In Memory of Freedom

And so the light fades as the dark set in

Flashes of remnant musings of ages fill the

Senses of a life never lived

As one lies down on a concrete pavement

Cold and hard and barren, he

Thinks of the meal he might have eaten, or

Clothes wrapping his

Nakedness, oblivious to the elements

And in the absence of the simplest

Decency, one wonders why

Many are born only to suffer

It is not the scarcity or the

Laws of nature that

Imprison the

Dispossessed and oppress the

Exploited, kneeding them to kingdom come

But the desire for excess and power. To

Corrupt the juice of

Freedom

And there he lays half-dead, in

Silence.

Insurrection

The time is ripe and the dawn has broken, when the people rise up against the system that oppressed them for so long a time there is nowhere to run but against the Wall. Street is where the war is happening, where voices instead of bullets, and guerrillas in all shapes and forms stand up against corporate oligarchy and elitist-plutocratic-mythical corporate capitalism. It is but fitting for Us, the suffering majority, to take back the power that for so long been deprived, taken, denied, murdered, amputated from the depths of our soul. It is Time to say We are Free! And as free people we shall take our lives back. Enough is enough. We have been oppressed, exploited, abused in more ways than one, blinded, coerced, and lied to, and so they thought that we cannot rise up from our misery. They are Wrong. And so they tremble, as we gather in strength and number, without fear because for so long they have taken every bit of what and who we are that we have nothing to lose. No home, no education, no clean water, no food, no shelter, no clothing, no healthcare, no job. And so they thought that there army of brutes dressed in camou's and plain clothes, pawns at their disposal, can strike us with fear through arrest, harassment, assassination, blackmail. They are Wrong! All we have left is Our Voice, and we will stand by it. Because when a free man and woman and child has nothing left, their voice will be their life, their soul, their shield. We are Free, and shall Fight in Peace as this Declaration of Freedom has granted the citizenry of this planet. Victory will be Ours.

America : The Disillusioned Union

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Drifter

And now you’re gone
Gone away from my embrace
And I carry on
In lonely solace
Ever longing

What has become
It all seemed true and now I lost you
You were my home
And now I am drifting
Endless wandering

You were my life
The dream’s reality
In this rapid fall
I can’t hold on to your memory

All is black
Whispering echoes begging to come back
In absolution
You’re lips
They keep haunting me

And now I’m spent
Holding on to musings
Bits and pieces of
Music we once shared

ignorance is never bliss

for war is not the opposite of peace
nor love is that of hate
fear lingers to those who wage violence
and indifference their weapon

toy is what a gun to a child
an arsenal of greed to a fascist
power consumes and corrupts
hate blinds not by darkness but light

youth stolen to fight wars not their own
selfish are they who send their sons
and daughters to battle
while they drink martini with their concubines

we are but fools on a string
preyed and played
we are but papers yet to be written
for widows of soldiers who had fallen

ignorance is never bliss
for innocence that is
how long shall children suffer?
how long shall mother's grieve?

speak to me of peace

speak to me of peace
when the peasants no longer till the soil of feudalism
and the produce of the land be divided amongst the people

speak to me of peace
when the dungeons are empty
and the silent cries of the prisoners are but echoes too deafening to remember

speak to me of peace
when the mothers no longer weep for their lost sons
and children may no longer be seen bearing arms and not books and pens

speak to me of peace
when religion is no longer synonymous to conflict
and that the name of God is used in worship and not in battle cries

speak to me of peace
when families are no longer coerced to leave their homes and settle in cardboard shanties
and live under the naked skies through scorching heat and blistering cold

speak to me of peace
when fathers will no longer steal and kill
and die only to bring food to the tables

speak to me of peace
when life is no longer about taking but giving
and the human experience is as sweet as the candy cane on a toddler's hand

speak to me of peace
when spirits roam free
and the thoughts can fly like helium-filled balloons on a sunday skyline

speak to me of peace
when we can already speak our minds
and will not be silenced by a thunderous trigger

speak to me of peace
when war is no longer part of our vocabulary
and that peace is no longer a mere state of mind or an ideal but a reality.

