COLONIZATION---Shaping Our Future

         As we all know,COLONIZATION has a very important part in our lives.Just like the Spanish Colonization, isn't it that during the Spaniards,they mistreated us in our own country.We are a prisoners in our country.But despite of their unfair treatment to us,Filipinos did not lost their hope that we will be known as the leaders in our own country.That someday,we will be given the chance to govern/rule our own country, and not to be ruled by the Spaniards...
         Thanks GOD!Filipinos did not lost their hope and they are strong enough to overcome all the trials that the Spaniards has given them. Atlast the Americans came....let's just say that it's the American Colonization...In their times,they gave the Filipinos all the opportunities that the Spaniards did not give them.the Americans gave the Filipinos a chance to have a possition in the government offices if they are only qualified.They teach the filipinos to conserve the natural resources.They established the local government.They conducted a local election...
         In short,Colonization helps shape our future through the experiences that we encounter in the different Colonies. They gave us trials for us to be strong and learn from it. There are some Colonies that teaches us also how to be independent and more developed. Some Colonies also made us an educated. They educate us so that we are prepared and to have a good future.And to be a fully developed country. And to give our young ones a good future.

Sino ang baliw? - Basil Valdez

Ang natutuwang baliw, yaman ay pinagyabang
Dahil ari niya raw, ang araw pati ang buwan
May isang sa yaman ay, salapi ang hinihigan
Ngunit ang gintong baul, panay kasalanan ang laman


Sinasambit ng baliw, awit na walang laman
Ulo mo'y maiiling, tatawagin mong hangal
May isang hindi baliw, iba ang awit na alam
Buong araw kung magdasal, sinungaling rin naman


Sinong dakila? Sino ang tunay na baliw?
Sinong mapalad? Sinong tumatawag ng habag?
Yaong bang sinilang, na ang pag-iisip di lubos?
O husto ang isip, Ngunit sa pag-ibig ay kapos


Ang kanyang tanging suot, ay sira-sirang damit
Na nakikiramay sa isip niyang punit-punit
May binata ang gayak, panay diamante at hiyas
Ngunit oras maghubad, kulay ahas ang balat


Sinong dakila? Sino ang tunay na baliw?
Sinong mapalad? Sinong tumatawag ng habag?
Yaong bang sinilang, na ang pag-iisip hindi lubos?
O husto ang isip, Ngunit sa pag-ibig ay kapos


Sa kanyang kilos at galaw, tayo ay naaaliw
Sa ating mga mata, isa lamang siyang baliw
Ngunit, kung tayo ay, hahatulang sabay
Sa mata ng Maykapal, siya'y higit na banal


Sinong dakila? Sino ang tunay na baliw?
Sinong mapalad? Sinong tumatawag ng habag?
Yaong bang sinilang, na ang pag-iisip di lubos?
O husto ang isip


Kaya't sino, sino, sino, sino nga
Sino nga ba, Sino Sino ba, 
Sino nga ba ang tunay na baliw?

The Happy Hoi Polloi by: Kerima Polotan Tuvera

“In the Luneta, all colors blend ‚ the brown and the white and yellow of people; the green and blue and red of shrubs. Towards the sea, the great sward stretches, and the globes of light hang like huge pearls, are caught in the waters of the lake. People flow by, stop and eddy, break and whirl again. Across the pond, a band plays; a balloon breaks loose from some child’s grasp and floats towards an early star. Here, the land lies flat and green, broken only by stone; there, it rises in a series of small hills that hide the curving tips of a pagoda. The doves come, cooing and beating their wings around a man, dressed in a tiger’s suit, and giving away candy. The lovers try not to be conspicuous. A family spreads the contents of a bag — kropeck, juice, biscuits. One mother lies on a mat, unashamedly nursing her baby. On other mats, men and their wives, kicking their heels at the sky. The park guards  watch when they can but soon grow weary and give up. The sky is like a canvas washed clean, gray along the edges, and you think, looking over the heads around you, how distant the heat of living is — tonight’s dishes, tomorrow’s bundy clock. Joy is a fitful moment, but better that than nothing.”

The Ramayana Story (Epic) The Ramayana Story

Briefly The Ramayana Story

This is an epic poem of courage, magic and humor, containing 18 books and 24,000 verses divided into 500 songs. Set in India, Rama (avatar--incarnation--of the God Vishnu) and his wife Sita have been banished from their kingdom of Kosala for fourteen years, due to a plot by the mother of one of Rama's four brothers to keep Rama from the throne. Rama's brother, Laksmana, accompanies the couple. King Rawana of Ceylon spies the beautiful Sita and creates a plan to abduct her. He sends one of his minions, magically disguised as a golden deer to entice Rama and Laksmana away from Sita. Rama goes after the deer, instructing Laksmana not to leave Sita. Rama brings down the golden deer with his bow and arrow. The golden deer reverts to its original shape and with its dying breath calls out "Help, help, help" in Rama's voice. Sita, hearing Rama's voice, entreats Laksmana to go and help Rama. When he refuses, she goads him into leaving. Laksmana draws a magic circle around Sita and tells her that she must stay inside it until he and Rama return. When Sita is alone, Rawana appears, disguised as an ailing old man, who begs Sita for help. When Sita steps out of the magic circle to aid the old man, the old man changes into Rawana and abducts Sita, telling her that Rama is dead. He rises in the air with her and flies to his Kingdom.

Jatayu, King of the Birds, (also known as Garuda) spies Rawana carrying off Sita and they battle in the air. Rawana delivers a fatal wound to Jatayu who falls to the ground, where he is discovered by Rama and Laksmana. Jatayu is near death and manages to tell Rama of his failure to rescue Sita.

Rama and Laksmana travel onward and enlist the aid of the army of wanaras, a race of huge monkeys. Sugriwa, King of the wanaras, agrees to help Rama rescue Sita in return for Rama's support of Sugriwa's attempt to regain his rightful throne in the land of Guakiskenda. When Sugriwa meets his nemesis, Subali, Rama saves Sugriwa's life with a magic arrow which kills Subali. After Sugriwa is crowned King of Guakiskenda, the white monkey general, Hanuman, is sent to Alengka (Ceylon) to scout the defenses and to deliver Rama's ring to Sita, so that she would know that Rama was alive.

After a narrow escape from the stomach of Wikateksi, the enormous sea monster which guarded the approaches to Alengka, Hanuman kills Wikateksi and flies to the capital of Alengka, the kingdom of the giants. Fortunately, there are many monkeys living among the giants, which provide cover for Hanuman, who reduces his size. He looks everywhere in the city for Sita. Eventually Hanuman finds Rawana's palace and the women's quarters. Hanuman meets Sita in the garden and gives her Rama's ring, which she recognizes at once, and tells her that Rama is on his way to rescue her.

