The Lost Girl

I am a girl, young in heart and in mind…

I am carefree, I enjoy doing nothing
but play,play and play…

I seldom go to school but hmp! nobody cares!

Instead,you will see me roaming around
standing at the nearby canto,
or hanging around at the sari-sari store
standing beside the jukebox stand…

One day I asked I asked my mother to teach me

how to behave, to live, and appreciate all the
beautiful things in life.
Would you like to know what she told me?
She said… " Can’t you see, I have to hurry up for my
majong session! " So I turned to my father to console me.
But what a wonderful word he did tell me…
" Child, I have to finish my overtime work…Here’s 500 pesos,
go and ask your teacher about that question…"

Sadly,I attended my class…

But I heard nothing but the echoing voice of
my teacher,torturing me with her words…
" Hey yo lazy girl!
Why waste your time studying those things?
When up to now you can’t even multiply seven by nine?
Go home and don’t bother me!!!"

I am lost…confused…I don’t know what to do with myself…

Where are my parents to guide me?
My teachers to give me inspirations?
My friends, when I play?
I’m lazy and irresponsible.

When I try to study,

I get punished for not being able to answer.
Where now…I’m confused…
 Somebody, please help me…
You say that the world is beautiful,
why is it treating me this way?
Hear me please!
Help me please!
Help me…
I am lost…
 Bad Girl
Hey! Everybody seems to be staring at me..
You! You! All of you!
How dare you to stare at me?
Why? Is it because I’m a bad girl?
A bad girl I am, A good for nothing teen ager, a problem child?
That’s what you call me!
I smoke. I drink. I gamble at my young tender age.
I lie. I cheat, and I could even kill, If I have too.
Yes, I’m a bad girl, but where are my parents?
You! You! You are my good parents?
My good elder brother and sister in this society where I live?
Look…look at me…What have you done to me?
You have pampered and spoiled me, neglected me when I needed
you
most!
Entrusted me to a yaya, whose intelligence was much lower than
mine!
While you go about your parties, your meetings and gambling
session…
Thus… I drifted away from you!
Longing for a father’s love, yearning for a mother’s care!
As I grew up, everything changed!
You too have changed!
You spent more time in your poker, majong tables, bars and
night clubs.
You even landed on the headlines of the newspaper as crooks,
pedlars and
racketeers.
Now, you call me names, accuse me of everything I do to myself?
Tell me! How good are you?
If you really wish to ensure my future…
Then hurry….hurry back home! Where I await you, because I
need you…
Protect me from all evil influences that will threathen at my
very own
understanding…
But if I am bad, really bad…then, you’ve got to help me!
Help me! Oh please…Help me!
 Casablanca
There was a great battle at sea. Once could hear nothing but
the roars of the big guns. The air was filled with black smoke.
The water was strewn with broken masts and pieces of timber,
which the canon balls had knocked from the ships. Many men
had been killed, and many more had been wounded.

The flagship had taken fire. The flames were breakin’ out from
below. The deck was ablaze. The men who were left alive made
haste to launch a small boat. The leaped into it, and rowed
swiftly away. Any other place was safer now than on board of
the burning ship. There was powder in the hold.

But the captain’s son. Young Casablanca, still stood upon the
deck. The flames were almost all around him now but he
would not stir from his post. His father had bidden him stand
there, and he had been taught always to obey. He trusted in
his father’s word, and believed that when the right time came,
he would tell him to go.

He saw the men leap into the boat. He heard them call to him
to come. He shook his head.

"When father bids me, I will go", he said.

And now, the flames were leaping up the masts. The sails were
all ablaze. The fire blew hot upon his cheek. It scorched his
hair. It was before him, behind all around him.

"Oh Father," he cried, "may I not go now? The men have all left
the ship. Is it not the time that we, too, should leave it?"

He did not know that his father was lying in the burning
cabin below, that a cannon ball had struck him at the very
beginning of the fight. He listened to hear his answer.

"Speak louder, Father," he cried, "I cannot hear what you say".
 Above the roaring of the flames, above the crashing of the
falling spars, above the booming of the guns, he fancied that
his father’s voice came faintly to him through the scorching
air.

