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Isabelle May 2017
I can't sleep
The horrible news is bothering me
My fellow Filipinos in Marawi
Are being attacked by Maute Group/ISIS
They are burning down the place
The houses, the hospitals, the churches
And if you can't prove that you are a Muslim
They'll take you as a hostage
Those who don't wear hijabs "are taken care of"
Horrible, really horrible
My fellow filipinos there are suffering
Muslims and non-muslims
It's not supposed to be about religion
It's supose to be being people, human
It's suppose to be "humanity"



*"Save me from people of the world" Psalm 17:14

It's horrible, really horrible. How can these people be so cruel?? It's really scary, really scary
Almighty God, I pray for my fellow Filipinos to stay strong amidst this crisis. May we find strength in each other and may you protect each of us from those inhuman people. We pray for peace and unity. Amen
A hippodrome as smoke adjourn
those can wrap Havanas blunt
while Manila fish for sordino
they reek of harvest yet exhume Moro
then San Mateo shall not a maraschino bane
whether they've sought bastion in Italy then
once their hopes shall keep ships ahoy
and Sabatini sing San Marino here
that sandcastle star await his lover in
"The Sea Hawk" a fine costume whence sail
those Antilles with a conquistador as buttress
in this play they call Those Philippines alas meet
El Duarte in a duet with his song set aflame with
great sleeves in such kleptocracy worldwide again.
Y Rada Jun 2017
To the niqab girl whom I met in Cagaya De Oro City
You were in front of me as we waited in line for hours
We smiled first politely and then we began to talk,
We Shared different insights in almost everything:
Your face veiling practice in Islam fascinated me
My headcovering as Christian piqued your curiosity
Conversations turned to fashion, extremism, and Filipinos,
You saw my face and I saw your beautiful eyes
Yet we never asked each other's names or Facebook accounts,
We were different yet somehow we mirrored each other;
Different religions yet linked by passion to serve God
Different ethnicity and language yet tied by nationality.

It's been weeks since the Marawi siege and I think of you
Hoping that every niqab girl I see in Iligan is you
We were strangers that rainy afternoon of June 2016
Yet I grieve for your loss - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Words are not enough to comfort you sister of the stars but
May your Allah guide and protect you in these times
May my Jesus cover you with His precious Holy blood,
To the niqab girl whom I met in Cagayan De Oro City
Perhaps we'll never see each other again in the future but
Thank you for letting me see the beauty of cultural diversity
And that coexistence is possible if we have open minds
And living in harmony is attainable if we open our hearts.
1. May 23, 2017 the island of Mindanao is under Martial Law due to the siege of Maute  in Marawi City.

2. I never knew her name but I called her "niqab girl" every time I think of her. Despite the chaos in her hometown, I really hope she's alright...
Sy Lilang May 2014
In times of yore,
A name arose –
With vulnerable emerging markets,
The “Sick Man” of Asia!

But it has primed its cutback!
“Sick Man” was now a former name,
Call him this nation
To breed at ‘breakneck’ pace!

The snap back is faster
As global growth stirs in its revival,
And billions of dollars are in his shares!

Philippines vs. U.S.
With 7 percent, the peso was down for the year!
And we were knocked out!

It was more a reflection of global fears! –
About higher U.S. interest rates,
Then, the worries ‘bout the realm’s own fortunes,
Has to be forgotten.

Southeast Asian nation's prospects remain bright,
Likely to produce “predictable growth,”
Yes, the three stars with lone sun –
Now sky-scraping ,
With Filipinos making a stand.

Moving far..
From being a financial basket case,
The government has cut its debt,
Carry on! March on Filipinos!

(2/25/13 @xirlleelang)
The immense striking letters
of the gazette’s front page
make me almost cross-eyed

My mind is going to explode
in the images I have seen in the television

Boom!

When will the politicians
be weary in stealing
the wealth of the country?
Millions of pesos were caught
in the centre of the golden sea

Can we only find it from other countries?
Is that the main reason
why Filipinos are migrating:
to find source of much bigger income?

I am thinking about them
together with their bosses
with heavy iron hands
I believe crime rate is escalating...

