for you
Yet little do you know
That the imaginary nails
That you pound into me
Hurt me deeply
Because you are one
Of which I love
Yet you do not believe me
And you hate me for it
I cannot stop trying
Nor do I want to
Because you are one
That I cannot stop
Loving sincerely
So little that you will know..

"Destruction Inevitable"

2005-04-19T16:17:00.001-05:00

(written on 1/16/05)

Our conscience is weak, because our amity is inconsistent.
Our ambivalence is darkness, distance from the shining.
Our paths are crooked, morals atrophied.
Our worldly-personalities, are not infallible.
Our human faults, sadly interminable.
Our lives are kingdoms, destructions inevitable.
Our God in shame, for actions of our flesh.
Our emotional attacks, common to each.
Our Lord weeps in Heaven, as we live each hour.
Our Jesus that sacrificed, must replay the cross,
For we all have sinned, but none have rotten,
Because he has paid the final cost.

"A Gift"

2005-04-19T16:15:00.001-05:00

(written on 7/13/04)

Its description can be very vague,
has it ever been truly explained?
The definition comes from what is being potrayed.
But all these things our eyes see,
is of the world and of ourselves,
so what is the true meaning to be?

It is the action of doing,
no hesitation from the heart.
It is containing the fervor inside,
not letting it and your soul part.

It is for the better of yourself,
not testing the limits of your conscience.
It is serving the other with humility,
not selfishness but under abeyance.

It is yielding to your other,
even when your insides say otherwise.
It is being submissive over everything,
the ability of endless compromise.

It is being shrewd about the most minute aspects,
no matter how insignificant or minor.
It is leadership and protection,
not hiding pusillanimously behind her.

It if focused on one thing only,
the one above, present, inside...the trinity.
It is keeping knowledge of ascendancy,
and guiding both as one through eternity.

It is a pact to one another,
a commitment of one.
It is a whole-hearted hand shake,
not meant for experiments satisfying fun.

It is a gift that He has given,
one that two may experience.
It is very subtle,
grasped with complete reverence.

It is created by a relationship,
shown through actions and words.
It is so very precious,
that it can never be heard.

It is real to the core,
something that is not fake,
that is not failing or pretend.
Love is the disinclination of turning to worldly desires,
in order to save it all,
for your other waiting somewhere on the other end.

"This Unpredictable Journey"

2005-03-26T00:04:00.001-06:00

(written on 3/20/05)

A steady beat throughout the night
there is no tune and pitch to reach
as I close my eyes and body softly
my mind and soul accompany to each

And so I pack for this unpredictable journey
praying that this time I arrive at paradise
not knowing the horrors that my own head holds
I cannot grant my thoughts a compromise

My fingers are crossed and my eyes shut
chanting to myself words of encouragement
I've brought no physical things along with me
except for my soul without a replacement

I land in the middle of darkness
with only one lamp on the street of which I stand
casting a dead red light upon my body
my own shadow grabbing at my soul into the black sand

I cry out into reality
and I stand upright with my eyes open
I still hear the smooth constant rhythm of beating
I shut down again for the paradise I'm hoping

I am now being raised without effort
driven by my heart to places none have seen
for I am not alive nor dead, I am reborn
my fingers un-cross for now my slate is clean

My own state I cannot comprehend
whether I am stunned, maybe relaxed
my soul then whispers to me softly
"your paradise you have finally surpassed"

"Crimson Blood"

2005-03-20T00:24:00.001-06:00

(written on 3/20/05)

A cover slip of crimson blood
to cover light so that the world was not visible
in the dark sphere of fear came doubt
tears shed for the curtain of blood to clear

Liberty and sight at last!
a scope of beauty with every turn of the head
a new view with each second now cherished
seconds of sight, never to be taken and soon forgotten

It was a miracle from the good book's inspiration
a new heart had been uncovered
laid out to receive the shores of requests
a new tide had come as the world was seen again

As all good slips from the firm grip
so did the good of the soul
taken back captive into sin's world
then hope was again covered with a crimson blood

Once again tears are falling
into a puddle of gathered worries
mixed with the soul's crimson blood
where there is no evaporation in Hades

But once entering the realm of truth
all evil is erased by a flashflood
the damage is dried and taken up
by His very own crimson blood

"Miles Behind"

2005-01-11T18:15:00.002-06:00

(written on 7/10/05)

my words mean nothing at all
ineffective in holy presence
before you, the giver
expecting actions for response
which is why i have fallen so far

at birth you had set me a foot apart
drifted then to a yard, mile,
now beyond your focal point
to such a dark place where i cannot,
nor do i realize, i do not see
the only thing that exists
how blind my heart has become
crippled with selfishness and laziness
the hell that i am in has become my kingdom
my idol is life itself, which you have given

how much longer shall i remain
in the devil's grasp
acting as a scapegoat for evil
i am falling so short
countless miles behind you
i do not see, i cannot see,
but deep in the miles within me
i want out of this life
which i have made my kingdom
and finally, full-heartedly,
as never before... enter Yours.