Praise

Applause emanates magic,
If gave after an speech of nonsense;
That sounds so ridiculous,
In the ear of fanatics, It’s a golden knowledge…
About the speaker and its supporters,
You should be an skeptic.

 

Tell Me, O Innate Noesis

What dread will surprise me,
O you dark den?
To stroke lines and curves
with empty pen;
To bestow ranting words,
want to be free;
To take stiff like a grey wool
into the place of fury.

What pigment will stain me
O apple of one’s eye?
To paint picture of beauty,
to color with dye;
To draw a shape of madness
and texture of kind;
To indulge the will of hands
and pacify my mind.

What mist will annoy me,
O innate noesis?
How that hokey kind of life
spread its genesis;
To breathe a worker of steel
and a giver of bliss;
To exclaim eureka!!!
with thrills and worries.

What noise will deafen me,
Sound of silence?
To hum the tune of love
and the seethe of hate;
To soften the buzz of world,
playing their game;
As sweet wind blows by,
drifting away their name.

What mud will mess me up,
O you dirt of art?
To mold the shape of soul,
ready to stand;
To raise the image of brave,
man to admire;
And to bring the dead hero
back again to life…

© S. R. Camus, 2015. All Rights Reserved. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided the full and clear credit is given to Samuel R. Camus with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

 

The Papyrus

In what reason why I’ve been slaved;
By the sequential pages;
Of those who have lived in the ignorance’s cave;
Was unfounded.
That compiled papyrus living on my shelf;
Mysterious thing.
Something I inherited from the very beginning.
The content has no ending.

It reads how grass mushroomed from nothing-
And how it’ll end.
On its existence have been uncannily withered;
And so the rain sent.
Preaching how to avoid the predestined wildfire-
Spreading forever.
Is to absorb the blood flowing from that wounded flesh,
And the tears of thunder.

Imposing rules ludicrous for the flock of witty;
Knowledge for faithful.
Though its words bear lies and corruptions,
Guns and gravestones.
Rooted under the black world of holy greed;
Monk of gruesome.
That has become the breath of the maker of kingdoms;
Life of religion.

The pages transmuted into a vague shape of mist-
Gone upward.
Projecting different faces of horrible creatures-
In people’s mind.
Ghost image of reality transcribe by a nomad-
Onto the scroll of illusion.
The smoke of its incense appeals to wondering cretin;
Delusion in motion.

Since my consciousness under the shadow of clouds-
Has been illuminated.
A light shines from the sparks of two rivaling questions-
Opens my head.
And taking away from that of sons of conventional;
Outrageous and fatal.
Waging war to kill tribal and racial dissonance…
That belief is detrimental..

© S. R. Camus, 2015. All Rights Reserved. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided the full and clear credit is given to Samuel R. Camus with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

 

A Poem For Ellen

Moment turns forever.
My surrounding is nowhere.
If you’re not here to care for;
Why should I live and remember.

For your love is my home
Where I rest and not alone.
My burden left there;
Wherein our dreams have grown.

We bravely fight together
Against hindrances and battles.
Distances and loneliness,
Mistakes and imperfections.

Here we are holding on;
Keeping us tight and connection.
The chain that binding us;
Pulls me to come home…

© S. R. Camus, 2015. All Rights Reserved. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided the full and clear credit is given to Samuel R. Camus with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

 

What Night Sky Brought me?

When the moon glows above me
In the starry midnight sky
The light hits and reflects in my eyes
Then something projected so far

That darkness is just a hue
A shade beneath the pallet
Where different colors mingled
Offering a beautiful array

And I realized it’s not unusual
The things in this universe are natural
Can be understand by human’s mind
No magic, no supernatural.

For the knowledge is waiting
Can be traced among stars
Connecting all the twinkling dots
Or read on those genuine pads

In the ignorance of higher species
There, miracle bears exponentially
Human inventing mundane world
Distinguishing between earthly from heavenly

While not knowing the lurking crisis
That we have the concept of deity
We were threaten of something hellish
But still, we are the most dangerous species.

Though night’s covered by darkness
There are sparkling suns scattered
Grouping into many milky ways
That’s the best source for the great knowledge.