"I am here, Father. Speak once again," he gasped.

A great flash of light fills the air; clouds of smoke shoot quickly
upward to the sky and —

BOOM!

Oh, what a terrific sound. Louder than thunder, louder than

the roar of all guns. The air quivers: the see itself trembles; the
sky is black. The blazing ship is seen no more. There was
powder in the hold.
 Casey Jones
Come, all you rounder, for I want you to hear
The story told of an engineer;
Casey Jones was the rounder’s name,
A heavy eight-wheeler of a mighty fame.

Caller called Jones about half past four.

He kissed his wife at the station door,
Climbed into the cab with the orders in his hand,
Says, “This is mtrip to the holy land.”

Through South Memphis yards on the fly,

He heard the fore boy say, “You’ve got a white eye,”
All the switchmen knew by the engine moan
That the man at the throttle was Casey Jones.

It had been raining some five or six weeks,

The railroad track was like the bed of a creek.
They rated him down to a thirty-mile gait,
Threw the southbound mail about eight hours late.

Foreman says, “Casey, you’re runnin’ too fast,

You run the block board the last station you passed.”
Jones says, “Yes, I believe we’ll make it, though,
For the steams better than I ever know.”

Jones says, “Foreman, don’t you fret;

Keep knockin’ at the fire door, don’t give up yet.
I’m going to run her till she leaves the rail,
Or make it on time with the Southern mail.”

Around the curve and down the dump,

Two locomotives were bound to bump.
Foreman hollered, “Jones, it’s just ahead,
We might jump and make it, but we’ll all be dead.”

It was around this curve he spied a passenger train,

Rousing his engine he caused the bell to ring;
Foreman jumped off, but Jones stayed on
He’s a good engineer, but he’s dead and gone.

Poor Casey Jones was all right,

For he stuck to his duty both day and night,
They loved to hear his whistle an ring of number three,
As he came into Memphis on the old I.C.

Headaches and heartaches and all kinds of pain

Are not apart from a railroad train;

Tales that is in earnest, noble, and grand,

Belong to the life of a railroad man.

 Vengeance is not ours, it’s God’s
Alms, alms, alms. Spare me a piece of bread. Spare me your
mercy. I am a child so young, so thin, and so ragged.Why are
you staring at me? With my eyes I cannot see but I know that
you are all staring at me. Why are you whispering to one
another? Why? Do you know my mother? Do you know my
father? Did you know me five years ago?

Yes, five years of bitterness have passed. I can still remember

the vast happiness mother and I shared with each other. We
were very happy indeed.

Suddenly, five loud knocks were heard on the door and a deep
silence ensued. Did the cruel Nippon’s discover our peaceful
home? Mother ran to Father’s side pleading. “Please, Luis, hide
in the cellar, there in the cellar where they cannot find you,” I
pulled my father’s arm but he did not move. It seemed as
though his feet were glued to the floor.

The door went “bang” and before us five ugly beasts came
barging in. “Are you Captain Luis Santos?” roared the ugliest
of them all. “Yes,” said my father. “You are under arrest,” said
one of the beasts. They pulled father roughly away from us.
Father was not given a chance to bid us goodbye.

We followed them mile after mile. We were hungry and

thirsty. We saw group of Japanese eating. Oh, how our mouths
watered seeing the delicious fruits they were eating,

Then suddenly, we heard a voice call, “Consuelo. . . . Oscar. . . .

Consuelo. . . . Oscar. . . . Consuelo. . . . Oscar. . . .” we ran
towards the direction of the voice, but it was too late. We saw
father hanging on a tree. . . . dead. Oh, it was terrible. He had
been badly beaten before he died. . . . and I cried vengeance,
vengeance, vengeance! Everything went black. The next thing
I knew I was nursing my poor invalid mother.

One day, we heard the church bell ringing “ding-dong, ding-

dong!” It was a sign for us to find a shelter in our hide-out, but
I could not leave my invalid mother, I tried to show her the
way to the hide-out.

Suddenly, bombs started falling; airplanes were roaring

overhead, canyons were firing from everywhere. “Boom,
 boom, boom, boom!” Mother was hit. Her legs were shattered
into pieces. I took her gently in my arms and cried, “I’ll have
vengeance, vengeance!” “No, Oscar. Vengeance, it’s God’s,” said
mother.