Hanuman, in order to test the strength of the city, resumes his normal size, climbs to the top of a tall building and hurls a challenge to the awestruck crowd below. He begins to destroy the buildings around him by using an uprooted palm tree as a club. He is felled by an arrow shot by the crown prince of Alengka, Hindrajit. Hanuman is shackled in chains and sentenced to die by slow fire. Hanuman appeals to Agni, the god of fire, to save him. A wall of flame springs up between Hanuman and the watching crowd. With a burst of strength, Hanuman breaks his bonds, and swinging a glowing torch picked up from the fire, goes on a rampage which ends in the burning of a large part of the city. Assuring himself that Sita's pavilion is safe, Hanuman leaps into the air and flies back to Guakiskenda.

After hearing of Hanuman's exploits, Rama adopts him as his own son. The army then heads for Alengka, which they find surrounded by a boiling sea. By hurling huge boulders into the sea, the monkey soldiers build a causeway to the island. Rawana learns of the invasion and assembles his generals. Some of the generals resent Rawana's evil rule, but heretofore have lacked the courage to oppose him. Wibisana, Rawana's brother, as spokesman, points out that it was because Rawana abducted Sita that Alengka is now beset by enemy armies. He suggests that Rawana release Sita and avoid bloodshed and loss of life and property. Angered, Rawana strikes Wibisana, who then deserts to Rama's army. Rawana is tempted to murder Sita, but is thwarted by Trijata, Wibisana's beautiful daughter, who has grown to love Sita as a sister. Rawana turns to another brother, the giant Kumbakarna, who although disapproving of Rawana's crimes and baseness, decides to help because they are of the same blood.

After many guerilla attacks by the monkey soldiers, the two armies finally face each other. Two opposing generals, Kumbakarna and Laksmana challenge each other. Kumbakarna is killed by Laksmana's magic arrow. Other duels take place on the battlefield. Rama spots Rawana and pursues him, shooting showers of arrows, which seem to have no effect on Rawana other than to make him back off. Rawana backs in between two unusually formed rocks which snap together and hold him in an inescapable grip. These rocks are inhabited by the souls of two of his daughters, who Rawana had murdered, and who are at last able to avenge themselves on their father.

Rawana's army surrenders and Rama gives the throne of Alengka to Wibisana. Rama and Sita are joyfully united. The fourteen years of exile being over, Rama, Sita and Laksmana return to Kosala, where they are welcomed by all. However, rumors circulate about Sita's virtue. She offers to test her virtue by fire. She enters the ring of fire and emerges unscathed, her faithfulness confirmed. When the rumors persist, she leaves the palace for the spiritual life.

The Ramayana story is especially important to Hindus because it is possible for ordinary people to identify with the characters and situations. The heroes and heroines are emulated for their positive qualities of honesty, devotion, perseverance, fidelity, and bravery. Strongly evident in this story is the portrayal of pure evil and those who have the courage to resist and overcome that evil.

Thus, the Ramayana story in brief.

http://www.windsong2.com/stories/Ramayana.html

The World Is an Apple

This is a story of how wrong decisions become greater burdens to a family.  Mario’s family happens to be in the lower bracket of society.  He cannot even provide for his family’s basic needs.  Albeit all this hardships, his wife Gloria, still manages to keep her good virtuous.  She insists that the way they are living is a much better than the one they will have if they do wrong acts.    But Gloria’s entire constant reminder to Mario did not prosper.  Mario decided to come back to his old life of crime when he lost his job when he tried to steal an apple for his daughter.  He keeps on insisting that his priority is to provide what his wife and daughter needs.  He left with Pablo, his old crime buddy, even if Gloria pleaded very hard for him not to go with the man.   
This is a sad representation of what is happening in the society today.  Due to lack of better opportunities to heighten one’s standard of living, some become entangled with the wrong crowd.  By doing so, these individuals do not help their family at all; instead, they end up worsening their family’s problem.  It is man’s basic instinct that drives him towards his survival.  But, no matter what, he should not forget that society expects him to conform to its norms.  One’s action is weighed right or wrong and thus should be kept towards the proper action.

http://www.shvoong.com/humanities/1760480-world-apple/

New Yorker in Tondo

New Yorker in Tondo is a classic satirical play in one-act, written by Marcelino Agana Jr. in 1958. First staged by the Far Eastern University (FEU) Drama Guild at the FEU, Manila. This is one of the more popular Filipino comedies that have been produced many times through the years.

This play in Tagalog is about Kikay who is a balikbayan or a newly arrived from New York. The girl acquires the style, manner, and culture of New York and thus forgets her roots and one true love in Tondo. It also tells how she gets back to being the Kikay of Tondo that her friends and love ones knew.

http://en.wikipilipinas.org/index.php?title=New_Yorker_in_Tondo

ZITA by Arturo B. Rotor

TURONG brought him from Pauambang in his small sailboat, for the coastwise steamer did not stop at any little island of broken cliffs and coconut palms. It was almost midday; they had been standing in that white glare where the tiniest pebble and fluted conch had become points of light, piercing-bright--the municipal president, the parish priest, Don Eliodoro who owned almost all the coconuts, the herb doctor, the village character. Their mild surprise over when he spoke in their native dialect, they looked at him more closely and his easy manner did not deceive them. His head was uncovered and he had a way of bringing the back of his hand to his brow or mouth; they read behind that too, it was not a gesture of protection. "An exile has come to Anayat… and he is so young, so young." So young and lonely and sufficient unto himself. There was no mistaking the stamp of a strong decision on that brow, the brow of those who have to be cold and haughty, those shoulders stooped slightly, less from the burden that they bore than from a carefully cultivated air of unconcern; no common school-teacher could dress so carelessly and not appear shoddy.

They had prepared a room for him in Don Eliodoro's house so that he would not have to walk far to school every morning, but he gave nothing more than a glance at the big stone building with its Spanish azotea, its arched doorways, its flagged courtyard. He chose instead Turong's home, a shaky hut near the sea. Was the sea rough and dangerous at times? He did not mind it. Was the place far from the church and the schoolhouse? The walk would do him good. Would he not feel lonely with nobody but an illiterate fisherman for a companion? He was used to living alone. And they let him do as he wanted, for the old men knew that it was not so much the nearness of the sea that he desired as its silence so that he might tell it secrets he could not tell anyone else.

They thought of nobody but him; they talked about him in the barber shop, in the cockpit, in the sari-sari store, the way he walked, the way he looked at you, his unruly hair. They dressed him in purple and linen, in myth and mystery, put him astride a black stallion, at the wheel of a blue automobile. Mr. Reteche? Mr. Reteche! The name suggested the fantasy and the glitter of a place and people they never would see; he was the scion of a powerful family, a poet and artist, a prince.

