Let a Hundred EDSAs Bloom

By Emmanuel M. Hizon and James Miraflor

We are glad Mr. Joseph Estrada was pardoned. We are glad Erap entered into a compromise with Mrs. Arroyo, in effect absolving him of any wrongdoing he bestowed in a country so wronged and offended. Thank you for sparing us the effort to remind everyone that justice here in our society is a plaything of the rich and powerful, that the search for truth within the comforts of legalism, of our ‘beloved constitution’ and jurisprudence, is nothing but a blind alley.

We are also glad Mrs. Arroyo is capable of feelings, however twisted the brand of empathy and compassion she usually evokes whenever her throat and her ‘presidency’ is on the line. We are glad Mrs. Arroyo once again spat on the spirit and ethos of Edsa 2, reminding everybody especially the middle class that it takes more than a restrained remonstration to bring forward a better future free from elite exploitation and domination.

We are equally glad Erap puked on the masses who stormed the gates of Malacanang in Edsa 3, all for the comfort of his mansion in San Juan which none but the few like him enjoy. We are glad he swindled those who believed in him, those who sacrificed and died all in his name. We are glad the self-styled champion of the poor accepted a cowardly, pathetic and unsacrificing settlement with the same faction of the elite he regularly lambasted as the ‘real enemy.’ We are glad he finally went back to the fold of his true class roots. We are happy that with his newly found freedom he denied satisfaction to a people longing for truth, justice and accountability.

We are glad they did it. We are happy they finally shed any form of pretension and illusion. We are relieved they finally erased any memento that their was an indeed an “Erap-Gloria war”, that our society is stupidly divided between their interests, that our struggle is a fight between the camps of Estrada and Arroyo and that we are compelled to decide if we are for “Erap for the masses”, for “Gloria’s Economic paradise” or national suicide.

Now, it’s just between them and us, between the haves and have-nots, between the different factions of the elite pursuing the same elite interests and the poor who for the longest time have been sidelined, used and abused.

Now, let us march in the streets not in their name, not with their plundered resources, not with their prodding. Let us pour in the streets without them, without their plastic smiles, without their fake patriotism, without their unsolicited leadership, without their phony loyalty to the people—the same people they unhesitatingly rob and oppress whenever they are in power. We must hit the streets because we are sick and tired of them all. Let us tell them that we are tired of elitist reruns, of same conjured dreams, of the same trapo governance.

We must muster our strength because we believe that a better world is not only possible but is currently under construction. We should not limit ourselves in outlining an alternative society; we must begin building the edifice of a humane and egalitarian future now. For pete’s sake, let us spare the next generation of this system.

Instead of getting frustrated and disappointed, instead of running away to some first world country, instead of being paralyzed by apathy and indifference, let us have the resolve to have another Edsa. Let us reclaim it from the elite who bastardized it.

Let a hundred Edsas bloom. Edsa uprisings that are radical, mass-oriented and explicitly anti-elite rule.

"The Song Remains the Same"

Your words they make just a whisper
Your face is so unclear
I try to pay attention
And the words just disappear

Cuz it's always raining in my head
Forget all the things i should have said

So i speak to you in riddles
Cuz my words get in my way
I smoke the whole thing to my head
And feel it wash away

Cuz i can't take anymore of this
I wanna come apart
And dig myself a little hole
Inside your precious heart

Cuz it's always raining in my head
Forget all the things i should have said

I am nothing more than
A little boy inside
That cries out for intention
That i always try to hide

Cuz i talk to you like children
Though i don't know how i feel
But i know i'll do the right thing
If the right thing is in fear

Cuz its always raining in my head
Forget all the things i should have said

-Epiphany, Staind

Ten years and still angry

Ten years ago, I feel so invincible and indestructible. No baton, shield or threats of incarceration can break us. They will never break us. Not the hypocritical school dictator, not the local police, not even feudal god himself. We paint the town red, crimson red, scarlet-like, warning the unrepentant, giving notice to the coming. Words were shouting, written, angry, splattered on ugly Manila walls, reeking with piss and shit. Words, though sometimes alone, were never really alone. A reminder that the imperishable remain imperishable and unconquerable.

Ten years ago, I feel I can take the whole world, deny it and refuse it, rip it apart, rip it to pieces and rip the rotten cadaver out of its propertied soul. I scream so loud that no boundaries can limit it, no stupid blog can confine it, no restrictions and imposed margins can scare or mellow it, no politician can interpellate it.

Everyday for the last ten years, I can hear my scream echo in every street corner, in every diploma mill, in every factory, in every music and poetry, joining with other screams, with other roars, flirting with peril, like a bullet forever on a ricochet, coveting the impossible, demanding the unattainable, celebrating the orgy of the great unwashed.

Now, I’m 29 years old, ten years after. I'm sitting on the edge of the cliff, pondering, wondering, looking. Was it all worth it? Do I still feel unbreakable, undying and unyielding?

"It is always raining in my mind."

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
///////////////////////////////////////////////
/////////////////////////////////////
//////////////////////////
/////////////////
////////////
/////////
/////////

Was it all worth it?