But I cried out vengeance. I was like a pent-up volcano.

“Vengeance is mine not the Lord’s”. “No, Oscar. Vengeance is
not ours, it’s God’s” these were the words from my mother
before she died.

Mother was dead and I was blind. Vengeance is not ours? To

forgive is divine but vengeance is sweeter. That was five
years ago, five years. . . .

Alms, alms, alms. Spare me a piece of bread. Spare me your

mercy. I am a child so young, so thin, and so ragged.
Vengeance is not ours, it’s God’s. . . . It’s. . . . God’s. . It’s…
 LUHA
Daloy, aking luha… daloy aking luha, sa gabing malalim, sa
iyong pag-agos, inanod mo lamang ang aking damdamin,

Hugasan ang puso – yaring abang pusong luray sa hilahil,

Nang gumaan-gaan ang pinapasan ko na libong tiisin!

Nang ako’y musmos pa at bagong nunukad yaring kaisipan,

May biling ganito si Ama’t si Ina bago sumahukay: “Bunso,

kaiingat sa iyong paglakad sa landas ng buhay, Ang ikaw’y
mabuyo sa gawang masama’y dapat mong iwasan.”

Nang ako’y lumaki, ang pahat kong isip ay biglang

nagpakpak

Ng kapalalua’t ang aral ni Ama’t ni Ina’y hinamak;

Sa maalong dagat ng buhay sa mundo’y nag-isang lumayag,

Iniwan sa pampang ang timbulang baon na aking tinanggap!

Malayang tumungga sa sarong may lason ng kaligayahan na

nitong huli na’y saka nakilalang alak na nanatay!

Ang pinagbataya’y dapat magpasasa sa kasalukuya’t

Isang “Bahala na!” ang tanging inyukol sa kinabukasan!

Kaya naman ngayon sa katandaan ko ay walang nalabi

kundi ang lasapin ang dita ng isang huling pagsisisi;

Tumangis sa labi ng sariling hukay ng pagkaduhagi’t iluha

ang aking palad na nasapit na napakaapi!

Daloy, aking luha… dumaloy ka ngayon at iyong hugasan ang

pusong nabagbag sa pakikibaka sa dagat ng buhay; inanod
ang dusang dulot ng tinamong mga kabiguan,

Nang yaring hirap ko’t susun-susong sakit ay gumaan-gaan!

Daloy, aking luha… dumaloy ka, dumaloy ka…!

Magsisi man ako ay huli na…

Ang panahong nawaglit ay din a maibabalik!

Kaya mga kabataan, huwag nyong tularan ang aking
karanasang

Ang kinahantungan ay kapighatian…

Kapighatiang patuloy kong pinagsisisihan!

Daloy aking luha, dumaloy ka…

 "The Unpardonable Crime"

Only one living creature seemed to take any notice of his

existence: this was an old St. Bernard, who used to come and
lay his big head with its mournful eyes on Christophe's knees
when Christophe was sitting on the seat in front of the house.
They would look long at each other. Christophe would not
drive him away Unlike the sick Goethe, the dog's eyes had no
uneasiness for him Unlike him, he had no desire to cry: "Go
away! . . . Thou goblin thou shalt not catch me, whatever thou
doest!"
He asked nothing better than to be engrossed by the dog's
suppliant sleepy eyes and to help the beast: he felt that there
must be behind them an imprisoned soul imploring his aid.

In those hours when he was weak with suffering, torn alive

away from life, devoid of human egoism, he saw the victims of
men, the field of battle in which man triumphed in the bloody
slaughter of all other creatures: and his heart was filled with
pity and horror. Even in the days when he had been happy he
had always loved the beasts: he had never been able to bear
cruelty towards them: he had always had a detestation of
sport, which he had never dared to express for fear of ridicule:
but his feeling of repulsion had been the secret cause of the
apparently inexplicable feeling of dislike he had had for
certain men: he had never been able to admit to his friendship
a man who could kill an animal for pleasure. It was not
sentimentality: no one knew better than he that life is based
on suffering and infinite cruelty: no man can live without
making others suffer. It is no use closing our eyes and fobbing
ourselves off with words. It is no use either coming to the
conclusion that we must renounce life and sniveling like
children. No. We must kill to live, if, at the time, there is no
other means of living. But the man who kills for the sake of
killing is a miscreant. An unconscious miscreant, I know. But,
all the same, a miscreant. The continual endeavor of man
should be to lessen the sum of suffering and cruelty: that is the
first duty of humanity.

