September 11, 2013

Panaghoy ng salat sa yaman

Panaghoy ng salat sa yaman

Diyos ka ba?
Para kasing iisa...
Diyablo marahil
Sa talim ng ‘yong pangil
Batid ko ang ‘yong kapangyarihan
‘di nasusukat ninoman
Ang mabubuti, sumasama
Nagmimistulang pariwara
Kulang ay napupunan
Nalalasap ang kaginhawaan
Basta’t ikaw ang kaharap
Marinig sa pangungusap
Lahat ay tila nsasa alapaap
Mata’y kumikislap
Buhay sandaling sumasarap
Puso’t utak napaghihiwalay mo
Moralidad inaabuso
Katinuan nababago
Nalulupo, nawawasak, na-aabo
Mahirap ipaliwanag
Ng kaisipang hungkag
Batas minsa’y nilalabag
Kay lupit ng lagabag
Realasyon, koneksyon, kahit emosyon
Sa sobrang pagkapit nawawala sa alon
Timon ng buhay kapagkaraka
Patay ka
Bukas makalawa
Tagumpay, mabuhay ang brilyo ng SALAPI
Lahat maa-ari, maa-angkin, magagapi
Itinakdang aral, lahat ay nabali




July 12, 2013

Creativity – Myths and Legends

A lot of myths surround creativity. Artists never really talk about it. They talk about “the work” and they talk about what they are doing, but they rarely talk about creativity in the abstract. There are, however, some basic general principles:

Nothing comes from nothing. We are always starting from somewhere, the stuff in our heads, the existing marketplace; the history we all remember, the materials in front of us. There are no blank spaces in our heads and even the blank paper in front of us is a certain size and texture and absorbency that will limit what we can do with it. There
are always initial conditions.

Metamorphosis is unstoppable. All complex dynamic systems are spontaneously creative. If you leave a complex dynamic system alone and do nothing to it, it will change anyway. Leave your garden alone and it will gradually turn into a forest. Leave your car alone and it will gradually fall apart. Leave your people alone and they will come up with something.

Creativity is a boundary phenomenon. Creativity happens on the edges of things, on the margins of an ecosystem, on the surface of a membrane, where a theory meets a fact, where a person meets their needs. Without boundaries to define it, there is no creative territory.

The creative process is fundamentally the same whether you are trying to write a new book or to develop a new theory of subatomic physics. Eventually you find yourself at the edge of what you have mastered; at the boundary of what comes easily, and yet your imagination has offered you a glimpse of another possibility. This other possibility will be rooted in what you know and what has been done elsewhere and it will be fragmentary: a misty vision, not clear, not complete. The gap between where you are and what is known, and what you can glimpse, in moments, in your imagination, becomes more and more difficult to endure. When this tension begins to be felt, you are usually heading in the right direction to be creative and original.



July 6, 2013

GOTTERDAMMERUNG


By Rusty Sanchez 

Old stories of conflicts and arms
Always arise in between
Good and Evil
Poor and Rich
Demolition in Agham
Demolition in San Juan

Waifs and Homeless Suffer

Same stories with antiquated plots
No heroes, no wannabes
Old pages, old ranks
New faces, no changes
Corruption in the Congress
Corruption in the Senate

Amassing wealth for their pocket’s health

Fare Increase, Tuition Hike
Toll, VAT and Gasoline Increase
MWSS will drown you
MERALCO will electrify you
What more agony can you bear
In silence you will be raped and ripped over
Like a caryatid lifeless cadaver

Privatize all GOCCs
Privatize all Casinos
Privatize all your responsibilities
Will not serve as the only key
When can we learn?
Where will you be?
If HELL freezes over
And HEAVEN burns like HELL
All the Gods Above & Under
Will continue the endless battle
Until it is OVER.

THARATINKHARA


By Rusty Sanchez

I wept from an arid land of misnomers
Just to sink and shrink
I swept from the barren mountains
Just to make sweet and sweat

I rink to fill an empty brain of hopelessness
Just to fly and be shot dead in the air
I drink to thirst my throat and throttle
Just to make peace and piss

I loom to break the brakes of an F-1 car
Just to beg for a hell’s life ride
I bloom to burst in pain and gain
Just to be away from frightful faces and be in a rightful one

In silence I whisper loud the dread of my past
Just to hear the depthness of deafness
In sea of tears I fierce my fear with a pierce in my head
Just to decline and recline from the blissful sanctuary of
my tortured future