Savouring and Devouring Master

The word 'savour' might not be in my dictionary.

Every time I 'devour' something
I feel regret
As soon as my mind realise
Usually when I would be a little too far gone into it

I like to call myself
A believer
In slowing down
In enjoying every second
In savouring every satisfaction.

With every realisation
My heart sinks deeper
My mind gloom darker

Every feeling passes me by
Every split second sensation gets missed

All my senses scream in despair
What a pity

All my senses yearn and long in desperation
For the quality I have been depriving myself of

For every moment I curse
For every moment my heart cries
For every moment my senses reel
Here is a hope
That someday
I master myself.





Loving,
Lina. 

Will I Dare to Take the Leap of Faith?

Everytime there was a major change around me;
I changed, too.

There are times I feel I lost my previous self...
And now I feel content with what I am...

I want to change in some ways;
I fear that I would lose myself yet again,
Just when I am starting to feel content...

Change is hard;
I want change,
Yet, I do not know if I will be better off with a new self.

Would that be what they call self-discovery?

Is this fear valid?
Is this fear justified?
Is this fear not mere flaw?

Will there be some kind of reassurance that I will still and always be me;
No matter how I change my life?




Confused,
Lina. 

I Hesitate, But; Just Kill Me Now.

No one understands,

Not even me...

How can I make people understand, then?

You can't.

How am I supposed to weave this complicated emptiness into words in language?

Into something that somebody understands?

Into something that I understand?

Into something that love understands?



Babbling,
Lina.

I Am Poisoning Myself

There is always fear,

A never-ending supply of it...


There are fears,

Come and go...


It's not like anyone cares.




Lina.

Dying

Burned out.

What do I do now?

What do I want?

What am I looking for?

Things have been suppressed and repressed so deep, I don't know anymore...

Dare I choose life, my life, over duty and responsibility?

Dare I choose life, even when breaking my loved ones' hearts?

Dare I even think about it?

How I hope things are simpler...




Lost,
Lina.

Closing Box

In this little box
With doors locked and curtains drawn
There is no sense of time
No sense of reality...

Sun passed by
And Sky turned dark
Yet not a thing moved
In this little box.

Only self-absorption coursed through
The starved thread of sanity...
Clinging is no longer enough
Moving is never an option.

The little flower of hope is budding
Through the stones of shame and humiliation
Fear demands instant killing and finishing
Yet life brings growth and completion.

This numbness is desperate
Happiness is always out of reach,
Just a little out of reach,
Just a little...

Comes to mind the question
What is happiness?

It is something I do not recall having
It is something I do not recall feeling...

The essentiality of labelling myself caught me baffled
The essentiality of labelling myself, in the state of happiness, caught me horrifyingly off-guard

This urge,
This desperate urge in feeling,
Caught me...
Lost.

The secrets of life completely hidden
No amount of adventures and treasure hunts satisfies this heart's questions.

What is inside?
What is worthy?
What is it searching for?
What am I struggling for?

Is sufferance the only way?
Forward?

Questions after questions after questions
'Til we no longer knew the question
'Til everything was lost in the avalanches of words and meanings
'Til everything was lost in the chaos of feelings.


What is it?





Simply,
Lina.

Silence.

Silence is not always defiance. 

Existing, Yet, Living?

There is always a... paradox, if you will, in us.

There is always something... held back when we are opening ourselves for others.
There is always something... revealed when we are viewing others.

An opening to the human soul, I feel, would be on how they see others
On how one expresses oneself,
Which on itself a paradox.

This heart explodes with myriad of thoughts and wonders
Yet, no one would ever completely understand
This rainbow of words comes pouring out of one another so colourfully none would travel out of this mouth
How odd, that this complexly made body is still incapable of... something.
How odd, that it is never complex enough.
How odd, that... I am not even sure what to label, or if I am fit enough to label, THIS, is never shared enough.
How odd, that THIS happens, THIS exists
Yet, THIS is not something ever fully understood.
Or, should we, humbly as we are, understand?

Is this... revelation a show of something held back?

Words, or something... are often lodged and left neglected at the little corner of this heart.

Is this a way to question
If accepting and understanding are enough for... THIS?
If love ever enough?

What are we looking for?
What counts more that what we are looking for?

"Doesn't everyone want love?"
Now I don't know anymore.