In ordinary life those ideas remained buried in Christophe's

inmost heart. He refused to think of them. What was the good?
What could he do? He had to be Christophe, he had to
accomplish his work, live at all costs, live at the cost of the
weak. ... It was not he who had made the universe. . . . Better
not think of it, better not think of it. ...

But when unhappiness had dragged him down, him, too, to the
level of the vanquished, he had to think of these things. Only a
little while ago he had blamed Olivier for plunging into futile
remorse and vain compassion for all the wretchedness that
men suffer and inflict. Now he went even farther: with all the
vehemence of his mighty nature he probed to the depths of the
tragedy of the universe: he suffered all the sufferings of the
world, and was left raw and bleeding. He could not think of
the animals without shuddering in anguish. He looked into the
eyes of the beasts and saw there a soul like his own, a soul
which could not speak: but the eyes cried for it:

"What have I done to you? Why do you hurt me?" He could not
bear to see the most ordinary sights that he had seen hundreds
of times —a calf crying in a wicker pen, with its big,
protruding eyes, with their bluish whites and pink lids, and
white lashes, its curly white tufts on its forehead, its purple
snout, its knock-kneed legs:—a lamb being carried by a peasant
with its four legs tied together, hanging head down, trying to
hold its head up, moaning like a child, bleating and lolling its
gray tongue:—fowls huddled together in a basket:—the distant
squeals of a pig being bled to death:—a fish being cleaned on
the kitchen-table. . . . The nameless tortures which men inflict
on such innocent creatures made his heart ache. Grant
animals a ray of reason, imagine what a frightful nightmare
the world is to them: a dream of cold-blooded men, blind and
 deaf, cutting their throats, slitting them open, gutting them,
cutting them into pieces, cooking them alive, sometimes
laughing at them and their contortions as they writhe in
agony. Is there anything more atrocious among the cannibals
of Africa? To a man whose mind is free there is something
even more intolerable in the sufferings of animals than in the
sufferings of men. For with the latter it is at least admitted
that suffering is evil and that the man who causes it is a
criminal. But thousands of animals are uselessly butchered
every day without a shadow of remorse. If any man were to
refer to it, he would be thought ridiculous.—And that is the
unpardonable crime. That alone is the justification of all that
men may suffer. It cries vengeance upon God. If there exists a
good God, then even the most humble of living things must be
saved. If God is good only to the strong, if there is no justice for
the weak and lowly, for the poor creatures who are offered up
as a sacrifice to humanity, then there is no such thing as
goodness, no such thing as justice.
 "No Pardon For Me"

I'm sentenced.

Sentenced to life in this dank cell

of misery.
I can see the key-
it hangs there,
just out my finger's reach,
dangling there in a mock of freedom.

There will be no pardon for me,

no stay of this execution.

My life has convicted me

for crimes I did not commit.
My penalty meted out.
I followed every rule,
broke no laws,
have more than paid my fines
to society's shun upon me.

There was no fair trial,

no chance for me to plead my case.
The jurors were sent from hell,
quick to judgement
and showed no mercy
as they read their verdict.

Life/Death, what does it matter?

Its all the same in this prison.

I am but a mere victim,

the criminal has gotten away,
while I do the time
for fate's crimes against me.

I can't escape the hounds they'd release,

should I attemp escape,
for the walls and barbed wires
are too painful to scale
 and the hounds would scent my fear.

So I sit here,
waiting...
waiting for the day they walk me
that longest mile,
waiting for the flow of their poison
to seep within' my veins.

