Threading through Time

Image by Ian Fanoga

Image by Ian Fanoga

Y is for the Years I can’t get back

Writing this article is the confirmation for me that I’ve reached the finish line of the very long winding race of college. The idea of a diploma is for my parent’s keepsake that another of their ducklings has reached the surface and will be armed and ready for the dog eat dog world out here. And for my graduation picture to be put beside with the laurels of my over-achiever siblings was a feat of and itself.




image from google

image from google

X is for X-files

Watching horror flicks always set me in a restless state especially at night, with the things that goes bump in the dark and monsters under the bed that keeps recurring in my mind resulting to getting only a couple of hours to sleep and doing it again the next night. It’s a cycle, a vicious restless cycle. (more…)

Game of Thorns

Image from Google

Image from Google

V is for Victor

Born in the midst of war
My palms are callused as the salt in the ocean
With the same intensity of the sun that grooved the mountains
My will to thrive is unrelenting
Trailblazing to the end of the tunnel
Until I grasp the light, my back will not rest
With the game of pedestals
Who will be the next to be glorified?
As a victor? As a hero?
Nay! But a hoarse mutilated spirit
That bears the dream of the fallen
A roll well-played
Give in to the rush that consumes you piece by piece
Until the ghost of your presence only remains
Fall to the game; leave your inhibition
Let loose to the song of adrenaline
Bribed by fading history till you hit the lights
A scar of a legend fitted to your name

Exhume the World


Image by Ian Fanoga

Image by Ian Fanoga

U is for Unearth

I’ve been putting off watching Warm Bodies, with all the negative reviews I’ve read and heard it’s difficult to sway myself to watch it. Thinking it would be like a zombie counterpart of Twilight, without the shirtless men and shining bloodsuckers.

Almost halfway with the movie a dialogue struck me,
“I think some day someone is going to figure this whole thing out and exhume the whole world”.

The optimistic tinge in that line and the underlying metaphor flicked some dying light in me. Lighting up something, not Hope because that would cause a wildfire in me, but a crazy thought. A stupid notion that would inspire me to write this post.

All the vile, unclean, miserable traits of man personified as the zombies littered the society. Infecting the whole world, letting chaos reign, outnumbering the other side in myriads and you’d be like them with just one bite. A perfect picture of reality.

People tend to be afraid, build walls around them, protecting them from the misery. Like the saying goes, “the only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing”.

The world is not evil, the world is not vile, the world is not miserable, not originally anyway. The good in the world is buried with all the rubbish accumulated through time, hidden from view and cloaked by despair, but it is there.
But, they found the cure. Turning the zombies into life, gaining back their humanity, it started with visions, with memories, with a touch, with empathy and compassion. Then they realized they found more than that; they found the one thing that exhumed the world, the thing that unearthed the innocence and goodness back. They had the cure for death; they themselves unearth the cure within.

Thinking about it again, I should’ve just blindly followed the reviews to another flick and not watched it at all, not because it was horrible. But because it filled my head with this stupid notion that world can be exhumed. Heartbreaks with your tea don’t sound nice at all. LOL

Travelling Bags


From Yosemite National Park, California, US.  to Japan.
These bags are circling the globe one pit stop at a time and spreading a special kind of love for a special cause. These are “echo” bags, and No that’s not a typo, echoing their advocacy for Special Children all over the World and reverberating the mindset that they can be beyond their disability by focusing on their strength and passion.

The kids behind the artwork of the bags are Miguel Pedroso (11 y/o) and Miggy Ignacio (09 y/o) both diagnosed with autism. Half of the proceeds will go to them while the other half will fund art mentorship programs for persons with disability. Seeing the support from different people from different places sparks the awareness for this issue.

Sending the message of goodwill with these bags keeps the flame brighter paving the way of a clearer future for these kids. Getting in, on the advocacy people all over the world can’t stop to pose for a cause  with these bags in tow.


