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Scribblings and scrawls of a hopeless romantic soul

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politics

Writers Quote Wednesday: Freedom

Featured quote for Writer's Quote Wednesday

“Is there any country, sir,” pursued the history student, “where submission to Government is not due to fear?” “The freedom that exists in any country,” I replied, “may be measured by the extent of this reign of fear. Where its threat is confined to those who would hurt or plunder, there the Government may claim to have freed man from the violence of man. But if fear is to regulate how people are to dress, where they shall trade, or what they must eat, then is man’s freedom of will utterly ignored, and manhood destroyed at the root.”

― Rabindranath TagoreThe Home and the World

Last night, I finally finished reading Rabindranath Tagore’s The Home and the World. I’ve had this book for weeks but didn’t want to rush it to end. It was much more than a classic literary masterpiece to me. Each page was an awakening about the fragility of humanity. Each POV from the three central characters brought me to their shoes. I struggled with Nikhil in keeping his morals, I lost my way to sensationalism and terror with Bimala, and I breathed in Sandip’s clouded fanaticism.

This book resonated deeply, especially with what is happening to my country, the Philippines, and to the rest of the world. What is true freedom? How can we truly heal? Here’s an excerpt from the book that hits home:

And to anyone who hasn’t read it yet, I definitely recommend The Home and the World.  ❤ #makelovenotwar

What Would You Do?

Image result for spoliarium

What Would You Do? 

What would you do
When the thin line between
Right and wrong blurs?

When the outcries of the dead
Scream justice but the world
Responds with more deaths?

When humans refuse to be human
And the border that protects
now destroys, what would you do?
MS


In response to dVerse’s Poetics: Border. Today, Grace asks us to write about borders— physical or imaginary boundaries.

The image is above is a a painting by Filipino artist, Juan Luna, entitled Spoliarium. Our country and the people are in great divide right now with the ongoing war on drugs. Thousands are already dead but counting still goes on. When did death becomes the answer?

Head over here to join the fun!

dverse

e=mc2

no-future-girl-balloon-by-banksy

e=mc2

what do the children say
about special relativity?
when they neither had
a space to live and
a time to be free?

when past, present and future
were never in their grasp
when limbs, tears and blood
were all that they have

ask them an equation
they only have one:
the end is equivalent to the
mass of people multiplied by
the square of the speed of bomb

© 2017 Maria. All Rights Reserved.


In response to dVerse’s Open Link Night hosted by Grace.

This piece is also inspired Bjorn’s prompt at Toads.  The photo above is from Banksy. In 2010, Banksy did another version of his Balloon Girl with a monochrome child, spray-painted on the wall of a private house in Bevois Valley, Southampton, England.

 My heart bleeds for the people of Syria, especially the children. The alleged gas attack from Assad regime in a rebel-held town in Idlib has killed many innocent souls. Who really did this? We’ll never really know. One thing is for sure, mankind has become most dangerous animal in this world. And, sadly, the leader could only respond with a missile airstrike. Sigh. Poets around the globe are unleashing their swords through their pens. Here are some of them that you might want to read:

Instagram: #withsyria
Bjorn’s Another Name for Terror
Jade’s An Elegy for Them

Head over here to join the fun:

dverse

Take Me Not To Dreamland


Take Me Not To Dreamland

take me not to dreamland
to the lands of make-believe
but lead me to a place instead
that swathes of artistry
where faces ashen to the sight
of reality
where pointing fingers curl in guilt
and men spring to take the blame

amuse me, bemuse me
but not with fantasy

© 2017 Maria. All Rights Reserved.

Photograph by David Levene/Eyevine via TheNewYorker


In response to dVerse’s Poetics: Amuse me! Take me for a ride! hosted by the lovely Lillian.

P.S My apologies if this one digress from the fun. 😅 As an avid fan, I couldn’t help but think of Banksy with today’s prompt. In 2015, the world was shaken when the artist opened his bemusement park, Dismaland. Situated in the Weston-super-Mare seafront, the themed park displayed demented assortment of bizarre and thought-provoking artworks from Banksy and more than 50 artists around the world— from street art, spoof fairground rides, derelict Cinderella castle, grim reaper exhibit, a dystopian model village and many more. Ah, if only I could teleport! 😦

You can find more info and images of Dismaland from these links: Colossal, Reuters, The Guardian

Head over here to join the fun:

dverse

If I Could Build A House

rooms_artist03_z

If I Could Build A House

If I could build a house
I would build one not for mine

A house of warmth for those in the cold
Sprawled on the streets, no one to hold

A house of strength for those who are weakened
No mortar or bombs can ruin again

A house of light that beams in the night
For the lost and weary to cast away their fright

A house of love for the lonely and hopeless
Who threw away trust and second chances

A house of peace for the hate-filled heart
Who’s trying to keep from falling apart

If I could build a house in a snap of fingers
I would build a home for each rat that lingers.

