PHILIPPINES

rigelgerald@yahoo.com

Forsaken: Revolution in Context

Eleven blind men in swivel chairs:
Prime actors in a prolonged farce;
Blunt movements of a puppeteer
Leveled voices of the righteous—smeared!

Regal chambers for prostitutes,
Rotten rice for a multitude:
Choices made in tainted refuge,
Total damnation in swelled deluge!

With crimson tears, the fate is now sealed
'Tis time to overturn the tables, and blatantly bleed!

My Little Boy

It is clear, I see
My little Boy's game is me;
He chants as if normally
His Dad would be he.

The cues I rave,
The louder he plays
The stronger he gives
Laughter, he'll then not cease.

That wending stream
In that sunken hill
With that taunting wind
He'll always please.

He picks that rod
And readily throws
His playful tones
In this world we know.

Yes, my little son
My happiness indeed
In a life so queer,
Which he makes majestic!

© All Copyright 2001, Gerald Aguirre Galgana.
All Rights Reserved. Printed By Permission.