That night, Don Eliodoro had the story from his daughter of his first day in the classroom; she perched wide-eyed, low-voiced, short of breath on the arm of his chair.

"He strode into the room, very tall and serious and polite, stood in front of us and looked at us all over and yet did not seem to see us.

" 'Good morning, teacher,' we said timidly.

"He bowed as if we were his equals. He asked for the fist of our names and as he read off each one we looked at him long. When he came to my name, Father, the most surprising thing happened. He started pronouncing it and then he stopped as if he had forgotten something and just stared and stared at the paper in his hand. I heard my name repeated three times through his half-closed lips, 'Zita. Zita. Zita.'

" 'Yes sir, I am Zita.'

"He looked at me uncomprehendingly, inarticulate, and it seemed to me, Father, it actually seemed that he was begging me to tell him that that was not my name, that I was deceiving him. He looked so miserable and sick I felt like sinking down or running away.

" 'Zita is not your name; it is just a pet name, no?'

" 'My father has always called me that, sir.'

" 'It can't be; maybe it is Pacita or Luisa or--'

"His voice was scarcely above a whisper, Father, and all the while he looked at me begging, begging. I shook my head determinedly. My answer must have angered him. He must have thought I was very hard-headed, for he said, 'A thousand miles, Mother of Mercy… it is not possible.' He kept on looking at me; he was hurt perhaps that he should have such a stubborn pupil. But I am not really so, Father?"

"Yes, you are, my dear. But you must try to please him, he is a gentleman; he comes from the city. I was thinking… Private lessons, perhaps, if he won't ask too much." Don Eliodoro had his dreams and she was his only daughter.

Turong had his own story to tell in the barber shop that night, a story as vividly etched as the lone coconut palm in front of the shop that shot up straight into the darkness of the night, as vaguely disturbing as the secrets that the sea whispered into the night.

"He did not sleep a wink, I am sure of it. When I came from the market the stars were already out and I saw that he had not touched the food I had prepared. I asked him to eat and he said he was not hungry. He sat by the window that faces the sea and just looked out hour after hour. I woke up three times during the night and saw that he had not so much as changed his position. I thought once that he was asleep and came near, but he motioned me away. When I awoke at dawn to prepare the nets, he was still there."

"Maybe he wants to go home already." They looked up with concern.

"He is sick. You remember Father Fernando? He had a way of looking like that, into space, seeing nobody, just before he died."

Every month there was a letter that came for him, sometimes two or three; large, blue envelopes with a gold design in the upper left hand comer, and addressed in broad, angular, sweeping handwriting. One time Turong brought one of them to him in the classroom. The students were busy writing a composition on a subject that he had given them, "The Things That I Love Most." Carelessly he had opened the letter, carelessly read it, and carelessly tossed it aside. Zita was all aflutter when the students handed in their work for he had promised that he would read aloud the best. He went over the pile two times, and once again, absently, a deep frown on his brow, as if he were displeased with their work. Then he stopped and picked up one. Her heart sank when she saw that it was not hers, she hardly heard him reading:

"I did not know any better. Moths are not supposed to know; they only come to the light. And the light looked so inviting, there was no resisting it. Moths are not supposed to know, one does not even know one is a moth until one's wings are burned."

It was incomprehensible, no beginning, no end. It did not have unity, coherence, emphasis. Why did he choose that one? What did he see in it? And she had worked so hard, she had wanted to please, she had written about the flowers that she loved most. Who could have written what he had read aloud? She did not know that any of her classmates could write so, use such words, sentences, use a blue paper to write her lessons on.

But then there was little in Mr. Reteche that the young people there could understand. Even his words were so difficult, just like those dark and dismaying things that they came across in their readers, which took them hour after hour in the dictionary. She had learned like a good student to pick out the words she did not recognize, writing them down as she heard them, but it was a thankless task. She had a whole notebook filled now, two columns to each page:

esurient          greedy.
Amaranth          a flower that never fades.
peacock           a large bird with lovely gold and 
                  green feathers.

Mirash 

The last word was not in the dictionary.

And what did such things as original sin, selfishness, insatiable, actress of a thousand faces mean, and who were Sirse, Lorelay, other names she could not find anywhere? She meant to ask him someday, someday when his eyes were kinder.

He never went to church, but then, that always went with learning and education, did it not? One night Bue saw him coming out of the dim doorway. He watched again and the following night he saw him again. They would not believe it, they must see it with their own eyes and so they came. He did not go in every night, but he could be seen at the most unusual hours, sometimes at dusk, sometimes at dawn, once when it was storming and the lightning etched ragged paths from heaven to earth. Sometimes he stayed for a few minutes, sometimes he came twice or thrice in one evening. They reported it to Father Cesareo but it seemed that he already knew. "Let a peaceful man alone in his prayers." The answer had surprised them.

The sky hangs over Anayat, in the middle of the Anayat Sea, like an inverted wineglass, a glass whose wine had been spilled, a purple wine of which Anayat was the last precious drop. For that is Anayat in the crepuscule, purple and mellow, sparkling and warm and effulgent when there is a moon, cool and heady and sensuous when there is no moon.

One may drink of it and forget what lies beyond a thousand miles, beyond a thousand years; one may sip it at the top of a jagged cliff, nearer peace, nearer God, where one can see the ocean dashing against the rocks in eternal frustration, more moving, more terrible than man's; or touch it to his lips in the lush shadows of the dama de noche, its blossoms iridescent like a thousand fireflies, its bouquet the fragrance of flowers that know no fading.

Zita sat by her open window, half asleep, half dreaming. Francisco B. Reteche; what a name! What could his nickname be. Paking, Frank, Pa… The night lay silent and expectant, a fairy princess waiting for the whispered words of a lover. She was not a bit sleepy; already she had counted three stars that had fallen to earth, one almost directly into that bush of dama de noche at their garden gate, where it had lighted the lamps of a thousand fireflies. He was not so forbidding now, he spoke less frequently to himself, more frequently to her; his eyes were still unseeing, but now they rested on her. She loved to remember those moments she had caught him looking when he thought she did not know. The knowledge came keenly, bitingly, like the sea breeze at dawn, like the prick of the rose's thorn, or--yes, like the purple liquid that her father gave the visitors during pintakasi which made them red and noisy. She had stolen a few drops one day, because she wanted to know, to taste, and that little sip had made her head whirl.

Suddenly she stiffened; a shadow had emerged from the shrubs and had been lost in the other shadows. Her pulses raced, she strained forward. Was she dreaming? Who was it? A lost soul, an unvoiced thought, the shadow of a shadow, the prince from his tryst with the fairy princess? What were the words that he whispered to her?

