farmers ... tillers of my land
far away on
the move, marching,
chanting their voice hoarse
trying to crack the glass
heavens for the genuine change
and peace that is so
elusive in the present dictatorial
regime of the puppet
president
glued to the boob tube
wishing I am home
the great multitude of my
people raising their angry fists
defying the State that's never
for them ... for their chidren
and my own .. for all brown skinned
indios, proletariats, peasants
and the working class ... wherever
we may be ...
the doll with the throbbing black mole
must be brought down
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Sticky sugar violently stirred round and round the couldron ... flames gnashing at the pit cooking the dark brown concoction into perfection. A definite Filipino dessert. Kalamay-hati ... like my words, my offering of odes and prose to the world ... my eclat, my voice of triumph and desolation ...
LUNANGON
There's a lot of things to know .. as there's a lot of things to be changed. A passive mind needs to be de-constructed. Apathy needs to be torched. To know is to transform. And to write is already to choose which side you want to be on.