© 2017 Maria. All Rights Reserved.


In response to dVerse’s Tuesday Poetics: DIY Building by our guest host, Sara McNulty.

Your challenge for today is to imagine that you have been given free rein to design any type of building you wish. What would your building look like?

Banksy is back with a brand new project called “The Walled Off Hotel,” where people can literally sleep inside this work of art. Located in Bethlehem, Palestine it offers the ‘worst view in the world’ with windows overlooking the controversial barrier wall that separates the West Bank from Israel territory. The image above is one of the wall decorations in the room. Banksy is <3.

Head over here to join the fun:

dverse

Home by Warsan Shire

no one leaves home unless
home is the mouth of a shark
you only run for the border
when you see the whole city running as well

your neighbors running faster than you
breath bloody in their throats
the boy you went to school with
who kissed you dizzy behind the old tin factory
is holding a gun bigger than his body
you only leave home
when home won’t let you stay.

no one leaves home unless home chases you
fire under feet
hot blood in your belly
it’s not something you ever thought of doing
until the blade burnt threats into
your neck
and even then you carried the anthem under
your breath
only tearing up your passport in an airport toilets
sobbing as each mouthful of paper
made it clear that you wouldn’t be going back.

Continue reading “Home by Warsan Shire”

The Prisoner of Chillon by Lord Byron (George Gordon)

My hair is grey, but not with years,
          Nor grew it white
          In a single night,
As men’s have grown from sudden fears:
My limbs are bow’d, though not with toil,
       But rusted with a vile repose,
For they have been a dungeon’s spoil,
       And mine has been the fate of those
To whom the goodly earth and air
Are bann’d, and barr’d—forbidden fare;
But this was for my father’s faith
I suffer’d chains and courted death;
That father perish’d at the stake
For tenets he would not forsake;
And for the same his lineal race
In darkness found a dwelling place;
We were seven—who now are one,
       Six in youth, and one in age,
Finish’d as they had begun,
       Proud of Persecution’s rage;
One in fire, and two in field,
Their belief with blood have seal’d,
Dying as their father died,
For the God their foes denied;—
Three were in a dungeon cast,
Of whom this wreck is left the last.

Continue reading “The Prisoner of Chillon by Lord Byron (George Gordon)”

Angel Down

banksy-graffiti-street-art-girl-with-a-bomb

On a rubble and blackened wall
A little silhouette moans
Once living and running
Chasing kites and dreams
Till wrath from the sky befalls
Fighter planes, not shooting stars
Harbinger of doom
Angel down on crimson dirt
Mortar bombs dug her grave

© 2016 Maria. All Rights Reserved.

Graffiti by Banksy via Art and Political Warfare


Written for November Notes hosted by two lovely and awesome writers, my dearie Rosema of A Reading Writer and Sarah of Heartstring Eulogies. Come, join the musical fun!😀

Music Prompt for Day 9: Cupid Carries a Gun by Marilyn Manson. Today’s prompt is quite tricky since I don’t normally listen to this particular kind of music. Got nothing in mind but the seemingly endless airstrike in the Middle East. Sigh. Also, the title’s inspired by Lady Gaga’s single, Angel Down. I hope everyone is doing well. Fire love instead of bullet. 🙏🏼💝✌🏿️

november-notes-4

War on Drugs

 

icon-grill-ted-strutz

War on Drugs
Realistic Fiction

“How are we doing?” Police inspector Stone inquired, pouring another glass from his bottle of Jack Daniels.

“Seven-hundred deaths, eight-thousand surrenders, sir.” Bates answered aptly.

Disgusted, Stone felt the liquor boiling from his insides. “That’s a lot of mouths to feed. We’ve had enough of these pushers and addicts. This is war on drugs, kid. I want you men to purge.”

“What about due process, sir?”

“Call it resisting arrest or self-defense, I don’t care. Just get those body bags out—fast.”

*BATES’ PHONE RINGS*

With a lump in his throat, he voiced, “Sir… It’s your son. He’s…  He’s dead.”

Word Count: 100

© 2016 Maria. All Rights Reserved.


In response to this week’s Friday Fictioneers prompt. Friday Fictioneers is a weekly writing challenge hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields where a photo is used as a prompt for a hundred-word piece of fiction. The photo prompt this week is a courtesy of Ted Strutz. Thank you!

I was watching Senator De Lima’s privilege speech last night and regardless of she has done or has failed to do against the proliferation of drugs as a former justice secretary, I stand by her side when it comes to extrajudicial killings. This do-it-yourself justice is inhumane, an impunity that must come to an end.

“Drugs destroy lives, but we need not destroy lives to destroy drugs.” -Leila de Lima

 

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