69.
My Memories of Las Piñas
Las Piñas - memories sweet
Soul was innocent and neat
I miss the friends of childhood
The closeness of neighborhood
It's where I learned ABC
Twinkle Stars and 123
I miss the townhouse playground
My afternoon hang around
With Jay, Fritz, Toto, Len-Len
Yobi, Cyrene…more than ten
It's nice when night was brownout
My friends and I would play out
After church mass, family
SM Southmall was hobby
When Holy Week was around
Night film showing on playground
Also on time of summer
Neighbors resort together
When it's Christmas eve and night
Flood the gifts from left and right
Best is every New Year's eve
Night's merriest street party
Visit kin both side parents
Those another excitements
Oh Casimiro Townhomes
I should have never left you!
-11/27/2011
(Dumarao)
*First Incubus Collection
We walk with the information of
quasars and the discernment of protoplasm.
Each day we live and die, each day our tears run dry.
Information is the rubble, the clutter of our civil war.
Reality becomes disposable when fact and
fevered fiction are made coequals,
when the rampancy of lies massacres the truth.
Each day we live and die, each day our tears run dry.
Propaganda walls our gated communities, our guarded cells.
So many concoct frightful conspiracies from techno-witchcraft.
So many dehumanize and scapegoat from delusive threats.
Each day we live and die, each day our tears run dry.
So many are captive here to the craven complex of revenge.
So many swallow here, the mollifying Fentanyl
of a cruel and brutal state.
Clinging to the demagogue, no one is free.
Somewhere in the brownout, is there a beacon?
Somewhere in the nightmare, do we awaken?
Each day we live and die,
each day our tears run dry.
Written: September 17, 2023
Lets Minichu on Fear Sponsored by: Mohan Chutani
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Stop dropping my hand, Dad
The harshness of the epoch agonizes minds
Need to keep my eyes clad
A harsh anguish
Bleak brownout brewing, blunted blinds
Languish
Partake
Passion reminds
Stake
Stop dropping my hand, Dad
Bleak brownout brewing, blunted blinds
Stake
The Savior Was He
It's raining so hard
The sound of the rain stabbing the roof sharply
As if trying to bore a hole
Wanting to penetrate
Wanting to be felt.
The wind adding the torture
On the students eagerness to learn
While the teacher trying to beat
The rage of nature
Through a voice which can never be heared.
Stop the beating of the rain
Nor groan of the wind
Suddenly darkness came
Rapidly like lighting
Making the humans within the room.
Shouted "Brownout!!!"
What the hell was going on!
Looking around, they saw
A figure just by the door
A silhouette as if.
Telling them to run for their lives
Everybody scampered to hide,
Yelling...crying...seeking for help
There was silence
A voice was heard
"I am the school maintenance crew'
I'm here to help you".
"Follow me...I have only one light for us."
Slowly they stood up and walked lightly
The savior was he.
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