...the crime that can grab you
24 hours a day
Can we still smell the tainted odor
of pictures of the street children...
children who beg for a piece of bread?

Mr. President, where is the promised straight road
you are pointing at?
Why can’t we see it?
Is it crooked?

Why is it that these are
the ONLY stuffing of rumors?
Why can’t we focus onto a bigger
and wider problem of our country
and even around the world?

Perhaps above all issues,
this is the only concern
that is not yet trending in Twitter

So, I just boasted it to my open-mouthed puppy...
“If I will be the President of the Philippines,
I will focus first on ENVIRONMENTAL ISSUES.”
Suddenly, Bruno’s saliva dripped.
Why is environmental issue the least priority?
i go through this daily plot
waking, working, trudging
first world ease, office walls
wheeled chairs

afternoon run
tupperware lunch
dinner the night before

home again, dinner
dishes again,
play again,
daughter picks up
new phrases, new looks
vegetable strainer toy
"umbrella," she says

i see those eyes, my wife's
and i wonder

what is this place?
these walls, these roads,
those sitka pines and shrinking
glaciers?

how 'm i supposed to be a father
with all these things stretching out
vaster than reason, than comprehension

those talking heads, ranting this or that
liberty's *****, freedom's snatched,
the world warms, the world cools

Filipinos scream in the face  of angry
winds, the prim cut weatherman wildly
gestures at a colorful map, powerful
he says, historic
he says

more dripping mouthes,
government want guns now,
more money to ****** our phones
to send unmanned drones

our president's muhammad,
or jesus, or kenyan, or raciest
a genius or incompetent
everyone knows

just back home
a tiny algae grows and foams
thrashing in the autumn water
brown oxygen choking life
never found on our shores before
kills fish,

i imagine so much more

i hold my daughter in my lap
reading mother goose,
run my hand through her
thin smooth hair,
sometimes afraid
of what she'll see and hear
with her mother's eyes
and her father's ears
Amy Perry Dec 2016
I imagine myself
A few gentle decades older.
Finally grasping the cusp
Of success.
Living in my own apartment
In New York City, nonetheless.
Wearing an Armani coat
(Whatever those look like.)
Walking idly yet prestigiously
Through winter in the city.
Taking care not to laugh too loud,
Talk to myself, smile too much.
A small, attractive female
Has to be serious to get ahead.
Customers will buy from a happy girl
Only if she is early 20's, at most.
That is Marketing 101.
I am a small fish in a large sea;
The principles of Darwinism
Still apply to me.
I've learned long ago to succeed,
I must stifle the welcoming smile.
So along the familiar concrete
I stride,
Carefully manicured hands
In pockets.
The Filipinos know better
Than to rush on the hands
Of a businesswoman caressing
A successful career.
She tips well and lives well.
I walk along with cool calm
And feminine grace.
I have regained the safety
To be feminine once again.
The criminals know better
Than to infiltrate
The Business district
And cause trouble
To working professionals
In Armani coats.
I imagine myself a few decades older.
Kissing snowflakes unenthusiastically.
Yes, I marvel in poetry, in Nature,
But I have matured
Much like the snowflakes themselves.
At the end of a cycle,
No matter how beautiful.
My actions flow gracefully and delicately.
I melt into New York City
Like a cell in a body.
Pumping fuel into the *****
To sustain the mass.
A tumor.
I smile subtly as I slosh along.
I recall, once upon a time,
On my lower-class youth.
***** jokes, crude dancing,
And cluttered apartments.
I approach the high-rise building
I call home and greet the doorman
With the obligatory disregard
For his innermost being.
Poetry truly is in the strangest of places.
Even in an enigma like me.
I enter the marble floors,
Wiping my feet,
My rent as sky-high as
The building itself.
Elevator. Comforting motion sickness.
This is success.
The pit of my stomach sinks.
I tell myself it's the motion sickness.
I return to my apartment,
With its symmetrical details.
My thoughts return to you.
You've never stepped foot in my home,
But you've always been here with me.
I get dinner started.
I set out the extra glass, like always.
Rituals like these serve
As my Sunday mass.
I drink your glass with my evening medication.
Dare I say like always?
abp
The Wanderer Jul 2014
Language is power
A never-ending power to inform minds
It caresses and comforts feelings
Like a northern kiss that lulls our nerves
Which excites and thrills our indomitable spirit
That sears the sweltering flame of hearts.

