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May 2022 · 317
Youth is the History
Tasyong Batsi May 2022
Now that they're more threatened by the cries of the youth, they will do everything to dismiss your voices, discredit your efforts, belittle your advocacies.

Do not forget what we've started. Go back to the communities and continue the service as we should. Go back to the streets and keep the fight, if we must.

They will mock everything you do as if it is not for the country. They will laugh at you for being educated, woke, angry, and liberated, as if it is wrong to demand for a future that is ours.

God forbid that unwanted things happen, but do not be afraid to shed. Shed light to those who live in the shadows as the enemy's weapons are ignorance, fear, and dissonance. Shed tears for the injustices, for the abuse, for the abused. Shed blood for our freedom, if we must.

They will doubt you until they make you doubt yourselves. They will tag you red, the history they will try to bend.

But do not be bent.

No matter how many pages they burn, your heart will burn brighter because you are the book being written. You are the history as you uphold history, justice, and freedom.

There is no future if there is no history and there is no future without you. You are the clamors in the streets, you are the bars that will imprison the greedy, you are the stories before the ink writes history.
Sep 2018 · 1.4k
To the Fairest
Tasyong Batsi Sep 2018
your beauty put nations into dispute
trying to benefit from the rewards of your youth
for every treasure there's nothing to spare
they used you, abused you, then left you in despair

you've welcomed other nations to experience your land
but your slaughter is what they've plotted that's what they've planned
never have you ever became selfish of your beauty
but you failed to discern the hands of the greedy

your pillars they shattered into pieces
your temples they burned down to ashes
you called for gods but it is the gods who are the roots
one even turned his back after gaining from your loots

you offered so much but they left you nothing but scars
you gave them beauty they gave you famine and farce
should you have invited Eris?
behold, you're the victim of war between these deities

whoever obtains this apple is the fairest
whoever consumes you will be the greatest
war is the immortals' way to argue
they saw your beauty but they never saw you

one bribed you to rule other nations
another bribed you to be the warrior of your fictions
then one bribed you with your weakness, your ambitions
oh my land, you fell. let me ask you my greatest questions.

who are you?

have you forgotten your identity?
why are you allowing yourself be defined by the words of these false deities
why do you still call your oppressor a hero
until when are you going to stay on this limbo

you are Thetis and Peleus not inviting Eris to avoid strife
but you also are the golden apple causing the immortals seek for your life
you are Paris being promised of your dreams
but you also are Helen the most beautiful woman in the history of regimes

you are the war itself, oh my land
your destiny resides on your hand
you are every character of this myth
of your own sword you are the smith
this was a final requirement for my world literature class, reflecting our country's (Philippines) experience in reference to the Trojan War. Literature means a whole lot more when we get to see how fiction shares a common experience of truth with things that happen in reality.
May 2018 · 272
void
Tasyong Batsi May 2018
Nothing's in accord
So why not a sword
No one will hear
What then shall I fear
Nobody seems to care
So why can't I dare
There's not even an eye
Finally, a chance to fly
I'll put my blade upon my vein
This will be my final pain
A step or two from a building's ledge
At last I'll see my life on edge
Hanging from the gallows I will swing
After this I can spread wide my wings
Now my blood rushes over me
It's getting dark I can barely see
Little by little I'm out of air
What have I done please help me spare
The light I thought that I will see
Is actually darkness, it's consuming me
To call for help I want to shout
Rescue me, please take me out
I was deceived by my ownself's death
Plotting it was my biggest regret
Whom shall I blame, it is my fault
It is my sin that of hope I was short
It is my sin, It is my fault
It is my fault
It is my fault
Is it really my fault?
No one heard me when I was afraid
Is it still my sin that no one cared?
Nobody helped when I was frail and weak
Nobody knew that my mind and soul was sick
Is it my fault that I felt unloved?
That no one listened to my deepest sobs
These words are what I'm leaving here
Make this live, please make them hear
I may be forgotten, I may be missed
But one last request, let me now rest in peace
to ate Halen, no, it isn't your fault
Apr 2018 · 260
Fire
Tasyong Batsi Apr 2018
Tell me, why am I being so fascinated by a fire?
All I see is grace dancing calmly with the wind
As if it’s trying to melt me down to my deepest desire

I never think of the pain if ever I get burned
So bright it calls me to play
Not realizing to self-destruction I turned

Its purity I adore despite its rage
Casualties turned to ashes
Its beauty I can’t gauge

Consume me, oh fire, till I be gone
I will be the fuel
Until thy will be done

Thy tongue I claim to be mine
Burn me to my soul
Though your warmth will still be thine
Consume me as a whole
I'm slowly falling for her, slowly being consumed.
Jan 2018 · 516
empty
Tasyong Batsi Jan 2018
Hot Dark Mocha with Hazelnut
I wanted to say something but I forgot
I’ve done all my papers but wasn’t satisfied
Don’t look for me now; from myself I want to hide

Reviewed some of my notes
Sudden thought of sinking boats
Check the time, it is half after nine
Why does this coffee taste like a wine?

Recounting my pens, they’re seventeen
I drew a line, but it was so thin
An old friend came in, I said hi
After some while I also said goodbye

Been sitting for an hour, it’s already cold
What do you think will I be when I’m old?
Took the last sip
Caffeine makes me want to sleep

Seven feet away is a bin, it’s empty
Wow, an analogy of me
Empty and trash
Save me now; rush, hush… crash
There are times that we suffer inspirational drought. We feel low. Sometimes we actually feel nothing.

— The End —