Mahigit pitumpu't limang porsyento
Niyurak ng matinding alon
Walang awa ang haplos
Ang yapos na nakagigimbal
Kinitil hindi lamang ang buhay
Gayundin ang hanapbuhay.

Ni hindi masisid ang perlas
Na ngayong may takip sa ibabaw
Nabibilang ang lumalangoy
Kaawa-awang gambalain
At hablutin sa laot nang walang muang
Ngunit anong siyang magiging sapit?
Kung sila'y hahayaang hindi nakagapos?
At doon sa lambat ay patitiwarakin.

Tinaguriang "No Build Zone"
Ngunit naroon nakatirik ang bawat pundasyon
Walang opsyon, pagkat ang gobyerno
Kaytagal din nang pag-aksyon.

Mula sa libu-libong tirahan sa Tent City
Sila'y lilisan patungong Bunk House
Transitional Shelter kuno
Hanggang sa malipat
At magkaroon ng panibagong tirahan.

Doon sa Tacloban,
May dalawang daan at apatnapu't anim na tirahan
Bagkus ang nakalilim, apat na libong pamilya naman.

Salamat sa mga NGOs
Sa 9181 na Bunk House
Sa gobyernong dapat na kikilos
Kailan ba sisimulan ang pagbabago?

Walong libong pabahay raw ang ginagawa
167 bilyon ang budget,
Saan nga ba napunta?
Ito ba'y binulsa?

Comprehensive Rehabilitation Plan kung tinagurian
Kay bango ng ngalan
Bagkus umaalingasaw ang baho
Ang kasiraan, ang kawalan ng aksyon
Para sa bawat mamamayan.

Sa dakong Guian, Eastern Samar
Tatlong daang permanenteng pabahay raw
Ngunit ni isang pundasyon ng naturang pabahay
Tila naglaho pa rin ni Yolanda
At walang bakas na pasisimulan.

Sabi ni Pnoy, malinaw raw ang target
Pero hanggang target na mga lang ba?
Kailan ba sisimulan ang tuwid na daan?
Baka naman baku-bako na
Wala man lang pasabi sa kinauukulan.

Kung ang hustisya'y hindi matugunan
Sana ang kalamnan ng bawat biktima'y
Syang agapang mapunan
Kaawa-awa silang naghihikahos.

Ang laki ng tulong ng mga karatig-bansa
Ba't tila walang pakialam?
Kayong mga nasa trono,
Tayuan ang posisyon
At serbisyo'y gawin nang totoo.

Napatag na ang hindi mapatag ng
Sanlaksang idelohiya't pananampalataya.
Panata ito ng kalawakan. Lilinisi't lilipulin
Yaong hindi umaayon sa itinakdang

Orden ng katutubong balanse ng ulan
At hangin, ng dagat at pagkamulat,
Ng  lupa at pagtatangka. Hindi sasapat
Ang libu-libong bangkay na nakahundasay

Sa mga lansanga't simbahan dahil malaon
Nang naagnas na bangkay ang ating
Kamalayan. Malaon nang umahon si
Kamatayan sa anyo ng kasakiman sa

Kayamanan, at tayo bilang mga kalakal
Na nagpapatiwakal sa ngalan ng kaligayahan
Sa anyo ng kasaganaan. Hindi sasapat ang
Mga pagtangis ng mga ama't ina, ng mga

Anak at kapatid, dahil matagal nang
Tumatangis ang Inang unang naghandog ng
Paraiso sa atin. Saan nga ba tayo patungo?
"Tayo'y mga punong matayog ang pangarap,

Ngunit sa lupa'y laging nakaugat..."

032116

Sumayad ang takong ng apat na kandidato
Hindi para mangalakal at maghain
ng kani-kaniyang plataporma.
Alay ang boses para sa nagkakalansingang masa,
Habang magbabanyera ng laway ng pananalita.
Tagisan, ika nga
Tahasang pagbubukambibig ng motibo sa bayang
May kinabukasan pa.

