The Aspiring Dictator (After Pablo Neruda) (Poem)

Posted on by theageofthediary

Pasay’s blood was scrubbed clean,
But for us the metallic stench remains,
She’s no longer there cradling her dead husband,
But we can still taste her tears,
The sign beside him was thrown away,
But we remember its words:
“Pusher ako wag tularan“.
She says he was innocent,
But do pushers even deserve to die that way?

As her tears dry,
And the crowds disperse and forget,
The aspiring dictator is remains in Malacanang,
Taking to a bald head in command of badges,
Supported by a bible-loving boxer,
Praised by a serial plagiarist,
And funded by a son of the former dictator.
Sometimes he says he doesn’t kill,
Sometimes he says he does like it.
He thinks we’ll be confused enough to be divided,
So that we’ll be angry about bullets planted in one’s luggage,
But we won’t bat an eye for bullets to the heart,
And he’ll continue to shoot because he needs blood,
Like a vampire whose power grows as we bleed,
Spill more for more excuses,
Spill more for more power,
But he forgets who we are
We’ve already had 20 years of blood,
We’ve already had our Hitler,
And if history can repeat, 
So can our victory,
And if history can repeat,
So can our bloodless victory.

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