Crossroads

i can't spell when i'm lost, 11"x9", pen and ink on medium-weight white paper

i can't spell when i'm lost, 11"x9", pen and ink on medium-weight white paper

Crossroads

Today I find myself again
wondering hard whether or not
I should take the leap of faith and
never even for once look back.
Like something’s about to happen
while I’m at the crossroads of life;
as the four winds blow on each end,
must I, too, leave my cares behind?
But how did things seem all laden
with a grief that was hard to bear?
And a spirit so disheartened
by the wearying guilt I had!
When did I first feel this burden?
And then I remembered my past,
as farther back I could portend:
the first crossroads I came upon!
That was the time I was given
the chance to be a better me.
But all that glittered and glistened
were only what my eyes could see!
And so my life’s been this since then–
the day I failed my test of faith!
That doomed moment my will weakened
cost me a lifetime of regret!
Then again all of a sudden,
another crossroads fast appeared!
This time waiting still as a friend
telling everyone not to fear!
So I gazed up into heaven
as I took one more step forward,
praying to keep my lessons learned
close to my heart all through this path!
So again it has been proven
that not all who fall fail always–
the farthest away sins are turned,
crossroads become paradises!

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Way too late

too late too soon too much, 12"x9", acrylic ink on Bienfang 70-lb white paper

too late too soon too much, 12"x9", acrylic ink on Bienfang 70-lb white paper

This is my friend, Indianero. He is wanted by a lot of people, women mostly, for standing them up. So I asked him why he couldn’t keep up with his appointments or dates. And he told me bluntly, but rather warily, that the reason for his lateness is because he couldn’t grasp the concept of time! To him, time seems to fly by so swiftly that he just couldn’t keep up with it! He claims, though, that on most occasions, he can almost see time literally passing by so fast before his very eyes– before he even gets the chance to act on it timely! But to his defense, he argued that he was always there on each and every meeting– only, he was way too late. So as a friend, I told him what I always tell every “late bloomer” I happen to meet: “Better late than never!” And as a parting reminder to him, I suggested that he ought to think like a warrior every time he feels pressed for time; that is, to be swift like the wind.
I guess he heeded my advice. He now rides a much faster horse.

Man with no horse sense

man with no name, horse with no name, 11"x9", pen and ink on medium-weight white paper

man with no name, horse with no name, 11"x9", pen and ink on medium-weight white paper

Horse: Hi!
Man: Hello!
Horse: Are you a man?
Man: No, I’m not. I’m a horse. Are you a horse?
Horse: No, I’m not. I’m a man.
Man: Is there a sense to this conversation?
Horse: No.

Moral of the discourse:  If you don’t know who you are, it won’t matter what you are.


i dont know why i doubt, 12"x9", pen and ink on Strathmore 400-series, 60-lb Sketch paper

i dont know why i doubt, 12"x9", pen and ink on Strathmore 400-series, 60-lb Sketch paper

Tears

smoke gets in your eyes, 11"x8.5", pen and ink on Roaring Spring 60-lb paper

smoke gets in your eyes, 11"x8.5", pen and ink on Roaring Spring 60-lb paper

Do your eyes tear up when there’s secondhand cigarette smoke around you? Do you get teary-eyed when you’re chopping up onions? Do your eyes well up in tears when you choke up on your emotions every time you’re reminded of a failed relationship? Or do you go bawling when a loved one dies? If your answer to all these questions is yes, or to the majority of them, then you’re very lucky. Because you are, from the looks of it, a normal human being! If not, then you may be stressing your eyes too much by spending so much time in front of your computer screen; you need to ease up on your online life once in a while as it is clearly ruining your emotional response to stimuli. Or, you may be suffering from what is called a “dry eye syndrome” (DES). This means that there is not enough tears to lubricate, moisturize, and wash the eyes to keep foreign bodies or particles from doing any harm. The solution to this, of course, is to consult an ophthalmologist who can best help you to treat this problem. My suggestion though is simple and it won’t require you to make a trip to your expensive doctor. All you need is a different trip– a trip down memory lane! How? Try recalling any occasion in your life when you felt happiest or proudest. Oftentimes, the most joyous instances in our lives will never fail to bring tears in our eyes! It may be the day you graduated from college, or the day you learned you passed the board/bar exam, or the day you won a much-coveted prize, or the day you lost your virginity (I know, this is sad to some), or the day you got married, or the birth of your first child, or the first time you held your first grandchild– whatever it is, joy will surely overwhelm you to tears! If any of these still didn’t work, then…GO TO YOUR DOCTOR– for crying out loud!!! (Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at you…now, you’re crying. See, you’re cured already! Forget the doctor then!)
As for me, I guess I’m pretty normal. Tragic events can make me watery-eyed. And even a sad song or a sad movie can move me to tears (now that’s just some errant, wayward estrogen acting up, right?)! Sure thing, a regretful past easily blurs my eyes tearily. So much so that I almost always cry myself to sleep…(awww…*sob, sob, sniff, sniff*)  Which brings me to ponder: How badly dehydrated would I be if those were tears of joy instead?

kayrami na'ng matang pinaluha, 12"x9", pen and ink and acrylic on Strathmore 400-series, 60-lb Sketch paper

kayrami na'ng matang pinaluha, 12"x9", pen and ink and acrylic on Strathmore 400-series, 60-lb Sketch paper

NOTE: As I’m posting this, I learned of the passing of two American icons: Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson. What a sad, sad, sad day…My sincerest condolences to the families they left behind and may the souls of these two great artists rest in peace!

Convicted

convicted

convicted, 11"x9", pen and ink on medium-weight white paper

CONVICTED

Beguiled by the moonshine
and the chanting of the pagans,
the man’s pulse throbbed relentlessly
as though racing with the night;
but agony he was to meet at sunrise.
Alas, the morning brought the shadow back–
ghoulish, ominous, depressing
image of an idle day just gone;
mood became a maidservant
embodied in wiles
obsequious only in desire.
While letting the second hand slide past around
the longstanding man-hour
in repeated, familiar rhythm,
a blinding flash burst from behind the clouds!
Heat rays pricked with intensity a wounded extremity–
its vent erupted with fluids gushing out in spurts!
When there was chance to behold the light,
the eyes were blurred by the caprice of the times;
conscience,
reined on by the strong hold of the senses,
jerked the body into delirious spasms!
Forbidden ground moved!
Such beat one’s breast after another
shrill, lingering cry
lasting until dusk.
Then the gods went up and set the flesh on fire–
charring the mind…
burning the soul…
killing the heart.