"Two poems for this July"

"Two poems for this July"

"Towards Manila"

Over Sierra Madre's mountains came a storm,
If not from the hilly south headlong;
A mighty army, a million strong,
Crossed every pathway putting end to the wrong.

The city, despite its grandeur end outshined,
Overturned by the times despite authorities remind;
In heroic triumph the masses uprise as their chains now unbind,
If not their eyes once hidden now unblind.

The system still babbles with so-called laws,
Yet ironically they created various flaws;
And their version of peace instead of doves are crows,
Of vultures eating corpses in every silent row.

Of thugs in uniforms venting their wrath,
Leaving every community nothing unscathed;
Then hidden in their stronghold raths,
Whose leaders computing their dead, booty, an endless math.

With power altogether all must pursue the tottering foe,
For they're now retreating to the center cowering as it goes;
Their once strong tides suddenly end low,
For the wind of the struggling gave its blow.

Seize all the factories, and all the farms,
Free all the communities till there's no harm;

Like the tales of the past of uprisings and storms,

The continuity of repression brought a spectre roam.

Some if not most deny even exorcise,

This spectre of hope they ought despise;

For the folk once repressed end realise,

That this inconvenient truth lies a response: uprise!

Like the rice fields whose crop be ready to reap,

Every attack a victory that is worth to keep;
The hell broke loose as the enemy left stations sweep,
Trying to ease emotions, keeping off their weep.

The streets and fields may filled with blood,

Staining from the corpses red as one trod;

If rain tends to wash them will end a sudden flood,

Enough to water a struggling country, its soil, its barren sod.

The journey will take long but the coast is clear,
Nevermind the order's appeal if not its fear;
New chapters for the epic, soon with victory's worth the tears,
Of testimonies, of praises, tragedies from every peer.

With the red star shines in endless nights,

And of the black sun that the order end fright;

The working folk this time enlight,

Putting an end those from their redoubts their blight!

"Misencounter"

Everything is silent in the tropical forest,

Same old green and brown side by side;

When the "lawful elements" passes by,

Trying to flush out the "foe" for according from their info where they lie.

Rifles presses through the woods and boots stump the muddy trails,

Seeking the "fishes" as they're "trying to drain the water" according to the great helmsman's quote;

But hours later guns firing over the scene, only to found their foe weren't been,

Instead both from the system got shot by the guns carried in.

They would afford to deny if not for the truthbearers came,

And trying to say "the rebels did it" if not "a massacre or a bloodbath" set in;

Yet no choice they end settled in fingerpointings, denying their wrongdoing,

With all their statements confusing if not worth distorting.

And their commander-in-chief, trying to "shut things up" hath to accept responsibility for that "friendly fire",

While his officers trying to compensate the wounded and the dead, with cash and flowers;

Still, the widows and the wounded cannot accept their apologies for the ordeal,

No matter how the commentators in social media sites afforded to ridicule them after the upheaval.

It will never be cleared, no matter they acknowledged,

It will never be denied, no matter how they could try,

But instead a voice from that the same forest is heard wailing:

"Give up the firefight! Join us in fight for our rights!"