“Make it new.”
-- Ezra Pound
We have turned our backs
on offers of jute sacks
filled with millions of pesos
in denominations of twenties, fifties, and hundreds
so, as the imperial messenger
of the donation would say,
“You, Sir, could buy the votes
of the squatters down there.”
We have turned our backs
on offers of Fortuners which,
at first blush, we thought
meant “fortune tellers,”
and why would we need one
to read our futures when we know
deep in our bones
that in the end we will get the thrones?
We have turned our backs
on offers of lawyers
glittering with their golden tongues,
working in the shiniest skyscrapers,
whose motions of consideration
and non-consideration
could always swing decisions
in
favor of our petitions.
We have turned our backs
on offers of agents and operators
who would spy for us,
wiretap for us, even dig
the deepest, darkest secrets
of our enemies—
from non-payment of taxes
to housing of several mistresses.
We have turned our backs
on offers to massage the results
of the elections,
as if the body politic
is full of knots
and bunched-up muscles,
mined with points of stress,
wired with meridians that have clogged.
We have turned our backs
on them who said
that we are young
and, therefore, hopeless,
that we do not have millions
of money to burn,
and, therefore, our plans
will just be ashes in the urns.
We have turned our backs
on those who said that this
is a hopeless country,
and the best country is the one across the sea.
Because now we would face
them all, our arms linked each to each.
We will stun them with words
like grains of gold,
we will give to the people
loaves of hope warm with love
for those who have been sold
down the drain,
fooled beyond belief,
made much of and in the end
left like so many pieces
of rags on the streets.
We are one, and we are many.
Our hands are clean,
and our hearts bursting with dreams.
Our eyes are like arrows
on the bull’s eye of our aims:
a beautiful Philippines,
a progressive Philippines,
O Philippines, our beloved Philippines.
Danton Remoto
December 2, 2007
Song of the New Politico
“Make it new.”
-- Ezra Pound
We have turned our backs
on offers of jute sacks
filled with millions of pesos
in denominations of twenties, fifties, and hundreds
so, as the imperial messenger
of the donation would say,
“You, Sir, could buy the votes
of the squatters down there.”
We have turned our backs
on offers of Fortuners which,
at first blush, we thought
meant “fortune tellers,”
and why would we need one
to read our futures when we know
deep in our bones
that in the end we will get the thrones?
We have turned our backs
on offers of lawyers
glittering with their golden tongues,
working in the shiniest skyscrapers,
whose motions of consideration
and non-consideration
could always swing decisions
in
favor of our petitions.
We have turned our backs
on offers of agents and operators
who would spy for us,
wiretap for us, even dig
the deepest, darkest secrets
of our enemies—
from non-payment of taxes
to housing of several mistresses.
We have turned our backs
on offers to massage the results
of the elections,
as if the body politic
is full of knots
and bunched-up muscles,
mined with points of stress,
wired with meridians that have clogged.
We have turned our backs
on them who said
that we are young
and, therefore, hopeless,
that we do not have millions
of money to burn,
and, therefore, our plans
will just be ashes in the urns.
We have turned our backs
on those who said that this
is a hopeless country,
and the best country is the one across the sea.
Because now we would face
them all, our arms linked each to each.
We will stun them with words
like grains of gold,
we will give to the people
loaves of hope warm with love
for those who have been sold
down the drain,
fooled beyond belief,
made much of and in the end
left like so many pieces
of rags on the streets.
We are one, and we are many.
Our hands are clean,
and our hearts bursting with dreams.
Our eyes are like arrows
on the bull’s eye of our aims:
a beautiful Philippines,
a progressive Philippines,
O Philippines, our beloved Philippines.
Danton Remoto
December 2, 2007
-- Ezra Pound
We have turned our backs
on offers of jute sacks
filled with millions of pesos
in denominations of twenties, fifties, and hundreds
so, as the imperial messenger
of the donation would say,
“You, Sir, could buy the votes
of the squatters down there.”
We have turned our backs
on offers of Fortuners which,
at first blush, we thought
meant “fortune tellers,”
and why would we need one
to read our futures when we know
deep in our bones
that in the end we will get the thrones?
We have turned our backs
on offers of lawyers
glittering with their golden tongues,
working in the shiniest skyscrapers,
whose motions of consideration
and non-consideration
could always swing decisions
in
favor of our petitions.
We have turned our backs
on offers of agents and operators
who would spy for us,
wiretap for us, even dig
the deepest, darkest secrets
of our enemies—
from non-payment of taxes
to housing of several mistresses.
We have turned our backs
on offers to massage the results
of the elections,
as if the body politic
is full of knots
and bunched-up muscles,
mined with points of stress,
wired with meridians that have clogged.
We have turned our backs
on them who said
that we are young
and, therefore, hopeless,
that we do not have millions
of money to burn,
and, therefore, our plans
will just be ashes in the urns.
We have turned our backs
on those who said that this
is a hopeless country,
and the best country is the one across the sea.
Because now we would face
them all, our arms linked each to each.
We will stun them with words
like grains of gold,
we will give to the people
loaves of hope warm with love
for those who have been sold
down the drain,
fooled beyond belief,
made much of and in the end
left like so many pieces
of rags on the streets.
We are one, and we are many.
Our hands are clean,
and our hearts bursting with dreams.
Our eyes are like arrows
on the bull’s eye of our aims:
a beautiful Philippines,
a progressive Philippines,
O Philippines, our beloved Philippines.
Danton Remoto
December 2, 2007
Song of the New Politico
“Make it new.”
-- Ezra Pound
We have turned our backs
on offers of jute sacks
filled with millions of pesos
in denominations of twenties, fifties, and hundreds
so, as the imperial messenger
of the donation would say,
“You, Sir, could buy the votes
of the squatters down there.”
We have turned our backs
on offers of Fortuners which,
at first blush, we thought
meant “fortune tellers,”
and why would we need one
to read our futures when we know
deep in our bones
that in the end we will get the thrones?
We have turned our backs
on offers of lawyers
glittering with their golden tongues,
working in the shiniest skyscrapers,
whose motions of consideration
and non-consideration
could always swing decisions
in
favor of our petitions.
We have turned our backs
on offers of agents and operators
who would spy for us,
wiretap for us, even dig
the deepest, darkest secrets
of our enemies—
from non-payment of taxes
to housing of several mistresses.
We have turned our backs
on offers to massage the results
of the elections,
as if the body politic
is full of knots
and bunched-up muscles,
mined with points of stress,
wired with meridians that have clogged.
We have turned our backs
on them who said
that we are young
and, therefore, hopeless,
that we do not have millions
of money to burn,
and, therefore, our plans
will just be ashes in the urns.
We have turned our backs
on those who said that this
is a hopeless country,
and the best country is the one across the sea.
Because now we would face
them all, our arms linked each to each.
We will stun them with words
like grains of gold,
we will give to the people
loaves of hope warm with love
for those who have been sold
down the drain,
fooled beyond belief,
made much of and in the end
left like so many pieces
of rags on the streets.
We are one, and we are many.
Our hands are clean,
and our hearts bursting with dreams.
Our eyes are like arrows
on the bull’s eye of our aims:
a beautiful Philippines,
a progressive Philippines,
O Philippines, our beloved Philippines.
Danton Remoto
December 2, 2007
Comments