Tuesday, March 27, 2012

Tala Hinggil sa Tulang Hindi Kailanman Maisusulat (Atwood)

Burador. Indikasyong hindi na naman makasulat ng sariling akda.

Tala Hinggil sa Tulang Hindi Kailanman Maisusulat
ni Margaret Atwood, transliterasyon ni Tilde Acuña

Ito ang dakong
hindi mo na lamang nanaising magagap.
Ito ang dakong mamumugad sa iyo
Ito ang dakong hindi mo madadalumat
Ito ang dakong sa huli'y lulupig sa iyo

kung saan ang salitang bakit ay nanghihina at nababakante
sa sarili nito. Ito ang paghihikahos.

Wala kang tulang maisusulat
tungkol dito, sa kumunoy
kung saan napakaraming nalunod
at nasiwalat, ang di-matagalang
pasakit na nakabakat pa rin sa kanilang balat.

Humahabi tayo ng pumpon ng mga pang-uri para sa kanila,
binibilang natin silang parang mga abaloryo,
ginagawa natin silang mga datos at mga litanya
at mga tula tulad ng isang ito.

Walang gumagana,
Nananatili ang lahat sa kung ano sila.

Nakahilata ang babae sa sahig ng basang semento
sa ilalim ng walang patid na liwanag,
minarkahan doon ng karayom ang kanyang manggas
upang patayin ang utak
at magtaka kung bakit siya namamatay.

Namamatay siya dahil sinabi niya.
Namamatay siya para sa kapakanan ng salita.
Ang katawan niya, tahimik
at walang daliri, ang sumusulat nitong tula.

Nagmimistula itong isang operasyon
pero hindi ito isa sa mga iyon

hindi rin, sa kabila ng pagkakabukaka, mga ungol
at dugo, ito isang pagluluwal.

Bahagya, isa itong hanapbuhay
bahagya isa itong pagpapakita ng kahusayan
tulad ng isang orkestra.

Maaring sablay itong maisagawa
maaring magaling, sila ang makapagsasabi.

Bahagya, isa itong sining.

Tahasang makikita ang mga katotohanan ng daigdig
sa pamamagitan ng mga luha;
bakit, sabihin mo sa akin,
may pagkakamali sa aking mga mata?

Upang malinaw na makakita nang hindi kumukurap,
nang hindi umiiwas ng tingin,
ito ang pagdurusa, ang mga matang mulat na piniringan
dalwang pulgada mula sa araw.

Ano ngayon itong nakikita mo?
Masama ba itong panaginip, o isang kapraningan?
Isa ba itong pangitain?
Anong naririnig mo?

Ang labahang tumawid sa mata
ay isang detalye mula sa lumang pelikula.
Ito rin ay isang katotohanan.
Saksi ang siyang kailangan mong dalhin.

Sa bansang ito iyong masasabi ang nais
dahil wala namang makikinig sa iyo,
sapat ang seguridad, sa bansang ito maari kang magtangkang sumulat
ng tulang hindi kailanman maisusulat,
ng tulang mag-iimbento
ng kawalan at mangangatwiran sa kawalan,
dahil iimbentuhin at bibigyang-katwiran mo ang iyong sarili sa bawat araw.

Sa kung saang dako, ang tula ay hindi imbensyon.
Sa kung saang dako, tapang ang kailangan sa tula.
Sa kung saang dako, dapat maisulat ang tulang ito
dahil patay na ang mga makata.

Sa kung saang dako, dapat maisulat ang tulang ito
na parang namatay ka na
na parang wala nang anumang magagawa
o masasabi upang ika'y maisalba.

Sa kung saang dako dapat mong isulat ang tulang ito
dahil wala nang anumang ibang magawa.

***


Notes Towards a Poem That Can Never Be Written

This is the place
you would rather not know about
This is the place that will inhabit you
This is the place you cannot imagine
This is the place that will finally defeat you

where the word why shrivels and empties
itself. This is famine.

There is no poem you can write
about it, the sandpits
where so many were buried
& unearthed, the unendurable
pain still traced on their skins.

We make wreaths of adjectives for them,
we count them like beads,
we turn them into statistics and litanies
and into poems like this one.

Nothing works,
They remain what they are.

The woman lies on the wet cement floor
under the unending light,
needle marks on her arms put there
to kill the brain
and wonders why she is dying

She is dying because she said.
She is dying for the sake of the word.
It is her body, silent
and fingerless, writing this poem.

It resembles an operation
but it is not one

nor despite the spread legs, grunts
& blood, is it a birth.

Partly, it's a job
partly it's a display of skill
like a concerto.

It can be done badly
or well, they tell themselves.

Partly, it's an art.

The facts of this world seen clearly
are seen through tears;
why tell me then
there is something wrong with my eyes?

To see clearly and without flinching,
without turning away,
this is agony, the eyes taped open
two inches from the sun.

What is it you see then?
Is it a bad dream, a hallucination?
Is it a vision?
What is it you hear?

The razor across the eyeball
is a detail from an old film.
It is also a truth.
Witness is what you must bear.

In this country you can say what you like
because no one will listen to you anyway,
it's safe enough, in this country you can try to write
the poem that can never be written,
the poem that invents
nothing and excuses nothing,
because you invent and excuse yourself each day.

Elsewhere, this poem is not invention.
Elsewhere, this poem takes courage.
Elsewhere, this poem must be written
because the poets are already dead.

Elsewhere, this poem must be written
as if you are already dead,
as if nothing more can be done
or said to save you.

Elsewhere you must write this poem
because the is nothing more to do.