Show your support and like their Facebook page :

Risen from Elegy

image by Chester Cabarlie

image by Chester Cabarlie

R is for Renewal

It’s 2014 and the world is still in one piece. I got a confession to make. I really thought the world was going to end at 2012 but here we are moving on. 2012 has left and gone while we still breathe the same polluted air we made. It’s not being ready why I thought or more like hope for the world to end at 2012, it’s also more than my morbid fantasy to see the world come crumbling down. It’s the after effect, the afterglow of destruction I long to see, “Renewal” I imagine a world clean of grime and bile of the corrupted society, I want to see even if I won’t even live to experience. I’m tired, most of us are tired. But here we are still, it’s a chance. Everyday it’s a chance for us to be a clean slate, a chance to move from the rut we are stuck in, this is a game of survival. I want to live, truly live and not resenting past actions anymore. A dream maybe but I hope we all wake up.



Never ending, was the soliloquy of the old man

Like the wine in Milan, like the setting sun in Paris

But no romance, no scenery can be painted

With the frozen tip of the brush

For days he tells the crime of his people

The death of their white doves, the longing piece of the siren

His garb of filth and grime, disguising, melding

His words to insanity and lies, but not quite with contempt

As much as a plea of innocence

But still his aged bones attest, a funeral for truth,

Those buried with the sons and daughters of his crowd

And yet they smile, reminiscing the pain they buried
For time is his currency, his words stings of veracity

Feral with dignity, feral with crushed dignity, his eyes so dull but still he sees.

Pointing out the sins of their flesh, that kills like gun

But not with the same speed and accuracy

Lesser. Much lesser, but with so much hurt.

Then to spite, time leaves marks for the world to feast.

He roams the city, collecting the forgotten alms

With his mouth like a lute,

And his words as symphony, the lyrics to his hymn make

Castles crumble. But not yet. He still utter the crisp

Words of regret, the same regret used to cut open the strays.

“Do not let your fear be your faith.

Less be it your fuel to ignite the dwindling fire of your hope”.

The words reverberated as thunder

Echoes it across the halls,

But none moves, none hear, none begs for salvation

The mocking prophet, as the people

Critique him, continues to sway and rhyme.

Nothing changes for all they see is a senile old man

They think they see, they think they hear

But no one can truly witness and no one can truly heed

The never ending poem for their soul,

Their mocking elegy

Graveyard Hymn

Image by Chester Cabarlie

Image by Chester Cabarlie

Q is Quiet


Crows watch the street, guarding the night

Who’s to say it’s my tomb their watching

It may be the nameless graves on the ground

But never those flawless ivory faces

My feet get numb from the world’s melancholy

Those subtle tears that paints the marble floor

Becomes a reminder of the waning sensation

Seamless like the little hands that reach

For the closing heavens, and seamless like the

Fingers that touch them

The reaper whispers

”Stay away from the light, it will suck you up

And gnaw your spirit and spit you like a trembling gum”

So I did and still the night was dim

Wandering the empty halls but not for reason

Because I lost it eras ago

And again, now as I reminisce

How many cups of flour to get to your heart?

Image from

Image from


P is for Peeta Mellark

Diverting from the usual post we do here in the box, which is for the most part, just random ideas that pop on top of our heads, I’ll be letting out my inner fanboy and post a fictional character that start with the day’s letter, “P”.

Peeta Mellark – Who knew pastry skills, could be handy in the arena?  Charming his way out of the games, with lots of charisma swooning away the crowd and keep the Capitol eating at his baker’s palm. (more…)


image from Google

image from Google


O is for OK


A new battle begins, as it is a new day

Against sorrows and fears that won’t go away

As you are pushed and tossed into the fray

Just smile and not worry because you’ll be O.K.

Be careful what you wish for

Always mean what you say

Mind not what they see in you

You know yourself either way

Find no joy in others’ ordeal

And help them find their way

For as you are pushed and tossed into the fray

Just smile and not worry because you’ll be O.K.

Laugh as if your last, cry if need be

Ease yourself and into my arms you lay,

Know your limits, understand that you are free

To learn and express, what it is you wish to say

And as long as you are pushed and tossed into the fray

Just smile and not worry because you’ll be O.K.


The Art of Saying No

Image from GOOGLE

Image from GOOGLE

N is for No


Getting past the hurdle of saying Yes to everything is the first major step to say NO! For most people ailed with the disease YEStitis, the only NO they would say is, “no problem”.

Often saying yes even not knowing what you agreed to do is reckless, and is problematic when it become as an automatic response. Helping people is good but helping to please people is a different notion all on its own. (more…)