Just Another Scenic Battle

So another battle year passes, another 12 months, another 52 weeks, another 366 days, another 8784 hours, another 527040 minutes.

And in the last few moments of that scenic battle we call 2008, I realized a few things;
Angels' halos don't float on top of their heads, they dangle from their foreheads, covering their eyes, making them blind. That their hearts are made of strands of paper with song titles written on them to provide emotions, all intertwined to shape a heart.That they wear their hearts like necklaces for there is no need to protect them. That some people are angels who lost their wings, breaking through the heavens, and that they are extremely attracted to whatever is beautiful, treasuring it since they've been blind. That their hearts, softer and easier torn than others, being made of paper, and ink. That these angels who've fallen sometimes want to go back to where it is they belong. That assurance is quite tangled up with closure. That the words I've spent a lot of time on trying to weave in to the stories I've conceived are treasured by the audience.

That the sunrise is quite slow, but nevertheless worth the wait.
And at its peak of beauty, the rays never are more orange.


Quite a few things to ponder upon for the new fight;
For the angels who've lost their wings and their halos; Are the people that you've found worth the vulnerability?
For all the others; Do you treasure the angels that stay for you?

Which do you like best, the sunset or the sunrise?
How fast do you want time to go?
Will you ever be at a loss for words?
Will you treasure what there is, before it's gone?


Yesterday, for the first time, I found myself with nothing to say, at a hopeless loss for words.
I felt miserably bland, having nothing to say, to think about, a loss of personality would be a good way to describe it.

But all that happened after reminiscing all the things that've happened for that battle. All the people, all the memories they've provided me with for the next battles. For all their words that've kept me overflowing with more words. For their feelings that've helped me live a little bit more than others. For their ears which were never deaf. For their eyes which've always read what I've written. For their hearts that've beated a little faster everytime there were thoughts they've pondered on, everytime there were songs they could sing along to, every time there were words and stories conceived to help them see a little bit clearer.

"Take a second, take a second and make this last, here where the future meets the past."
All the Memories by The Classic Crime

Wordplay that good, comes around not as often as it did before.



In this battle, I'm still looking for what is rare,

I never did open my eyes that wide,

I never got used to the thought of losing my golden blindfolds.

I never did find my wings.

Despite that, I still try.

Yeah, these angels love their checkered shoes, as well as their slim fit tee's
But today's beauty wasn't only in orange, there are other colors.
Keep in mind that orange still tops them all.
These angels aren't like Hancock with all the twists and turns and destruction involved, the only destruction they create are theirs.
They last a lot of battles and heal a lot of wounds, not in the way you'd naturally perceive though.
They cannot fly. For the reason that I'll tell you once again, that they've lost their wings.
They're cool as they've gone past the harp and broken into guitars and mics.
They even do punk to acoustic, oh how versatile they've grown!
They like to play a lot, yup they do.
If beauty is in the eyes of the beholder, what happens if the beholder is blind?

I've always wanted to sound like the Little Prince, or write in the manner his book was written,
Oh so please do try to read between my lines, as they may contain what I pertain to as wordplay which does not come around as often as it used to.


And at a loss of words, I may've been bland for a while,
But once they came back, I was once again, filled to the brim.

"Sunsets never were so bright, and the sky never so blue."

Let's see how far we've come

A year-ending post.

Hello hello.

And that song title was so moving,
They made a song just as strong.

"Say your goodbye's if you've got someone you can say goodbye to."




The summation of all the memories is overwhelming, moving perhaps? Tears? Sighs? At the very least, Silence is my reaction.

And I can't write as the song goes, can't help but go along.
It all just fits in too perfectly; words, the beat, the melody, the song, the Life, The Memories.

Three Cheers for Five Years, hang on to the people you've got, we'll make it through.
From Sunset to Sunrise we'll be there together.
12:34 to 11:11 , keep the memories coming.
Forever hearts keep colliding, forever collecting scrapes, forever getting stronger.
And every year, we'll keep getting better and better
If you've gotten into a rut, We'll pull you up.
Never will we have more heart than today. And the next Today, and the next.





And in the end, it was only a song.
Well, many songs.


How many songs have you lived?
Maybe that's one of the questions God will ask.

Perhaps , it be best we make our songs.
Adding those to the list, forever instilling the memories we had.


Smile.

Darling read my lips

We're going down like sinking ships.

Lust be a Lady - A Kidnap in Color




It's been a long time since I've written.
Words have been getting rusty, collecting dust on the side of my mind.

Truth be told, I didn't quite feel the Christmas spirit. It was more of a normal week, except that there were no classes. So simple, quiet, too bland.



Slowly, the writer's blending in with the part of me that I show. Slowly, losing his words and thoughts, becoming ridiculously normal. Honestly, it feels a little lighter, as though it is easier living this way, being care-free and playing everything by ear. But I don't wanna lose my words just yet.