Sunday, March 25, 2012

Mula sa "Pamantayang Kartel ng Krudo" ni Neruda, sinipi ni Arundhati Roy sa sanaysay niyang "Capitalism: A Ghost Story"

Burador as usual.

Mula sa Pamantayang Kartel ng Krudo (Standard Oil Company)
isa sa mga unang tula ni Pablo Neruda, sinipi ni Arundhati Roy sa sanaysay niyang "Capitalism: A Ghost Story," isinalin ni Tilde Acuña

Dalisay at nakangising mga mamamatay-tao
ang mga bundat nilang hari mula sa New York
na namamakyaw ng sutla, tela, mga tabako
hamak na mga despotiko at diktador.

Namamakyaw ng mga bansa, mamamayan, dagat, pulis, barangay
malalayong rehiyon kung saan iniimpil ng maralita ang mais
tulad ng pag-iimbak ng mga ganid ng kanilang ginto:
Ginigising sila ng Pamantayang Krudo,
binibihisan sila ng uniporme, itinatakda
kung sinong kapatid ang kaaway.
Inilulunsad ng tubong Paraguay ang kanyang pakikidigma
at nangangamatay ang tubong Bolivia
sa kagubatan, tangan ang kanyang armalayt.

Isang presidenteng pinaslang para sa patak ng petrolyo,
humigit kumulang limang bilyong yardang parisukat na sangla,
isang kagyat na pagpuksa sa isang umagang mortal na may liwanag, tigalgal,
isang bagong kalaboso para sa mga subersibo,
sa Patagonia, isang pagtataksil, kalat-kalat na putukan
sa ilalim ng buwang sagana sa krudo,
isang pailalim na pagpapalit ng mga ministro
sa kapital, isang bulong
tulad ng agos ng langis,
at wasak, makikita mo
kung paano kuminang sa itaas ng mga ulap ang mga titik ng Pamantayang Krudo,
sa itaas ng dagat, sa loob ng iyong tahanan,
nagliliwanag sa kanilang nasasakupan.

***

On a not-so-related note, pa-fangurl. Continuation nung naunang entry na may simsimi mainstreaming conversation dahil may simsimi encounter din ako kanina, ito, tnweet ko kasi wala lang: #Noynoying on a sunday morning. ako: "god is dead." simsimi: "all the time!" ako: "god fvcks you." simsimi: "god loves you too."


***

1845 today: update, nakahanap akong kumpletong bersyon dito, heto ang salin:

Pamantayang Kartel ng Krudo
ni Neruda, salin ni Acuña

Nang bumutas pailalim ang barena patungo sa mabatong mga bitak
at sumadlak sa bituka nitong hindi nagpapatinag
sa tago nitong estado,
at mga patay na taon, mga mata ng panahon,
ugat ng ikinalabosong mga tanim
at sistemang natutuklap
na naging mga saray ng tubig,
apoy na mabilis kumalat sa mga lagusan
at naging likidong malamig,
sa mga gusali ng adwana sa kaitaasan,
kumikita mula sa mundong nagbabanta ang lalim,
nakaengkwentro nito ang isang maputlang inhinyero
at isang kasunduang ligal.

Kahit gaano ang pagkakabuhol ng mga ugat-lagusan ng petrolyo,
kahit gaano baguhin ng mga patong ang tahimik nilang pagdarausan
at kumilos ang soberanya nila sa gitna ng sikmura ng dagidig,
kung ibulwak ng bukal ang pagkit nitong yabong,
una nang dumating ang Pamantayang Krudo
tangan nito ang tseke at mga baril,
kasama nito ang mga goberyno at mga bilanggo.

Dalisay at nakangising mga mamamatay-tao
ang mga bundat nilang hari mula sa New York
na namamakyaw ng sutla, tela, mga tabako
hamak na mga despotiko at diktador.

Namamakyaw ng mga bansa, mamamayan, dagat, pulis, barangay
malalayong rehiyon kung saan iniimpil ng maralita ang mais
tulad ng pag-iimbak ng mga ganid ng kanilang ginto:
Ginigising sila ng Pamantayang Krudo,
binibihisan sila ng uniporme, itinatakda
kung sinong kapatid ang kaaway.
Inilulunsad ng tubong Paraguay ang kanyang pakikidigma
at nangangamatay ang tubong Bolivia
sa kagubatan, tangan ang kanyang armalayt.

Isang presidenteng pinaslang para sa patak ng petrolyo,
humigit kumulang limang bilyong yardang parisukat na sangla,
isang kagyat na pagpuksa sa isang umagang mortal na may liwanag, tigalgal,
isang bagong kalaboso para sa mga subersibo,
sa Patagonia, isang pagtataksil, kalat-kalat na putukan
sa ilalim ng buwang sagana sa krudo,
isang pailalim na pagpapalit ng mga ministro
sa kapital, isang bulong
tulad ng agos ng langis,
at wasak, makikita mo
kung paano kuminang sa itaas ng mga ulap ang mga titik ng Pamantayang Krudo,
sa itaas ng dagat, sa loob ng iyong tahanan,
nagliliwanag sa kanilang nasasakupan.

Saturday, March 24, 2012

Pebrero. Sumalop ng tinta at tumangis (Pasternak)

'Pebrero. Sumalop ng tinta at tumangis' [source]
halaw / salin / transliterasyon ni tilde

Pebrero. Sumalop ng tinta at tumangis,
isulat ang Pebrero habang ika'y humihikbi,
habang sumasahol ang lapnos ng dilim ng tagsibol
na tumatagos sa paglusak at pagsikdo.