That lethal injection

that will finally end this misery
of a soul so wrongfully convicted to die.
 "Give Me Liberty or Give Me Death"

No man thinks more highly than I do of the patriotism, as well

as abilities, of the very worthy gentlemen who have just
addressed the House. But different men often see the same
subject in different lights; and, therefore, I hope it will not be
thought disrespectful to those gentlemen if, entertaining as I
do opinions of a character very opposite to theirs, I shall speak
forth my sentiments freely and without reserve. This is no
time for ceremony. The questing before the House is one of
awful moment to this country. For my own part, I consider it
as nothing less than a question of freedom or slavery; and in
proportion to the magnitude of the subject ought to be the
freedom of the debate. It is only in this way that we can hope
to arrive at truth, and fulfill the great responsibility which we
hold to God and our country. Should I keep back my opinions
at such a time, through fear of giving offense, I should
consider myself as guilty of treason towards my country, and
of an act of disloyalty toward the Majesty of Heaven, which I
revere above all earthly kings.

Mr. President, it is natural to man to indulge in the illusions

of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes against a painful truth,
and listen to the song of that siren till she transforms us into
beasts. Is this the part of wise men, engaged in a great and
arduous struggle for liberty? Are we disposed to be of the
number of those who, having eyes, see not, and, having ears,
hear not, the things which so nearly concern their temporal
salvation? For my part, whatever anguish of spirit it may
cost, I am willing to know the whole truth; to know the worst,
and to provide for it.

I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided, and that is
the lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging of the
future but by the past. And judging by the past, I wish to
know what there has been in the conduct of the British
 ministry for the last ten years to justify those hopes with
which gentlemen have been pleased to solace themselves and
the House. Is it that insidious smile with which our petition
has been lately received? Trust it not, sir; it will prove a snare
to your feet. Suffer not yourselves to be betrayed with a kiss.
Ask yourselves how this gracious reception of our petition
comports with those warlike preparations which cover our
waters and darken our land. Are fleets and armies necessary
to a work of love and reconciliation? Have we shown
ourselves so unwilling to be reconciled that force must be
called in to win back our love? Let us not deceive ourselves,
sir. These are the implements of war and subjugation; the last
arguments to which kings resort. I ask gentlemen, sir, what
means this martial array, if its purpose be not to force us to
submission? Can gentlemen assign any other possible motive
for it? Has Great Britain any enemy, in this quarter of the
world, to call for all this accumulation of navies and armies?
No, sir, she has none. They are meant for us: they can be
meant for no other. They are sent over to bind and rivet upon
us those chains which the British ministry have been so long
forging. And what have we to oppose to them? Shall we try
argument? Sir, we have been trying that for the last ten years.
Have we anything new to offer upon the subject? Nothing. We
have held the subject up in every light of which it is capable;
but it has been all in vain. Shall we resort to entreaty and
humble supplication? What terms shall we find which have
not been already exhausted? Let us not, I beseech you, sir,
deceive ourselves. Sir, we have done everything that could be
done to avert the storm which is now coming on. We have
petitioned; we have remonstrated; we have supplicated; we
have prostrated ourselves before the throne, and have
implored its interposition to arrest the tyrannical hands of the
ministry and Parliament. Our petitions have been slighted;
our remonstrances have produced additional violence and
insult; our supplications have been disregarded; and we have
been spurned, with contempt, from the foot of the throne! In
 vain, after these things, may we indulge the fond hope of
peace and reconciliation. There is no longer any room for
hope. If we wish to be free-- if we mean to preserve inviolate
those inestimable privileges for which we have been so long
contending--if we mean not basely to abandon the noble
struggle in which we have been so long engaged, and which we
have pledged ourselves never to abandon until the glorious
object of our contest shall be obtained--we must fight! I repeat
it, sir, we must fight! An appeal to arms and to the God of
hosts is all that is left us!

They tell us, sir, that we are weak; unable to cope with so
formidable an adversary. But when shall we be stronger? Will
it be the next week, or the next year? Will it be when we are
totally disarmed, and when a British guard shall be stationed
in every house? Shall we gather strength by irresolution and
inaction? Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance by
lying supinely on our backs and hugging the delusive phantom
of hope, until our enemies shall have bound us hand and foot?
Sir, we are not weak if we make a proper use of those means
which the God of nature hath placed in our power. The
millions of people, armed in the holy cause of liberty, and in
such a country as that which we possess, are invincible by any
force which our enemy can send against us. Besides, sir, we
shall not fight our battles alone. There is a just God who
presides over the destinies of nations, and who will raise up
friends to fight our battles for us. The battle, sir, is not to the
strong alone; it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave. Besides,
sir, we have no election. If we were base enough to desire it, it
is now too late to retire from the contest. There is no retreat
but in submission and slavery! Our chains are forged! Their
clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston! The war is
inevitable--and let it come! I repeat it, sir, let it come.