Language is power
But, a turmoil power to hurt people
Like a whirlwind that trembles foundation
It slaps our face, throws solid punches in us
Kills our desire, destroys our confidence
It leaves scars, breaks our bones

Language is power
A boundless power that transcends every word
It strums the strings of our hearts
It articulates our profound desires
And elicits the deepest parts in us

Language is power
A supernatural power that was used to create everything
A powerful weapon sharper than two-edged sword
It penetrates deep to our bones
And leaves a mark in our hearts

Language is power
A living power that conjugates lives
An infinite chain which follows the rhythm of life
It crafts the beauty of harmony
That entangles every melody of life

Language is power
An immortal power to communicate
That interconnects nations and people
Links the world like a woven cloth
That makes our lives intertwined to one another
Unites diversity to create one world

Language is power
A pungent power to change society
In a hallowed pages of book of history
As the novels of Rizal awakened the nationalism of Filipinos
As Adolf ****** brought revolution in Germany
As Martin Luther King diminished racism in America
They began with words and ideas
Yet they changed the whole world
Butch Decatoria Jun 2017
Rain dancers

Children bring forth

The deluge

Joyous and ****

Boogie away the heat of our Cebu

Wash away the grime

The worries of Times

The sufferings

Of war, in Mindanao, in you...

Dance oh Children

Of Sulu seas

Blissful droplets

Mini Filipinos me

Though the air force jets

Thunder overhead

Weep not lil ones

They are further dead & gone

And now in these drops of sky

We drank

Bathed in the Life

Which we give thanks

So, bring forth

All earthly deluge

We babes of Cebu

Shower

In the sacrosanct

Blossom in the truth.

(this is my Philippines)

I am You.
Jeffrey Pua Nov 2015
Despite the moon, the mood
     And stars on foreign skyline,
From having seen the Earth, this world, teeming
With life, with breath, and breath Almighty,
     And spirit in things which are perceived,
Still, I feel a deep longing, a chasm,
The feeling of missing, the want
     For reliving a lot of things,

Like the beaches on the South,
Sagada, Batanes, the tarsier,
The reefs, and the mangroves,
Our fellow Filipinos eating Adobo
And the so-soft fluffiness of rice,
In celebration of our heritage,
     Our famed resiliency,

I am a tourist all my life,
I remind my self,
     Until I found you,

For they are all yours, all finest things.
     You are the islands of our country,
And all these call me
As though to take me to you,
As though you were calling out to me
     For an embrace.*

© 2015 J.S.P.
Revised.
Marc Janiola Jan 2015
He came to the Philippines
To warm peoples' hearts
Filipinos here and there
Say he's the CHOSEN ONE

The Sky seems dark and gloomy
That may stop the Pope from going
But the Pope says no lets go
The people are waiting for me

No one can cease His Holiness
From becoming one with the Church
He is a certified rockstar
For todays Generation

His advocacies inspired us
To become a better Christian
To help the poor and the needy
And to nurture the youth of today