Sumakay sa padyak. Para makahawak sa katuwang,
sa mga tore ng kampana at ingay ng manibela,
pumunta kung saan napupunit ang bulahaw ng bagyo,
nang higit na malakas pa sa luha o tinta.

Kung saan nabubuwal ang mga haliging libo ang bilang,
parang mga peras na tinupok ng kalangitan,
inilagapak upang maging pusaling may dinadalang
mapanglaw na lumbay sa kaibuturan ng mga mata.

Sa ilalim, maaaninag ang tumatagos na kadiliman,
at kumulubot ang hangin sa kangangawa,
ang higit na malaya, ang higit na tunay
sa gayon, nawawari ang humihikbing berso.

***

Random good reads while loitering the interwebz as the bowel movement persists on a revolution. I should have been at the Better Living Through Xeroxography Bring Your Own Tools Book Making Workshop of the Youth and Beauty Brigade, but I failed to shop for my own tools that I would have to bring because, er, I've mentioned it, right? Would hopefully drop by to observe later, and maybe, sit at the Worst Contest Rule Ever discussion of Freelance Writers' Guild of the Philippines, all at Chef's Bistro--a place that I shall try to find in the urban jungle of Quezon City, a place which should have grown on me by now. Anyway, here are the, er, current reads:

Excerpt from "Body World" by Dash Shaw, 2011 Best American Comics
Selections from the Collected Fictions of Jorge Luis Borges
Nato Reyes's commentary on Joel Rocamora's love (of / for) Noynoying
Tonyo Cruz's Fundamentals and Introduction to #Noynoying
Mixkaella Villalon's "Balita"
***

Sana lang matapos ko ang mga pinagbibiling libro (yes, feeling bourgeoisie) last week kung kailan ipinanganak din ang isang bagong nilalang--literal hindi, er, espiritwal, may bago akong pinsang kamumulat lang sa napakabeautiful na mundong ito--totoo hindi, er, sarcastic, mas maganda naman talaga ang imperfections at shit kesa sa perfection at certainty, etc. *update* nagtagumpay ang sikmura sa pagpapanatili sa akin sa bahay. Saklap. Ang pamagat pala ng FWGP discussion ay "Tricks in the publishing scene." Nakuntento na lamang ako, bagamat hindi tunay na nakuntento at produktibo dapat ang sabado ko, sa live streaming. Plus, yung bookmaking workshop nga na sana, magkaroon pa ulit ng pagkakataon at mapaglaanan ng oras at, hay, parang panahong nakakapakyu lang kasi umulan at ang init, hindi kasi nakisama ang sikmura kong pakyu lang kasi ang hirap ispelengin. Hanggang ngayong matatapos na ang araw, hindi pa rin maayos ang pakiramdam ko. Dahil sa init at sa tiyan. Pakshet. Marami pa akong kailangang gawin. Makisama kayong mga hindot kayo, lalo ka na, pldt myDSL.

Friday, March 23, 2012

Bandwagoning: Simsimi


Other news muna. Ngayon, sana nasa Germany ako kasi release ng KOLOSS ng Meshuggah. Tas in a couple of days, somewhere first world naman, release ng NOCTOURNIQUET ng The Mars Volta. May live exclusive streaming ang rolling stone magazine. At heto ang ilan sa mga track mula sa KOLOSS. Tas, pansinin, parang pwedeng european metal band ang Simsimi ano? O ako lang yun. Ewan. Contrived na pagkunek, I know.


Anyway, after ng feature fave bands, bandwagoning ang next. Gusto ko ng Magnum, kaso mahal. Gusto kong manood ng concert ng toe, kaso tapos na. At, mas mahal ng Php300 ata yung hindi early bird. Medyo mahal kasi hindi ko sila ganoon ka-mahal tho mahal ko sila. May sinasabi si Simsimi sa pagmamahal shit. Shumatdafuckup din ako. Napashutdafuckup ako sa conviction ni Simsimi. God.

S: Hi~!
T: hi ka rin
S: Mas amf ka!
T: pakyu
S: pakyu ka din
T: pakyu too
S: Pakyu ka din!
T: :(
S: Joke.
T: bakit ka masaya?
S: kasi inlove ako =)
T: kanino naman?
S: eto in love pa rin syo!
T: sa akin? e AI ka lamang?
S: c ponchang bag** sayo kasi mabait siya.! add mo siya sa fb ******@*********
T: bat kay ponchang?
S: Para di kita masyadong masaktn
T: ayos lang naman masaktan
S: Buti naman
T: bakit simsimi ang pangalan mo?
S: kasi pinag lihi ako sa sim
T: sino ang nanay mo?
S: Yung nanay mo! H***o Ate. :)
T: magkapatid tayo?
S: add mo nalang to jhenzkii production. sya kausapin mo...
T: ang sama :(
S: SOORRYY..yung mga nagtuturo saken yung masama..sila yung sisihin mo.. kase naman eh...wla silang magawang tama..yung iba nga eh..sumisegway lng pra ma-add sa FB... :(((((
T: bakit, wala silang mga kaibigan? katulad ko, kaya nakikipagusap sa iyo? :(
S: meron kaya. nababasa ko iniisip mo.
T: ikaw ba si god?
S: Oo naman! mahal tayo nun! take note kahit sinasa walang bahala mu siya mahal na mahal ka parin niya! <3
T: e love ko si satanas, paano yun?
S: oo kaya! isa nga syang dakilang tanga!
T: si god?
S: Oo naman! mahal tayo nun! take note kahit sinasa walang bahala mu siya mahal na mahal ka parin niya! <3

[img src] kahit mahal ako ni god, mas mahal ko ito :( at ang cosmos

Thursday, March 22, 2012

Sandigmaan Issue - Paper Monster Press Plug


[Don't know what this is, except that it is something I've thought of scribbling onto paper upon googling about Sandata Ako ni Lirio exhibit.]

