Fragments of the Quiet Mind

In a fraction of a millisecond When all the light has disappeared Gazing at a barren page of an endless fantasy sickened by the filth of autonomous reasoning wondering, if thoughts can be leashed. Hoping hearts can be locked, And life be painted black. Apathy seems to be reasonable, Faith torn, Trust and its thorns, I failed to see How blind can one be? That I am falling from this plight, Pulling people down to oblivion. Cornucopia of meaningless actualization Sinking down to damnation. Pencil sketches of emotions once had With every line drawn manifests pain, Every curve reveals a dying soul, Every smudge discloses the filthy self. Harmonic rhythm strummed, Each note expresses repressed prayers Each pluck conveys a melodious quandary Chord transitions leading to a song of tragedy. Poetic inscriptions on parched wood, Every word, filled with subliminal truths, Every rhyme filled with drowning promises, Caring for things to divert this reality As I speak the language of my dreams, A d...

In our daily lives, we often feel weighed down by moral debts that seem to dictate our actions.  These "moral debts" often mirror our own subjective interpretations rather than a universal measure of right and wrong. Nature, in its most elemental form, adheres to the principle of survival of the fittest. If one interprets this principle as merely about exploiting the weak, such a perspective reflects a profound misunderstanding. Darwin’s theories, when scrutinized through a sociological lens, reveal insights into societal well-being. Traditional moral values, once envisioned as pillars of progress, have become a double-edged sword. They drag us through a labyrinth of outdated norms and customs, exposing us to the sharp teeth of societal pressures. What was meant to foster growth and evolution now often leads to stagnation or even regression. The irony here is palpable: in our quest for moral clarity, we often find ourselves ensnared in the very traditions that inhibit our adv...

Alright, listen up—my muse is in full-on concupiscent mode lately, which is a fancy way of saying she won’t let my brain rest. So here I am, trying to capture the experience without smashing it to bits under the weight of words. If you came here expecting a highbrow academic paper... nope. You can bail now. This ain’t that. Picture me: balcony, laptop, coffee, and my muse—lusty as ever—deciding now is the perfect time to show up. Since writing without smokes is like trying to dance without music, I grabbed my umbrella and braved a rainstorm on steroids. Oh, and did I mention I live half a kilometer from civilization? Cows, horses, crickets—mountain life perks. Welcome to the wild. Made it to the store and here’s Manang with the bad news: “No Marlboro, kuya. Nobody buys those anymore.” I blinked. “Champion lang po.” Champion? I thought I was gearing up for a symphony, not a fight with a cigarette. But whatever, I bought it. Back on my throne (balcony chair), I lit my Champion… Puf...