Let us never forget what he said
Though he left us already
History was made in this country
The country called **The Philippines
#WeLoveYouPopeFrancis #WeWillMissYou
Black, white, and fur all over.
That's what you were, George.
Generic street cat look, or what we Filipinos call,"Pusang Kalye".
Fattest cat, I've seen in person but probably the only reasons why I can like cats as an animal.
You came to our lives at a very interesting point in time.
You were the size of an overgrown puppy when we got you and you just turned 7 years old.
I thought it was interesting to have a fat cat live with us because I only imagined the amount of interest that would build into my family despite us never having a cat.
My sisters were scared of you out of trauma, but you know that wouldn't last forever.
I spent my entire afternoon with you the day you came to our home, and observed your mannerisms.
You like lying down on surfaces with odd textures because you like how it feels, and you love to hide in shadowy places because you were edgey I suppose?
Dunno, but that's what you were George. The fat cat in the shadows.
Time passed by, and my sisters started growing to you.
You eventually moved into my sisters' room, and you stayed there ever since.
To my sisters, you were the greatest things that happened to them.
Alyssa, the second oldest in our family, loved you as if you were her long lost boyfriend.
She'd brush your fur, bathe you when you hated it most, and she'd trim your nails.
Alyssa always looked out fo royu.
Sasha, the youngest in our family, would always pester you because she'd see you as a living stuffed toy.
Of course she did that as a joke, but I know that she really loved having you around otherwise she'd be stuck on her iPad the entire day just watching anime and K-drama.
Even our mom, who hates cats grew to love you.
She'd always stop by my sisters room just to pet you and let you walk around her legs.
Only cat owners and people who've seen cats enough would understand that cats walk around people's legs to let them know that,"I own you." It's a cat's way of saying,"I love you."
Sounds twisted, but it was one of the most genuine things a cat could do.
To me, you were one of the most deviant things in my world.
I've never imagined having a cat, and nor was I looking forward to having one.
I remember lying down on my bed frustrated.
Frustrated with insecurity in a time where I thought the whole world was filled with crap.
Every now and then, you visited my room.
You just kind of lied down on my bed and stared me.
Some times you'd meow to get my attention because you needed to use the restroom, but you were just there as if you were listening to the insecurities in my head.
One day, I came back from a giant youth conference that changed every part of my life.
I was just lying down, thinking about everything that I decided to change in my life.
Then all of a sudden, you lied down on my stomach as if it were your bed, and you just purred.
A cat purr is probably one of the most oddly comforting things in the world.
A cat's entire body vibrates and lets out a soft hum.
Receiving a cat purr is like receiving an affectionate hug from someone who's not close to you, but you know they're genuine.
I didn't move from my bed  because I didn't know what to do, and I wanted to observe but I knew that you loved me.
I wasn't very expressive in showing that I cared about you George, because I was focused on myself way too much.
Yet you were always there to meow at me and to lie down on me, even when I took long naps.
Until one day, you stopped being affectionate.
You stopped showing your love for me.
You just lied down on a bed as still as a statue.
You wouldn't react to anyone who pet you or tried to bug you.
You were frozen...
Mom took you to the vet, and who knew...
You were dying.
You were emotionless, because you were sad.
We didn't know how selfish we were by just watching you play statue.
How callous of us!
As days went by, anxiety built within my sisters.
Until February 22, 2017, you were gone.
Hearts were broken. Tears were shed.
But this thought always lingered the entire time you were there.
"Everything happens for a reason and whatever God allows is His will."
Here I am in a coffee shop on the same day, trying to grasp the concept of mourning.
If dealing with death is coffee, then mourning is black coffee.
It's the healthiest of the choices but its bitter.
It awakens you physically and emotionally.
Too much of it, is bad for a human being.
You're a cat, the second most loved pet in the world but a "hit and miss" pet for the general populace.
I'm just thankful that you were in our lives because if you weren't there, Alyssa wouldn't have learned responsibility.
You brought her stability.
Thanks for dealing with Sasha, because she needed to release her emotions as well every time she pestered you.
And thank you, for always bugging me when I'm alone.
I used to push people away for getting too close, but you taught me that it doesn't take much to show love.
Thank you, George.
The Fat Cat of the Silva-Afzelius household, the Cat of the Shadows, and Alyssa's Sweet Prince.
We are thankful for the joy of companionship that you left in our hearts.
Good night furry one.
This poem is dedicated to George, our family cat.
Jedd Ong Dec 2014
Thugs
Go to Stanford.

And the construction workers
I've seen
Are more likely to spend
Their downtime playing
Video games
Then smoking the ****.

And I've seen my
Fair share of manic,
Wide-eyed young Filipinos
Like myself,

A little browner,
A little more beautiful,
I'm a little more racist
But

It's not okay.

Maybe.

Maybe not.