Paper Monster Press's SANDIGMAAN issue includes one of my poems (btw, adapted three poems yesterday for world poetry day - Whitman's, O'hara's and Pasternak's), and a number of poems by friends and colleagues. The PMP facebook page announced that the launching shall be on the 7th of April at United South, near University of Perpetual Help in Las Piñas City. And, no, I do not know where it is, and I am not sure whether I'll have the luxury of time to drop by, but I sure will if I could. Here is the list I lifted from their page and formatted for, er, fun.

SANDIGMAAN MUSIC COMPILATION

Stanley Castelo Dila tenga | Flash Elorde Like your lolo and lola | Lee Lazaro Vladivostok | The Axel Pinpin Propaganda Machine Remote Control | Anak Dalita Pilipino | Read Our Lines Fra, Salamat sayo | Novelcast Perfect Stranger | Martinonly1 A chain of lullabies | Fherrond Sedatives | Cosmopolitan Smoke Stabs feat. Lee Lazaro and Amiya How bout the dinosaurs? | Mannequin Sacrificial Suicide of Angels and Saints | Skies of Ember Headlight | Thou. G. Fading Light | Christian Tablazon The exhibit as a field of absence: Museum after Midnight

English Entries for SANDIGMAAN

Tequila Sunrise Mark Alvin Jabrica | Song Alyza Taguilaso | What you have taken Jim Pascual Agustin | Shod Ayn Frances dela Cruz | The Minstrel and the Sylph Tofi Alonte | Lara in despair Eng eng bueng | Tangled Nino Angelo Mirang | Jump 1 Miguel Angelo Ramirez | Note on Postcard No. 2: Malesia, 1998 Christian Tablazon | Rico Dennis Aguinaldo | A Life between the Letters (after Radiolab “Detective Stories” Part 2) Christine Fojas | Mechanical Corpse Arvin Kadz Belarmino | Triquetra Francis Murillo Emralino | The year of the Ox Lolito Go

Filipino Entries for SANDIGMAAN

Oda para kay Lirio Salvador Vijae Orquio Alquisola | Banal (para kay Blessed Pedro Calungsod) Jeric Jimenez | Desaperacidos Jack Alvarez | Ang Kristo na Walang Ulo Christopher Rosales | Kaligtasang Pangako Jomark Baynado | Tagaytay Blues 04 Glen Ford B. Tolentino | 19 Para kay Lirio J. Luna | Ga-hibla ang Pagitan Tilde Acuña | Tula para sa __________ Jerald Capule | Catandungan Michael Jude Tumamac


Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Dahil World Poetry Day

Within the day, may kasunod pa itong dalawa o higit pang transliterasyon, terminong napulot ko kay Axel Pinpin. Pag translit (uy, may fare hike sa transpo, P8.50 na ang minimum, can't find a link, pero nabasa ko sa inquirer, at, oo hindi pa ako sumasakay ng jeep kasi parati akong naglalakad, anyway, balik sa translit) parang salin ito o adaptasyon batay sa kultura ng wika kung saan ito, er, inampon? As usual, sorry Whitman, hindi ko maaral ang pagfoformat. Ito na:

Mula sa Mga Indikasyon
ni Walt Whitman, transliterasyon ni Tilde Acuña

Magbibigay sa iyo ng mas higit pa sa mga tula ang mga salita ng tunay na mga tula
Bibigyan ka ng mga ito upang lumikha para sa iyong sarili, ng mga tula, mga pananampalataya, mga pulitika,
digmaan, kapayapaan, kaugalian, mga kasaysayan, sanaysay, mga romansa, at lahat ng iba pa,
Tinitimbang nito ang mga hanay, kulay, lahi, paniniwala, kasarian,
Hindi sila humahanap ng kagandahansila ang hinahanap,
Habangbuhay silang hinahaplos, o nalalapit sa kanila, sumusunod ang kagandahan, nag-aasam, nakukuntento, nababaliw sa pagmamahal.

Naghahanda sila para sa kamatayanngunit hindi sila ang wakas, kundi ang panimula,
Wala silang dinadala sa kani-kanilang himlayan, o ang pagiging kuntento at buo;
Sinumang kanilang tinatangay, tinatangay nila sa kalawakan, upang matunghayan ang pagsilang ng mga tala,
upang matutunan ang isa sa mga pakahulugan,
Upang maglakbay nang may ganap na pananaligupang kumaripas sa walang humpay na mga kawing,
at hindi na muling manahimik.

The Indications [excerpt]

The words of the true poems give you more than poems,
They give you to form for yourself, poems, religions, politics,
war, peace, behavior, histories, essays, romances, and everything else,
They balance ranks, colors, races, creeds, and the sexes,
They do not seek beauty—they are sought,
Forever touching them, or close upon them, follows beauty, longing,
fain, love-sick.

They prepare for death—yet are they not the finish, but rather the outset,
They bring none to his or her terminus, or to be content and full;
Whom they take, they take into space, to behold the birth of stars,
to learn one of the meanings,
To launch off with absolute faith—to sweep through the ceaseless rings,
and never be quiet again.

