The yearning for peace

PEACE! PEACE! PEACE!
Painted on murals,
Vandalized on walls,
Written on daily newspapers,
everybody yearned about it,
Yet everybody resorted into violence to attain it.

From the very first kiss of the morning dew,
Nothing could be heard on radios,
But wars from Jerusalem to kabul,
Till midnight when the nectar of the Dama De Noches flowed through the petals,
Nothing could be seen on televisions,
But mutilated cadavers from Damascus to the streets of Zamboanga City,
And everybody sought for PEACE through all ages.

If am dead and gone,
It would be sweeter to be buried before darkness,
Beneath the blooming flowers of yellow roses,
Where the scent of them would hug my corpse,
When the windy afternoon comes,
Their petals would perfume my decaying flesh.

Under the falling rain,
When my soul crosses the river styx into the other world,
Where the angel of death's guitar strums flow underneath
The rainbow bridge of soft pillows,
perhaps I could find peace across the river.

Collage

Within the cracks of an alley's facade,
antiquated from the flow of human violence,
between them are multi-faceted images,
engraved on the flakes fallen from social turbulence,
CONTAGIOUS CRIMES: Widespread,
young children forced by policemen to engage in
akyat-bahay activities,
EPIDEMIC PROSTITUTION: Largescale,
girls deceived  and trapped in the net of human traffickers,
INFECTIOUS HUNGER: Everywhere,
politicians are constantly stealing government's revenues,
sad realities posted on the collage of poverty,
mummified perpetually within those cracks.

But those creeks are becoming brittle,
weakened by the flow of ethnic differences,
diluted in every drop of rain falling
on the cancerous cell of distrust,
when treachery among them becomes a tool of survival,
and our senate is a house divided,
tribalism prevails over reason,
a division embalmed forever in a collage.

Deadly sound of plunder

There is a song on broken streets,
neither cold nor damp,
it sounds familiar,
the worst music of our time,
it blessed the thieves and irritated the dignified,
since the overthrow of a thief in 1986,
corruption is once again glorified,
it's the name of the game in the house
of representatives and the senate,
everybody wants to plunder,
from ordinary men to the highest officials,
everybody wants to get richer overnight,
disdaining decency every night.

Watch the morning show,
from Umagang Kay Ganda to Unang Hirit,
listen to that loud music,
it is not the concert of Megadeth,
but it goes through your spines,
ex PGMA and JLN are guilty of tax robbery,
mothers who taught their children of stealing,
they simply break the lyrics of social morality,
the scumbags of our homes.

Where are we heading to?
no where,
just drifting into the nightmare of our history,
it's a tragedy.

The wrath of storm

" Sir have mercy on me,
please give me a piece of bread,
a glass of water,
I am starving to death,
since the typhoon obliterated our city,
we have eaten nothing,
my father survived the storm surge but died in hunger,
Save me!
I don't want to die like him,
help me bury his dead body."

A young lad talks to one of the social workers,
every word he speaks tells the pain of abandonment,
the hunger that he has been suffering through could be felt
from the softness of his voice,
he bleeds in tears while wrapping the cadaver of his beloved father with a piece of white linen cloth,
his almond eyes reflect the desperate thoughts within his mind,
behind him,
his home reduced into pieces of broken woods,
he doesn't know where to go,
he doesn't know how to survive a life after the devastation.

"Papa!,
I still remember so well,
when I was younger,
you promised me before the setting sun,
you would never never leave me alone in a struggle against our poverty till the end of time,
What would I be now without you?
How could I live alone on this world of harsh reality?"

Tears keep rolling down on his angelic face,
while kissing the cold loving hand of his dead father,
upon hearing his voice weakened by a week of tormenting agony,
the social worker could not stand stronger any longer,
she can feel her heart breaking in tears,
she kneels down before the child,
could not utter any word,
but just to hug the boy so tight like her son,
and wipes his tears away by her palm,
tears could not be stopped falling from her eyes.

Beneath the beauty of the kaleidoscopic rainbow,
I knew a man who got nothing,
but a small shack and sweet laughters of his grand children,
he found homily santuaries under their sweet smiles,
they live lives to the fullest without material desires,
yet the greed of Super Typhoon Yolanda is just formidable,
she robbed him of his small shack,
killed his only rooster,
and the worst,
she washed his grand children away into the ocean,
they have been missing for 8 days now.

His sight wanders into the waves of the sea,
with tears falling all day long and eternally,
his life is deep buried in incalculable sadness,
hoping for his grand children to come home,
yet nobody is home but memories of tragedy.

BAYANIHAN

Tacloban City,
Heavily Damaged: 10,000 feared dead,
cadavers of ripped children litter on the streets,
Ormoc City,
Totally Devastated:People are desperate,
the streets are infested with terrible hunger,
looting is everywhere,
The whole city:State with anarchy,
Most of the communities on the coastal areas around the Visayas region:Literally wiped out,
defaced from the map in a blink of an eye,
washed away into the ocean by tsunamis of 15 feet higher,
After the apocalyptic deluge of super typhoon Yolanda,
sufferings plagued with painful sadness reign,
dead mothers hugged by crying children still wet with gushing blood,
a confused father carrying the cadaver of his young daughter,
whole families uprooted,
died in a split second,
an old woman eternally searching for her dead sons and daughters,
the old man shedding tears before the church's sacred altar,
his mind could not imagine the magnitude of the devastation,
an unthinkable natural calamity,
such a tragic phenomenon he just experienced in his lifetime.

