Rogelio L. Ordoñez's Blog, page 9

Between Darkness And Light

(Poem)

even if often

we go starve

and scrape off

the hardened burnt rice

at the bottom of the pot

ravished by time

still we push forth

our passionate journey

between darkness and light

while dancing

on the curtain of our pupils

the blazing memories

full of noble aspirations

its roots firmly founded

its tree hard as ebony

strengthening our knees

wanting to surrender

trekking the barbed path

battling the hills and plateus.

yes, we continue to journey

between darkness and light

even if ominous

the dark, rolling clouds

even if pallid, fainting

the sun’s reddish face

our feet shall follow

not the straight road

of the treacherous

of the few demigods who deceive us

but rather we shall always go left

in the crossroads of faith

towards the garden

of sweet-scented dreams

so too shall it robustly flower

liberty and joy

in our most beloved la tierra pobreza

so too shall all transfigure

towards the redemption

of the starving, wretched masses.

yes, my brothers and comrades

who’ve seen

the petals of tears

of human race’s grief

who’ve heard

the requiem of the unfortunate

who’ve felt

the rumbling of a twisting belly

who’ve stared at

the gaunt workers and peasants

inside haciendas and factories of greed

where they were incarcerated

yes, upon our journey aflame

between darkness and light

our feet shall soon reach

the realization of our hopes

we shall then rejoice

in the altar of liberty and joy

and burn the corpses

of the exploitative class!

(modified English version by Rogene Gonzales of the original Sa Pagitan ng Dilim at Liwanag in Filipino)

Ave, Ave, Pater Patrum

(Poem — written when Pope Paul VI or Giovanni Battista Montini visited the Philippines last Nov. 27, 1970 aboard the plane Alitalia)

giovanni battista montini

servus servorum dei

when alitalia’s mouth expectorated you

the plunderers hailed you to high heavens

viva! viva! viva il papa!

hosanna in excelsis

benedictus qui venit

in nomine domini

god the father

god the son

goddess the holy spirit!

forgive thy sinner son

mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa

when thou the holy father passed by

the street of discontent

i was inside the john

sprinkling yellowish holy water

consecrating in my own mass

ave, ave, pater patrum

the urinal gobbled the holy bread

even heartily confessed to the lord.

ave, ave, virgin mary

pray for your sinner son

yes, i did not even see

the crown of the holy father

when he went

to luneta and held mass

i was drinking ginebra

in san da wong’s restaurant in ermita

god the father

god the son

goddess the holy spirit

don’t blind and hoodwink me

with religious images and scapulars

while the candle is a cadaver decomposing

in every candelabrum

though i didn’t kneel to the holy pope

i likewise saw his guardian angel

in the bottle of la tondena

michaelem arcangelum

brandishing his glaring sword

threatening to thrust

the plate of espaghetti piccolino

consecrated by papa ketchup.

ave, ave, pater patrum

am terribly starving

clang-clang, clang-clang

bing-bong, bing-bong

every hour, every day

the church bell rings incessantly

sit laus plena, sit sonora

sit jucunda, sit decora

do the sign of the cross and pray

ave, ave, ave maria

the priest is counting

silver coins in the sacristy

god the father

god the son

goddess the holy spirit

pray for the soul of your sinner son

mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa

i let the trashcan swallow

my rosary, crucifix and missal.

holy pope! holy pope!

rice cake and moon cake

the convent and nuns

are being gnawed by worms

every saint salivates

for a morsel of host

cobwebs are kissing my alley

the shanties and esteros

genuflect to the twinkling

goblets and chandeliers

my plough’s chained in the ricefield

the armalite shoots rebellious tones

in the land of the oppressed

ave, ave, ave maria!

quod in carnem transit panis

et vinum in sanguinem

quod non capis

quod non vides

animosa firmat fides

last night, holy pope

my brain was blazing

and the fireflies dancing

with the musical crescendo of change!