I guess what I simply want to say
Is there is a simple joy
To watching fingers
Of all kinds
Mold and shape futures,

Whether it be in the form
Of softened concrete slabs
Or the hard writ
Of word,

Whether it taste
Of exhaust smoke
And leather

Or orange juice
The school
Is the sky

The blue sky and the
Fields and university
Is a gold-ringed
Fist and in this

Respect we all have
Our PhDs.

And as for this sheltered
Unsheltered rooftops
Holed like ozone
World we've all built together
Well,

We try to find words for it
And collapse.
shireliiy Nov 2015
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poetsaresad Jul 2017
Serve your country with its fullest
For liberty shall not suffer

Feel the nationalism in your ancestors blood
To protect this honorable land

Work hard while still you are young
Your children will play happy with each other

Be three days ahead
For you can see the future thousand years ahead

Always think that there are people
Who have the worst situation you have today

Held your head up high when serving in the community
That is the glory of giving

Always think of others
Before you think of yourself

Protect the ones you love
For he/she shall protect you when you are weak

Think of your country as your treasure
To think with pride with pleasure

Respect your mother and father
For never stopping caring about you

Honor your ancestors
To gradually live your moments with memories

Love your grandfather and grandmother
The day will come when the both of two will pass away

Take care of the nature
For thanking him for providing you everything

Lastly, live your life at it's fullest
Don't waste every time the gold nor the silver you have.
Commandments for the Honorable Land.
sometimes i get
suicide bombers, rapists, killers, robbers and thieves
because their motives are visible through their actions.

but i never once in my life
bothered understanding businessmen, pastors, priests, muslims, religions, politicians,
and people whose motives in life
remain hidden
until caught red handed,
and also those people
who choose not to see the world naked for what it is.

maybe the UP activists are right
and that i shouldn't think of them as brainwashed kids or
just paid heads to do
what they do but their actions,
my thoughts and this poem
doesn't change anything.

i bet 100% of you
who are reading this would either think i'm deranged or seeking for attention.

i could go on and on writing
this **** and explain thoroughly
but the people's brain
are now wired to ex b's
hit single and yes,
mentioning that made
this a little bit funny but no.

as a ******* filipino
who should be typing this in tagalog, working overseas,
i've seen some fellow countrymen showed some pride
against their oppressors
from work but they don't get anywhere but jail.
i must've forgot,
the movie about manalo
trampled the one
about heneral luna.

see how helpless
we are in reality?

what's your photo that comes
with a bible verse got to do with others?

are you spreading
the word of God?
what does it do to you?

Sometimes I get
The New People's Army.
But I don't get Muslims
who runs businesses and the Chinese too.

Sometimes I wish
I could spread fake news
that doesn't harm others
and last but not the least,
I hope someday the world would stop not and smoke Marijuana all
at the same time
including North Korea.

I couldn't stop.
I also hope that these people,
those who has a lot of followers
use the attention properly but no, people are so ******* dumb and Salinger is right with Holden's, "People never notice anything"
and nothing's too big
if people will stop creating bigger things that'll only add up to the congestion clogging up the world.

and Allen Ginsberg is right,
we are breaking our
******* backs just to lift ******* Moloch.

**** your Mosques, your INC branches, your corporations, your religions, your borders and divisions, your trends that kills the minds of the youth.
**** your laws, about making Marijuana illegal.
**** your disguise and your intelligence.

I almost believe world cleansing is the answerbbecause the ant colonies are so much better
ruling the world.

I don't know anymore, my smartphone's ******
and I am not smarter. . .
Nathaniel Munson Jan 2013
Fame was my name years ago.

Now I’m a white dwarf

              in this youthful universe

        and my smile is long forgotten.

I remember the days of Colvin and his Wilt.

                     There was also Cindy the **** German,

               and of course Jerry and Apeksha…

                                           and how close we were!

The Filipinos were my favorites; so nice and kind.

      I still talk to Greta, and I’m thankful for this.

A Working Poet has been around to see my world in both darkness and sunlight.

However, I remember Bliss Like This,

          as well as Aaron, and the Airships;

                                         my first follows and followers.