Simply,
Lina.

What Now?

There are times when things just come crashing down all at once.
There are times when the urge to run and escape become too strong.
There are times when the shackles and bars become too tight.

Now I don't know what to do anymore.
Now I don't know anything anymore.

I fear.
I fear for my future.
I fear for my sanity.
I simply fear and despair.




Lost,
Lina.

Life's Worth?

Wondering if I need to be useful to exist...

The heart is defying all logic now, and despairing...

Bubbles Burst

In presence of despair and loneliness,
          When time stops and suffering starts
          When sadness deigns and regret reigns
          When solidarity ends and love wanes

Human forgets and ignores,
          The blesses spared and poured
Human shrinks and sways
          What future holds
          And past's brought


Come the song sung and sun shines,
          When joy rains and spirit rises
          When flavour flies and taste escapes
          When courage dances and love soars

Human forgets and ignores,
          The curses said and screamed
Human pairs and promises
          What future holds
          And past's brought


How fickle has memory become
How rash has emotion become

Though no head nor heart will ever rule this dart,
          Pierced this soul is, nonetheless

'Til human knows and realises
          What human holds and promises
           Is human's hands, nonetheless.




Love,
Lina.

By William Blake

Auguries of Innocence

To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour.

A Robin Red breast in a Cage
Puts all Heaven in a Rage.
A dove house fill’d with doves & Pigeons
Shudders Hell thro’ all its regions.
A dog starv’d at his Master’s Gate
Predicts the ruin of the State.
A Horse misus’d upon the Road
Calls to Heaven for Human blood.
Each outcry of the hunted Hare
A fibre from the Brain does tear.
A Skylark wounded in the wing,
A Cherubim does cease to sing.
The Game Cock clipp’d and arm’d for fight
Does the Rising Sun affright.
Every Wolf’s & Lion’s howl
Raises from Hell a Human Soul.
The wild deer, wand’ring here & there,
Keeps the Human Soul from Care.
The Lamb misus’d breeds public strife
And yet forgives the Butcher’s Knife.
The Bat that flits at close of Eve
Has left the Brain that won’t believe.
The Owl that calls upon the Night
Speaks the Unbeliever’s fright.
He who shall hurt the little Wren
Shall never be belov’d by Men.
He who the Ox to wrath has mov’d
Shall never be by Woman lov’d.
The wanton Boy that kills the Fly
Shall feel the Spider’s enmity.
He who torments the Chafer’s sprite
Weaves a Bower in endless Night.
The Catterpillar on the Leaf
Repeats to thee thy Mother’s grief.
Kill not the Moth nor Butterfly,
For the Last Judgement draweth nigh.
He who shall train the Horse to War
Shall never pass the Polar Bar.
The Beggar’s Dog & Widow’s Cat,
Feed them & thou wilt grow fat.
The Gnat that sings his Summer’s song
Poison gets from Slander’s tongue.
The poison of the Snake & Newt
Is the sweat of Envy’s Foot.
The poison of the Honey Bee
Is the Artist’s Jealousy.
The Prince’s Robes & Beggars’ Rags
Are Toadstools on the Miser’s Bags.
A truth that’s told with bad intent
Beats all the Lies you can invent.
It is right it should be so;
Man was made for Joy & Woe;
And when this we rightly know
Thro’ the World we safely go.
Joy & Woe are woven fine,
A Clothing for the Soul divine;
Under every grief & pine
Runs a joy with silken twine.
The Babe is more than swadling Bands;
Throughout all these Human Lands
Tools were made, & born were hands,
Every Farmer Understands.
Every Tear from Every Eye
Becomes a Babe in Eternity.
This is caught by Females bright
And return’d to its own delight.
The Bleat, the Bark, Bellow & Roar
Are Waves that Beat on Heaven’s Shore.
The Babe that weeps the Rod beneath
Writes Revenge in realms of death.
The Beggar’s Rags, fluttering in Air,
Does to Rags the Heavens tear.
The Soldier arm’d with Sword & Gun,
Palsied strikes the Summer’s Sun.
The poor Man’s Farthing is worth more
Than all the Gold on Afric’s Shore.
One Mite wrung from the Labrer’s hands
Shall buy & sell the Miser’s lands:
Or, if protected from on high,
Does that whole Nation sell & buy.
He who mocks the Infant’s Faith
Shall be mock’d in Age & Death.
He who shall teach the Child to Doubt
The rotting Grave shall ne’er get out.
He who respects the Infant’s faith
Triumph’s over Hell & Death.
The Child’s Toys & the Old Man’s Reasons
Are the Fruits of the Two seasons.
The Questioner, who sits so sly,
Shall never know how to Reply.
He who replies to words of Doubt
Doth put the Light of Knowledge out.
The Strongest Poison ever known
Came from Caesar’s Laurel Crown.
Nought can deform the Human Race
Like the Armour’s iron brace.
When Gold & Gems adorn the Plow
To peaceful Arts shall Envy Bow.
A Riddle or the Cricket’s Cry
Is to Doubt a fit Reply.
The Emmet’s Inch & Eagle’s Mile
Make Lame Philosophy to smile.
He who Doubts from what he sees
Will ne’er believe, do what you Please.
If the Sun & Moon should doubt
They’d immediately Go out.
To be in a Passion you Good may do,
But no Good if a Passion is in you.
The Whore & Gambler, by the State
Licenc’d, build that Nation’s Fate.
The Harlot’s cry from Street to Street
Shall weave Old England’s winding Sheet.
The Winner’s Shout, the Loser’s Curse,
Dance before dead England’s Hearse.
Every Night & every Morn
Some to Misery are Born.
Every Morn & every Night
Some are Born to sweet Delight.
Some ar Born to sweet Delight,
Some are born to Endless Night.
We are led to Believe a Lie
When we see not Thro’ the Eye
Which was Born in a Night to Perish in a Night
When the Soul Slept in Beams of Light.
God Appears & God is Light
To those poor Souls who dwell in the Night,
But does a Human Form Display
To those who Dwell in Realms of day.