It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry,

Peace, Peace-- but there is no peace. The war is actually begun!
 The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring to our
ears the clash of resounding arms! Our brethren are already
in the field! Why stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen
wish? What would they have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet,
as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid
it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take; but
as for me, give me liberty or give me death!
 "MEMORIES"

Nothing compares to having a family, a complete, happy

family. I am proud to have had one. Unforgettable memories
of a sweet childhood, growing up with pure love and affection,
so many people wanted to have. I was nourished with hope,
that someday I'll have something more than I've expected.

My parents gave me everything. They wanted me to have the

best of endless possibilities. I owe my life to them. I am nothing
without them. They are the reason why I have a fighting
spirit, to finish what I've started, to give my best everytime
and never give up in times of troubles.

It was my time to serve them. I am young and free, but why

should I push myself to this responsibility? Why?.....because in
this life, you can never tell when your closing ceremony is
about to arrive. But it was over before I've started.

"God, why did you take them from me?"

"You're so unfair!"
"Why them?"
"Take me instead!"

They were gone. I am now alone. I can honestly say, I am

nothing. I don't have them anymore.

"God, please give me a chance to embrace them for the last

time."

But I know it isn't possible. I've had a lot chances. I just didn't
make the best of it. Life is really full of surprises , not always
good ones, some are worth tears. Deep inside my heart, I am
longing. But I should move on with my life. Nothing could
bring them back. If the stairway to heaven is for real, I would
use it no matter how far it would take me. If that's the only
 chance, then I am ready.

I salute those parents who have given their all. The most
selfless people you would ever know. Nothing compares to the
love you have given. The perfect friends, there's nothing less.

One day, we shall meet again. Excitement fills my broken

heart. Only you could complete me. So, when I see you, I know
you're holding the missing piece.
 "I Killed Her"

I killed her because I do love her. These hands, these hands

that gave life to many, killed her because of my love for her.

Ladies and Gentlemen of this honorable court, please listen to

me, listen to my story before you give my verdict. I am Dr.
Reyes, a cancer specialist. I was born in a slum district of
Batalon. My father oh! I don't know him for I am a child of
faith. My mother brought me up in such determination and
my ambition was to escape the filthy and horrible place of
Batalon. I was nourished with hope that someday I might live
a life different from her. My mother had a burning faith that
she turned the nights into days. All her efforts were not in
vain for I pushed through with flying colors. My mother who
had given her whole life to me had tears in her eyes as she
pinned the gold medal on my proud chest.

Later on, I was sent as a scholar of the Philippines to the

United States of America. I embraced my mother… tightly as
I've reached the plane….."Mother, mother,.." I whispered. You
will always be my best mother in the world.

After four years, I came back with laurels. I became a cancer

specialist. I gave my mother everything but I was too late. I
who had used to ease the pain of many, came too late for the
life of my dying mother. I gave the best treatment but the
grasp of death was so tight around her. My God, what is the
use of ten years of study if I couldn't even use it at my
mother's pain.

Then one night, I heard a strange cry. I run to her room. "Do
you love me, child?"… she asked, as I embrace her. " Yes,
mother….. If only I could get all your pain and agonies…"

" Then….. if you love me, end my sufferings, kill me… Let me
die."

"But, mother, I promise to give life and not to end it."

God…. She did not deserve the unhappiness. She deserves to be
happy.
 I run to my room and came back with a syringe.
"Mother, forgive me…. God, please understand me…."

"Mother, mother, you must not die….. Don't leave, I love you.
It was only a distilled water…..Mother…… Mother…….
MOTHER……"

Now, Ladies and Gentlemen, give me your verdict. Yes, it was

only distilled water which ended the sufferings of my mother.
Judge me….. Punish me………

GO, punish me………….. Thy will be done!!!