wars waging, guns are firing, ideas are crashing like comets come raining
you hear the cries of the innocent and the shouts of the insolent
a never ending calamity barrage of senseless atrocity

city after city they bomb, town after town they rob
out the oppressed and the oppressor coming in
suffering populace longing for God's embrace

why has gone cold? why has evil gone bold?
people of the world never grow old
children are dying with their stories untold

they say it's revenge they are after
a tooth for a tooth is their battle cry clamor
but they did not realize they have lost their mind
an eye for an eye, and the whole world would be blind

peace is not an unreachable ideal to be wept
peace is the goal the treasure that be kept
the love for humanity should what remain
all that spirits desire, spirits attain.

untitled pa ni...

we live in the dark ages of wars and oppression
thriving in the shadows of blatant exploitation
walking down the road of total damnation
i call Jah now please lead my people to redemption

two days ago i came across three children
hungry and thirsty carrying heavy burden
they say, mr we haven't eaten for days on end
i say, come in to my house i might have some spare that your hunger may mend

then i realized how humanity has become
society of beasts of monsters preying on some
we have lost the divinity that Jah has blessed us
what has been left is the cruelty and the ideals of rottenness

i call on Jah people to kneel and repent
this is not how we should lived this is not what love meant
life is about compassion and charity
let's embrace one another and transform our society

Jah bless us all

alay sa perlas ng silangan

sa paglubog ng araw ay siyang pagmulat ng mundo
sa katotohanan na ang buhay ay siyang mapaglaro
marami ang nagtitiis nagpapasarap ang iilan
kokonti ang kumakain ang iba ay kumakalam ang tiyan

sa ilalim ng hubad na ulap may mga sumisilong
at sa apat na sulok ng palasyo ay may mandarambong
ang piping iyak ng dukha ay dinig ng malaya
ngunit pilit kinukubli ng mayamang mapag-alipusta

ang katarungang mithi ng bayang bigo
ang kapayapaang hangad ng batang sundalo
ang kaginhawaang hingi ng inang nawalan
ang katotohanang alay sa perlas ng silangan

at sa bawat pagbangon ng paslit sa lansangan
pantawid gutom agad ang nasa kanyang isipan
habang ang nasa kapangyarihan ay nagbibilang
kung magkano ang nanakawin sa kaban ng bayan

Enough is Enough!

We live in a world of fantasy. Do you believe that?

We live in world of fantasy basically because our society is run and operated under the impression of a myth; a myth known as money.
In a world of corporate globalization, we have become a bunch of crazy entities thriving in a world where everything has a price, and yet we don't say anything about it. We are fools who let ourselves become enslaved by a piece of paper or a bar of metal or a shiny stone.

We are hypocrites who even tag ourselves, rate how much an object is; and worst, tag how much life is. Human existence is based on how much revenue you can come up with. Material satisfaction has become the most important goal of the human experience.
Our world right now is under corporate control, ruled by individuals enslaved by greed. They are a few minority who exploit the resources, may it be natural or human power. Society has become a puppet show wherein people are bred for profit, not for purpose. Human life is synonymous to greed.

The fate of the earth is determined by the superpowers whose only interest is to gain more out of other’s suffering. They paint a façade of programs with sweet terms like free-trade, with bitter policies embedded to make poverty-stricken countries bleed to dry. These superpowers see the planet as a commodity, a money-making machine and not a home.

In order to change all of these, let us stand firm in proclaiming that our planet is not for sale, we are not for sale.
In our country malls sprung out like mushrooms on a cow's dung. If you look at these malls in a rather peculiar perspective, it is like a big monster with its mouth wide open while his preys are coming in voluntarily without knowledge that they are about to be devoured .

I remember reading an article about the labor atrocities in factories of Nike where employees are underpaid, overworked, and commonly face verbal and even physical abuse. And by continuing to buy their products, we too are guilty in committing these horrible crimes.

It will take decades before humanity can truly realize where our civilization has taken us. We are surrounded by injustices and yet we choose to be blind. The machine has been successful in controlling our lives.
In order to stop the madness of the corporate junkies, we should start by not patronizing their products. And the only way to do that is buy nothing, right?

