(Poem)
plunderers of public fund we are not
we did not purchase power
we did not crave for it
though oftentimes rumbling are our bellies
we did not swallow our honor and dignity
we did not masticate our shame
shadows we are holding vigil at night
amidst the glare of the lonely moon
in the hilly forest of liberating dreams
weaving we are the melodies of freedom
for our incarcerated land
in the bastion of lords
of injustices, penury and grief.
plunderers of public fund we are not
inside air-conditioned rooms we are not
that’s why
only the whirling wind
caresses our face and limbs
we have no porcelain plates
we have no expensive goblets
we have no steaming sopa de gallina
succulent pork lechon or sappy steaks
our callous hands are our spoons and forks
for our cold-cooked rice, fishes from creeks
camote and ampalaya shoots
we heartily relish on banana leaves.
plunderers of public fund we are not
that’s why we are always telling the truth
we are not hoodwinking the masses
with outright lies and illusions
of propagandized progress for all
hissing is our rebellious breath
flaming are our hands
seething are our brains
with sacred aspirations
to emancipate, at last, our enslaved land.
yes, plunderers of public fund we are not
like you we are not
pawning our beloved land’s future
just for you to stay in power more and more
we are dedicated warriors of freedom and honor
sacred purpose is our muse
the people’s welfare
our everlasting love
and fervently we cherish only
the yearnings of bleeding hearts
yes, a society not tormented
by the injustices and greed
of the exploitative class!
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