They who have been young once say that only youth can make youth forget itself; that life is a river bed; the water passes over it, sometimes it encounters obstacles and cannot go on, sometimes it flows unencumbered with a song in every bubble and ripple, but always it goes forward. When its way is obstructed it burrows deeply or swerves aside and leaves its impression, and whether the impress will be shallow and transient, or deep and searing, only God determines. The people remembered the day when he went up Don Eliodoro's house, the light of a great decision in his eyes, and finally accepted the father's request that he teach his daughter "to be a lady."

"We are going to the city soon, after the next harvest perhaps; I want her not to feel like a 'provinciana' when we get there."

They remembered the time when his walks by the seashore became less solitary, for now of afternoons, he would draw the whole crowd of village boys from their game of leapfrog or patintero and bring them with him. And they would go home hours after sunset with the wonderful things that Mr. Reteche had told them, why the sea is green, the sky blue, what one who is strong and fearless might find at that exact place where the sky meets the sea. They would be flushed and happy and bright-eyed, for he could stand on his head longer than any of them, catch more crabs, send a pebble skimming over the breast of Anayat Bay farthest.

Turong still remembered those ominous, terrifying nights when he had got up cold and trembling to listen to the aching groan of the bamboo floor, as somebody in the other room restlessly paced to and fro. And his pupils still remember those mornings he received their flowers, the camia which had fainted away at her own fragrance, the kampupot, with the night dew still trembling in its heart; receive them with a smile and forget the lessons of the day and tell them all about those princesses and fairies who dwelt in flowers; why the dama de noche must have the darkness of the night to bring out its fragrance; how the petals of the ylang-ylang, crushed and soaked in some liquid, would one day touch the lips of some wondrous creature in some faraway land whose eyes were blue and hair golden.

Those were days of surprises for Zita. Box after box came in Turong's sailboat and each time they contained things that took the words from her lips. Silk as sheer and perishable as gossamer, or heavy and shiny and tinted like the sunset sky; slippers with bright stones which twinkled with the least movement of her feet; a necklace of green, flat, polished stone, whose feel against her throat sent a curious choking sensation there; perfume that she must touch her lips with. If only there would always be such things in Turong's sailboat, and none of those horrid blue envelopes that he always brought. And yet--the Virgin have pity on her selfish soul--suppose one day Turong brought not only those letters but the writer as well? She shuddered, not because she feared it but because she knew it would be.

"Why are these dresses so tight fitting?" Her father wanted to know.

"In society, women use clothes to reveal, not to hide." Was that a sneer or a smile in his eyes? The gown showed her arms and shoulders and she had never known how round and fair they were, how they could express so many things.

"Why do these dresses have such bright colors?"

"Because the peacock has bright feathers."

"They paint their lips…"

"So that they can smile when they do not want to."

"And their eyelashes are long."

"To hide deception."

He was not pleased like her father; she saw it, he had turned his face toward the window. And as she came nearer, swaying like a lily atop its stalk she heard the harsh, muttered words:

"One would think she'd feel shy or uncomfortable, but no… oh no… not a bit… all alike… comes naturally."

There were books to read; pictures, names to learn; lessons in everything; how to polish the nails, how to use a fan, even how to walk. How did these days come, how did they go? What does one do when one is so happy, so breathless? Sometimes they were a memory, sometimes a dream.

"Look, Zita, a society girl does not smile so openly; her eyes don't seek one's so--that reveals your true feelings."

"But if I am glad and happy and I want to show it?"

"Don't. If you must show it by smiling, let your eyes be mocking; if you would invite with your eyes, repulse with your lips."

That was a memory.

She was in a great drawing room whose floor was so polished it reflected the myriad red and green and blue fights above, the arches of flowers and ribbons and streamers. All the great names of the capital were there, stately ladies in wonderful gowns who walked so, waved their fans so, who said one thing with their eyes and another with their lips. And she was among them and every young and good-looking man wanted to dance with her. They were all so clever and charming but she answered: "Please, I am tired." For beyond them she had seen him alone, he whose eyes were dark and brooding and disapproving and she was waiting for him to take her.

That was a dream. Sometimes though, she could not tell so easily which was the dream and which the memory.

If only those letters would not bother him now, he might be happy and at peace. True he never answered them, but every time Turong brought him one, he would still become thoughtful and distracted. Like that time he was teaching her a dance, a Spanish dance, he said, and had told her to dress accordingly. Her heavy hair hung in a big, carelessly tied knot that always threatened to come loose but never did; its dark, deep shadows showing off in startling vividness how red a rose can be, how like velvet its petals. Her earrings--two circlets of precious stones, red like the pigeon's blood--almost touched her shoulders. The heavy Spanish shawl gave her the most trouble--she had nothing to help her but some pictures and magazines--she could not put it on just as she wanted. Like this, it revealed her shoulder too much; that way, it hampered the free movement of the legs. But she had done her best; for hours she had stood before her mirror and for hours it had told her that she was beautiful, that red lips and tragic eyes were becoming to her.

She'd never forget that look on his face when she came out. It was not surprise, joy, admiration. It was as if he saw somebody there whom he was expecting, for whom he had waited, prayed.

"Zita!" It was a cry of recognition.

She blushed even under her rouge when he took her in his arms and taught her to step this way, glide so, turn about; she looked half questioningly at her father for disapproval, but she saw that there was nothing there but admiration too. Mr. Reteche seemed so serious and so intent that she should learn quickly; but he did not deceive her, for once she happened to lean close and she felt how wildly his heart was beating. It frightened her and she drew away, but when she saw how unconcerned he seemed, as if he did not even know that she was in his arms, she smiled knowingly and drew close again. Dreamily she closed her eyes and dimly wondered if his were shut too, whether he was thinking the same thoughts, breathing the same prayer.

Turong came up and after his respectful "Good evening" he handed an envelope to the school teacher. It was large and blue and had a gold design in one comer; the handwriting was broad, angular, sweeping.

"Thank you, Turong." His voice was drawling, heavy, the voice of one who has just awakened. With one movement he tore the unopened envelope slowly, unconsciously, it seemed to her, to pieces.

"I thought I had forgotten," he murmured dully.

That changed the whole evening. His eyes lost their sparkle, his gaze wandered from time to time. Something powerful and dark had come between them, something which shut out the light, brought in a chill. The tears came to her eyes for she felt utterly powerless. When her sight cleared she saw that he was sitting down and trying to piece the letter together.

"Why do you tear up a letter if you must put it together again?" rebelliously.

He looked at her kindly. "Someday, Zita, you will do it too, and then you will understand."

