Listen To Us, Speaking Are Our Spirits
(Poem}
listen to us
speaking are our spirits…
not the deceiving words
of scheming charlatanic politicians
not the enticing words
of profit-greedy inhumane capitalists
not the drumbeatings
of the exploitative ruling class…
they who are plunderers and crooks
sucking our sweat and blood
they who always masticate
our flesh and limbs.
full of nauseating realities
are our words in a rotten society
paradise of a chosen few.
listen to us
and beware and be shocked…
incarcerated still is our beloved land
rapaciously being raped by your foreign gods
and unscrupulous gluttonous lords.
you bastards always make her suffer
in the calvary of penury and grief
you devils always nail her to the cross
of darkness and fear and hopelessness
you bastards vehemently torture her
our ever suffering la tierra pobreza.
listen to us
speaking are our spirits…
listen you bandits
in the palaces and mansions of power and greed
you with bulging bellies
and mouths always full
with stolen blessings and wealth.
listen to us
we, who have no house, no land, nothing at all
we, who are like rats
dwelling under the bridge
crawling on the estero’s putrid shoulders
meandering in criss-crossing dark alleys
of repugnant city’s intestine and breast.
yes, we also are like slumbering dogs
in parks and sidewalks
scavenging for leftover food
in some forsaken garbage dumps
to appease our empty stomachs
which most often than not
only air and bubbles dwell.
listen to us
speaking are our spirits…
we, who always begged then for pity and care
we, who always stared then
at the twinkling stars on a firmament serene
we, who always conversed then
with dancing fireflies on dark nights
we, who always looked up then
at the moon’s luminous face.
yes, kneeling and praying still we are
before the altar of grease and machines
in enslaving city’s factories of greed
yes, wailing still we are
before swaying stalks of palay
and robust sugarcanes
in haciendas and ricefields of grief
and mixing still our sweat and tears
with the dewdrops of grieving shrubs
as loneliness embraces every blades of grass
being kissed and caressed
by the tender or whirling wind.
when will the dark shadows of despair
vanish on our land’s heaving breast?
listen to us
speaking are our spirits…
seething is our brain
simmering is our blood
revolting is our heart
our eyes see not
even a glimmer of pity and hope
while you continuously exploit us
trampling upon our dignity and rights
incarcerating our future
and selling it more and more.
listen to us
speaking are our spirits…
and beware you exploiters and crooks
we are now praying the new rosary of hope
not the litanies of begging as slaves
but flaming words are now rushing out
from our shivering mouths.
listen to us
speaking are our spirits…
we will sing no more the lyrics of despair
we will recite no more the poem of tender love
will dash out from our mouths
harsh words of unyielding struggle
for the freedom and glory
of our beloved land.
yes, because no more slumbering we are
in the darkness of night
dilated and full of hatred now are our eyes
seeing clearly the deceiving films
you always flash before us…
beware you crooks and exploiters
the hissing of lightning
the yelling of thunder
the wheezing of bullets
will slash to pieces
your face benumbed by slaps of silver and gold.
loathsome and hatred full
the trigger of freedom!