 "Man Upon the Cross"

Upon the cross against the hills of the night

They nailed the man, and while
they speared his breast they made him drink the bile.

He bore the pains alone, alone

But in the hallowed darkness saw
Sweet Mary's face upturned in grief below.

Tears filmed her eyes, but love

chastened the tragic beauty of her face
which neither death nor sorrow could erase.

He saw and feebly in the silence strove

to speak a few remembered words:
but now the whispers left his lips
like tender birds.

His arms were cold and death

was in his eyes; the streams
of blood were dry upon the whiteness of his limbs.

His breath was like a wounded bird

wanting to stay, to stay, bereft
now Mary rose and treasuring
his sorrow, left.
 “Conscience”

I wept, I cried so hard. But this tears can’t bring back my

sister to life. My being brought here by my conscience. I want
to ask forgiveness. But can she still hear? O heart, forgive me
for what I have done, please bring peace to mind.

Dry leaves were crushed down below. As if to freshen my

memories that her life perished because of my selfishness.

She was my only sister. Since our childhood, I always believed

that I was the favorite of our dad. One night, while I was
facing all about to the mirror, with my micro mini, I puffed
powder, when I saw Luisa’s face, reflecting in the mirror. "You
can’t get out tonight, Lucille." I heard a threatening tone from
her. I turned to her, but I can’t resist at her sharp stare at me.
"And who says so, my dear sister?" "We are to celebrate
Momma’s death anniversary, you know that don’t you?" In a
relaxed and condescending voice, I replied "well I don’t care.
I’m going out to party tonight!"

Then I heard a knock on the door. I shouted "Help Papa!" for I

knew that it was he. I pulled my hair, I tore my dress away as
I was attacked by a squad of monstrous creatures. When the
door opened the site Papa saw was that Luisa was holding my
neck who was trying to make a rescue. But I cried so hard
that made Papa grew to the height of anger. He threw Luisa
to the corner, where the head of my poor sister was hit at the
edge of the chair.

I slowly rejoiced for I have made a successful revenge. But

when she lifted, I saw a different sparkle in her tearful eyes.
"Ha ha ha ha ha!" O my, Luisa, she went out of her mind. I was
not able to move, as well as Papa. Both of us were motionless.
And before we returned to our senses, Luisa ran to the door
and proceeded to the open gate of our house. We followed her
calling out her name. "Luisa!" "Sister!" "Luisa" "Sister" "Luisa the
Truck!" "Don’t cross the road, Luisa, the truck don’t Don’t
DON’T!"

The next sight I saw was that Luisa was thrown five meters
 away from the truck. I ran to her and embraced her. Blood
was all over her face. In a low but distinct voice she
murmured, that made my heart break so much. She said,
"Lucille, please be a good girl. I love you. Please be a good girl
‘coz Papa loves you very much."

"Luisa? Luisa? Sister… sister!!!" From that moment I cried so

hard for killing my only sister, who loved and cared for me,
even at the last moment of her life.

Now can you blame me, for asking God to forgive me? Forgive
me dear God, Forgive me!
 "MY REVENGE"

"Never have I thought of reaching this place. All my dreams

turned to reality. I have everything that I wanted. It's great
to have
everthing you've worked for."

That's what they all say. All of them are hypocrites, trying to
escape the judgment of the public's eyes. But, they can't fool
me. I
know how they got their positions. If only I could expose what
I know.
But now is not the right time. I still have to prove something.

I used to be in that position, the greatest prize in the world.

But now, here in the dump, not even remembered, already
misunderstood.
I'm just a victim of this judgmental world, never did any
harm, just
misunderstood.

If you want to invest, i would be glad to see you. If you don't

have anything good to say, dont dare cross my way. That's
just how
it goes. The circulation continues.

When you are rich, everybody wants to get a piece of you. All
of them wants to pull you down. being hot in the public's eyes
is critical.
You can't afford to make mistakes, or else, you'll find yourself
swimming
in the mud. That's what happened to me. i wasn't careful. One
dash of
stain blew everything. It was hard to face the truth. I am
down, troubled,
nothing.