One day Turong came from Pauambang and this time he brought a stranger. They knew at once that he came from where the teacher came--his clothes, his features, his politeness--and that he had come for the teacher. This one did not speak their dialect, and as he was led through the dusty, crooked streets, he kept forever wiping his face, gazing at the wobbly, thatched huts and muttering short, vehement phrases to himself. Zita heard his knock before Mr. Reteche did and she knew what he had come for. She must have been as pale as her teacher, as shaken, as rebellious. And yet the stranger was so cordial; there was nothing but gladness in his greeting, gladness at meeting an old friend. How strong he was; even at that moment he did not forget himself, but turned to his class and dismissed them for the day.

The door was thick and she did not dare lean against the jamb too much, so sometimes their voices floated away before they reached her.

"…like children… making yourselves… so unhappy."

"…happiness? Her idea of happiness…"

Mr. Reteche's voice was more low-pitched, hoarse, so that it didn't carry at all. She shuddered as he laughed, it was that way when he first came.

"She's been… did not mean… understand."

"…learning to forget…"

There were periods when they both became excited and talked fast and hard; she heard somebody's restless pacing, somebody sitting down heavily.

"I never realized what she meant to me until I began trying to seek from others what she would not give me."

She knew what was coming now, knew it before the stranger asked the question:

"Tomorrow?"

She fled; she could not wait for the answer.

He did not sleep that night, she knew he did not, she told herself fiercely. And it was not only his preparations that kept him awake, she knew it, she knew it. With the first flicker of light she ran to her mirror. She must not show her feeling, it was not in good form, she must manage somehow. If her lips quivered, her eyes must smile, if in her eyes there were tears… She heard her father go out, but she did not go; although she knew his purpose, she had more important things to do. Little boys came up to the house and she wiped away their tears and told them that he was coming back, coming back, soon, soon.

The minutes flew, she was almost done now; her lips were red and her eyebrows penciled; the crimson shawl thrown over her shoulders just right. Everything must be like that day he had first seen her in a Spanish dress. Still he did not come, he must be bidding farewell now to Father Cesareo; now he was in Doña Ramona's house; now he was shaking the barber's hand. He would soon be through and come to her house. She glanced at the mirror and decided that her lips were not red enough; she put on more color. The rose in her hair had too long a stem; she tried to trim it with her fingers and a thorn dug deeply into her flesh.

Who knows? Perhaps they would soon meet again in the city; she wondered if she could not wheedle her father into going earlier. But she must know now what were the words he had wanted to whisper that night under the dama de noche, what he had wanted to say that day he held her in his arms; other things, questions whose answers she knew. She smiled. How well she knew them!

The big house was silent as death; the little village seemed deserted, everybody had gone to the seashore. Again she looked at the mirror. She was too pale, she must put on more rouge. She tried to keep from counting the minutes, the seconds, from getting up and pacing. But she was getting chilly and she must do it to keep warm.

The steps creaked. She bit her lips to stifle a wild cry there. The door opened.

"Turong!"

"Mr. Reteche bade me give you this. He said you would understand."

In one bound she had reached the open window. But dimly, for the sun was too bright, or was her sight failing?--she saw a blur of white moving out to sea, then disappearing behind a point of land so that she could no longer follow it; and then, clearly against a horizon suddenly drawn out of perspective, "Mr. Reteche," tall, lean, brooding, looking at her with eyes that told her somebody had hurt him. It was like that when he first came, and now he was gone. The tears came freely now. What matter, what matter? There was nobody to see and criticize her breeding. They came down unchecked and when she tried to brush them off with her hand, the color came away too from her cheeks, leaving them bloodless, cold. Sometimes they got into her mouth and they tasted bitter.

Her hands worked convulsively; there was a sound of tearing paper, once, twice. She became suddenly aware of what she had done when she looked at the pieces, wet and brightly stained with uneven streaks of red. Slowly, painfully, she tried to put the pieces together and as she did so a sob escaped deep from her breast--a great understanding had come to her.

http://www.sushidog.com/bpss/stories/zita.htm

The Boy Who Became a Stone Tinguian

FOLK TALE

One day a little boy named Elonen sat out in the yard making a bird snare, and as he worked, a little bird called to him: "Tik-tik-lo-den" (come and catch me)."I am making a snare for you," said the boy; but the bird continued to call until the snare was finished.
Then Elonen ran and threw the snare over the bird and caught it, and he put it in a jar in his house while he went with the other boys to swim.
While he was away, his grandmother grew hungry, so she ate the bird, and when Elonen returned and found that his bird was gone, he was so sad that he wished he might go away and never come back. He went out into the forest and walked a long distance, until finally he came to a big stone and said: "Stone, open your mouth and eat me." And the stone opened its mouth and swallowed the boy.
When his grandmother missed the boy, she went out and looked everywhere, hoping to find him. Finally she passed near the stone and it cried out: "Here he is." Then the old woman tried to open the stone but she could not, so she called the horses to come and help her. They came and kicked it, but it would not break. Then she called the carabao and they hooked it, but they only broke their horns. She called the chickens, which pecked it, and the thunder, which shook it, but nothing could open it, and she had to go home without the boy.

http://www.pitt.edu/~dash/philippines.html

FOLK TALE One day a little boy named Elonen sat out in the yard making a bird snare, and as he worked, a little bird called to him: "Tik-tik-lo-den" (come and catch me)."I am making a snare for you," said the boy; but the bird continued to call until the snare was finished. Then Elonen ran and threw the snare over the bird and caught it, and he put it in a jar in his house while he went with the other boys to swim. While he was away, his grandmother grew hungry, so she ate the bird, and when Elonen returned and found that his bird was gone, he was so sad that he wished he might go away and never come back. He went out into the forest and walked a long distance, until finally he came to a big stone and said: "Stone, open your mouth and eat me." And the stone opened its mouth and swallowed the boy. When his grandmother missed the boy, she went out and looked everywhere, hoping to find him. Finally she passed near the stone and it cried out: "Here he is." Then the old woman tried to open the stone but she could not, so she called the horses to come and help her. They came and kicked it, but it would not break. Then she called the carabao and they hooked it, but they only broke their horns. She called the chickens, which pecked it, and the thunder, which shook it, but nothing could open it, and she had to go home without the boy. http://www.pitt.edu/~dash/philippines.html

