Departed

——————————

Sinking in a pool 
of unfathomable events,
trying to figure out,
trying to reset,
the life that we live today
even if we know
that there’s no way.

In a world that forgets
faces,names,and places.
In this world full of regrets,
pain,fear,and loneliness.
We battle alienation.
Align to its conformation,
and lose our identification.

And the day came,
when we and the world are one.
In our hands we hold
a long-sought equity.
Finally deprived
this world with inferiority.
We live.We desire.We control.

Yet,we still feel like
waking up in the same mornings.
Our feet above the ground.
Our heads below the clouds.
Everything laid bare by the sun.
Every side,every corner
the change was inexistent.

Once again,
we try to figure out,we try to reset.
The life that we thought we wanted,
isn’t the life that our Master planted
in the core of our beings and souls.
There lies the comfort and peace,
the mark of our true identities.
-HushedNoise

The World on My Fingertips

I was deeply moved by what I’m reading at the moment.It is a handout from my Hum1 class.The filipinized version of an arts and humanities class .Arts in the form of literature and how society affects the development and evolution of literary pieces through time.Well,it’s quite obvious here that I do write.Used to write for a newspaper which I almost completely forgotten how.But this handout made me think of the reasons for my writing and the purpose of writing itself.

Literature and Society.Sounds pretty straight forward but the paragraphs were perfectly weaved.Informational yet deeply moving.Most informational articles have a tendency to bore the reader or maybe it depends on the string that connects the reader to the article if ever such string exists.But since I can relate to this,I might as well say my thoughts regarding the said article.

Writing has been my greatest form of self expression.The life that springs from each word that I write feeds my need of relating to the world.Though it can be noticed that I rarely use deep words.A product of restricted vocabulary.I don’t really understand the need to use highfalutin words.Doing so is like eating an under-cooked muffin.Looks good on the outside,raw in the inside.There maybe harmony in the stacking of words but for the readers it’s merely a group of words with unfathomable meanings,a nonsensical jumble of words.Writing was regarded as a form of art.A form of escape for starters.A sharpener of one’s imagination.The cliched notions of writing.They’re all true but not all the time.It depends on the situation of the writer,behind every written word is a thought that deeply rooted from the pains,smiles,laughter and human emotions of the writer.Writing is being human.Writing is my way of telling words that are concealed by my mouth,oppressed by my fears,bounded by my insecurities,dissolved by the feeling of nothingness.

It is a salon for ugly situations.I coat the unwanted situations in my life with possibilities and acceptable reasons which can be hardly done in a snap in the real world.In here wells hope.

-To be continued,I need to finish my paper and readings :)).If only I could pass this to my prof instead-