                            There was a new face every day

                        and friends were made instantaneously.

        Over one thousand fans immersed in my words on a daily basis…

Now a handful at best read my withering stanzas.

I’m a rotting apple

                                          on a dwarf planet.

Like Pluto,

                    I was once loved by many,

            but then they chose to forget me.
Jean Rojas Jun 2015
calmly....
ascending and descending
through fame, fortune and death...
such is your dignity

you fill my heart
with so much nostalgia
that sometimes I think
we have met before, in time...
through ripples in time....

the moment I knew of you.,.
I have loved you...
It's as if I knew you
long before I truly existed

and in this very special occasion
of your solemn birth...
one hundred fifty four years ago...

I wish to thank you....
for gracing us with your presence
for teaching us of life and love...
for making us proud as a nation
despite our failures, faults and
insecurities...

you gave us your name...
your intelligence and your love
in the purest form and sense

so now I say to you...
happy may this day be
for us all
as Filipinos, we must never forget
for it is a sin not to remember
a beautiful man such as yourself
that gave rise. meaning and relevance
to the word "Filipino"

I chant your name like a mantra
Rizal- my hero, my icon, my poet
and the love of my life....
For: Jose P.Rizal ( National Hero of the Filipino Nation)
19 June, 2015
Nathaniel Munson Jan 2013
Fame was my name years ago.

Now I’m a white dwarf

              in this youthful universe

        and my smile is long forgotten.

I remember the days of Colvin and his Wilt.

                     There was also Cindy the **** German,

               and of course Jerry and Apeksha…

                                           and how close we were!

The Filipinos were my favorites; so nice and kind.

      I still talk to Greta, and I’m thankful for this.

A Working Poet has been around to see my world in both darkness and sunlight.

However, I remember Bliss Like This,

          as well as Aaron, and the Airships;

                                         my first follows and followers.

                            There was a new face every day

                        and friends were made instantaneously.

        Over one thousand fans immersed in my words on a daily basis…

Now a handful at best read my withering stanzas.

I’m a rotting apple

                                          on a dwarf planet.

Like Pluto,

                    I was once loved by many,

            but then they chose to forget me.
Jean Rojas Jun 2015
My fearless general
Full-blooded son of our nation
I call you
In these uncertain times….
I need your courage
And extreme nationalism
For I am surrounded by
Anemic Filipinos,
Merely like myself,
Unable to act and speak
No dynamism-
A lack of principles

Where could you be, my general?
Surely a man like you will never hide
No wound, no bullet, no threat
Can ever make you bend your knees
I hear no cried nor pleas
From your revered lips
My strength is failing me
I need your blood
Alone, I cry
Believing myself to be incomplete
Embrace me, for you are magnificent
And there can be no other

Through the years
I still remember
How I leafed the pages
Of history just to place your name…
Maybe time ran so fast
But to me you were never last
Because you last….

Tell your brothers what you
Could do for love of country
I know and I have felt
You are my first
And  foremost general
And I shall carry you
Upon my shoulders
And stroke your head
While you sleep on my lap
Because you make me want
To tell the entire world
That my general is a Filipino
And I am proud to be his comrade!
ForL Gen. Artemio Ricarte ( Vibora)
1997
Crissel Famorcan Oct 2017
Seasons come and go, it constantly changes
Like changing a notebook that's running out of pages
Modernization comes and wipe off traditional ways
But does it really help us ?
- That's the big question now a days

Long time ago, we're all living in simplicity
Everything's enough, and there's no scarcity
We're contented with God's gift together with our family
But those travellers came and changed our mindset
Our culture experienced a very big offset
And up to now- we can still see the disparity
-For our country once became a kind of charity
Adopting every detail of other's culture
And had almost forgotten our own
Theirs had grown in stature
While ours was rarely sown.

Tis' one of the sad thing to imagine
But it's like just some of us are concerned
Our culture is experiencing famine
We need to feed it! - that's what I learned.