By Harold Bloom

"Reading well is one of the great pleasures that solitude can afford you."

And writing well, too, I dare say...

DATE A GIRL WHO READS by Rosemarie Urquico

Date a girl who reads.
Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes.
She has problems with closet space because she has too many books.
Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.
Find a girl who reads.
You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag.
She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants.
You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop?
That’s the reader.
They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow.
She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street.
If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already.
Lost in a world of the author’s making.
Sit down.
She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted.
Ask her if she likes the book.
Buy her another cup of coffee.
Let her know what you really think of Murakami.
See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship.
Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent.
Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.
It’s easy to date a girl who reads.
Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas and for anniversaries.
Give her the gift of words, in poetry, in song.
Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings.
Let her know that you understand that words are love.
Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by god, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book.
It will never be your fault if she does.
She has to give it a shot somehow.
Lie to her.
If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie.
Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue.
It will not be the end of the world.
Fail her.
Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax.
Because girls who understand that all things will come to end.
That you can always write a sequel.
That you can begin again and again and still be the hero.
That life is meant to have a villain or two.
Why be frightened of everything that you are not?
Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop.
Except in the Twilight series.
If you find a girl who reads, keep her close.
When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her.
You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you.
She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.
You will propose on a hot air balloon.
Or during a rock concert.
Or very casually next time she’s sick.
Over Skype.
You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet.
You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes.
She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day.
You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.
Date a girl who reads because you deserve it.
You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable.
If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone.
If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.
Or better yet, date a girl who writes.

Link: http://pinterest.com/pin/85498092895350745/

Forbidden Gravitation

I felt it again;
The sunk feeling when a supposedly fun, exciting, turn of events sets the siren of my danger radar off...

Something so innocent, triggered the knock on my wild fantasy's door;
The door I so carefully locked up and hidden away, even from myself.
The door I so consciously avoid, and never let loose...

The fear I felt for my sanity,
So strong my whole being jerked in agony.
So strong, I could not even fight,
Or flight.

My chest contracted;
There was never enough air.

My eyes went wild looking for exit sign,
But I could see none.
I was trapped;
By my own choice.
By my own steps.

My throat closed;
Not even a croak escaped.
No help can be said.
No signal can be reached.

Hidden desires are drawn by the eyes and bodies,
Threatening to break free from all chains and covers...

Temptation never felt so compelling to be let loose,
To be drowned in passion and abandon,
To be challenged by indignation,
To be faced in fascination.

My whole mastery shook;
Control never felt so constrained.