My heart bleeds while watching these heart breaking news flashed 
on television,
in every corner of the victims' eyes are unimaginable sufferings beyond human comprehension,
not even a poetic thought could find a word to describe the sorrow they are going through,
even an artist's passionate hand finds it hard to portray on canvass the agonies of homelessness,
worst than nightmare is that their dreams are swept away by heavy flooding.
how depressing to see them trembling under the bitter coldness without clothes.

Even the wrath of nature is terrible,
the very nature that we abused for so long,
but never loose hope,
there will always be calm after the storm,
as beautiful rainbow appears after the rain,
you'll never walk alone through your endeavor towards rehabilitation and restoration,
in spite of the political scandal of corruption that afflicts our country,
the politicians that put us in global shame,
the disease that we are trying to cure day by day,
but always remember,
we are filipinos born with a spoon of resiliency,
deep in our hearts are true compassion for others,
the spirit of bayanihan still dwells within us,
hand in hand we help each other like a one big family,
together we stand united,
this tragedy will be overcame,
and realize that this enemy is just but a small problem to beat.

Love song and the typhoon

Even though we have nothing left, 
the storm robbed us of everything, 
I am still in love with you my love, 
in the morning when I wake up, 
I will always wipe your tears away, 
hold your hands, 
together we will pick up those broken pieces, 
and restore what was lost.

Though her wind was the fiercest, 
blew our home away, 
but she could not steal my love for you, 
our ways she could not part, 
I will never ever leave you, 
without you, 
I will be lost.

Come closer, 
cry no more, 
I will always be by your side, 
together we will rebuild your lost beautiful garden, 
plant seeds of eternal love, 
I will do everything to shelter you from harm, 
give anything you want most, 
tomorrow, 
we will start all over again, 
and embark on a new beginning.

Love in tomato sauce

Love, 

take those red plum tomatoes, 

in a garden where we used to dance, 

swaying along with basil and thyme, 

and our kisses glow under the rhythm of bossa nova.

 

Blanch them, 

Can you feel the heat? 

that is my emotion, 

burning hotter than the boiling water, 

it never evaporates, 

but stay longer.

 

Peel them, 

throw those seeds of hatred, 

if you ever give up your love on us, 

my heart will surely bleed and die in misery.

 

Put them in a saucepan, 

with garlic, grated cheese, 

sliced basil leaves and thinly sliced onion, 

stir them with red wine till thick, 

as thick as my eternal trust, 

never thought of you  of any act of betrayal, 

because this love of ours is sealed tightly, 

with the condiment of faithfulness.

Love me for what I am

My jeans are tattered but quite clean,
wearing inexpensive clothes yet neat,
sometimes I forgot to see myself at the mirror,
just to spend an hour or more,
painting pictures of you,
every stroke of the brush expresses the depth of my love,
whispering on myself some of the time,
perhaps you can love me for what I am.

Every time you pass in front of my window,
too sleek of that dress you wear,
your skin glows white and pink again,
you just turn my life upside down,
and I spend my day again dreaming about you,
someday you will love me for what I am.

In the darkness of the night,
on the softness of the pillow,
I am still thinking about you,
till my eyes would close,
hoping that you are with me,
Will you love me for what I am?

Pagbangon sa gitna ni Janet at ni Yolanda

Pilipino, 

nagising kang tulala, 

katinua'y tumatakas, 

sikmura'y bumabaliktad sa nakakasukang iskandalo, 

pinaghiarapan mong buwis ay ninakaw ni Janet at ng mga senador, 

kasama pati ang mga kongresista, 

malaya at lantaran nila itong ginawa, 

hindi na sila nahiya, 

bayan mo ngayo'y gumagapang sa putik ng kahirapan, 

muli ay nasadlak sa pag-durusa, 

buhay mo ay balik isang kahig at isang tuka, 

iyong anak na dalagita'y muling gugutumin, 

magpalaboy-laboy sa lansangan ng karalitaan, 

at mga mata mo ay biglang lumuha, 

karukhang ito ay sapilitan kang itataboy, 

sa banyagang bansa ay muling magpapa-alipin, 

dangal ma'y nagpupumiglas, 

ngunit ay lulunukin, 

mai-aahon lang sa kahirapan ang mga mahal sa buhay, 

tadhana mo ay sadyang napaka-lupit.