FOLK TALE

One day a little boy named Elonen sat out in the yard making a bird snare, and as he worked, a little bird called to him: "Tik-tik-lo-den" (come and catch me)."I am making a snare for you," said the boy; but the bird continued to call until the snare was finished.
Then Elonen ran and threw the snare over the bird and caught it, and he put it in a jar in his house while he went with the other boys to swim.
While he was away, his grandmother grew hungry, so she ate the bird, and when Elonen returned and found that his bird was gone, he was so sad that he wished he might go away and never come back. He went out into the forest and walked a long distance, until finally he came to a big stone and said: "Stone, open your mouth and eat me." And the stone opened its mouth and swallowed the boy.
When his grandmother missed the boy, she went out and looked everywhere, hoping to find him. Finally she passed near the stone and it cried out: "Here he is." Then the old woman tried to open the stone but she could not, so she called the horses to come and help her. They came and kicked it, but it would not break. Then she called the carabao and they hooked it, but they only broke their horns. She called the chickens, which pecked it, and the thunder, which shook it, but nothing could open it, and she had to go home without the boy.

http://www.pitt.edu/~dash/philippines.html

Katapusang Hibik Ng Pilipinas Andres Bonifacio Spanish Period

Sumikat na Ina sa sinisilangan ang araw ng poot ng Katagalugan, tatlong daang taong aming iningatan sa dagat ng dusa ng karalitaan. Walang isinuhay kaming iyong anak sa bagyong masasal ng dalita't hirap; iisa ang puso nitong Pilipinas at ikaw ay di na Ina naming lahat. Sa kapuwa Ina'y wala kang kaparis... ang layaw ng anak: dalita't pasakit; pag nagpatirapang sa iyo'y humibik, lunas na gamot mo ay kasakit-sakit. Gapusing mahigpit ang mga Tagalog, hinain sa sikad, kulata at suntok, makinahi't biting parang isang hayop; ito baga, Ina, ang iyong pag-irog? Ipabilanggo mo't sa dagat itapon; barilin, lasunin, nang kami'y malipol. Sa aming Tagalog, ito baga'y hatol Inang mahabagin, sa lahat ng kampon? Aming tinitiis hanggang sa mamatay; bangkay nang mistula'y ayaw pang tigilan, kaya kung ihulog sa mga libingan, linsad na ang buto't lumuray ang laman. Wala nang namamana itong Pilipinas na layaw sa Ina kundi pawang hirap; tiis ay pasulong, patente'y nagkalat, rekargo't impuwesto'y nagsala-salabat. Sarisaring silo sa ami'y inisip, kasabay ng utos na tuparing pilit, may sa alumbrado---kaya kaming tikis, kahit isang ilaw ay walang masilip. Ang lupa at buhay na tinatahanan, bukid at tubigang kalawak-lawakan, at gayon din pati ng mga halaman, sa paring Kastila ay binubuwisan. Bukod pa sa rito'y ang mga iba pa, huwag nang saysayin, O Inang Espanya, sunod kaming lahat hanggang may hininga, Tagalog di'y siyang minamasama pa. Ikaw nga, O Inang pabaya't sukaban, kami'y di na iyo saan man humanggan, ihanda mo, Ina, ang paglilibingan sa mawawakawak na maraming bangkay. Sa sangmaliwanag ngayon ay sasabog ang barila't kanyong katulad ay kulog, ang sigwang masasal sa dugong aagos ng kanilang bala na magpapamook. Di na kailangan sa iyo ng awa ng mga Tagalog, O Inang kuhila, paraiso namin ang kami'y mapuksa, langit mo naman ang kami'y madusta. Paalam na Ina, itong Pilipinas, paalam na Ina, itong nasa hirap, paalam, paalam, Inang walang habag, paalam na ngayon, katapusang tawag.

http://www.angelfire.com/la2/poemen/Katpm.html

INDARAPATRA AT SULAYMAN (Isinatula ni Bartolome del Valle)

Noong unang panahon ayon sa alamat ng pulong Mindanaw, 
ay wala ni kahit munting kapatagan.  Pawang kabundukan 
ang tinatahanan ng maraming taong doo’y namumuhay 
maligaya sila sapagkat sagana sa likas na yaman. 
Subalit ang lagim ay biglang dumating sa kanilang bundok 
na dati’y payapa.  Apat na halimaw ang doo’y nanalot. 
Una’y si Kurita na maraming paa at ganid na hayop 
pagka’t sa pagkain kahit limang tao’y kanyang nauubos. 
Ang Bundok Matutum ay tinirhan naman ng isang halimaw 
na may mukhang tao na nakatatakot kung ito’y mamasdan, 
ang sino mang tao na kanyang mahuli’y agad nilalapang, 
at ang laman nito’y kanyang kinakain na walang anuman. 
Ang ikatlo’y si Pah na ibong malaki.  Pag ito’y lumipad 
ang Bundok na Bita ay napadidilim niyong kanyang pakpak, 
ang lahat ng tao’y sa kuweba tumahan upang makaligtas 
sa salot na itong may matang malinaw at kukong matalas. 
Ang Bundok Kurayang pinananahanan ng maraming tao 
ay pinapaglagim ng isa pang ibong may pitong ulo; 
walang makaligtas sa bagsik ng kanyang matalas na kuko  
pagkat maaaring kanyang matanaw ang lahat ng dako. 
Ang kalagim -lagim na kinasapitan ng pulong Mindanaw 
ay nagdulot ng lungkot sa maraming baya’t mga kaharian; 
Si Indarapatra na haring mabait, dakila’t marangal 
ay agad nag-utos sa kanyang kapatid na prinsipeng mahal. 
“Prinsipe Sulayman, ako’y sumasamo na iyong iligtas
ang maraming taong nangangailangan ng tulong mo’t habag.” 
“O mahal na hari na aking kapatid, ngayon di’y lilipad 
at maghihiganti sa mga halimaw ang talim ng tabak.”
Binigyan ng singsing at isang espada ang kanyang kapatid 
upang sandatahin sa pakikibaka.  Kanyang isinabit 
sa munting bintana ang isang halaman at saka nagsulit; 
“ang halamang ito’y siyang magsasabi ng iyong nasapit.” 
Nang siya’y dumating sa tuktok ng bundok na pinaghaharian 
nitong si Kurita, siya ay nagmasid at kanyang natunghan 
ang maraming nayong wala kahit isang taong tumatahan; 
“Ikaw’y magbabayad, mabangis na hayop!” yaong kanyang sigaw. Di pa nagtatagal ang kanyang sinabi, nagimbal ang bundok 
at biglang lumbas itong si Kuritang sa puso’y may poot; 
sila ay nagbaka at hindi tumigil hangga’t malagot  
ang tanging hininga niyong si Kuritang sa lupa ay salot. 
Tumatag ang puso nitong si Sulayman sa kanyang tagumpay 
kaya’t sa Matutum, ang hinanap naman ay si Tarabusaw; 
sa tuktok ng bundok ay kanyang namalas ang nakahahambal 
na mga tanawin:  “Ngayon di’y lumabas nang ikaw’y mamatay.” 
Noon di’y nahawi ang maraming puno sa gilid ng bundok, 
at ilang saglit pa’y nagkakaharap na silang puso’y nagpupuyos. 
Yaong si Sulayma’y may hawak na tabak na pinang-uulos; 
ang kay Tarabusaw na sandata nama’y sangang panghambalos. 
At sa paghahamok ng dalawang iyong balita sa tapang
Ang ganid na hayop sa malaking pagod ay napahandusay. 
“Ang takdang oras mo ngayo’y dumating na,” sigaw ni Sulayman 
At saka sinaksak ng kanyang sandata ang tusong halimaw. 
Noon di’y nilipad niyong si Sulayman ang Bundok ng Bita; 
siya’y nanlumo pagka’t ang tahanan sa tao’y ulila; 
ilang sandal pa ay biglang nagdilim gayong maaga pa
at kanyang natantong ang kalabang ibon ay dumating na. 
Siya’y lumundag at kanyang tinaga ang pakpak ng ibon, 
datapwat siya rin ang sinamang-palad na bagsakan niyon; 
sa bigat ng pakpak, ang katawan niya sa lupa bumaon
kaya’t si Sulayman noon ay nalibing nang walang kabaong. 
Ang kasawiang ito ay agad nabatid ng mahal na Hari 
pagka’t ang halaman noon di’y nalanta’t sanga’y nangalabi; 
“Siya ay patay na!” ang sigaw ng kanyang namumutlang labi, 
“Ang kamatayan mo’y ipaghihiganti buhay ma’y masawi.” 
Nang siya’y dumating sa Bundok ng Bita ay kanyang kinuha 
ang pakpak ng ibon.  Ang katawang pipi ay kanyang namalas 
nahabag sa kanya ang kanyang bathala; biglang nagliwanag 
at ilang saglit pa ay nakita niya ang tubig na lunas. 
Kanyang ibinuhos ang tubig na iyon sa lugaming bangkay, 
at laking himala!  Ang kanyang kapatid ay dagling nabuhay, 
sila ay nagyakap sa gitna ng galak at ng katuwaan, 
saka pinauwi itong si Sulayman sa sariling bayan. 
Sa bundok Kurayan na kanyang sinapit ay agad hinanap 
ang ibong sa tao’y nagbibigay-lagim at nagpapahirap; 
dumating ang ibong kaylaki ng ulo at kukong matalas
subalit ang kalis ni Indarapatra’y nagwagi sa wakas
Sa kanyang tagumpay may isang diwatang bumating magalang, “Salamat sa iyo butihing bayani na ubod ng tapang, 
kaming mga labi ng ibong gahaman ngayo’y mabubuhay.” 
at kanyang namalas ang maraming taong noo’y nagdiriwang. 
Nabihag ang puso ng mahal na hari sa ganda ng mutya
kaya’t sa naroon ay kanyang hiniling na lakip ang sumpa 
na sila’y ikasal.  Noon di’y binuklod ng isang adhika 
ang kanilang puso.  “Mabuhay ang hari!” ang sigaw ng madla. 
Ang tubig ng dagat ay tila hinigop sa kailaliman; 
at muling lumitaw ang lawak ng lupang pawang kapatagan, 
si Indarapatra’y hindi na bumalik sa sariling bayan, 
at dito naghari sa mayamang lupa ng pulong Mindanaw.