Then I found behind my telescope
That there is light, there is hope
Human will be out of darkness
If knowledge will be our stronghold

© S. R. Camus, 2014. All Rights Reserved. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided the full and clear credit is given to Samuel R. Camus with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

 

We Love Mystery More Than Knowledge

There are many of us think miracle is like of those cases that quite strange and unusual. A supernatural event caused by supernatural being. What you didn’t know about miracles is its true meaning; its true nature that had been hidden behind its known definition. To me, miracle is a question we don’t want to answer. It has why and how we didn’t wish to know. We don’t care what it really means. We don’t care what it really wants to show. Sometimes, the answer is the miracle itself, but we are blinded. We want it to be remained unknown. It is because we love mystery more than knowledge. We love unknown more than knowing at all.

What we usually do when we encounter something seems so hard to explain? Do we stop to examine? No. We definitely do not. We stop to wondering. We stop and exclaimed. We stop and give conclusion without reasoning. Ah! It’s a miracle! Why is that so? It’s just because we don’t know.

We don’t know how cancer was healed even without medication, therefore, it’s a miracle.
We don’t know how the universe created, therefore, it’s a miracle.
We don’t know how could our wishes came true, therefore, it’s a miracle.
We don’t know why tree grows.
We don’t know why birds fly.
We don’t know why the sun rises from the east.
We don’t know anything, therefore, it’s a miracle at least.

We never knew that cancer is actually a living cell in which ineffective against death. Therefore, the death of those living cancer cells is a miracle.
We never knew atoms were forged inside the star and some of them were created right after the supernova. Therefore, the existence of everything is a miracle.
We never knew that everything may happen coincidentally as what you actually wish for. Therefore, it’s a miracle.

We make conclusion without using reason. We are satisfied to what we see but not what we should know. There are a lot of things we didn’t know except miracle.

Instead of having astounded by what we can find and learn, we were rather amazed and satisfied when we found its strangeness. Like wondering children. And we haven’t noticed that, actually, they were far better than us! Yes- They were. Because they do ask questions unlike us. They know how to ask question unlike us. Sad but it’s true. They do exactly what we can’t do. If they were capable to do experimentations and data collections, they would really precede our potentiality. It is quite subtle to us that they are curious about what they have seen amusing. They are thirsty to find the answers from those questions we never ask ever.

For the last thing, let’s make all things out in order to waken up our sleeping curiousness.
It is not a miracle just because we don’t know why or how. We don’t know only because we never dare to ask somehow. I think saying the following once again make it more sense and finally we could realize what we’ve done wrong.

That is nothing but these:

We love mystery more than knowledge. We love miracles more than anything else. Do we realize these?

© S. R. Camus, 2014. All Rights Reserved. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided the full and clear credit is given to Samuel R. Camus with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

 

Bilanggo

This would be one of my favorite poems that I ever wrote. It was written during my college when I was still inspired by this genre of literature. It is a metaphoric piece expresses the emotional downheartedness and life’s ambiguities that I’ve gone through. Hope you like it.

 

BILANGGO

Iginiit ako ng dilim na mapagdusa,
Binaltak at subsuob sa isang lupang ‘di hawan,
Galos sa dibdib at ako’y inuupasala,
Sansang nabugbog sa gitna ng guntalan;

Ngunit ang kaluluwa ko’y malaon nang manhid,
Kaya’t sa aki’y matamis na pulot-pukyutan,
Ang bawat dugo na sa akin ay dumadaloy,
Ay unti-unting sa aking tiya’y pinaparam;

At ang dunong na matuwid ay biglang natulos,
Sa aking lalamunan na waring isang subyang,
Sa puso’y sisipak habang ‘di makahilagpos,
Kakambal ng damdami’y ‘di pinakikinggan;

Sapagka’t bilanggo sa pagitan ng mga sinag,
Dilim ang rehas na bakal na magkakadikit,
Idiin ma’ng pilit ang manipis nang katawan,
Sa munting mga guwang na lumalatang pilit;

Hanggang ang puso ko’y likyad nang tuluyan,
At sa linib nga ay lumuluhang nakatunghay,
At nakahimlay sa likmuan ni walang unan,
Sa dalaw ng liwanag, magdamag naghihintay.

 

Why Do We Always Perceive Faces On Random Pattern?

Do you experience seeing faces on an object or pattern? Do you sometimes notice an image appeared in cloud formation or on that coarse concrete wall in front of you? Or on a rough bark of your neighbor’s tree? Was there something image forming on your mind on that surface on which stains remained? I’m sure there was and you probably wondered. Giving a try to get an answer why such thing happens is the reason why you are reading this post.