And when we do, they will realize that not everyone is stupid enough to be manipulated. And we will also realize that life is worth living without buying, because in the first place, our resources are free and no one is supposed to take full advantage of the spoils of the majority's labor.
So am I making sense now? Or you're just playing stupid because all you care about is saving your allowance to buy an Armani or a Vesrace or a Tommy.

Take a stand now! Resist corporate control! Fight Consumerism!

If you're not for sale, then buy nothing!

The World is Painted Black

(Aftermath)

He is no deep at all.
He is an asshole
and no more than that.
A bitch of no worth.
Pretentious bitch hiding
beneath is depth,
the depth is only inches
down the cover.
On the surface bulges
of volcanoes lie dormant
but liquefied gold looms
underneath
in a steady rising temperature.
Bitch.
Pretentious bitch.
Go submerge and show
no sign of existence.
Bitch.
A male dog of rainbow feathers
but black and hollow within.
Bitch.
Why have you come back?

You made me believe
you're a bottomless pit.
You're nothing short of a
hole in a backyard.
Bitch.
You planted an unknown vine
within me.
It crept silently
from my veins to my brain
and reached to squeeze
my heart.
You showed the world
what a surreal art you are.
You're nothing more than a
piece of crumpled paper,
dripped with water,
muddy water that is,
because you want to play mystery man,
don't you?
Flashing Mona Lisa smile,
but the edges of your lips
are sharp enough
they could cut hearts in two,
or three, or four,
depending on how many
polar bears reveal when
you smile.
Bitch.
Pretentious bitch.

happy thoughts mode

the deafening emptiness

of the echoing dark abyss
of unfathomable depth of trench-like chasms
between reality and fantasy and
the daydreaming state of a mystic turned
suicidal maniac albeit converted
staring and smiling into space; the stupidity
of his gesture though odd to others
is to himself amusing yet unknown
if not to the frequent reproach of
friends and adversaries alike
yet in this peculiarity the mystic turned
suicidal maniac albeit convert finds bliss
and thus continue his staring and smiling
into space leaping
between fantasy and reality and his daydreaming.

bored

i have always admitted, sometimes to a point of being annoying that i am really f*cking bored. it's as if life has nothing more to offer but pain and suffering and frustration and despair etc etc etc.

yet in the absence of excitement i see a little flicker of thrill, in the idea that life ain't life without such negation; that the cliche 'one won't know how sweetness tastes like if one haven't had an encounter with bitterness' has truth in it.

more than a month ago, i made a close contact with the ripper. the scars have healed, yet the pain remains. and i guess that'll be the case for days to come.

when asked why i did it, why did i try to expedite my extinction, i simply say the main reason is boredom. too vague to comprehend? yeah i too haven't got the slightest idea why i'm so f*cking bored.

i spend the last months bumming around the house, watching discovery channel, nat geo, history chanell, etc. my life was at a standstill, and it still is. i don't know how to start all over again. ironically, i remain optmistic. crazy.

i maybe ruined, beyond repair, but i keep hanging on.

& i'm f*cking loving boredom.

Day 3

Sporadic islets exist

almost invisible on the face

on the black seas.

This time many have withdrawn

from the battle in the funeral march,

but the golden spark

was still there,

unwilling to surrender,

glowing brightly as if to say

its energy will never exhaust.

The plague

has a venomous tongue.

By the end of this ordeal

the world is painted black no more.

Will see it no more.

Will see them no more.

I'll be on my own and the

blackness will stand

witness to my solitude.

There will be pulling down

of silver string

no more,

nor rolling up of the curtain

of creamed snow.

There will be no more blackness

to cloak my world

but my future will be

equally dim.

Soon I will miss the

golden dewdrops

and tears of neon blue.

The funeral march will go on

for as long as this tomb

is cold - with or without

the world painted in black.

The sapling may never grow

because you keep the sun

behind your gloom,

the nimbus, your shadow.