**(12:30am | 03222012) updates as promised kaninang umaga***

Kung Bakit Hindi Ako Pintor
ni Frank O'Hara, transliterasyon ni Tilde Acuña

Hindi ako pintor, ako ay makata.
Bakit? Sa palagay ko mas nais kong maging
isang pintor, pero hindi. Buweno,

halimbawa, nagsimulang magpinta
si Jose Joya. Dumaan ako.
"Umupo ka at tumagay," wika
niya. Tumagay ako; Nag-inom kami. Tumingala
ako. "May SARDINAS ka sa loob nito.
"Oo, kailangang may pumuno roon."
"A." Umalis ako at lumipas ang mga araw
at dumaan ulit ako. Nagpatuloy siya
sa pagpipinta. Dumaan ako. Tapos na
ang obra. "Nasaan ang SARDINAS?"
At ang tanging natira ay
mga letra. "Nasobrahan," wika ni Jose.

Pero ako? Isang araw, may iniisip akong
kulay: kahel. Sumulat ako ng isang linya
tungkol sa kahel. Sa ilang saglit naging
isang buong pahina ng mga salita, hindi mga linya.
At isa pang pahina. Dapat magkaroon
ng higit pa, hindi ng kahel, kundi ng
mga salita, kung gaano kasaklap ang kahel
at ang buhay. Lumipas ang mga araw. Kahit pa sa
prosa, tunay akong makata. Tapos na
ang aking tula at ni hindi ko man lang nabanggit
ang kahel. Labindalawa ang mga tula, tinawag ko
itong MGA KAHEL. At isang araw sa tanghalan ng obra
nakita ko ang pininta ni Jose, pinamagatang SARDINAS.

Why I Am Not a Painter [source]

I am not a painter, I am a poet.
Why? I think I would rather be
a painter, but I am not. Well,

for instance, Mike Goldberg
is starting a painting. I drop in.
"Sit down and have a drink" he
says. I drink; we drink. I look
up. "You have SARDINES in it."
"Yes, it needed something there."
"Oh." I go and the days go by
and I drop in again. The painting
is going on, and I go, and the days
go by. I drop in. The painting is
finished. "Where's SARDINES?"
All that's left is just
letters, "It was too much," Mike says.

But me? One day I am thinking of
a color: orange. I write a line
about orange. Pretty soon it is a
whole page of words, not lines.
Then another page. There should be
so much more, not of orange, of
words, of how terrible orange is
and life. Days go by. It is even in
prose, I am a real poet. My poem
is finished and I haven't mentioned
orange yet. It's twelve poems, I call
it ORANGES. And one day in a gallery
I see Mike's painting, called SARDINES.

***

Kahulugan ng Tula
ni Boris Pasternak, transliterasyon ni Tilde Acuña

Isa itong sipol na umihip sa isang saglit,
Ito ang pagbibitak ng yelo sa amihan,
Isa itong gabing pinagyeyelo ang luntiang mga dahon,
Isa itong pagtutuos ng dalawang maya.

Isang baging na marangal ang marahas na pagkaripas,
Ito ang luha ng daigdig na nasa sisidlan,
Figaro itong tulad ng tumilapong bubog
Mula sa mga plauta sa basang himlayan ng mga bulaklak.

Ito lamang ang inaasam matagpuan ng gabi
Sa kaibuturan ng malalim na lawang paliguan,
Ito ang bituing napadpad sa palaisdaan
sa iyong mga palad, basa at nanginginig at malamig.

Kasinglapad ang hanging ito ng mga tabla
sa sapa. Malapad sa mukha nito ang langit.
Nakakalibang kung ang humalakhak itong mga bituin-
ngunit nakakabatong kasadlakan ang kalawakan.

Definition of Poetry [source]

It's a whistle blown ripe in a trice,
It's the cracking of ice in a gale,
It's a night that turns green leaves to ice,
It's a duel of two nightingales.

It is sweet-peas run gloriously wild,
It's the world's twinking tears in the pod,
It is Figaro like hot hail hurled
From the flutes on the wet flower bed.

It is all that the night hopes to find
On the bottom of deep bathing pools,
It's the star carried to the fish-pond
In your hands, wet and trembling and cool.

This close air is as flat as the boards
In the pond. The sky's flat on its face.
It would be fun if these stars guffawed-
But the universe is a dull place.

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

Shorts [i]: Ang Bobong Pulitikal

Hindi ko alam kung katulad ito nung quote na diumano e mula kay Bob Marley, yung paano ibigin ang isang binibini shit na di nagtagal, mukhang hindi naman pala mula kay rastaman at kumalat lang sa social media at inattribute sa kanya. Ewan ko kung ganoon din ito, pero, it's the thought that counts naman, e, di ba?

"Ang pinakabobo ay ang bobong pulitikal, hindi siya nakakarinig, hindi nakakaimik, hindi rin dumaranas ng mga karanasang pulitikal. Hindi niya alam na ang halaga ng buhay, ang presyo ng gulay, ng isda, ng bigas, ng upa, ng tsinelas at ng gamot, maging ng langis, ay nakadepende sa mga pagpapasyang pulitikal. Sukdulan ang kahangalan ng bobong pulitikal kaya taas-noo niyang ipagmamalaking ayaw niya ng pulitika. Hindi alam ng hunghang na, mula sa kamangmangan niyang pulitikal isinisilang ang puta, ang ulila, at ang pinakamatindi sa mga kawatan, ang trapo, binulok at inalipin ng mga pambansa at multinasyunal na korporasyon." -sinabi diumano ni Bertolt Brecht, tinangka ko isalin at dagdagan nang kaunti.