A few days back, I recall texting with a friend, we were talking about what we wished we never could sing to each other, lines like "And I never told you everything, I'm losing hope and fading dreams, and every single memory along the way.." But the catch was that it'd be okay if we sang together, "And we'd both go , down together, we'd stay forever , just try to get up."

But there's another thing I overlooked at the moment, the song continues and says "And I'm sorry but this wasn't easy, when I asked you believe me and never let go, but I let go." The Chorus ends there my dear, I hope we don't end up singing that.

The writer who is slowly losing his words, borrows them, for hope he finds his.
So if you're the kind of person who genuinely cares, not the one who'll simply stay awhile and then fade away, you might be the person who'd sing songs like She Says - Howie Day . Three Cheers for all the failing hearts who need to get plastered up and bandaged, Three Cheers for Five more Years to the people who've helped clean you up and brought you back on your feet over again and over again.

December moved up so quickly. It's like a roll of film that got forwarded, now there's only a little bit left, a little bit left to capture a little more memories of what little bit left of me there is.

I suck at transitions like whoa.

Imagine yourself spiralling down , with words in black text, move together to form the best quotes you'll ever see. Of course, the background is white and they're spiralling down with you, the quotes. Do you think you'd have lived a little bit better if you've encountered them a little bit earlier? Perhaps, but some of the best things ever said, have been heard by many , "Love your neighbor as you love yourself" , "You are what you do repeatedly, therefore excellence is not an act, it's a habit" , "Be kind, every person you meet is fighting a battle"

Forgive the quick changes in ideas, I'm cramming.

Here's some math,
A picture, they say, is worth a thousand words,
A moment, an embrace, worth thousands of words.
But what if you cannot paint, nor embrace? Will your thousands of words do?
Lucky are the artists, for they can capture the scene.
Lucky are the living, they keep the words coming.
Sad is the writer, who only tries to catch up with them.

I'm millions of words behind, but this helps catch up.

Beautiful is still orange.

Are your thousands , millions of words meaningful? Captivating?
For a writer, he chose his, so he's sure they are.

Fading out has never been so complicated, with the pacing so complicated and all. haha

For New Year's eve, I wanna rock out singing All the Memories - The Classic Crime.
"Here where the future meets the past.."

I'm Quiet.

Perhaps, you find yourself laughing at that statement.
Those who know me , will most likely disagree with my title.

I appear to be happy, talkative, even hyper.
But from time to time, I slip up, whispering things that aren't expected from the mouth of a person like "me."

So, I thought about it.
And here's what's up.

I've let myself be puppetted by people, with their thoughts and words, becoming a stranger to myself. And looking at the mirror, making faces and thinking, "Who are you, how are you significant in my life?" No answer comes. Sometimes, I guess, when you wear to many masks, it might come to a point that you forget how your face looks like and when you take your face off, you won't know it until it hurts.

Let this post be somewhat of a "Self-searching process."

I don't know why but, I've been trying to avoid using "I, Me , or Myself"
Trying to seem less-conceited.

But, forget that for a while.

I am quiet, mainly because it lets me be silent.
And I'll tell you, when you speak, you can hear others, but when you are silent, you'll be able to listen.

I am quiet, because I am not open to all people, afraid that I might surprise them with "Who" I am.

I am quiet, because with masks on, my voice is muffled.

I am quiet, simply because I've been puppetted to be.


When you look at the mirror, it's you who says what you are, what you aren't, what you can, and what you can't.

The catch is, that with your choices come the consequences.
Sure you can be great, sure you'll be able to speak your mind, but at the cost of losing some people.

This is what troubles me,
My pride says go.
My trying-to-please heart says no.

So what does a boy,
With nothing more than words, do?
What does a boy,
Who can't use his words, say?
What does a boy,
Torn between his thoughts, his realities, what he sees, what is, what he dreams, do?

He can try and blend them all in together.
But at the cost of the inhabitants of his realities.
He can try to stay with his dreams,
At the cost of fading away from reality and its audience.
He can stay with what "is",
At the cost of trading his dreams.

Weighing it,
the scales never stop changing.
For the weight of my dreams, can vary from "bearable" to "I have to share it with you."
For the weight of reality can vary from "The audience" to "My audience being you, and you alone."

You see, if you'd let me,
You can be my everyone.
That's the story of this world's treasures.
Anything can be your everything,
also anyone can be your everyone.

Save me.

I've had Enough Sunsets

Sunsets,
You can't deny it, they are beautiful.
The slow fall of the sun, and the last hints of the mixtures of red and yellow in the sky.
They mark the end of the day.
They are used in songs to try and be able to compare a certain person's captivating power to a sunset's grandeur.

Sunsets and Car Crashes by The Spill Canvas
"And in case you were wondering,
You are like a sunset to me,
You're all kinds of beatiful as you'd end my day,
And you'll sweetly retire as the stars chase you away."