Come to think of it my fellow Filipinos
Culture is part of each and everyone of us
So let's continue to enrich it and learn more values
For in this modern world that constantly changes, it's the only thing that'll last.
Cana Jan 2019
Surprisingly the dusted air
does not bring a gritty mouth?
It seeps sandy, into the recesses of skyscrapers,
gives bright blue pools a poxy composure.
Its probably why the buildings aren't white
but not why my teeth aren't

It's accompanied by muted roars,
a cacophony of humanity in the near and far.
Indians eating Ethiopian,
Pakistanis driving Chinese cars,
Arabs shopping at Bloomingdales,
Filipinos Filipinoing.

A city that embodies the glittering gold
of empty flats and abandoned offices,
the cushion covered loungers
and the overwhelming urge to jump
from the 26th floor balcony.

A squinted eye admires the Burjes.
A shielded glance is spared for the Mosques.
Their brilliance is solar, my sunglasses game is weak
and my neck is starting to get sore.
Its quite the marvel
aurora kastanias Oct 2017
I was born in a city and time where and when
things were described by their name in the name
of realism and truth, uncoloured nouns of honesty
depicting society as it was fearing nothing
while no one took offence, as none was intended

in the atmosphere of autocriticism and self-
deprecating humour. In the countryside village
peasants called my father the Greek, as there were
no aliens other than us and the English man
who lived down the valley. Black skins

only existed on TV, and Africa was far more distant
than maps ever suggested. Our Ghanaian origins
were a mesmerising fable to the curious ears
of those willing to imagine exotic airs, indefinite
populations they had never seen. Italians

were used to migrate abroad in search of dreams,
though no one came to dream in Rome until, they did.
First strange faces appeared for myths to become
realities integrating slowly fast-forwarding thirty years
to see, Filipinos housekeepers, cheaper butlers,

Rumanians and Moldavians caregivers to our elders,
Chinese empires beginning with restaurants and shops,
Selling almost anything one could ever think of affordable
to all, now expanding to own bars creating jobs,
employers of impoverished locals and new arrivals.

Bangladeshis taking over once-was Italian grocery cash
and carries working hard, a 24/7 policy just for some.
Those who don’t are found selling umbrellas on the road
a minute before the storm, or taking polaroid pictures
of tourists at night when the gypsies come out

of nomad camps to sell, unscented roses to lovers
unnaturally blue for the day is reserved, to picking
pockets on public transports everybody knows,
signs are put up for those who don’t. Lebanese
hairdressers hiring young Italian girls, eat in Turkish

kebab fast-foods buying halal ingredients in Iraqi stores.
Only blacks in Rome own nothing but their shoes
and reputation. Those from North African countries often deal
on sidewalks for drug addicts playing instruments
sitting next to dogs on Tiber bridges as they beg

for one more dose. Though Egyptians mainly deal
with chefs, closed in restaurant kitchens learning
pizza-making skills, while Pakistanis make excellent
dishwashers. Turning back to blacks Nigerians,
Senegalese, Malians and many more improvise

themselves as clandestine street vendors
of jewels and fake bags, the latter secretly supplied
by Italian mafia-like wannabes. Often spotted running
away from police, packing goods in white sheets, held
on their backs as they flee, leaving fallen merchandise

behind them. Finally some remain unseen, straight
from heart of darkness and surroundings they stay
strictly on TV, passing from satiric sketches of the past
to NGO adverts crying out, for help against famine,
poverty and sickness, calling for action two euros a day

via sms to keep, consciousness clean, as we close
our eyes not to see, pretend we do not know, hiding
behind words we call, politically correct not to face, take
distance from reality and truth, disguise inconvenience
and uncomfort with ridiculously embellished, jargon.

Some exceptions obviously exist, as many manage
to live outside the box, though alas and do not blame me
for speaking the truth, they remain to date exceptions
dear to my heart, as are all the characters of this portrait,
scattered pieces of humanity, pieces of me.
On political correctness
CC Jul 2017
Just as black men were slaves
So am I a common slave of poverty
And to rise out of slavery
We must struggle towards prosperity
To exert our bodies and minds
Toward the glory of freedom
We, Filipinos do not realize that
That we are chained to ideas of a caged intellect
It is not easy to forge a key that will fit into the lock
It takes skill and acumen and practice
And we must attempt every single waking moment
Once we see the light
I don't know
And yet
I do
dead bodies moving dead bodies
you know the theme, the scheme,
the thought and the idea

the bodies, dead, paying the bills,
moving dead past the dawn
eyeballs rolling up as windows
closing and doors close and open

the bodies, mass production,
lots of bodies
Monday, Tuesday, Shitday
Thursday, Friday, Saturday
and Christday

Neighbor Allah never greets anyone
and he talks to himself in echoes
Buddha is all smiles and virtues
but no muscle, Buddha's daughters
are out clubbing tonight ******* their
oriental curves, selling their oriental
scents and cold white skin
to Allah's *** deprived sons

Christ is the only father and
he disowns his nieces and nephews,
I knew years back that I am a distant relative

just dead bodies, yours and mine
produce, corporate livestock,
labels from the heaviest bills handed
over in sinister alleyways,
sinister exchanges, hitman to hitman,
extraction to extraction, fraction by fraction,
bodies serves as platforms,
nonliving chopping boards for the butchers
dressed up as elves

the bodies, limb by limb, sagging skins,
rivers of hairfalls, scratch marks,
Ms. Universe stretch marks, the *** tapes
of the cheerleaders whom silent and wise
boys yearned for all through years of fading
innocence

Closeted gay professionals keeping their pointed ******* when nothing's wrong with them until consent turns from probationary to mandatory and hate and red and blue and green and yellow flags and pedophiles and bigots and white supremacists and Allah whisperers and Allah fanatics and Buddha hypocrites and China takes over the world and feminists, and third and fourth and fifth and so on genders and Trump and memes and Filipinos and mental health and memes and mental health and memes and literature and literature and activists and who ****** who and politicians and what Americans, Australians, Chinese, Japanese, British, Candian, Irish and and North Koreans and K-Pop plastic lips and hips who young girls and boys from isolated islands gets ****** for and hipsters and the nine to fives and the ***** to give and the snobbish *** girls in parties, in clubs, in alleys who wants to get ****** by all the celebrity status ***** all just becomes a tiny pinch for the dead bodies not to see and point the flower and shoot the gun to end the human war.
powerlessness is the fuel to either create or destroy.
Behold the One with the Aries, the Ward of Santa Muerte
Our 16th President voted by 16 million Filipinos this 2016
The 1st President from Mindanao from being Mayor of Davao…Duterte!

He is One with MiJoRdGr (Miriam, Jojo, Rody, Grace)
The 4 Opposition Presidentiables who defeated Mar Roxas
And brought Liberal Party its great disgrace!

The One with the Aries from the Land with War
The Land of Promise – feared by typhoons, but filled with goons
So from her came a Liberator among MiJoRdGr!

That this One should war with our nation’s greatest horrors
-Drug Lords, Liberals, Treasoners, Criminals & Terrorists-
These powerful entities to our history are desecrators!

So by being one with lawmakers, law enforcers & lawful people
By the overwhelming power of the Supermajority
Our country’s greatest terrors…Du30 shall conquer them all!

But first, he must defeat his detractors – Leila, Leni & Trillanes
These triple crooks who want to topple the government
Are also said to be conspiring with EU, UN & US!

Yet with Trump’s triumph, US is no longer an enemy
Our American hatred weakened, our Chinese friendship strengthened
As it established great friendship with Pres. Du30!

Do not emulate the girl power of those Liberal crooks
We got an Olympic medalist Heidilyn & Ms. International 2016
But Leila & Leni?...Can only ruin our country…like blasted nukes!

Do not worry for we have Pacquiao as still winner & role model
Alongwith Gen. Bato, a victim of yellow washing machine
But these Pro-Du30 men…to criminals tough, to innocents gentle!

May God allow this True Change to take place with continuity
Let Pres. Duterte lead us for many more years to come
For the Supermajority, for you & me… for our country!

-12/30/2016
(Dumarao)
*Our Golden Times During PDu30
My Poem No. 536

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