You bet it is. And we are just warming up. Hear us roar louder. We will spit on the cradle of this ‘new democracy’ and mock it again and again. We will never be satisfied. We will never be contended. Yes, we will destroy your ‘world’ and build a new one instead.

Screw you. We're still here.


Emman Hizon, 29, and still angry.

total wreck...

Silent All These Years - Tori Amos featuring Leonard Cohen

The saddest is also the most beautiful...
The loneliest is also the most fulfilled
The most fulfilled is also the the emptiest
The most loved is also the most hated...

BRAD

***Para sa lahat ng katotong hindi naging mga kaibigan dahil naging mga kagyat na kaaway. Para sa lahat ng nasaktan, dinusta, kinamuhian ng walang dahilan at sinaktan pang muli. Mapatawad sana tayo ng kasaysayan at ng buhay sa ating mga kapalaluhan. Sayang at sadyang sayang ang mga pagkakaibigang hindi nangyari. Higit sa lahat, para kay Bems.


Kunin ang pamalo
Paluin at lumpuhin ang mahina ang pananampalataya
Utusan at gawing alipin ang mga kaibigan, kaklase at kasama
Umastang mga macho, siga at palaban
Gumuhit ng linya sa pagitan ng mga 'barbaro' at mga mahihina
gumihit ng linya at dugo sa pagitan natin at ng mga uhuging kapatiran
Gumuhit ng gumuhit
mamalo ng mamalo
umasta ng umasta

Kunin ang mga tubo, boga, martilyo at mga beinte nueve
karnehin ang kaaway paputukin ang mga ulo
Ihagis ang mga pillbox
Saluhin ang mga suntok
sugod atras sugod
may gulo tayo
may gulo tayo
may gulo tayo!
Ano nga ba ang iskor na? 3-2? 2-1? 0-2?
Basta,
Abangan sila sa kanto
Abangan sila sa kanto
Patayin sila sa kanto

Ipagdiwang ang kapatiran
Ipagdiwang ang bagong tinira
magyabangan
magbidahan
magpataasan ng ihi
'di ako umatras
'di ako natakot
buo ang aking loob
sinamahan kita sa dulo
Sinalba kita
pinagtanggol kita
Ginanti kita
malaki ang aking titi
Malaki ang ating titi

Kaya maghanda ng isang piging
Magkamayan tayo lagi
Magpalitan ng mga lihim at koda
Sampalin ang hindi matahimik
Magparami
Magparami
Mag-ubusan
Mag-ubusan
Brad
Sis
GC
GT
MI
Alpha
Beta
Chi
Delta
Epsilon
Neo
Full Brad
Half Brad
Master
Lord
Senyores
Alumni
Anib
Forever
May gulo
May gulo

Lahat tayo ay mga uhugin, duwag at iyaking paslit.
Kasing pangit at kasing krudo ng tulang ito, tayo.

Fratman ako.
Hindi ako fratman.




Emman Hizon
Scouts Royale Bortherhood (SRB)
Beta Tau Chapter
University of Santo Tomas

Ang Trahedya ng Wowowee Part 2 (Mga Tula ng Galit at Desperasyon)

At nahugot nga ni Willie, mula sa kahon, ang tamang sagot sa bugtong

Ni Lolito Go

Napako ang mga naluluhang
mata ni Tiya Meling sa T.V.
nang makita niyang umiiyak
ang Idol na si Willie,
hinahamon si Joey, kinukumbinsi
ang sambayanan na hindi siya
mandaraya, at ang istasyong
kinabibilangan niya ay laging
matapat sa layunin nitong
makapagbigay saya at pag-asa.
Nakalimutan na ni Tiya na iisang
tao lang ang nanghipo noon sa isang
kandidata sa Calendar Girl ,
ang nanakit sa bagong kasal niyang
asawa, ang naabsweltong bugaw sa Ultra
at ngayon, ang nabistong nananalamangka.

Nakalimutan na ni Tiya na galit siya
sa mga mandaraya, nakalimutan
din ni Tiya na noong nanakawan siya
ng paninda sa bangketa, binayaran
niya ng tig-sisingkuwenta ang mga
binatang gumulpi sa nahuling istambay.
At ni hindi tumulo ang kanyang luha
nang makita ang gumagapang
at duguang katawan ng kawatan.
Subalit tuwing humihingi ng paumanhin
ang idolo nya sa T.V., binubuksan niya
ang puso, pati lagusan ng kanyang luha,
at tinatanggap ang mga pampalubag-loob
na katulad nito: "Kapamilya, kayo po
ang tunay na bida dito, at hindi ako".

Araw araw tuwing tanghali,
bukambibig ito sa Wowowee.
"Salamat sa mga subscribers ng TFC.
Salamat sa pinadadala ninyong tseke,
sa mga pinagpaguran nyong dolyares.
Makakaasa po kayong aabot ito
sa bibig ng mga nagugutom."
Subalit hindi laging naililihim
sa loob ng mga bayong o ng mga kahon
ang katotohanang hindi kawang-gawa
ang paboritong palabas ni Tiya;
isa lamang ito sa maraming
hanap-buhay ng iilang nasa itaas
na magkakapamilya.