But I'll miss you, too,

because you are coming back

no more.

I hope you are coming back

no more.

This will be the last glimpse

to blackness

as it fades to many

different shades

of green like emerald

and turquoise beyond.

Suddenly a familiar face

appeared from nowhere...

Why have you come back?

-Toto

The World is Painted Black

(Day 2)

By dawn angry heavens poured

on the world painted black.

As I pulled down

the silver string and rolled

up the creamed snow curtain,

there on the borderline,

they splatter.

Golden dewdrops and tears of neon blue

fight to be one with my world.

The funeral march

still goes on.

Fiercely, sharply

cutting my flesh into

strips of fragile woods,

burnt into ashes,

slowly fading into gray,

echoing night into day.

The world painted in black

only stood witness to the grave.

-Toto

The World is Painted Black

(Day 1)

I pulled down the silver string,
Rolled up the curtain of creamed snow.
Before me
the world is painted black.
At the corner of my eye
there was the golden spark,
But the victory or death tonight
vanished the glow in the dark.

The generosity of this truth
hasn't been this paramount,
this sharp,
Cutting my sorrow in million pieces.
Will my hope ever reunite?
As I lie down thinking
about the sapling:
Why wouldn't he let it grow?
Let it grow.
Please let it grow.

Third day backwards,
third limbo above Earth,
in a funeral march
I was weeping,though,
for someone who wasn't there.
Pearls without color -
my eyes were too familiar of them,
and so was the world
painted in black.

Needless to say
the funeral march went on.
In a tomb cold as death
I was there.
The tomb - there was no
hint of blackness,
and no sign of corpse,
but I wish I was dead.

- Toto

COMFORT OF AN ENEMY

This casket
is larger than a
shoebox
with walls of stained
sheepskin;
is so much like me,
either a friend
or an enemy...
I notice
for over a year now

I'm not dead
but inside this casket
i live
moving around
basked with independence
and solitude
in other words,
I am a
prisoner.

Today
this casket is a friend
though the world
outside is
so much of an enemy
in a way
I so much like,
in a way
the bullets fires
and explotion
of bombs
are music to my ears
when they hit
the solid ground..

inside my cell
I am safe
in my usual corner
I will succumb
to the demand of
my deteriorating strength...
to the comfort of my grave.

- Toto

The Tower

this is a poem by MarkN originally posted as a comment to one of my blogs.

In every Church, a Sinner.
Every God, a Fascist.
Every Priest, a Pedophile,
& every Saint is a Terrorist.
For every Prayer is Guilt.

Masses of Hypocrisy,
Devotion to Ignorance,
Culture of Genocide,
Lust for Oppression,
Undying Faith in Slavery
Is Life not Free?

An Orgasm to every Pig in Funeral,
As would a Whore to a Nun
& a Crucifix for every Injustice
That they have done.

An Empire of Greed
with an Institution for Hunger,
Monopoly on Abuse ,
& Charity on Compassion.

Another Religion,
Another War.
Another Victim falls to the Ground.

Another Slave,
to Fall its Knees on the Floor
with a Grenade on one Hand,
The enemy’s Cock on the other.

Bullets to Separate Borders,
Rivers that divide Mountains,
Wombs to give birth for Corpses
Cries of Unrestrained Anger,

from Below..
Underneath..
From 6 Feet Under..
To Walk the shattered glass on the Concrete

A Hammer to SMASH it's Symbol of Power,
& Angels to Dance on the Ruins..

-unitedbychaos@yahoo.com

rain

i've had this poem for quite a while but failed to share it with you. i always made sure that all my works be shared as soon as i finish making them and i deeply apologize for the delay. hope you'll forgive me on my shortcoming.

it sliced through the air
as it tears through the heart
brings forth the memories
of sudden depart
and flows like a river
like tears on a face
trying hard to fill
the heart's dry and empty space.

the beat of drums
in the rhythm of sadness
and heaps of light
forcing through the clouds darkness
barely illuminating
a wretched soul
picking up the pieces
of a self once whole.

it travels through rain;
words of undying love
bridging the earth below
and heaven's above.