 

Nagising kang pawisan, 

mga mata'y balisa, 

matamis mong panaginip ay binangungot ng mga tulisang MNLF, 

mga ganid na MNLF, 

iyong lungsod ng Zamboanga ay kanilang nilusob, 

nais angkinin at pagnakawan, 

mga tenga mo ay nabibingi sa mga putok ng kanilang mga baril, 

kalsadang nilalakaran ay basang-basa sa dugo, 

amoy ng hangin ay nabubulok, 

tulad ng kanilang adhikain, 

nangagamoy ng naagnas na mga bangkay, 

ikaw ay biglang nawalan ng ulirat, 

halos ay mabaliw, 

batang babae ay ginahasa muna bago putol-putulin, 

sila ay mga hayop at mga hayok sa laman, 

karahasang iyong nasaksihan ay ibinalandra kang tuliro sa isang sulok.

 

Sa ilalim ng kalangitang walang kasing ganda, 

mundo mo ay niyanig ng napaka-lakas na lindol, 

tahanan ay winasak, 

pati na rin ang iyong kaluluwa, 

lupang iyong binubungkal ay nagkabitak-bitak, 

tanimang mais at palay ay nilamon ng lupa, 

hagulhol ng mga namatayan, 

sa mga tenga mo ay napaka-pait, 

mga paningin ay nabubulag sa mga masamang pangitain, 

durog-durog na mga kalsada at mga tulay, 

mga duguang mga bangkay, 

punit-punit na mga katawang nakahandusay sa hardin, 

at ikaw ay muling napa-iyak, 

lola mo, 

naghihikahos man, 

pinatuyo ng kanyang hele ang iyong mga mata, 

mas lalo kang nalungkot, 

mga lumang simbaha'y gumuho rin, 

nalugmok ka ng husto, 

hindi nalalaman kung pano muling bubuuin ang mga tisang nagkawarak-warak tulad ng iyong buhay.

 

Sa gitna ng matinding kurapsyon, digmaa't lindol, 

muli ika'y nagising, 

napahagul-hol na para bang isang musmos, 

kirot sa iyon puso ay lalo pang pinahapdi ni bagyong Yolanda, 

pinsala ng kanyang hagupit: hindi lubos maisip, 

ni sa bangungot ay ayaw mong makita, 

delubyong kanyang dala ay mala-impiyerno, 

binura niya ang buong lungsod, 

kanyang mga dambuhalang alon ay tinangay ang mga kabahayan at kabuhayan, 

pati na rin ang mga pangarap, 

nagkayupi-yupi ang mga gusaling yari sa semento't bakal, 

nagkalat kahit saan ang mga bangkay, 

naagnas sa ilalim ng tubig, 

ang iba'y nahiwa ng mga nagliliparang bubungan, 

pagdadalamhati at paghihinagpis ang namayani sa iyong kapaligiran, 

nakakabaliw at nakakapanlulumo.

sa isang tabi ay naupo ka, 

gutom na gutom, 

uhaw na uhaw, 

mga mata ay namumula, 

nakayuko at mangiyak-ngiyak, 

sa iyong mga pisngi ay tumatagas ang mga luha, 

habang hinahalikan sa pisngi ang ikinakargang anak, 

ngayon ay isang namumutlang bangkay, 

katinuan ay ibig lumundag mula sa isipan, 

sariling lugmok na sa kahirapan ay lalo pang binabaon, 

nagdurusa na ay lalo pang pinaparusahan, 

kay saklap nga talaga ng iyong tadhana.

 

Sa uma-ambong langit, 

ikaw ay aking nilapitan, 

tulad din ng ating mga kababayan, 

puso ay nagdurugo't nadudurog, 

mga luha mo ay pinatuyo ng dala kong panyo, 

handang damayan ka, 

sa iyong mga tenga ay may ibinulong, 

huwag kang mag-alala, 

sa panahong tulad nito, 

PAG-ASA at BAYANIHAN ang tangi nating mga sandata, 

maliban sa mga magnanakaw sa ating pamahalaan, 

karamihan sa ating mga kababayan ay may mabubuti pa ring mga kalooban, 

hinding-hindi nila tayo iiwan sa gitna ng trahedya, 

tutulungan at aakayin nila ang lumpo nating mga buhay sa paglalakbay tungo sa pagbangon, 

sa pagkakapit-bisig at pagtutulungan, 

muli tayong mai-ahon, 

kasama sila ay matitikman din natin ang tamis ng bagong umaga.

Drops of rain

And where the drops of rain,

there beneath the clearest blue sky's vein,

they're circling round and round a crystalline chain,

but disappear before falling on a very bald horizon's lane.

 

When the wet grasses on the hills rolled ever green,

then pollen blown by the drones on the air were clean,

barren wild bulls survived on roots but were not lean,

even soaked in mud yet sluggish turtles,never heathen.

 

There in a humid primordial jungle,hawked eagle's eggs lain,

where monkeys' and trees' shadows were treated not in disdain,

here between boulders' mosses and fruit vines,parrots' domain,

anywhere on the valley's peak and dried leaves,their terrain.

 

Between the flattened plateaus,where the river once flowed,

here in a garden of budding flowers,the Eden of sparrows.

Javeline was the throw of falling water,rainbow's arrow.

Woven cobweb on the other side was the spider's pillow.

 

Yet man's desire and collective aim is extremely in manic vain,

at the very beginning,he thought of none but to gain,

cut all of the trees till drops of rain are gone,

flat,earth is dried,blistering den.