Friday, November 25, 2011

WALK TO FREEDOM

by Ayn

Only today, I quit.
I quit a life spelled with nothing
but blue trays stacked with paper heaps,
Filled with vague sketches in pencil.
It took me quite a while.

Once I stood in belief.
But waiting has purloined from me
That youthful hope I held on to.
Now I'm nothing but pragmatic.
Age corrupts us, at times.

Just yesterday, I dreamed.
I yearned for a life of Freedom,
Filled with pride in every sunrise.
I woke up and this isn't it.
Vastly deplorable.

You do not understand.
You don't know life outside your rock,
the Wars We wage each fleeting day.
You're not a fellow Countryman.
I thus cease to explain.

Sitting on my front porch,
I gawp at the Walk to Freedom.
I wait for the rain to subside.
The first rung looks quite rickety.
I take it anyway.

Tomorrow, I wonder.
Will the colors of the sunset
Be as magnificent as how
it awes the forlorn soul at dawn?
I sit, pray, and wonder. #


Thursday, November 17, 2011

JEFF WHO?: BIRTHDAY CHEERS TO THE LATE JEFF BUCKLEY

by Ayn

Did I ever wish I was born a little earlier? Definitely. Besides the less complicated life and people back then, I wish I had experienced seeing Jeff Buckley perform live in the flesh even once at least before he died. Ok, I just heard someone say, "Jeff who?"

I remember having heard of Jeff Buckley the first time way back 2002, while listening to NU 107 playing some of his well-known hits "Forget Her", "Everybody Here Wants You", and "Last Goodbye". His voice was one of the most unique I've ever heard, with an unusually wide range that can go from acoustic (in "Best of Me") to heavy (in "Grace"). His music, too, was just memorably and poignantly distinct. I got more interested whenever the DJ referred to this artist as 'the late Jeff Buckely.' I reduced to thinking it must have been of drug OD, like Kurt Cobain, Hillel Slovak, or his very own father Tim Buckley, a legendary Folk musician. An artery ruptured in me when I learned that it was the Mississippi that took him back to nature--- not mysterious, simply accidental. He drowned in the middle of writing songs for his second album.

That was in 1997. He was 30. And I hated myself for not having been born a little earlier, around the 70s, to at least have had the chance to get a copy of his first album or a draft of his unfinished second.

A lot of you might not totally dig me making a big fuss out of this dead guy who didn't even stick around long enough after signing with Sony BMG to taste the full glory of being an international rock artist. I also don't, sometimes. But thinking about it, Jeff Buckley was the rock musician I always thought never existed. He never took drugs, never got hooked on alcohol, never got linked with several women, and never used hate as a tool to express the deepest emotions he wanted the world to hear. He drew on a sad childhood as a leverage to create music that inspired a thousand souls, and it definitely included mine. In short, he showed me it was possible --- in a world where rock artists are stereotyped as black disciples of Satan, I'm proud to contest there once existed a Jeff Buckley amongst them. Sadly, God probably took him that early to prevent unnecessary influence and further pollution.

On his 45th birthday today, it won't hurt listening to at least one Jeff Buckley song. I'm sure you have his rendition of Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah" in your iPods, but try his originals. There's a lot you can download, from Limewire, 4Shared, iTunes, wherever. "Grace" is a personal favorite --- it's of hope that's loud enough to awaken that person in you cast by the shadows of fear and doubt. "We All Fall In Love Sometimes" is a classic; and "Morning Theft" is just beautiful, beautiful.

I don't want to die as early as Jeff did, but I sure hope I could have shared a piece of me to many by then. #


www.jeffbuckley.com

Saturday, November 12, 2011

ARRYTHMIA

It's those unwarranted instances where your heartbeat skips (or seems to skip).
Fifty-five beats this minute reduces to forty-three the next.
The momentary skips dilate time and give you space to think ---
Is it a physiological phenomena that's a cause for alarm? Go see a doctor.
Did you just forget to breathe? Lord knows how stupid that sounds.
But it's painful.
And each day it recurs like the irregular rhythm becomes your regular heartbeat.

You've been through a lot lately. Or so you thought.
Surprises and suppresses go up and down together in spiral staircases.
Human instinct permits you to hate, feel stronger, and pick yourself up again.
That's always the sequence. Or so you thought.
Because in the middle of everything, arrythmia suddenly holds you up.
You have a choice. You can choose the sequence.

Patterns are the most beautiful symbols in this great Architecture.
Lines, Curves, Numbers, Sounds, even Emotions.
Heartbeats are but one part of the unfathomable human and non-human abyss.
Do you choose and dare to break your Pattern?
Thank God for arrythmia, I get the chance to read divine signals. #