BINAYubay nga ba ang Pilipinas naming mahal?
Sa FOI na minsang itinapo'y ano ang tugon?
Hampas-lupa ba ang mga Pilipino
Para magbulag-bulagan
Sa binulsang kaban ng bayan?
Yang pambobola nyong haing 5Ps
Saan nga ba ang liderato ng ngiting may bungisngis?
At sa pagbaba ng tax, maibabalik nyo ba
Ang nasa bangko ninyong
May iba't ibang ngalan?
Sagot ba ang waivers at ilang kasulatan?
Kamusta naman ang assets nyo at liquidations?
Sana'y hindi maging makati ang mga kamay,
Gawin **** mala-Makati, wag lang ulitin ang pangangati.

Mala-Talk Back and You're Dead,
Yan ang peg ng kamandag ni Duterte.
Palabiro raw sya't matalas ang dila,
Bagkus ang masa'y panay ang tugon sa kamao niya.
Kamay na bakal, iyo bang ibabalik?
Sabik nga ba sa Death Penalty ang kinauukulan?
Sa posibleng anim na buwan ng iyong pag-upo,
Sana'y malinis ang minsang Tuwid raw na Daan.
Posible bang dahas ang kasagutan
Sa bayang talamak ang bayaran at tulakan?

Tila saulado mo ang bawat numero,
Ang galang mo Poe, nagmula nga ba sa pusong Pilipino?
Paano nga kung nagising kang
May alarma sa Bayan,
Babangon ka ba talaga't di kami tatalikuran?
Wag sanang gaya ng pagtapon mo
Sa Amerikang minsang naging bayan mo rin.
Paano mo babalansehin ang tulong
Ng malalaking korporasyon sayo?
Boto ba nila'y hindi mo binili?
Wala bang kapalit ang oo
Ng mga batikan at mayayamang negosyante?

MARami ka nang satsat sa Daang Matuwid na yan,
Talamak na rin ang paghuhugas-kamay
Para sa patapos nang administrasyon.
Ba't nga ba panay ang pag-eendorso mo
Sa sarili't tila baga sayo nanggaling ang pondo noong Yolanda.
Naroon ka nga't ika'y ligaw at wala raw tugon,
Ano itong alarma mo raw
Pag nandyan lamang ang kamera.
Wala bang tiwala sayo si PNoy?
At tinago pa sayo ang nauukol sa mamasapano?
Kamusta po ang pag-endorso ng Pangulo sayo?
Sana'y inasikaso niya na lang
Ang nahuhuling termino.

Marami na po kayong mga pangako,
Naawa nga kami sa Translator
Pagkat gulung-gulo rin siya
Sa pag-aagawan ng oras at mikropono.

Magandang ideya ang naganap na mga Debate,
Pagkat nauntog ang Bayan,
Nagigising aming diwa't magigisa ang tamang boto.
Ang boto ng bawat Juan,
Para yan sa Bayan.
Sana'y matiyak po nating
Wala nga tayong kinikilangan
Maliban sa malinis na eleksyon.

Tayo ang simula, kapwa ko mga Juan!
Maging wais tayo!
Makialam para sa Bayan!
Gising Pilipinas!

"Alab ng puso,
Sa dibdib ko'y buhay!"
- Lupang Hinirang

Oh anong hapis ang sinapit ng aming bayan
Mula sa bagyong dito ay dumaan
Kapani-panibago ang tanawin saanman –
Ang bundok sa silangan at sa kanluran
Maging ang natatangi naming simbahan
At iba pang malalayong kabahayan
Ngayon ay tanaw na mula sa aming tahanan

Sapagkat mga puno ay kinalbo niya
Marami rin dito kanyang pinatumba
Mga poste ng kuryente ay kasama
Mga palayan ay naging dagat na
Ilog ay halos umapaw sa kalsada
Kahit malalaking bahay ay giniba
Ng sumpa nitong bagyong nagngangalang Yolanda!

-11/09/2013
(Dumarao)
*due to super typhoon Yolanda that hit our town

The calm before Yolanda

I Whisper prayers in preparation

Thoughts of the harm before it’s caused

Homes wrecked and Separation

The effects of a storm

Death, hurt and the suffering of a nation

These things keep me up

Seated.