And the sunsets were always orange.
And the stars that chased you, always blue.

But, after a sunset, we overlook the beauty.
We talk of stars late at night and how they seem to shimmer against the black veil of night.
We talk of the cold, cold moon.

But we haven't talked of the empty skies.
We haven't talked about the rising of the moon.
We haven't talked about stars slowly being visible.

So now, I will try to compare you to the night.
As the warm and tiring day ends, you help me rest.
As the sun that gives light fades, you shine assuring me I'm safe.
And I could go on and on and on but what I really want to say is;

"Thank you for you without you, it would be impossible for me to see beauty.
For without you, nothing would shine as bright,
For without you, tomorrow wouldn't mean as much as it does.
Without you, dreaming is pointless."

Together, let's transcend what they see.
And be beautiful in things they can't see or even imagine.
How grand that would be.

And so that's all for the empty sky.

I forget to mention,
11:11P.M.
Keep wishing.
It'll give you a reason to see if tomorrow, your wish loves you too.

Tomorrow,
we go for wishes.

But tonight,
I'll pray we meet in my dreams.

This Will be my Great Escape

A way to exhaust ideas and thoughts, as to be able to smile in front of you.
Well, I want to know if there are tons of people who "vent" like me here in blogspot.
Sadly, I don't know how to look for those blogs.
So as of now, I am

| i s o l a t e d |

Scary.

Great Escape?
It has been overused, and half-meant.
"Throw it away, forget yesterday.."
That line seems to grasp what I want.
But not fully.

The best escapes you can get are in your dreams,
but sadly, I haven't had a dream that ended with me waking up smiling since october.
Pretty much, my recent dreams are more visions of reality, distorted to break my hope.
But as I wake up and see the sunrise, hope is healed, as I am still breathing, and what I will face, I have brought upon myself, therefore , I must have summed up the strength to overcome it.

So my great escape is in lyrical lines and hidden melodies of torn , broken, or fast-beating hearts.
These are the hearts that tend to be artistic and very passionate, very honest, very interesting.
They bring out the songs that I would love to hear.

"You be the Anchor that Keeps my Feet on Ground and I'll be the Heart that Keeps your Heart in the Clouds"
"You and I Both"
"Where the Wild Things Are"
"We Could Love"
"Not A Moment to Waste"
"Sun"
"So Much Love"
"Risque"
"Sunsets and Car Crashes"
"Headfirst Slide into Cooperstown on a Bad Bet"


Here's an example from So Much Love, by The Rocket Summer
"You got so much love in you,
You got so much love in you,
I'm amazed that I'm talking to you,
You look like the songs that I've heard my whole life, coming true."


So don't hide your words,
Don't hide your passion,
Don't hide your art,
Don't hush your voice,
Don't manipulate your heart.

Speak, Write, Sing, and you have lived.
Silence will not work anymore.
This place is too noisy to notice us.
But a subtle voice, with a meaning, will silence the loudest of voices that thirst for the rarity of such passion, such conviction that an honest line contains.

After all, what use is a voice if it isn't heard?
Go hunt for Indie Music.
What use are words if they aren't read?
Read Blogs.
What use is passion if it isn't felt?
Live.

Silent?
You should be as you listen.
Still?
You should be so you can see the art in things.
Still Silent?
Now, I hope you aren't.

Why am I doing this?

I have a couple of reasons,
the first is that I want to see how others think.

Why?

I was thinking awhile ago,
and I think that Truth comes from seeing from all points-of-views.
And so, a being knowing everything, becomes supreme.

But I cannot know everything,
So I encourage you to help me to see things clearer.
Showing me a reality more refined, purer, more honest.
Undressed.


This goes in adverse to my personality,
As I always try to avoid what is common,
Seeing it as damage to one's individuality, harm to a person's uniqueness.
But blogging seems to be an easy way to let things out.

As of now, I can be compared to;
Alceste- the protagonist and "misanthrope" of the title. He is quick to criticize the flaws of everyone around him, including himself.

He is the character from Le Misanthrope.


I am not self-righteous, nor will I try to be.
I only want to be a spectator.


My dreams constantly change,
As they all involve the elimination of my tentativity.
I want to Last.
Call me vain, but seeing as there have been so many humans that have lived their lives well
that people who live simple, honest lives, are always almost forgotten as the pages of history turn, silence is no longer a way to be remembered.

What use is there in great thoughts, if those great thoughts are wasted in your mind,
Unspoken, they will never be heard,
Unseen, they will never inspire,
Unknown, they will never move.

So, back to my dream?
It's this as of today:
"I want to be the stories that make you lose your smile,
because I'm not there to tell the story with you.
I want to be the stories that make you lose your smile,
because you're not making more stories with me at the moment.
I want to be the stories that make you lose your smile,
because stories can never capture the grandeur of living the experience."

Share your dreams,
As I said, I only want to see from more points-of-views,
Help me.