(modified English version by Mark Joseph Rafal of the original Ave, Ave, Pater Patrum in Filipino)

Uncle Sam

(Poem)

decades have been moss-covered, uncle sam

and yet you are rapaciously lustful

you murdered patrice lumumba in congo

and later imprisoned nelson mandela

so you could fuck africa’s vagina

you mashed the breasts of cuba

and the embers rebelliously flew

from fidel castro’s long cigar

the cienfuegos ignited the revolution

even che guevara from argentina

setting ablaze the fire of liberty

from sta. clara to havana

they kicked your ass like a stray dog

but you retaliated and shackled cuba

with an inhumane embargo

now known as operation mongoose.

now latin america is haunted

by the souls of simon bolivar

jose marti and other anti-imperialist heroes.

crystal-clear now in my mind, uncle sam

how you beastly raped, and still raping

the inherent beauty of sovereign countries…

that’s why in his grave

the soul of vietnam’s ho chi minh

is still turning, pleading

you sucked the blood of korea

now its breast is half-divided

you trampled one saddam hussein

to squeeze dry the new babylon

you perplexed the peace of libya

until you eradicated qaddafi

from the face of the troubled earth

so you could disgustingly suck

the abundant oil from libya’s groin.

uncle sam, what else you still long for?

the groin of seychelles, yemen and chad

the nipple of albania, laos and grenada

the vagina of thailand, timor and angola

the mouth of malaysia and lips of indonesia

all these you desire to stroke and cuddle

due to imperialist insatiable lust!

yes, uncle sam, when will this end:

your hunger for other’s flesh

your flaming desire for sexual intercourse?

yes, uncle sam, then and now

you have been rapaciously raping

my beloved la tierra pobreza

stripped her naked so many times

and even chained her freedom

you turned into wind-up dolls

the guardia de honor of my country

and used them to hoodwink us

and exploit our nation’s life and survival

my brethren are now skeletons of grief

my future is now as bleak as filth

but, uncle sam… remember this:

not all are “sleeping in the darkness of night”

the bonifacios will gallantly fight back

will heroically brandish their cutlass

to end your pillage

they will snap off, chop off

the shackles in the people’s neck

they will victoriously parade

the ecstasy of radiant freedom!

(modified English version by Mark Angeles of Tiyo Sam)

Song 1

(# Poem)

gaze not

at the dancing christmas lanterns

and the winking red, yellow

blue and green lights on the window

relish not

the ham and cheese and wine

laid on your sparkling table

you, you with a christian heart

should look far beyond…

at the graveyard of living skeletons

take a look, take a look

at the hollow face

of a kid drooling at an apple

or a bunch of grapes…

take a look at a plate of rice

and a few granules of salt

being stared at by lonely eyes.

in the chilling early dawn

take a look at the scrawny fingers

and the tattered shawl

of an old woman

crestfallen at the church’s door

in the blistering light

of the high noon sun

take a glimpse at the worn out heels

and the torn soles

of a sweltering worker’s shoes

and stare afterwards

at the wading water lily

on the putrid city’s estero

and the murky pasig river

yes, try to stare at the sun’s light

penetrating the shabby roof of a shanty

and squeeze in your soul

the bitterness and suffering of the poor

so your christian heart

will deeply feel the hollowness of christmas!

————————————————————-

#(modified English version by Mark Angeles of my original AWIT 1 in Filipino published Dec. 18, 1968, PILIPINO FREE PRESS, sister magazine then of the PHILIPPINES FREE PRESS)

Outcry of Claude McKay*

(#Poem)

the air brings the outcry of claude mckay

like gunshots ripping, hissing

through the forest’s darkness

like a spear stabbing, piercing

through the wall of consciousness

splitting the skull of cowardice!

“if we must die,” shouts claude mckay

“let it not be like hogs

hunted and penned in an inglorious spot

while round us bark

the mad and hungry dogs

making their mock at our ancestral lot.”

“if we must die

o let us nobly die

so that our precious blood

may not be shed in vain

then even the monsters we defy

shall be constrained to honor us though dead.”

indeed, comrades-in-arms

let us be brave

in our decades of struggle

for the sacred emancipation

of the downtrodden-exploited class

in the la tierra pobreza

of our bloody, nightly dreams.

yes, comrades-in-arms

let us be brave, shouts claude mckay

though we are outnumbered, says he,

show them we are brave…

for their thousand blows

deal them one death-blow

what though before us

lies the open grave

“like men, we will face,” shouts claude mckay

the murderous, cowardly pack

pressed to the wall, dying

but fighting back!”

———————-# modified English version by Mark Angeles of my original SIGAW NI CLAUDE MCKAY in Filipino.

Claude McKay, a Jamaican, became the associate editor of The Liberator and The Masses, and wrote poems and a novel. He became popular when Sir Winston Churchill, during the II World War, read in the British Parliament McKay’s sonnet “If We Must Die.”

Howl of Claude McKay*

(#Poem)

the air brings the howl of claude mckay

like gunshots ripping, hissing

through the forest’s darkness

like a spear stabbing, piercing

through the wall of consciousness

splitting the skull of cowardice!