What should I say? I should have everything back.

"Mr.Thompson, Do you remember me?"

"How could i forget the company's thief?"

 "I'm just a victim of your greed. You made me do it."

"You wanted it, right? Only that you made a wrong move."

"I dont deserve this! You have to pay!"

"You can do nothing now! It's too late!"

It was all black as i remembered. The next thing that i saw

was
a man covered in his own blood. Did I succeed? I think so! but
no one should
find out. I am closer to what I truly deserve.

Time is up. It's my turn.

 “A Glass of Cold Water”

Everybody calls me young, beautiful, wonderful. Am I? Look

at my hair, my lips, my red rosy cheeks and a pair of
blinkering eyes.

I remember, somebody says that I look like my mother that I

look like my mother. But that when she was young.

Now, I am much lovelier than she is. I’m a mortal Venus.

Oops! What time is it? I must get ready for the party!

Beep-beep…!A-huh! Here they are! Yes, I’m coming!

"Child, are you still there?"

"Hmp! That’s my mama"

"Child, are you still there? Will you please get me a glass of
cold water?"

"Mama, I’m in a hurry!"

"Please child, try to get me a glass of cold water."

"Mama, please, try to get it on your own."

"Please child, try to get me a glass of cold water!"

At the party, I danced and danced the whole night.

You see, I can’t leave the party at once. I have to danced with
everybody who proposed to me. At last, the party is over. I’m
very tired. Very, very tired.

So, I went home to tell mama what happened.

"Mama, I’m home! It’s very quiet. "Mama, I’m home!" Nobody
answers.

Where is she? I look for her in the sala, but she’s not there.
 Where is she? A-huh! In the kitchen!

I saw my mama, lying down on the floor, dead. With a glass

on her hand. I remember, she tried to get it.

Oh, God, just for the glass of cold water! Mama! Mama! Oh,
Mama!
"The Rich Man and the Poor Man"

“Food and money I give to you,

Why do you shout so mercily
When I give you your part?”
queried the rich man.

The poor man replied:

“Your question you cannot answer
For from pain and agony you are free,
But I have suffered and borne
The situation that I don’t like to be in.”

“That I couldn’t understand

Because Life for me is easy;
I take this and take that,
And life is just what I want it to be.”
consented the rich man.

“Comfort your mind, rich man,

with realities of death.
Your wealth I do not envy
For you can not buy
eternity with money.
If to live happily
is to live in hypocrisy,
Then I prefer to be silly
so I would be holy.
Life you love so much you will lose
And only then will you understand
What agony is,” the poor man shouted.

“Ha! Ha! Ha! You say so

For you desire this place of mine.
Indulgence you have clouded with reason
But I understand because of your situation.”
boastfully the rich man said.

Outraged the poor man answered:

“How pitiful the person blinded with pleasure;
No, you don’t care of our journey
That you have created through your greediness.
Come now, man of weak soul!
Your days are numbered for you to face
The Man of Love.
You may not cry now but later you will
When the chilling reality of the last judgment
Comes across your way;
Yes, then you will pity, but not for me.
Not for anybody else.
But for yourself only!
Yes, eat, drink, and be merry.
For tomorrow you shall die!
 "Promise Land"

"Where am I?"

"Is this the real world?"

A lot of things are on my mind. I may be young and innocent,

but not ignorant. I can clearly see what's present.

I can only imagine life when the world was first created, a
beautiful scene yet to be exploited.A dash of green and blue
then add the bright yellow sunshine that lights up the day.
God gave us a world full of promise. He wanted us to use it,
take care of it and make sure that there is plenty for
everybody.

The water is not blue as it was.

The air we breath is not healthy anymore.

The forest that used to be rich and full, nowhere to be seen.

Dead
Denuded
Destroyed

"What happened to the promised land?"

"How dare we ruin it!"

"Look at it people! look at it!"

"If the world could only speak, it would tell us how much it
hurts."

"All of us can do something but not everyone is willing to do

it."

"Now, I can't imagine what the future holds."

Living
 Hoping
Praying

The chances are getting thinner everytime. Time is running

out. We better do it now or pay the price later.

Let's rebuild this world and plant new life for a new day.