Rocking .

Wrapped in my countries flag, the only thing that can keep me warm

Evacuated Far from harm but I die when calls to my parents are not received

I wait and listen.

Here the breeze blows a gentle beast

There the gusts roar as nature is unleashed

Miles away but my blood runs silent

I fear for the family I left

Is it right that you are out of my reach?

You stay in touch with my emotions

They run for you

Tears flow free as I receive news

An estimated 1000 lives taken

Devastation in village’s, towns and my city

Making Global news

I remain frozen as calls still don’t get through

But media continues to come

Up rooted trees, fathers without sons,

Houses taken in the wind

Ruins left by the floods

I choke on every breath

As I see faces of motionless mothers down in mud

My eyes close powerless

Still no news from my loved ones

Tell me where my home is now

Tell me where I go

Tell me how to be more than a frightened girl aged fourteen

Who fears to sleep alone and dream to wake to a nightmare:

The passing of Yolanda in the Philippians.

Days go by like years

And a gentle breeze blows through the aftermath

Our flag still stands we still have land

A base to build our hope from

Now life has a new meaning

Move forward as one

Salvage- What is lost, is never forgotten

Aid - What was destroyed, will be rebuilt together

Relief- News of rescues emerge

A wreck overturned

I have faith my family survived in God’s hands

~ Steele Daniel

There once was a black man... Old at heart, he fought verbally and accordingly with bold words, which abbreviated and arbitrated great art! He spoke of activism. Not just racial, and economic racism. He fought against demonic injustices for you, yes, made me see. He stood for principles of non-violence. Acknowledged corrupt government

mileage, European knowledge and college. A philosopher, teacher
and preacher as well as a civil rights leader. When he spoke his words of fire indeed chiseled and inspired. Causing some to conspire and also perspire! Born January 15th 1929 in Atlanta, Georgia. Named in honor of the German protestant Martin Luther. Bachelor of Arts

degree in sociology. Making a mark in doctoral studies, systematic theology. June 5th 1955 This King married Corretta Scott in Heiberger,
Alabama for many to see. Proceeding with four children: Yolanda, Martin Luther the 3rd to be! Dexter Scott and Bernice to increase the peace. Despite the European police, the movements and stressed

protests, the silence, ****** and racial violence. The segregation and interrogations in force, instead of integration of course. Black mishaps, lack of differences in relapse perhaps! Plagiarized and slandered, demised by some of the wise. Accused of communistic ties. Blinded
by others’ eyes and of our world’s twisted lies. Montgomery, Georgia

bus boycott, 1955 was the year. However, forever in disguise, our fear of tears was apparently adhered. From here to near, also all those dear. Mere letters he wrote, from Birmingham jail I quote! From the slums, some of sums, hail and prevail! A creation prevailing into a deriving and thriving nation. Mr. King’s vision of a dream, mission,

opposition, optimism and truism, on our wars, welfare and more. I suppose this sounds honest and fair. Mr. King’s theories and worries in emotionalism, evangelism, humanitarianism, racism and socialism. Nobel Peace Prize won in 1964. Regretfully, you may have heard of this before. Government conspiracies and indecencies. Assassination

and discrimination, allegedly, by James Earl Ray. On April 4th, I
almost choke, because for him, his blood did soak. Some thought this **** was a thrill or forced by will. Others still procrastinate in hate! However, forever Martin Luther King was and still is one of the late greats.

while she tied the bag Henry scooped a fly out of the drum of well water.
a muddy tear stuck to Yolanda’s cheek and the fly kicked it’s wings dry and flew off.

the puppy hadn’t eaten, laid on the steps, trembling so hard his legs kicked softly in the sun.
dressed in mud and a red sweater as we
stepped over him he looked past us through the shade.