“if we must die,” howls claude mckay

let it not be like hogs

hunted and penned in an inglorious spot

while round us bark

the mad and hungry dogs

making their mock at our ancestral lot.”

“if we must die

o let us nobly die

so that our precious blood

may not be shed in vain

then even the monsters we defy

shall be constrained to honor us though dead.”

indeed, comrades-in-arms

let us be brave

in our decades of struggle

for the sacred emancipation

of the downtrodden-exploited class

in the la tierra pobreza

of our bloody, nightly dreams.

yes, comrades-in-arms

let us be brave, howls claude mckay

though we are outnumbered, says he,

show them we are brave…

for their thousand blows, yells claude mckay

deal them one death-blow

what though before us

lies the open grave

“like men, we will face,” shouts claude mckay

“the murderous, cowardly pack

“pressed to the wall, dying

“but fighting back!”

———————-# modified English version by Mark Angeles of my original SIGAW NI CLAUDE MCKAY in Filipino.

Claude McKay, a Jamaican, became the associate editor of The Liberator and The Masses, and wrote poems and a novel. He became popular when Sir Winston Churchill, during the II World War, read in the British Parliament McKay’s sonnet “If We Must Die.”

WHY?

(# Poem)

i will just pass by once

in this stupid world

yet my right is being trampled

oftentimes butchered, slaughtered

why? why?

i am no criminal

i am no thief

i am no plunderer

of public funds

i am no grabber of someone’s else land

much more never did i rape any gal

it’s i being always raped

by society’s injustices and greed

why? why?

too many things are forbidden

says the holy church

it’s forbidden to cuss

no matter how furious you are

it’s forbidden to speak vulgarities

why do those words exist?

what are those words for

and how you’ll set them free

from your salivating mouth?

bullshit! son-of-a bitch!

thou shalt not lust after another gal

except after the body

of your devoted wife

but these holier-than-thou

can covet, luxuriate and satiate

every hour, every moment

with a hunky, virile, macho lad

or with a sexy, sweet-smelling gal

bullshit! son-of-a bitch!

only sacred and just is their right

why? why?

am always the sinner

am the malevolent

am the devil

will, for sure, go to hell

por dios por santo

what kind of world is this?

it’s forbidden to tell the truth

against thieves in government

they will cut off your tongue

it’s forbidden to seek change

so society will be fair

and the aggrieved won’t swell

but holy mother of divine grace

they will make you rot

inside a stinking prison cell

why? why?

just because they who forbid

are the few self-proclaimed kings

and society’s sanctified demigods

and, we, the indigent

are mere “wretched of the earth”

son-of-a bitch! bullshit!

why? why?

even my bits of happiness

always are being meddled

am but a pauper

too poor to indulge in luxurious vices

am not rich like you

who can wallow in the casino’s glow

who can caress in paradise

the swelling groin

the bulging breast

of a lustful paramour

my joy is only too simple

just to smoke a cigarette

to calm my nerves and troubled mind

due to life’s hardships and pains

to also scribble some poetic lines

when am crazy with desire

but por dios por santo

it’s forbidden to smoke there

no smoking in that building

no smoking in public vehicles

no smoking for the health

of mammals so dignified and delicate!

son-of-a bitch! bullshit!

they say it’s their right

but how about my right

and of other smokers too?

why? why?

why is there a cigarette factory?

why not burn it

and smolder their manufacturers?

so we smokers are not like lepers

driven away everywhere

forbidden at many places

as if this world is only theirs

as if they will die not

even if they don’t smoke

or inhale a bit of smoke

as if, we, the smokers

are the only ones

to evaporate at once

from the face of the earth.

but you may also ask:

why? why?

they who never smoked

nor even inhaled a lingering smoke

so suddenly died

put down by diabetes

by hypertension or heart attack

by the cancer in the liver or throat

by cancer of the lungs or colon

or in the testicles or breast or ovary

they who never smoked even once

were ambushed, shot to death

body torn apart

they meted death earlier

than malevolents like me

who’s been smoking for forty years now.

why? why?

he who smokes to lop off hunger pangs

is being avoided by society and death

but he who avoids cigarettes

but gorged in gluttony

and exploited others exhaustively

to amass fortune and wealth

their asses are always kissed

what’s so tragic maybe

the grave gobbles them early

and history mocks and condemns them

why? why?

son-of-a bitch! bullshit!

is the world just stupid

or am i the one being deceived?

just respect my right please

not just yours

you son-of-a bitch! bullshit!

————————————————————–

#(modified English version by Mark Angeles of my original BAKIT GANYAN?)