I’d been looking for a clear explanation, like you do, when those same experiences started to be remembered. My curiosity ignited completely and drove me to a situation of being unsatisfied without knowing the secrete. It’s true. It may not be so interesting to some but it really was to me.

The most memorable experience that I’ve had is when I was at the age of five. There was no something so remarkable but just because of being curious in nature it became an indelible homework to me to find an answer. Roughly 12 in the afternoon, while I was laid in our mattress, my eyes were pacing all over the surface of our rusty old roof scattered with tiny holes. I realized, near the corner, bunches of rust spots incorporated with two of those holes look like a face of an old man with glowing eyes.

A portion of those rust spots seemed to be the beard. Likewise, on separated spots in a small distance seemed to be his lips. And there was more bunches of spots which gathered in elongated triangular shape would be the nose. It was so ironic, the two radiant holes have been sharing sunlight from the outside played the role of glowing eyes. Stain that seemed to be a cause of dirt surrounded them completed the detail of that face. Darn! Why do I imagine such thing from those inane rust spots, stains and holes? Have you asked yourself with the same question?

Well, there will be neither room for confusion nor to wonder why for I’m going to explicit everything that I’ve learnt in my past research. A narrow research which enough to change wonder into knowing spinning in an inquisitive mind. Enough to answer the following simple questions “What actually is going on! And why such thing exists?”

Okay, ranting about experience is enough. It’s just a psychological phenomenon, a mere product of our intuitive mind. It is called “Pareidolia”, a common phenomenon that everyone experiences whenever it finds opportunity. Pareidolia must not to be confused with apparition if the drawn image resembling the characteristic of the appearance of, let’s say, a god or a deceased person, since there is a huge distinction between Pareidolia and apparition. Pareidolia is a real one and about the apparition – I don’t believe in apparition. It is just that.

As what I’ve said, All of us are very susceptible and are not exempted to experience this seemed to be inexplicable imaginal inference. As a matter of fact, Pareidolia is inherent in human but not necessarily means extrinsic in other species. Underpinned by empirical notion from a renowned cosmologist Carl Sagan, Pareidolia is a substantial maneuver of natural selection and indispensable to our evolution.

As Carl Sagan’s Hypothesis, seeing imaginal faces in random pattern is an advantage that embodies survival method that may implies possible danger. The environment in which we are pacing was truly harsh and hostile. Since wild animals are co-existed, we became more observant. Consequently, perceptive outlining faces from a distance or in uncertain appearances became something so natural to us and at which we became skilled. We became succumbed to seeing faces to which we became more responsive to clarify the sensed image if it was a real one or a dangerous one or wasn’t.

Let me give another trivia. Visual phenomenon is not only the case when we talk about pareidolia, although this case by which, pareidolia has been known to many, auditory phenomenon has to be take into consideration. Seeing faces in meaningless pattern, likewise but in a different case, auditory pareidolia is concerning about hearing sound or noise where resemble speech. It develops in the same way how visual pareidolia develops in us. To be more alert in a certain form of image and sound that might be cautious to us.

An instance of auditory pareidolia is backmasking, a recording technic performing by particular individual who might have some agenda, in which a sound or massage is recorded and played backward. Most of them have to claim the existence of hidden massage when it happened to be heard an even quite vague speech. Like some of us, we usually claimed we saw a god in clouds, or we heard voices abruptly but the truth is, it’s not a real thing, it’s just a psychological thing.

So everytime you encounter this kind of experience just remind yourself to compare it to our ancestors’ hostile experiences.

© S. R. Camus, 2014. All Rights Reserved. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided the full and clear credit is given to Samuel R. Camus with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

 

Diyan Sa Puso Mo

Inukit ko sa bato ang pangalan mo
Gamit ang mapurol na kutsityo
Sinabay ko na pati pangalan ko
Pero… Aray! Nataga ako.

Isinulat ko sa tubig ang salitang “Mahal kita”
Gamit ang patpat na kung sa’n ko lang nakita
Nagtaka ako, wala paring guhit o ‘di kaya linya
Sa pangungulit, nahulog at ako’y nalunod na.

Iginuhit ko sa hangin ang larawan mo
Gamit ko ang aking hintuturong makalyo
Mata, ilong, bibig pati buhok mo iginuhit ko
At napagkamalan nga akong sira-ulo.

Sana – May mangyari naman sa ginagawa ko
Kahit ‘di ka kinakausap, dapat madama mo
Mahal kita at ‘di ‘yon magbabago
At ang pangalan ko’y maukit kahit d’yan man lang sa puso mo…