The explosions in Quiapo that killed two
and injured others are still facing a
blank wall. Putting the congratulations
to waste, leaving in the mouth a bad taste.
Misdemeanors seem to merit rewards
if we go by the arrogance of some
VIP wannabe who entitled
herself to the favors of a promise.
Eleven years cannot possibly stain
the catering reputation one hit
of diarrhea tries to pin on him
pity the 900 NBP wards.
After two years the SAF acts up
again. This time, a columnist has claimed,
no casualty save for an APC
to be recovered from high Mautes.
Now the president is mad and gets back
at the daughter who has called him a thug
and releases his armory of “f”
epithets; the joke recalled sarcastic.
And like a whiff of warmth comes Spiderman’s
buddy of a Fil-Am, for fury a balm
to douse all the negative attributes
of a day seemingly lost to bedlam.
Yet there is another panacea
albeit laden with heartaches of loss
for those who figure in the fisticuffs
of voices and triumphant with the voice.
Abraham de la Torre