Sa Pasigan Ng Kamalayan

(Tula)

sa pasigan ng kamalayan

hinihintay ko tsunami

ng ngitngit ng sambayanan…

sa laot ng dagat ng kamulatan

dumadagundong na’t dumaramba

nag-aalimpuyong alon ng dugo’t luha

ng dinustang mamamayan.

daluyong kaya silang dadaluhong

sa pader ng kasakiman

lulunod sa mga eskribano’t pariseo

sa mga hari-haria’t diyus-diyosan

ng lipunang walang galang

sa sagrado nating karapatan?

wawasakin na bang ganap

ng delubyo ng pagbabago

mapanlinlang na mga templo

mapagsamantalang mga palasyo

ng iilang mga tuso’t abusado?

sa pasigan ng kamalayan

nagnanaknak makadurog-puso’t nananangis

na mga larawan ng hubad na kaapihan…

silang hinihilamusan

ng dusa’t luha’t panambitan

silang namamaluktot

sa miserableng mga “condo”

sa ilalim ng tulay ng kabiguan

kaulayaw ng mga insekto’t dagang

ayaw kalingain ng di patas na lipunan

silang araw-araw na sinisinghot

alingasaw ng nagbalatay na estero

sa gilid-gilid ng kalunsuran

silang araw-araw na palaman sa tiyan

“pagpag” mula sa inuuod na basurahan

silang hukot na mga aninong naglalamay

sa mga asyenda’t pabrikang walang humpay

sa kanila’y umaalipi’t nanlalamang.

oo, sa pasigan ng kamalayan

di ako magsasawang hintayin

tsunami ng ngitngit ng sambayanan

parang mga bomba rin itong sasabog

sa mesa ng walang pakundangang kapangyarihan

at walang budhing karangyaan

habang dinarambong ng iilang tulisan

pati barya sa lukbutan ng mamamayan

at magiliw na sinasamyo ng diyos ni mamon

halimuyak ng kanilang hugo boss

miyaki’t bulgari’t pierre cardin

oo, may hangganan din ang walanghanggan

kapag nag-alimpuyo’t nanalasa

tsunami ng ngitngit ng sambayanan

di mapipigil ng pader ng kaimbihan

daluyong ng paghingi ng katarungan

delubyo itong lulunod-papatag

sa nabubulok-inuuod na lipunan!

————————————————————-

condo — mumunti, tagpi-tagpi’t miserableng bahay ng mga naninirahan na lamang sa ilalim ng mga tulay sa kalunsuran.

pagpag — mga tira-tirang pagkain na itinapon na sa basurahan at pinagtitiyagaang pulutin ng mga maralita, huhugasan at muling iluluto upang sila’y may makain.

hugo boss, miyaki, bulgari at pierre cardin — mamahaling mga pabango ng mayayaman, saanman nanggaling ang kanilang kayamanan.

—————————————————————

Alay Sa Bayaning Mandirigma (Gat. Andres Bonifacio)

(Tula –sa kanyang 150 taong kaarawan sa Nob. 30)

sa mahigit na tatlong daang taon

inalipin ka, ikaw, indio, ng ating la tierra pobreza

dumaong sila mula sa banyagang dalampasigan

silang puting mga panginoon

ng dusa’t inhustisya

upang itarak sa iyong puso’t isipan

espada at krus para ika’y pagharian

ginayuma ka, indio, ng maningning

at maringal na mga templo

upang sumamba ka’t manikluhod

habang isinisiksik sa pandinig at utak mo

mahabagin ang diyos sa mga gaya ninyo

ngunit lagi kang nananangis, indio,

at pumapailanlang sa simoy ng amihan

melodiya ng pagdurusa’t panambitan

ginawang kalabaw ang iyong mga anak

sa mga lupaing kanilang kinamkam

ginawang martilyo’t turnilyo

bisig ng iyong mga supling

sa kanilang pabrikang gilingan ng laman

sinakmal-sinaid di masukat mong yaman

ipinulupot sa iyong leeg at katawan

tanikala ng kaalipinan at karalitaan

parang mga tunog ng tambol sa karimlan

hinagpis ng mga kaluluwang nilapastangan

at karapatan mo lamang noon, oo, indio,

ang manangis at mamatay.