Yolanda sat on an upturned bucket with him in her lap after picking him off the step. the other dogs pushed the room around with their noses in the air or around the floor and Henry kept them moving.

she tied the wrist of a rubber glove around his arm. i kicked a bowl of water to get out of her light. my veins started to swell and i wasn’t quite sure what was happening.

while Yolanda worked she moved fast Henry had left the room and i usually don’t look but this time i watched. she moved so slow now as she put the needle in.

she waited and plunged with a small motion and my legs stopped twitching i became drowsy and comfortable against her arm. i only realized what had happened when i saw a tear roll down her cheek and i moved back into the light because she didn’t need it anymore.

Most of my relatives are distant,
But some have the ability
To bring me into an elevenses of life,
And one particular person
Is my cousin, Teresa.

I call her Terry for short.
That doesn't change how spectacular she is
To me, though!

Terry and her family traditionally visit my family
To ring in the New Year.

This New Year, just on a ten-minute car ride to a local town,
Terry talked to me about her plans for her birthday,
And her favorite books to read as of lately:
Weedly-Deedly (about a nice dragon)
And PuddleBooks, which include children characters
Such as Yolanda Yells-A-Lot.
A year or two backward,
I wouldn't have taken the topic so seriously
As I am one to easily laugh about anything
Depending on what thoughts are in my mind usually.
However, as long as I don't know fully the plot, the scenes
Of what happens in such fiction as the PuddleBooks series,
I am clueless to the lessons and learnings
I could easily miss.
There should be a warning everywhere
Not to look down on what we think we outgrow
As long as lessons are everywhere
For all ages.

There was also a time,
Many moons ago,
When my aunt had the cousins arranged
Seated on a couch
For a picture or two.
I became irritated and uncomfortable
Being claustrophobically shoulder-squished.
Upset, I curled on the floor and cried
In front of everyone in the room.
The first gesture that Terry offered me
Was a hand to pull me up from the carpet,
Of which I accepted,
Like a ***** toward a penetratingly loving Samaritan.

Before my relatives departed today,
My aunt told me how stellar Terry's memory is
And can be.
My aunt backed her claim strongly
By telling me how Terry remembered a quiet morning
Where she and I were the only ones awake
And I made waffles for her.

You don't have to go to a concert
To make special memories.
You're not required to know all
Or be all
To be recognized.
And my cousin Terry, alive and well,
An interactor for sure,
Doesn't need the sky
To be a soul of sunshine.

Amber was an atheist,
she thought the world was dumb as hell.
Britney was a botanist,
who had a fertilizer smell.
Candice was a coroner,
a scary passion for the stiffs.
Diana was a drummer chick,
that knew a few guitar riffs.

Evelyn was evil, man,
all leather suits and chains and whips.
Farrah was a therapist,
got in my brain with swinging hips.
Greta was a gunslinger,
she'd give most anything a shot.
Hannah was a homebody-
shy as hell, but twice as hot.

Iris was an Ivy Leaguer,
thought I was a total fool.
Janice was a juggler,
who liked to play with power tools.
Kimmy taught karate,
who dated me just for the kicks.
Louise was a lyricist,
who wrote about how guys were *****.

Marilyn was mostly mean,
she liked to fight and then make up.
Nancy was so negative,
I had no choice but to break up.
Opal was an occultist,
who liked to gossip with the dead.
Paula was a *******,
that made me pay to come to bed.

Queenie was inquisitive,
the questions were too much to bear.
Rosie was a recluse
who never shaved or brushed her hair.
Sidney was a sinful sort,
with toys and gadgets 'neath the bed.
Tina was a twisted chick,
with thirteen voices in her head.

Ursula was uber-cool,
always on the latest trends.
Vicky was on Vicodin,
and we all know how that one ends.
Wanda was a wanderer,
that left to join a circus troupe.
Xena the exhibitionist
liked to do it on the stoop.

Yolanda was young and fine,
and nearly cost me everything.
Zoey was a Zombie fan,
she got hot when he would sing.
I'd like to say I've settled down,
but since the alphabet is done,
I'm gonna met an Ann or Anita,
and give it all another run.

"You're drunk
you
need it." - Lykke Li.

Don't puke
this time,
make it the seed
instead of the giving earth.

The earth pukes in fire,
and that hurts the belly.

Trust me when I say
I'm stupid,
and that I'm staying.