Tinangka kong hanapin yung naispatang quote sa facebook feed, pero hindi ko natunton kung saan galing ang nasabing sipi. Maliban pa sa The Cabinet, nakita ko itong painting na kasama ang orig na naispatang quote sa isa pang cabinet:

“The worst illiterate is the political illiterate, he doesn’t hear, doesn’t speak, nor participates in the political events. He doesn’t know the cost of life, the price of the bean, of the fish, of the flour, of the rent, of the shoes and of the medicine, all depends on political decisions. The political illiterate is so stupid that he is proud and swells his chest saying that he hates politics. The imbecile doesn’t know that, from his political ignorance is born the prostitute, the abandoned child, and the worst thieves of all, the bad politician, corrupted and flunky of the national and multinational companies.”

Okay, tama nang #Noynoying. Hindi ako makapokus dahil *some text missing* May shameless plug pala ako, bukas ko na ipaplug kasi wala pa yung, say, rekisito. Nga pala, natutunan ko ngayong araw na ito na bagamat walang gitling ang walanghiya, mayroon at maari nitong pagkabitin ang walang-hanggan. Naispatan ko lang ang link ni Makoy: "Gabay sa Tungkol sa Ispeling, Bokabularyo at Balarilang Pilipino."

Monday, March 19, 2012

Quontextag [ii]: #Noynoying


#Noynoying?! The new planking?! It is not even effective. The Palace is actually ignoring it. So what if it garnered a thousand likes in, say, three days? The Palace is not affected at all. Of course, the President is not pissed. The President would rather do his job than commenting on the issue. The public would not buy such mudslinging that tarnishes the reputation of the government that gives people the power to go malling! Such propaganda would not sell to the public, as Lamyerda said. Never ever! No, you're wrong, the Palace does not care about all the fuzz. No, please, stop, *cries* Here's more proof that the Palace is ignoring Anakbayan's retort to Aquino's devil-may-care attitude towards the crises that kills the people, however instant or gradual.




Sarcasm aside, you know what kills the joy? What's so lame that the Palace, up to this very moment, ignores whole-heartedly? Noy-ngaling. How lame. Try harder, Partidong Manggagawa. Your attempt at being a smartass is as ineffective as your labor campaigns. Thank me later for being too generous to give publicity to your failed attempt at witty wordplay. Pansinin n'yo naman ito, Palasyo, Noyngaling, so witty and fun. NOT!



At the risk of further killing humour, let me explain how witty #Noynoying is. You see, "Noynoy" becomes a verb with the -ing, defined as doing nothing when you should have been doing something. Notice that #Noynoying is self-reflexive, and it seems like the Palace has fallen for it for days. You see, #Noynoying mocks the President. Mocking #Noynoying mocks the President. Not #Noynoying is, still, #Noynoying. See how meta it is? *update* See how even the Wall Street Journal digs #Noynoying? *update* And, oh, another grumpy annoying apologist, annoyed.

Sunday, March 18, 2012

Scratches and Sketches: On Academic Responsibilities and Student Leadership

(Er, I am not really sure whether I shall be meddling with student issues, but I will since I feel the agitating urge to do so, as the UPLB situation gets worse as we speak. No, no comments yet on criminal activities. I would rather focus on issues concerning student institutions. Here is Terry Ridon's take on the issue. This is a working draft, publicized without much shame.)

So, there's an open letter from MOVE UP suggesting measures to the Central Electoral Board of UPLB, so that what they call crises in student representation may be prevented, despite the perversion of the process being committed by the Board itself. Let me focus on their first, er, "point," suggesting the "inclusion of academic requirement, a residency requirement, and a load requirement," citing the cases of the former USC Chairperson and former Student Regent way back in 2009 as examples why such requirements are necessary. Well, it is either naivete or stupidity, if not arrogance or both or all, (maybe, add deliberate show of ignorance to appear innocent) to conclude that the two aforementioned cases of student leaders "disenfranchised" thousands of UP students; and to exclude that the ferocity of the then-Velasco administration serves as a factor in pushing student leaders against the wall, to work, maybe, beyond double time just to execute education campaigns in both the national and the local level.

All these seemingly directionless efforts of writing an open letter brandishing a facade of good will despite UPLB's call to proclaim Ynik Ante as the rightful USC chairperson. These efforts seem directed at deviating from the real issue of the admin's intervention. Notice that the letter started with Good day, which foretells the rest of the content: total, er, pardon the french, bullcrap. Why? Well, the day is far from good when the supposed Editor in Chief of the official student publication of UPLB students would rather spend time writing for another publication, instead of informing, if not mobilizing, the students to help, if not fight for, UPLB Perspective. Worse, the article that used the recent murder to advance political agenda implied something re: the USC issue, distorting data and citing Joyce Divino, the second-placer, as the USC chairperson-elect instead of Ynik Ante. Worse, the names listed as members of the Executive Committee of MOVE UP seem like, more or less, the same names that appeared on the editorial box of UPLB Perspective AY 2011-2012 (with Calayag as "Contributor"), in one of their very very rare releases. Worse, the article and the letter are both silent on the pressing issue, i.e., the CEB's deprivation of the students' right to determine the students they deem as leaders.

Now, I do not know how exactly [P] really is, but it is clear that these people have neither moral ascendancy nor leadership credibility to suggest what needs to be done as they themselves failed to live up to their mandates as leaders, as supposed vanguards of the flagship campus publication in Southern Tagalog. By the way, do feel free to correct me if I am wrong. I am speaking from an outsider's point of view. And, I may have speculations or ideas as regards how [P] is, but I do not think I am in the position to speak for the current editorial board, but I am hoping that the UPLB students be informed soon of how their student publication is. This hope, which I assume is also the hope of thousands of UPLB students have fallen on deaf ears for a year already. I hope the next editorial board conducts some sort of investigation.