ngunit “di lahat ay natutulog sa dilim ng gabi”

at nagsayaw ka, gat. andres bonifacio

sa lagablab ng apoy ng sigang sinindihan

ng mga aninong kalansay na ngayon

hanggang tuluyang sumilakbo ang iyong puso

at marahas na rumagasa ang iyong dugo

hanggang sa karimlan ng gabi

ikaw at ang mga kapatid mong magigiting

ay walang humpay na naglamay

upang ititik ng inyong mga dugo

sa naninilaw na damuhan ng pag-asa

sa nabaog na mga burol at sabana

banal na layuning sintang baya’y palayain

gilitan ng leeg ang mang-aalipin

oo, gat. andres bonifacio

pataksil ka mang pinatay

ng mga kampon ng dilim

bayani ka pa ring mandirigma

ng kalayaan at pagsinta

at sa puso nami’y lalagi kang dakila

mamumulaklak, magniningning, hahalimuyak

magiting mong mga alaala

lalo’t pinakasisinta naming la tierra pobreza

sakbibi ngayon ng bagong mga panginoon

ng lagim at dusa’t inhustisya

at, oo, tungkulin naming ituloy ang pakikibaka.

oo, bayaning mandirigma ng patria adorada

huwag kang manimdim

magbabanyuhay rin ang iyong mithiin

magsasanib ang ating mga adhika

at di mapipigtal ng mga panahon

mga bulaklak ng lunggating sa dibdib bumukad

mga talulot iyon ng sanlaksang gumamela

mga pulang petalya sa pader ng alaala

lebadura sa panata ng madugong pakikibaka

kaming mga kapatid mo sa uri’t pagmamahal

ay magsasayaw pa rin sa lagablab ng apoy

ng sigang inyong sinindihan noon pa man

magsasayaw kami tulad ng zulu ng timog aprika

tulad ng mga inca ni manco capac

sa imperyo ng tahuantinsuyo

tulad ng mayan ng chiapas, yucatan at tabasco

ng sibilisasyong mesoamerikano

palasong maglalagos sa aming puso

titig ng mga matang inaapawan

ng luha ng dalamhati ng lahi

maglalandas sa aming mga ugat

ngitngit ng butuhang mga bisig

himagsik ng impis na mga dibdib

oo, sa lagablab ng apoy ng iyong mga alaala

patuloy kaming magsasayaw

hanggang isabog ng mga alipato

maningning na pag-asa

hanggang isakay ng mga dahon

matimyas na pagsinta

hanggang hinahabol

ng sumisingasing na hininga

layang ibinartolina

ng mga panginoon ng dusa

di mamamatay ang apoy ng iyong mga alaala

di mapipigilan ng daluhong ng mga punglo

mula sa kuta ng pagsasamantala’t inhustisya

lagablab ng apoy ng iyong pagsinta

para sa pinakamamahal nating la tierra pobreza!

Bakit Kami’y Inyong Pinapatay?

(Tula)

kami ang nagtatanim ng palay

naghahawan ng mga damo sa tubuhan

at nagpapabulas sa mga gulay

nag-aalaga sa manggahan at pinyahan

upang inyong mga labi’y masiyahan

at humalakhak ang inyong tiyan.

kami ang maghapong gumagawa

nagbubungkal ng inyong lupa

upang buhay ninyo’y sumagana

at lumagi kayong pinagpala.

bakit kami’y inyong pinapatay?

kami ang alipin sa pabrika

at nagpapaandar sa makina

lumilikha ng inyong mga damit

mga gatas na de lata

mga inuming nakabotelya

mga gamot na ikinapsula.

kami ang kapiling ng lagari’t tabla

ng semento, buhangin at graba

upang gusali ninyo’y mapuno ng pera.

kami rin ang kuba na’t nagpapasan

ng sangkatutak na mga buwis

mapalamon lamang ang mayayaman

at may palaging madambong

mga tulisan sa pamahalaan.

bakit kami’y inyong pinapatay?

kami ang taga-hugas ng inyong pinggan

taga-dulot ng inyong pagkain

taga-masahe ng inyong katawan

taga-maneho ng inyong kotse

taga-laba ng inyong mga damit

taga-alaga ng inyong mga anak

taga-gawa ng marami pang bagay

oo, kami ang suhay ng inyong buhay

upang patuloy kayong mabuhay

sa karangyaan at kaluwalhatian

at tamasahin ang kamunduhan.

bakit kami’y inyong pinapatay?

sa halip na kalingain at pagpalain

bakit ayaw ninyo kaming tratuhin

bilang tunay na mga tao rin

sa ilalim ng isang lipunang marangal

at naghahari’y hustisya sosyal?

hanggang kailan dignidad

nami’y inyong yuyurakan

at ipagkakait ang kinabukasan?

masisisi pa ba ninyo kami

kung balang araw

kayo naman ang aming patayin?

bakit kami’y inyong pinapatay?