Monday, January 17, 2011 How the Angels Built Lake Lanao

now situated, there flourished a mighty sultanate called Mantapoli.  During the reign of Sultan Abdara Radawi, the greater grandfather of Radia Indarapatra (mythological hero of the Lanao Muslims), this realm expanded by military conquests and by dynastic marriages so that in time its fame spread far and wide.

The population of Mantapoli was numerous and fast increasing.  At that time the world was divided into two regions: Sebangan (East) and Sedpan (West).   The mighty sultanate of Mantapoli belonged to Sebangan.  Because this sultanate rapidly increased in power and population as well, the equilibrium between Sebangan and Sedpan was broken.

This dis-equilibrium soon came to the attention of Archangel Diabarail (Gabriel to the Christians).  Like a flash of sunlight, Diabarail flew to the Eighth heaven and told Allah, "My Lord, why have you permitted the unbalance of the earth?   Because of the power of Mantapoli, Sebangan is now larger than Sedpan."

"Why, Diabarail," replied the Sohara (Voice of Allah), "what is wrong with that?"

"My Lord, Mantapoli has a vast population countless as the particles of dust.  If we will allow this sultanate to remain in Sebangan, I fear that the world would turn upside down, since Sebangan is heavier than Sedpan."

"Your words show great wisdom, Diabarail," commented the Sohara.

"What must we do, my Lord, to avert the impending catastrophe?"

To this query, the Sohara replied, "Go right away to the Seven-Regions-Beneath-the-Earth and to the Seven-Regions-in-the-Sky and gather all the angels.  I will cause a barahana (solar eclipse) and in the darkness let the angels remove Mantapoli and transfer it to the center of the earth."

Upon receiving the mandate of Allah, Archangel Diabarail, traveling faster than lightning, rallied the millions of angels from the Seven-Regions-Beneath-the-Earth and the Seven-Regions-in-the-Sky.  With this formidable army, he presented himself to Allah, saying, "My Lord, we are ready to obey Your command."

The Sohara spoke, "Go to Sebangan, and lift the land of Mantapoli."

Diabarail, leading his army of angels, flew to the east.  In the twinkle of an eye, the sun vanished and a terrible darkness as black as the blackest velvet shrouded the universe.  The angels sped faster than arrows.  They swooped on Mantapoli, lifting it with great care and carried it (including its people, houses, crops and animals) through the air as if it were a carpet.  They brought it down at the center of the earth, in accordance with the command of Allah.  The very spot vacated by the sultanate of Mantapoli became a huge basin of deep, blue water-the present Lanao Lake.

The waters coming from the deep bowels of the earth rose higher and higher.  Archangel Diabarail, seeing the rising tides immediately returned to the Eighth Heaven and reported to Allah, "My Lord, the earth is now balanced.  But the place where we removed Mantapoli is becoming an ocean.  The waters are rising fast, and unless an outlet for them can be found, I fear that they might inundate Sebangan and drown all Your people."

In response, the Sohara said, "You are right, Diabarail.  Go out, then, and summon the Four Winds of the World: Angin Taupan, Angin Besar, Angin Darat, and Angin Sarsar.  Tell them to blow and make an outlet for the overflowing waters."

Obeying the Master's command, the faithful messenger summoned the Four Winds.  "By the Will of Allah," he told them, "blow your best, and make an outlet for the rising waters of the new lake."

