Farmers marching towards Manila

Farmers .. tillers of my land
far away on
the move, marching
chanting their voice hoarse
trying to crack the glass
heavens for 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 children
and my own ... for all brown skinned
indios, peasants, proletariats
and the working class ... wherever we
may be ...

the doll with the throbbing black mole
must be brought dowN


rey

rice 1

Remembering I used
to eat rice every single
morning, as bright tropical
sun start to peek at the
horizon, as there is NO excuse
whatsoever .. as rice equates to
strength and vigor
to carry me through that particular
day as in rice and dried fish, or
rice and egg, or rice and slippery
vegetables termed as "laswa" or
even rice with shrimp
anything as there MUST
be rice at the dining table
before I explode and run
to catch the jeepney to
school in the middle of the city ...

I feel sleepy in the subway train
this morning as the steel hollow vessels
lumber through he cavernous tracks
I actually caught a few minute catwinks!

I wonder if the bread got something to
do with it .... or my body craving for rice ...

January 14, 2010
(NYPH-Cornell Library before going to F10 to work)