Sa Paglipad at Paglubog

Gusto kong lumipad, magkaron ng kapangyarihang pag laruan ang oras at manirahan sa pantasya.

Maging isang ibong malayang nakalilipad sa himpapawid at mala-isdang kung lumangoy ay napakasuwabe kung gagamit ng salitang balbal.

Sa paglaon, napagtantong hindi malaya ang mga ibong lumilipad kundi binanagtas lamang ang napakahabang tanikala,

Ang mga isda ay sumusunod na lamang sa agos kahit sila’y buhay pa.

Ninais kong lumipad ngunit ako’y dinala sa itaas upang lumubog.

Salamat mga kapatid kong puno, lupa at hayop,
Sa paghatak sakin palapit sa baba at panatilihing nakalapat ang paa sa lupa.
Salamat sa pag hawak ng kamay ko at hindi natuluyang tangayin ng pantasya.

Salamat dahil hanggang ngayon ay buhay pa ako at lumalaban,
Hindi ako natuloy sa alapaap upang habulin ang pinapantasiyang ibon,

Inilubog ako ng sariling gunita,
Para makita kong ang sukdulan ng mundo’y hindi matatapos sa isang pagikot lamang,

Kundi sa maramimg ulit na pagbaba at pagtaas ng pisi.

Napagtanto kong,
Sa paglapat ng paa ko sa lupa, mas nakilala ko ang mundo ng masa.


Ode To The General

Father of freedom, but we’re asleep in the revolution,
sold the country to the whites,
while browns are fighting for freedom.
A living god in his own hell;
hailed by few, pleaded by many.
Sprinkled ash of their bodies,
sprinkled their blood,
he who claims to have the victory,
fails to stop the bleeding of his own soul.
Now he’s safe in the hands of his crafter.
Hello General, say hi to Satan for me.



Photo source:

Always Almost

Words are like knives;
when spoken without utmost care,
it will poison the souls of the prey,
will ruin their dreams,
will make them feel invisible.

Those sprouting bud of roses will turn into thorns,
branches will die; like their limp body on the ground,
leaves will fall – will dry;
will be a part of the earth.

We’re all sinners –
singing the songs of that so called freedom;
unbridled freedom.
It’s not easy,
there’s damage when you speak, damage when you don’t.

“Where will I go?”
I asked myself in the mirror.
We’re nailed by the norms,
nailed by your laws,
nailed by the one who holds my law.

My roses turned black,
my pages turned to yellow,
but history won’t let go of my chains,
now I’m enchained by the word “almost”
I almost had my freedom.


As he landed on this rich land that is covered with dirt,
the old man said ‘shit’ when it literally means to shoot.
I was asked to jump out of the building because I misheard it,
I asked “from which floor?’
Maybe just alittle brain will do, they say.
I’ll let the queen have my heart coz I know she doesn’t have one.
Oh and my soul?
My spare is inside my pocket where my badge was attached.
I’ll do everything at full speed as what my master commanded;
to bury them with their truths under my law,
mandated by the one sitting on the throne.
It is written in his fist,
emblanzoned in his mouth.
I’ll follow orders from you just make sure that our share is sixty forty.
I swear to whoever god that is listening,
that I will be your puppy… I mean your servant,
just to keep my position in the hierarchy.
My name has its own power but my soul is already being auctioned in hell,
where yours is already displayed.
Even If I cover myself with flag large enough to patch the loop holes in my dignity,
spirits of those who stray bullets chased still haunts me in my sleep.
We’re on a war but the battle inside me keeps me frustrated and leaves me empty.
Sending my apologies to my old man who always told me to serve my country well,
the one who speaks ‘thou shall not kill’
while cleaning his magnum revolver.
I never thought that the next part would be ‘thou shall not kill without orders from the one who secretly sells the country.’
Thou shall not kill…
If being shot from behind makes you a hero then I’d rather be the gunmen who rolled upward
just to make sure that the target will fall down planking on the grond.
Because I know that if someone shoot me,
they would be the hero and not me,
and people would die to see me dead.
I became blinded by the law and false judiciary.
Shame over pride,
but for me,
as long as he’s sitting on his throne,
blood will continue to spill,
spread all over our home.
Forgive me.
This is just the calling of the law,
to bring back our glory and peace.
After all, I am just another General Fabian Ver.

The Beloved Land of Heroes

Bring back the old land

the one we used to be proud of

like the times we still uphold our own values

when we still care for respect for dignity

those olden days when race isn’t a big deal

the black and white images of pioneers

when Filipinos are still Filipinos

and not foreigners in their own land

when we still wear our National identity

those times when we’re still against cruelty to see changes

when ethnic cleansing isn’t the only solution

when taking people’s life isn’t our last resort

coz putting the law in your hands doesn’t make the country better

funny how they are now in favor of disloyalty to vows

and it’s inhumane to fight for abortion to be legal

do you feel satisfied when people’s blood’s dripping down your hands?

people aren’t in charge of others’ lives

so do I

It’s always a matter of choice

Others believe tyranny is the answer

others don’t

while few people chose to be silent

afraid of their lives

taking away lives won’t lessen the count of criminals

is that what you people want?

seeing your own race suffer and enjoy it?

This is your country

whether you like it or not

the blood of your ancestors was once shed on this land

don’t focus on your own sufferings

focus on the surroundings

call them self-righteous

but you cannot change the history itself

it will never be

Rationality opened different view points

that lead to revolution

but it doesn’t mean

we’re free from folly

Coz even if a thousand heroes die,

in the end

It’s us – who’ll make the nation better.




*Unofficial* *I am not referring to anyone if that’s what others might think. I am referring to everyone who’s alright for them to sell their soul, their country and even the people itself.* *But then again, there is really no perfect land. Death, violence, tyranny, hatred, corruption, folly, ignorance are inevitable.*


I remember a story

about a man who’s raised by a shewolf

who swore that he’ll never hurt his mother, he didn’t

trained by the wildest beast in his homeland

Claws against claws

Fangs over fangs

Everybody’s a prey so you should watch your back or it’s the end of you

I’ve seen it before

through the never ending leaves of a book

whispering us that it will repeat itself

Do you hear it?

Can you feel it?

Running through the vivid lines of silence

tracing the roots of the problem

The jungle is calling you

the wild haunt on its prey

The mice crawls beneath tower gates,

pleading them to spare their blood.

coz in this mediocre society,

there’s always a fool, there’s always self righteous

How about let’s change the game?

Sheep can train with wolves

Apes be the kings, Lions be the slaves

Trees burn pieces of human flesh

whispers become screams

louder and louder, til’ they’re deep under the ground

The man who was once an object of violence,

became pages of a book

sound of tears that is full of pride

an unsung hero, denied by the truth

after his demise,. rebellion arise.

Brought rationality to kingdom of the lost ones

sooner, found their way out of the dungeon

and freed their souls from idiocy.

Soon, the wolf found its wings

It is a matter of choice, always.

Are you gonna soar high? or stoop so low?

Be lost in the sky? or be not tame in the jungle

Sky has limits too, so does the land.

It’s only a matter of choice if you’ll live; or die.

Note: I finished this piece during our first day as an intern.