Whispers of luring seduction never sounded so loud;
How wonderful to bask in fantasy...
To let all desires run free...
And let satisfaction engulfs me...

Enticement so subtle so persuasive,
Coaxing the snare of belief imprisonment to forgive...

Oh, how I yearn to caress,
The glorious sensation on human's skin...
The liberation of satisfaction.

Alas,
The world will never let me forget;
For I am the bearer of name,
The bearer of shame...

Alas,
The conscience will never let me break free;
For I am the loved one of those who care,
For I am the lover of those who care...

In my shoes I can say;
How lovely if I am with no name, no shame,
If I  am one no one knows, and no one cares...

But be content, I will;
For I am me,
And blessed, I be.


So much loves are pouring onto me with no chain and no bane,
And I will forever be grateful for this name.





Loving and Yearning,
Lina.

Out Of Control?

I hate not being in control of myself.

I hate not being able to control myself.

I hate that I let myself not being in control. 



Does that make me a control-freak?





Wondering,
Lina.

Emotion First?

I guess this is the only place I can get away, from myself, with more 'I'...

We Have a Past; More Questions Than Anyone Can Answer

I feel compelled not to help them.
I feel compelled not to respect them.
I feel compelled not to heed their say.

I feel compelled to hurt them.
All of them,
Those who did,
Those who knew,
Those who knew and did not do anything,
Those who knew and did not prevent,
Those who knew and just closed an eye,
Those who knew and think it was fine,
Those who knew and just laughed them away...

Those who knew it hurt, and stayed quiet.
Those who knew how much it hurt, and stayed oblivious.


I feel compelled to hurt them,
Just as how they caused my anguish...

The anguish I can never thrown away...
The anguish I can never burned to ashes...
The anguish I can never let go.

This is wrong, I know.
But, the notion of revenge is too sweet to ignore.

I want to make them feel all the burden they caused me.
I want to make them feel all the shame they caused me.
I want to make them feel all the pain they caused me.
I want to make them feel all the wretched mentality they brought me.


I want to make them feel sorry,
So sorry they will give their lives away....

I want to make them beg for forgiveness,
Beg so hard they will hurt themselves.


I would love to think how free I would feel if they are gone.



But, oh, I love them.
I love them so much my heart hurt.
I love them so dearly these eyes tear...
I love them so very much.



And they do not think I have this wretched heart.
And they do not understand how I feel,
How I suffer...


And I can not make them understand,
I can not make them feel.



How do you tell the ones you love, that you hate them to bits?
That you hate them so much you want them to go away?
To just perish?


How would you tell them that, and make them understand all the anguish they caused you?
How would you tell them that, and make them understand you want them to be honest, say sorry and change?
How would you tell them that, and make them understand that all you want is clear, peaceful heart?



I do not want to keep on being tormented by this, by our past,
By something no one can change,
By something no one can understand,
By something no one can help anymore.

How do I find closure, when I can not tell anyone anything and make them understand?

How do I find closure, when I can not let myself be honest and damn all the consequences to hell?

How do I find closure, when words already failed me times and again?

How do I find closure, for the sake of myself, when I can not do anything, when I am so paralysed by our past?


How do I find closure? Please? I'm begging...




With So Much Love,
Lina.

Let's Donate!

Donated blood for the first time this morning; 
          A little scared, but also fascinated... *big shining eyes*

I could feel tremors of fear as I watched the attendant prepare the necessary equipment.

After he finished piercing the needle in, I looked at my blood flowing;
          Kinda brought tears to my eyes...     


I did not do much, but lie there and let it flow.

          The blood felt warm...


          It wasn't so bad after all...

          Lovely experience; might do it again in 3 months... 


For those who can;
It is a privilege.


          It felt... good, for the lack of better word, to be able to do this;
          To have the capability to let it flow...





With Love,
Lina.

How Will We Go From Here?

I am numb.


This is no doubt a defence mechanism of my body.


Because if I am feeling,


I would die of insanity.


Because if I am feeling,


What little pieces of heart I so desperately hold together, would be torn apart.


Because if I am feeling,


I will consign my body and soul to the devil.


Because if I am feeling,


My responsibility to you, and others, would be forsaken.


Because if I am feeling,


I would disappoint you, and others, even more.








With Love,
Lina.