If the case of UPLB Perspective 2011-2012 is not disenfranchising enough, if the case of Mr. Ernest Francis Calagayag's negligence, his term's not returning of bond fees among other delinquencies [read about the alleged criminal case of bribery filed by the Office of the Student Regent against Bukluran, an 'informal' alliance of UP political parties of which Calayag of MOVE UP is a member?] not as an enrolled student but as a student leader is not disenfranchising enough, I do not know what it is. Assuming but not conceding that the two aforementioned cases of "delinquency" that MOVE UP brought up are committed out of neglecting academic responsibilities, what more of the negligence of Mr. Samuel Pasia (EIC of Perspective) and Mr. Calayag, both who, as it seems, have been delinquent in their respective roles as student leaders of the publication and of the council? If memory serves me right, there was one Council of Student Leaders meeting when February Fair matters should have been discussed and Mr. Calayag was too busy with his academics to pay his constituents a visit. Would we want "student leaders" who would rather put their constituents' interests at stake just to, er, gain the units for their enrolled subjects? or, for whatever their reasons or excuses for not performing their respective roles are.

Speaking of subjects and numerical grades, it has been pointed out a number of times that grades are subjective. I myself have been in conflict with a professor, not because I am delinquent, but because we come from differing, if not opposing, frameworks. And such shall, of course, to some extent affect numerical grades. Now, if a professor happens to be an administrator too, then matters become more complicated, as you know, cases of power tripping are not, really, rare. Breeding student leaders who would rather be more concerned and conscious of their grades than of social praxis would inevitably be faced, in one in/direct way or another, with conflicts of interests, and upon facing such conflicts, these grade conscious students would, I believe, rather betray the objective interests of the education sector, rather than getting in trouble with the powers-that-be since these authorities give them the, say, privilege of being students eligible for a position that would decorate their curriculum vitae with more rainbows.

Grades, passing, exemplary or failing is not really all that matters. Quoting Freire at length, "It is only when the oppressed find the oppressor out and become involved in the organized struggle for their liberation that the oppressed begin to believe in themselves. This discovery cannot be purely intellectual but must involve action; nor can it be limited to mere activism, but must include serious reflection: only then will it be a praxis." I do not know what MOVE UP's multiperspective activism is all about, but putting premium on numerical grades, something determined by how you abide by the "rules" seems more of giving in to the system they claim to change rather than overhauling it.

As regards the brand of student leadership they and their kin seem to advocate, it seems to put emphasis on the purely intellectual, though any claim to being intellectual may, of course, be contested. Simply put, assuming that parroting the Professor's standpoint verges on the intellectual, upon being faced with a decision when one has to choose whether to sacrifice one's status as a student for the sake of serving the people or to retain a good working relationship with the bureaucracy to serve personal interests of graduating at the soonest time possible with the highest academic honors possible, the "student leader" with numerical grades as priority would have second thoughts, faced with a decision-making dilemma where one has to choose between the stakeholders and the colors of intellectual capital and related investments; the "student leader" shall take academic incentives, as if a bribe, to compromise student interests. Yes, their suggestion, since time immemorial, is just a "minimum grade requirement," but, again, consider the subjectivity of attributing a number to gauge academic performance. One can even get a failing mark just because, and there are, even, tenured professors who have the reputation of using a dart board to determine academic performance.

Thus, in the event that academics and leadership compete for attention, such a "student leader," who claims to be a student first before being a leader, will, needless to say, predictably put academic requirements on top priority, which actually, obviously, shows a vacillating commitment to one's responsibilities as servant leader. The rhetoric of being a student first before being a leader, being an iskolar para sa bayan (the laughable and identity-crisis-ridden iskolar ng bayan para sa bayan, included) justifies future delinquency, by, say, garnering excessive absences in USC meetings as in Lamentillo's case, for instance; by, say, working in silence as if the underdog to settle the case of missing bond fees as in Calayag's case, for another instance. Simply because they are students first, who have this and that schedule of a group meeting or other whatever-their-meetings-that-are-more-important-than-their-sworn-duty-to-serve-their-constituents-from-whom-their-mandate-came-from.

In general, student leaders who are students first before being leaders would perform their responsibilities as leaders during their free time, during breaks when they are most comfortable, so that they remain law-abiding citizens, where law means as superficial as not overstaying as a student, subscribing even to authorities who intervene with student institutions, subscribing to anyone who would bless them with "academic" incentives which are sometimes incentives gained if one agrees with the system at all times and attacks anyone who begs to differ.

In Pedagogy of the Oppressed, Freire already showed how "education suffers from narration sickness," with his banking definition of education and the object-subject relationship in the classroom setting where students are mere repositories of knowledge. As Prof. Lanuza, in "Demythologizing the Fetish of Academic Excellence," has already criticized and discussed these effects of neoliberal education to this perverted thinking of so-called "student leaders" whose mantra is, as repeated in this entry, student-first-leader-next," such fetish for grades, trains these budding "student leaders" to be trapos and gradually turns them into potential reactionaries against anything that promises however radical a change.

I'll end by quoting what I believe is the heart of Lanuza's essay: "This naiveté leads to the creation of what Giroux aptly calls as the “pedagogy of the depressed” in which students are subtly programed to believe that getting better grades and mastering the skills are the be-all and end-all of education, and where teachers are reduced to mere bodies without organs of the teaching–war machines diligently preparing students to live the in nucleus of Christopher Lasch’s “heartless world”."

