(Tempus Dei — The Reckoning of Heaven)


Tempus tacendi transiit.
The time for silence has passed.

Vox populi ascendit sicut incensum.
The voice of the people rises like incense.
Cries buried beneath bureaucracy now echo in eternity.
The blood of the innocent cries out from the soil.

Ecce, tempus iudicii.
Behold, the time of judgment.

Thrones built on theft shall crack.
Palaces funded by lies shall fall like dust.
The names engraved in gold shall be erased by fire.


“Et reddet unicuique secundum opera sua.”
The child who died waiting for medicine...
The farmer who walked ten miles to find none...
The mother who buried her dreams beneath sacks of aid with faces printed...
They shall stand as witnesses.


Even the Dead Shall Not Hide
“Et si mortuus est reus, vivit crimen eius.”
Though the guilty be dead, his crime still lives.
And if the son walks in the father's corruption,
the curse shall follow the blood.



But to the Just…
“Tempus pacis.”
The time of peace.

The just shall sleep without fear.
Their reward is not in applause, but in the whisper of God:
“Bene, serve fidelis.”
Well done, faithful servant.


“Universa fecit Deus pulchra in tempore suo.”
God has made everything beautiful in His time.
Even justice delayed,
even truth once buried,
even a nation betrayed — shall be made whole.









With BAI CGT & SDV/FSP

(A Confession in Pride and Silence)


Tempus lucrandi, et tempus abscondendi.
We took when the coffers were full, and we took when they were empty.
We hid behind committees, resolutions, and ribbon-cuttings.
What is theft, if made to look like service?

Tempus mentiendi, et tempus silentii.
Truth is a tool, and silence is gold — we mastered both.
Our names etched on schools we never built,
our faces smiling beside bridges that only lead to ruin.

Tempus regnandi, et tempus hereditatem tradendi.
Power is legacy, not morality.
We raised sons to inherit our thrones,
trained daughters to smile through audits.

Tempus donandi, sed pro mercede.
Ayuda today, allegiance tomorrow.
We fed the people just enough to keep them kneeling.

Tempus simulandi iustitiam.
Courts danced to our tune.
The law? A show.
The judge? A guest in our banquet.

Et si venit iudicium…
...we shall be buried heroes.
The poor shall weep — not from love, but from habit.


With BAI CGT & SDV/FSP

(Inspired by Ecclesiastes Caput III)


Tempus nascendi, et tempus moriendi.
I have seen men born into honor, and die in disgrace.
Some buried with medals — their coffins lined with gold stolen from the poor.

Tempus tacendi, et tempus loquendi.
I kept my silence once, when fear ruled the air.
But there came a time I could no longer endure the sound of stolen bread
echoing in the bellies of hungry children.

Tempus plantandi, et tempus evellendi.
They planted dynasties like weeds in our soil —
watered with lies, fertilized with public funds.
But in God’s season, they shall be uprooted.

Tempus flendi, et tempus ridendi.
I cried when the sick were turned away,
laughed bitterly when hospitals became monuments of vanity.
"Project Complete," they said. "Healing Denied," we replied.

Tempus belli, et tempus pacis.
This is no longer the time for silence,
nor the time to make peace with evil.
This is the time for war — not with arms, but with truth.

Tempus iudicii.
The time for judgment is not ours to choose,
but neither is it ours to delay.

Et universa fecit Deus pulchra in tempore suo.
Even justice — though long buried — shall rise.
For He has made everything beautiful in its time.







With BAI CGT & SDV/FSP

By: SDV/Ferdiand S. Panerio+


Pagmulat sa dapithapong umaga,
Dahil sa haplos ng simoy na kay ganda.
Kay sarap limiin, damhin sa guniguni,
Ang lamig **** tagos hanggang dibdib,
O Maragusan, himbing ng aking pagiisip.

Hindi ka lamang lupang sinilangan,
Kundi sabsaban ng likas na kayamanan.
Luntiang paraisong sa puso’y nakaukit,
Sa bawat patak ng hamog, ikaw ay iniibig.


Maragusan—tahanan ng aking alaala,
Sa bawat ulap, bulaklak, at bituin
Maragusan—huwaran ng ganda at sigla,
Sa iyo pa rin, puso ko’y mananahan.

By: Ferdinand S. Panerio+


O~ what has become of us?
This silence—deafening,
But where is this silence taking us?

The stillness feels cursed,
Have we built a congress of vanity and greed?
Only a few stand uncorrupted.

Is this a nation crumbling from within?
My beloved homeland drowns in swelling debt—
Born not from service, but from selective aid
Where the needy get crumbs, and the well-fed get feasts.

Silver tongues speak of promises,
But their pockets remain hollow, unsatisfied.
Projects for the people, they say—
Yet the people ask, where is it?

I love you, my country.
But what are we to do?
How do we rise and lift you,
When you no longer lift us?