I have been with Heather,
I have been with Carolyn,
I have been with Gnat,
I have been with Yolanda.

I have ****** all of them.

Every single one
has not touched
as fatally
as you
and you have undone
the ropes
inside of me.

The unbound package
is
disaster.

It signals the death of promise.

But it gives in the lighthouse
of love.

I cross the fog,
I trample
the destinations
of rain,
I laugh at thunder.

No storm is greater than
you.

So replace me,
disown me,
hate me.

I love you,
and that will not leave
in the night,
like werewolves
after dawn.

The Hadid
in weekend
plans this
plane that'll
easily shake
takeoff as
they'll break
the news
and flash
zesty Yolanda
that only
her celebs
were finally
gathered in
the Paparazzi
will trump
West Hollywood.

There was a huge obscurity
The oil lamp serves
As the source of everything
While the full moon embraces
The enormity of the entire galaxy.

The engine was brought to halt,
Pacing my feet to the loamy soil
Made me feel
The roughness of the ground
As I hear the prickling of the night bugs.

There was a sweet laughter
From the blameless child
As she welcomed us
With her big smile.

At instant,
My hands moved
And offered the li’l girl
The canned-goods
To which my fingers
Clasps for almost 5-minute drive.

We face the full moon.
And on my left and my right
There exists their silhouette.

They started the conversation,
I know what they’re up to
Even if words were not heard yet.

Right beside him
Was the packed clothes;
He said they’ll give those
To the victims of the Typhoon Yolanda –
That gave me a moment of silence
They don’t have enough,
But their hearts extend
With pure compassion.

He said they’ve ate their pride
That’s why they’ve fixed on
Going to us
And asking a modest help.

The way back home
Became a lengthy trek
I thank God
For I’ve realized
How to value these people
For I’ve felt and learned by heart
How to be benevolent
Towards others.

So this is life,
This may be my life
That may be theirs
But it’s the will of God
That whenever one needs help,
The other will come for a rescue.

(11/16/13 @xirlleelang)

Enero Diez y Siete, Dos mil Kinse
Kahit may bagyo, tumuloy sa Leyte
Unang tinungo lungsod ng Tacloban
Muling nilipad skull cap pagbukas ng pintuan
Talagang maulan at mahangin
Subalit milyong tao sumalubong parin
Kanyang idinaos Banal na Misa
Kasama ang mga biktima ni Yolanda
Huling tinungo ang pook ng Palo
Nananghalian sa tuluyan ng Arsobispo
Doon din nakasalo mga nasalanta ng Yolanda
Mas malapitang nakisalamuha sa kanya
Mga pinaslang ni Yolly puntod binasbasan
Iba pang kaawa-awa hinandugan ng tirahan
Suot ang dilaw na kapote
Biniyayaang material at ispiritwal ang Leyte.

-01/18/2015
(Dumarao)
*Pope Francis Fever Collection

¡Helena!
La anuncia el blancor de un cisne.
¡Makheda!
La anuncia un pavo real.
¡Ifigenia, Electra, Catalina!
Anúncialas un caballero con un hacha.
¡Ruth, Lía, Enone!
Anúncialas un paje con un lirio.
¡Yolanda!
Anúnciala una paloma.
¡Clorinda, Carolina!
Anúncialas un paje con un ramo de viña.
¡Sylvia!
Anúnciala una corza blanca.
¡Aurora, Isabel!
Anúncialas de pronto
un resplandor que ciega mis ojos.
¿Ella?
(No la anuncian. No llega aún).