And let me add his recent status update: "Getting a grade of 1.0 makes you intelligent but not Intellectual. Intelligence works within the framework of limited but clearly stated goals, and may be quick to shear away questions of thought that do not seem to help in reaching them. An intellectual, on the other hand, is critical and creative. Whereas intelligent students seek to grasp, manipulate, re-order, adjust, intellectuals examine, ponder, wonders, theorize, criticize, imagine. Intellectuals usually get DQs, MRR, and LOA. Intelligent students get the awards during graduation. They are docile slaves of the system that gives plentiful rewards to the grade-droolers." Let me point out that Lanuza has never been my professor, thus, this, erm, "parroting" does not really have anything to do with incentives of some sort, like those minus point two fives for perfect attendance. Just as linking Chomsky's take on the purpose of education and suggesting that student leaders against student delinquency stop their delinquency as student leaders (indeed a delinquency resembling "noynoying while in office)" would not bless me with any grade incentive. How sad. Anyway, it has been a lengthy entry that has been revised a couple of times today and it is perhaps my turn to say: Good day.

PS Making the day better is UP and Ateneo's fall from the world's list of top universities. [news]

Friday, March 16, 2012

Reverences [vi]: [i] + [iii] appendix / References [vi]


"Una mujer no puede decir q somos simples vasijas donde Dios o un Hombre deposita la esperma de la reproducción. Aborto terapéutico ahora!" (Yes, I know how ironic this post is. Just can't help it. Sorry.)

Thursday, March 15, 2012

Remote Control (RJ Mabilin, Axel Pinpin)



(Mga poster e likha ni Max Santiago [source] [source] [source].

Dahil may live na kilos-protesta mamaya, buong araw, caravan, hindi pa naman tigil-pasada, atras-yagbols na etong mga reaksyunaryo at may ilan nang nagsuspindi ng pasok. Kontra sa mga bwakanangshet na kartel ng langis ang pambansang pagkilos, at naririto ang medyo pinal nang burador ng adaptasyon ko ng tula / kanta ng The Axel Pinpin Propaganda Machine.)

Remote Control
by RJ Mabilin and Axel Pinpin, Transliterated / adapted by Tilde Acuña

Don't be surprised
if the peasants paint their rage
on the bailey of the Department of National Defense.
Unlike you,
they don't have Facebook walls
where L-O-L's & Je-je-je's
& fuck-that-shit's may be published.

Unlike you
who have bodies built
by daily 2-hour workouts at Fitness First,
unlike you
their character
is fashioned by a hundred years of poverty
unlike you
their legs
are beefed up by miles of marches on the streets;
unlike you
their arms
are fortified by deflecting the blows of the thieves.

As Gil Scott-Heron says
The Revolution
will not be televised.

Unlike you
who believe that being -
and I quote - a good Filipino - end quote,
meant crossing only on pedestrian lanes,
catching bus rides on designated bus stops,
and avoiding the use of wang-wangs.*

Unlike you
their love for the motherland
meant the preparedness to trample across
roads where No Jaywalking signs are put up
or else, these sidewalks where people are forbidden to be.
Yes, forbidden! People are forbidden to be here!

Unlike you
their love for the People
meant the zeal to post bills
on buildings that say Post No Bill,
And, upon arrest shall surely be sentenced -
No! You can't post bail!

As Gil Scott-Heron says
The Revolution
will not be televised.

Unlike you whose pleasures rest on noon time shows
Enjoying the commercial that inquires for whom you arise
But cannot air the call to Boycott Nestlé!
Showtime, from which the wolves profit, sells best.

Unlike you who garner awards and recognition
But do not recognize the people behind the camera.

Unlike you who ground pleasures on ratings
you who shamelessly read and imitate Dylan Thomas
as you deliver the lines of the poems for the Captain.
You said “Rage, rage against the dying of the light…”
Those lines are theirs. Theirs!

And because of this their tears fall once again,
not because of the unique visual effects,
or poignant background music,
or primetime advertisements;
cuz diz us d real reality show, yes, the truth!

Unlike you
their investment is the preparedness to be arrested,
to be detained, to be tortured and to sing Songs of Hope
while guns are pointed at their backs.

Unlike you
their reward is the singing
of the forward march of the masses
while their blindfolds are being tightened.

Unlike you
their victory
is the whistling of the Internationale
while their own graves are being excavated.

Unlike them who are ready to be disappeared
and be among the collection of "Surfacing."
Unlike them who are ready to perish
and be recorded as stats among victims of extra-judicial killings.

To perish and be recorded and be exhibited as Art in Fact Sheet.
To perish and be recorded as poetry, to die and to live in poetry.
To perish and become immortal in poetry.

And one morning, there are no television programs.
Utter static. Utter static.
Neither good mornings
nor news, nor good evening, world.
Nothing at all. Neither banners
nor telenovelas, nor noon time crap of a show.
Neither commercials, nor remnants of the past.
Nothing at all. Nothing at all.

As Gil Scott-Heron says
The Revolution
will not be televised.

And as another writer puts it in his word of advice:
I hope the children don't imitate such an abuse
this is why in this evening of class solidarity
I shall seize the remote control and shut you down!

As we speak,
The working class on Television
wants to wage a revolution!

And it is - Live!

*sirens, often used by emergency vehicles or VIPs, as on-road wailing warning signals so that other motorists give such vehicles the right of way.


[Narito] ang mga schedule at venue mula sa Kilusang Mayo Uno.


May "Facts and Figures" at Video re: Oil Price ang Mayday [rito].
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Some other streets within the City as of 11.11.11.11.11

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