The four winds of the world blew, and a turbulence swept the whole eastern half of the earth.  The surging waters rolled swiftly towards the shores of Tilok Bay to the southeastern direction.  But the towering ranges impeded their onrush.   The Four Winds blew, hurling the waves against the rocky slopes but in vain; no outlet could be cut through the mountain barrier.

Changing direction, this time eastward, the Four Winds blew harder driving the raging waters towards the shores of Sugud Bay (situated east of Dansalan, now Marawi City).  Once again, the attempt to create an outlet failed because the bay was too far from the sea.

For the third time, the Four Winds changed direction and blew their hardest.  The waves, plunging with ferocity, rolled towards Marawi.  Day and night, the Winds blew as the waters lashed against the shoreline of Marawi.  This time the attempt succeeded.  An outlet now called Agus River was made, and through the outlet, that water of Lake Lanao poured out to the sea, thereby saving Sebangan from a deluge.

It came to past that there was a high cliff at the outlet, and over the cliff the waters cascaded in majestic volume.  Thus, arose the beautiful falls which, aeons later, was named Maria Cristina, after a famous queen of Spain.

http://www.seasite.niu.edu/Tagalog/folktales/Maranao/how_the_angels_built_lake_lanao.htm

Biag ni Lam-ang (Life of Lam-ang)

The story dates its origin during the pre-Spanish period of the Philipines. It is one of the greatest Ilocano epic of the pre-colonial literature of the country. It is originally written in the Ilocano language but as time goes it has been translated to different languages. The story is set in the Northern Provinces of the Philippines. The story is a mix of adventure and romance with exciting and unpredictable outcomes. The story revolves around Lam-ang who is a very extraordinary guy. He started to talk at a very young age and was the one who choose his own name. His adventure began when his father, Don Juan, went to a battle but never came back. At the age of barely nine months he went to search for his father in the highlands where his father was said to go. Knowing that he is blessed with extraordinary well being, her mother, Namongan, allowed her to go. Lam-ang then went of to search for his father leaving his grieving mother. When Lam-ang reached the place, he was enraged upon seeing his father’s head on top of a bamboo pole that was stuck in the ground which was a scene that he had dreamed before reaching the place. Lam-ang then demanded to know the reason why did that happen to his father but he did not receive an answer, instead he was demanded by the chieftain of the village to go or else he would receive the same faith like his father. Instead of running Lam-ang bravely fought with the chieftain and its tribesmen. Lam-ang won the fight with less effort that serves as his revenge for his father. The epic poem also presented some humorous points. As Lam-ang was on his way home he passed by a river and then decided to have a dip. The dirt from his body caused the death of fishes, crabs, shrimps in the river. She was gladly attended by some of the women who saw him. Lam-ang upon reaching home decided to court his love interest, Ines. Despite his mother’s disapproval he followed his heart and set again another journey for her love. His adventures had never been that easy. He faced one of Ines’ suitor and monsters. But he won the battles with ease. Upon reaching the place, Lam-ang drew the attention of many and impressed Ines. He was helped by his magical pets: a rooster, a hen and a dog. Lam-ang’s rooster flapped its wings and a house toppled. This amazed everybody, especially Ines. Then, Lam-ang’s dog barked and the house aroused. Being invited in the lunch of the family of Ines, Lam-ang impressed Ines’ parents with his wealth and upon returning he gave to the family two golden ships. Their wedding was held with a lot of feastings. However Lam-ang’s story never ended there. He was sent to catch a gigantic shell but unfortunately she was swallowed by a shark, which he had earlier premonitioned. Her bones were recovered and Lam-ang was resurrected with the help of his magical pet. Ines was ordered by the rooster to wrap the bones with her tapis while the hen flaps its wings and the dog growling. In an instant Lam-ang happily rejoined his wife. The epic poem showed some of the earlier customs, culture, tradition and belief of the Ilocano people of the Philippines The story presented some of the qualities of the people of the Ilocos region- adventurous, hardy, and brave as strongly portrayed by Lam-ang. The epic poem presented the fact that life is full of trials and problems. One must be strong and just accept the reality that it is already part of life.

http://www.shvoong.com/books/classic-literature/1748792-biag-ni-lam-ang-life/ 

er 21, 2010 Ang mga Kagilagilalas na Pakikipagsapalaran ni Juan de la Cruz-Jose F. Lacaba

Isang gabing madilim

puno ng pangambang sumakay sa bus

si Juan de la Cruz

pusturang pustura

kahit walang laman ang bulsa

BAWAL MANIGARILYO BOSS

sabi ng konduktora

at minura si Juan de la Cruz.

Pusturang-pustura

kahit walang laman ang bulsa

nilakad ni Juan de la Cruz

ang buong Avenida

BAWAL PUMARADA

sabi ng kalsada

BAWAL UMIHI DITO

sabi ng bakod

kaya napagod

si Juan de la Cruz.

Nang abutan ng gutom

si Juan de la Cruz

tumapat sa Ma Mon Luk

inamoy ang mami siopao lumpia pansit

hanggang sa mabusog.

Nagdaan sa Sine Dalisay

Tinitigan ang retrato ni Chichay

PASSES NOT HONORED TODAY

tabi ng takilyera

tawa nang tawa.

Dumalaw sa Konggreso

si Juan de la Cruz

MAG-INGAT SA ASO

sabi ng diputado

Nagtuloy sa Malakanyang

wala namang dalang kamanyang

KEEP OFF THE GRASS

sabi ng hardinero

sabi ng sundalo

kay Juan de la Cruz.

Nang dapuan ng libog

si Juan de la Cruz

namasyal sa Culiculi

at nahulog sa pusali

parang espadang bali-bali

YOUR CREDIT IS GOOD BUT WE NEED CASH

sabi ng bugaw

sabay higop ng sabaw.

Pusturang-pustura

kahit walang laman ang bulsa

naglibot sa Dewey

si Juan de la Cruz

PAN-AM BAYSIDE SAVOY THEY SATISFY

sabi ng neon.

Humikab ang dagat na parang leon

masarap sanang tumalon pero

BAWAL MAGTAPON NG BASURA

sabi ng alon.

Nagbalik sa Quiapo 

si Juan de la Cruz

at medyo kinakabahan

pumasok sa simbahan

IN GOD WE TRUST

sabi ng obispo 

ALL OTHERS PAY CASH.

Nang wala nang malunok

si Juan de la Cruz

dala-dala'y gulok

gula-gulanit na ang damit

wala pa rin laman ang bulsa

umakyat

        Sa Arayat

                      ang namayat

na si Juan de la Cruz

WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE

sabi ng PC

at sinisi

ang walanghiyang kabataan

kung bakit sinulsulan

ang isang tahimik na mamamayan

na tulad ni Juan de la Cruz

http://upreplib.tripod.com/kagilagilalas.htm