Your words haunt me,
Like Yolanda's frantic dance
Before it hits the pitiful slumber
Of government help
A doom violently shaking
The rafters and foundations
Uprooting the byzantine roots of sanity
With torrents gushing from the
Oceanic abyss into the shores
Of the mighty gates of inhibition

Your words haunt me,
Like the wrath of the onset of sleep
While reading Machiavelli and
Listening to jazz blasting through my ears
Inside the libraries of drunkenness
Where dreams are unpleasant
And harrowing in the hazing wind
Flailing rocks at the conscious
Mumbling cracks off the wall
Set up by the guards of the crazy
Crazy spiraling imagination

Now the world screams from all sides
Confusing and silencing the weary
Into a deathly ephemeral sobriety
Fleeting steadily to relapse

The giant slowly crumbles
Against the persistent rot of time
The wind sweeping him off his feet
Flying him straight down to eternity

Here I go! He shouts to the heavens
As he shoots down into singularity

By Jennifersoter Ezewi

I believe by Yolanda Adams that the audience will 'Listen' by Beyonce because 'We Are Here' by Alicia Keys that 'Man Down' by Rihanna 'Ain't It Funny' by Jennifer Lopez ft. Ja Rule that it's too late to 'Apologize' by Justin Timberlake whose 'Future' by TY Bello said we should sing 'Halleluiah' by Alexandra Burke and 'No One' by CeCe Winans stopped the 'Fireworks' by R. Kelly that made the spectators to 'Stand Up (for the champions)' by Right Said Fred because 'I Look to You' by Whitney Houston and 'Thank God I Found You' by Mariah Carey, Joe, 98 Degrees because I love you 'Just The Way You Are' by Bruno Mars: let's 'Heal the World' by Michael Jackson.


And if I were to go for any audition now, I won't forget to 'Sip' (alcohol) with Joeboy even when I don't take alcohol.

Pedro, Brenda, Alejandro
Voces Inmigrantes
Vertas, Yolanda and Richard
Brave radio show guests

Risking all to follow liberty’s call
Tremendous risks taken
For the sake of familia
Far away and years unseen

Get here, work here
Bring them all here
Seeking asylum
In the land of opportunity

My great grandfather did
I bet your grands did too
We did not then nor should we now
Build barriers, gates or walls

Native, immigrant or freed slave
Were here, came here, or forced here
Our wants for family are the same
America is great, let’s be better

Obtained thee from branch
Broken from its trunk
Fallen on the land
From a sturdy tree
“Indian Mango” leaf!

Owned by our neighbor
Gabo family
Doministo too
I’m with our neighbors
Watching vestiges

At three-thirty five
Of dark afternoon
Just after the storm
Weaker winds blowing
Fewer rains dropping

In front of the house
Of Dudoy Etic
Other side road
On way to river
From a branch fallen

Great devastation
Brought by a typhoon
A super typhoon
Labelled “Yolanda”
Marked in history!

-11/08/2013
(Dumarao)
*My Toladas Collection

waved away from certain topics
Yolanda and her Singing Saw blade
captured the intellectual integrity
of a generation in readjustment
freedom springs from freedom of mind kids
so lock your shields and set your pikes
and whatever else unmasks the poseurs
making mischief upon civilization
with maximum police *******
weighed and calibrated by the
by the US Bureau of Insanity
warned by the masked men at Masked Men U.
we'll find out if your daddy raised a fool
habitually putting on a carefree face
clinging to childhood like a lost puppy
once again it's political suicide everywhere
the archetypes are tramping
through my head like Hitlerjugen
convulsed in the Little Death championship
strutting and hooting for a mate
will today's monster be tomorrow's arbiter of grace
Godzilla was eventually tamed was he not
he now does handyman work
invite him to come around some time
and get that squeak out of your turnstile
that feudal ignorance and superstition
start with whatever impedes your genius
laughter will watch your back
cognition is a word game
rally and carry the colors with insolence
like a glowing catalytic converter
streaking across the endless night
up where the power meets the grid
news flash we are way past neolithic
if your point of observation is outlawed
only the involuntary spasms will remain
and a persistent mania for theology
to be dissected like laboratory toads
and poked with battery wires
where pickpockets with scissors
leave your pants a bit breezy
while clicking the mouse button of God
in a well orchestrated decoy fiasco
tonight we have a knockout lineup
with lots of orange explosions
mastodon hair from the freezer
slapped on the bald spots
by a rapidly wilting imagination
strumming its ukelele in a hammock
burnt to a crisp in a flaming car wash
his soul finally attained its freedom
such as it was soot and ashes by then

From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon