INAALAY NG PUGAD ANG FOLIO NA ITO:
PARA SA LAHAT NG LUMABAN AT NAGING BIKTIMA NG DIKTATURYANG MARCOS
WE REMEMBER YOU.
FERDINAND MARCOS IS NOT, AND NEVER WILL BE, A HERO. Perhaps if we had put this folio out forty-five years earlier, we would already be dead. Tortured, maybe; silenced, murdered. During the Marcos Regime, the slightest hint of dissent could seal your fate. Consider the deaths of Liliosa Hilao, Archimedes Trajano, and even Primitivo Mijares' son, Boyet. How dare they speak out against a legend in the making? In light of recent events, Pugad Literary Folio publishes this small tribute with regard to the 45th Anniversary of Marcos' Martial Law. We publish these pieces with the heavy knowledge that we would not be able to do so, had countless Filipino citizens had not died for our right to say what must be said. We students stand on the shoulders of martyrs. We do not take this for granted. Following their example, we speak out as the need arises. Again, the Philippines is submerged in a culture of violence; in a culture where anyone can get away with anything. Again, and again, and again, and again: we must try to break this cycle. We must stand for what is just. We must continue to fight.
Elissa Joy C. Ofilada Editor-in-Chief
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Untitled (Cover Art) by Cyrah Fransisco (12-Ogilvie)
Untitled by Jack Corder (12-Holland)
There Was A Rally At School Today by Amber Garma (11-Mayer)
No Fear, Please Not Tonight by Carina Miranda (12-Pro) Mga Luhang Nagpaalala by Joshua Abante (12-Oldcorne) Liham Para Kay Inang Bayan by Aleiana Duque (12-Holland)
Untitled by Anonymous
Siyam na Saksi by Will Manahan (12-Anchieta) Alpas by Miguel Tan (11-Hurtado) red by Denise So (11-Perez)
50/50 eulogy 3257 1972 ???? 2017 by Angelo Nieto (12-Holland) What The Government Uses by Manuel Felizardo (12-Miki) We Run by Kyle Laurel (12-Kibe)
WHY THEY CAN’T KILL US. by Elise Ofilada (12-Carvalho)
CONTRA OMNES TYRANNI by Angelo Nieto (12-Holland)
Lost Accounts by Will Manahan (12-Anchieta)
Ang Babala ni Magdalene by Elise Ofilada (12-Carvalho)
This Is How We Remember by Nicole Anne Cobarrubias (12-Oldcorne) Take A Step by Sergei Lim (12-Carvalho) Coming Up For Air by Rizzie Rapada (12-Carvalho) Untitled by Lilac Fameronag (11-Nakamura)
by Jack Cordero (12-Holland)
There Was A Rally At School Today by Amber Garma (11-Mayer)
There was a rally at school today. And it wasn’t an hour of praying the rosary this time. They told us to wear black and bring signs and make noise and try to be a part of something real for thirty minutes. I wore my super cool black and gold Respeto merchandise shirt, didn’t have a sign because I was at the mall last night, and I didn’t really feel like shouting at the time. It’s always weird, shouting beside people you don’t know even if you’re all saying the same thing. It’s weird when you hear your own voice and the rise of it sounds a bit weird. Like. You hear other people yelling ‘Stop the Killings!’ at the top of their lungs like they mean it. You mean it, too. But you’re fidgeting with your hair the entire time. I don’t know. That was the first time I actually participated in a rally. And it wasn’t even a very big one, it was just us and the microphones and the cramped building foyer and our slogans didn’t make it past the field. The other parts of the rally that didn’t involve chanting, were fine. Our student leaders were emotional. They read out the names of the minors and young adults murdered because of the drug war and their voices were cracking, so I started cracking. This is terrible. It’s terrible knowing all the lives taken in the midst of this stupid fucking war on drugs are ones you would have spared if you had the choice. Because that’s how your parents raised you that’s what your teachers taught you that’s what your friends share with you that’s what your environment made you. You’re the type of person who would set the gun down on the ground and mouth ‘run’ when face to face with the worst men. Because everyone deserves to be saved and everyone deserves to not die tonight and everyone deserves to wake up the next morning and wake up the next and wake up the next until they realize why God never stops giving them chances. I don’t know these people. But there’s no doubt in my heart they should have lived. I guess I’m just not the shouting type. I’d be better off bawling my eyes out in front of Bato trying to get him to feel like shit for making a little girl cry. Because maybe then he’ll realize… they’ll all realize, the effect they have on people. We’re not just angry. We’re sad, too. And one of these emotions tug at the guts of guilt way harder than the other. – 23 aug 2017, day of the ashs protest against drug-related killings
No Fear, Please Not Tonight by Carina Miranda (12-Pro)
lost innumerable thoughts have taken over wandering in my mind and lately even as leaves start to crisp turning ochre in colour as the breeze gets colder by the minute tickling my skin the radio never ceases to blare horrific reports of remains of bodies that had been full of life at one point i find myself growing far apart from my existence distant and faded echoes of voices crying out freedom pleading innocent yet silenced i shot up sweat trickling on accounts and publications spread out before me pages haunted with lies and deceit our past resting upon alterations built by so-called heroes who hold us hostage to date shall there ever be an ending to this nightmare turned reality? they say history may repeat itself i say not unless we let it my heart pounding no fear please not tonight do what you must but i will not let my nation burn into ashes specks of dust my soul provoked no fear
please not tonight do what you must but we shan't retreat from a fight 'til dawn it may take us my being prepared no fear please not tonight do what you must but we stand our ground as hope will be ever-present relentless against mischief and ill fortune
Mga Luhang Nagpaalala by Joshua Abante (12-Oldcorne)
Sana bukas Ang pagtanong ni inay ng “anak nakauwi na ba ikaw?” ay walang natatagong pag-alala at takot na mamaya, wala na akong buhay. Ang sunod na pangagamusta ni inay, nawa’y maging purong pagmamalasakit at pagmamahal ng isang nanay. Ngayon, hindi ko muna lilimutin na kinuha niyo sa akin ang aking mga kababata “natagpuang patay,” sabi ng mga kabitbahay. Higit sa lahat, pinaiyak niyo si inay hindi ko lilimutin pagkat ayaw ko nang umiiyak si inay
Liham Para Kay Inang Bayan by Aleiana Duque (12-Holland)
Ina, patawarin mo ako hindi ko nasagot ang tawag mo kahapon nang hiniling mo na marinig ang boses ko
Ina, patawarin mo ako hindi ko alam kung saan nanggaling ang mga pasa't hiwa na iyong nakikita sa aking katawan
Ngunit, hindi mo ako pinalaki nang hindi pinapahalagahan ang kahulugan ng katotohanan, kalayaan, at katarungan
Kaya magtatapat ako sa'yo ngayon, Ina sana'y iyong maintindihan na kailangan ko ialay ang sarili bilang sakripisyo para sa kinabukasan
Ina, patawarin mo ako naririnig ko na ngayon ang mga tawag mo — ngunit kahapon ay nangibabaw ang tawag ng mga biktima ng karahasan
Naririnig ko pa rin ang makabasag-tenga na hiyaw ng mga pinaslang na tunay na bayani na hanggang ngayo'y hindi matahimik at naririnig ko pa rin ang nakaririnding halakhak ng isang diktador na walang karapatang ilibing bilang isang bayani
(Ina, pakinggan mo ang iyong mga anak!)
Ina, patawarin mo ako kagabi'y umuwi akong bugbog-sarado at hindi mo na ko kailangang paulanan ng sermon dahil makita lamang ang iyong pagluha ay sapat na bilang parusa
Sa isang digmaan, hindi talaga maiiwasang mapagsamantalahan at masaktan dahil ang armas ng kalaban ay tumatalab 'di lamang sa katawan, ito rin ay sumusunggab sa puso't isipan
(Ina, huwag mo sana hayaang umuwi ang iyong mga anak nang hindi na lumalaban) Ina, nagbabalik ang inakalang patay na!
Tinatawag na kami ni Hustitia upang muling sumabak sa giyera at pangako ko sa'yo, Ina, hindi namin hahayaang muling mag-hari ang kadiliman
Hindi namin hahayaang muling manaig ang walang-sawang pagsisinungaling at pagnanakaw
Hindi namin hahayaang makalimutan ang pagkamatay ng demokrasya sa mga kamay ng isang pasista
Ina, walang makakalimot sa iyong pagsalo ng bawat patak ng dugo't luha ng iyong mga anak!
Tahan na, Ina, patuloy ang laban at patuloy ang aming pagwawagayway ng bandera
Untitled by Anonymous
Mata mo’y tinakip, iha Upang itago ka sa karahasan Nagmumula sa sariling Munting Inang Bayan Palad mo’y kinaltas, Kinaladkad sa lupa Ating bayang tinubuan, Binabastos ng tuluyan
Ngunit sino ang sasagip Sa mga naiwan sa dilim? Sino ang mananagutan Sa ating mga tiniis?
Ilabas ang tinitimping galit Tanggalin ang mga piring Pasiklabin ang damdamin Sa bayang ating giliw
Sigaw namin, iyong pakinggan Isapuso sa’yong isipan Ating laban, iyong simulan Nang di mabalikan ang ating nakaraan
Tumahan ka na, iha At imulat ang mga mata Narito na ang bagong araw Humayo ka at lumaban
Siyam na Saksi by Will Manahan (12-Anchieta)
Una - Takipsilim Malakahel na langit ang bubungad na unti-unting nangungutim. O Adan isa ito sa mga huling tanawing masasaksihan Hagkan mo ito at siguraduhing Magtatapos ang lahat sa kalaliman ng gabi. Ikalawa - Kinagabihan Ito ang saksi sa mga nagbabadya Adan ihanda mo ang iyong panangga Magkubli at magmuni Nilikha ka sa liwanag ngunit kinailangan mong matanaw ang tahimik na sakuna Ikatlo - Hating Gabi Buhay ka pa pala Adan Maliwanag na ang buwan, Lalabas ang mga aswang Pagbilang ng sampu Magtago kang muli Liban na lang kung ikaw ang mananaya Ikaapat - Madaling Araw Patuloy ang laban Nakabibingi ang mga putok ng mga baril at ng mga bungo. Isa lamang itong libangan Adan, bakit mo kinailangang abusuhin ang munting parausan? Ikalima - Bukang Liwayway Titilaok pa lamang ang manok Ngunit gising na ang bayan Sa mga usap-usapan Dulot ng naganap na panghahamok Adan, ikaw lang ang nakakaalam ng Katotohanan - umayo ka tapos magsalita na. Ikaanim - Kinaumagahan Masalimuot na araw sa iyo Adan,
Kay ganda pa naman ng sinag Na tumatagos sa balat ng mga buhay Pero ito rin ang naghuhubad Sa kasinungalingan Ito na ang paghuhukom Ikapito - Tanghaling Tapat Magbubukas na ang bagong kabanata Ikaw Adan - hinahatulan ka ng Walang hanggang buhay Para sa kadakilaan ng pagpuksa Sa mga demonyong naglilipana Ito na ang simula ng Rebelasyon Ikawalo - Kinahapunan Sa isang iglap, Nagbabaan ang mga anghel Inawit nila ang mga liriko Babalik sa simula ang pagwawakas Mga himig ni Satanas ang naguguniguni at naging isang tala si Adan. Ikasiyam - Takipsilim Adan - isa lamang siya Sa mga gunita ng mga sumisigaw Silang mga napilitang yakapin Ang kalawakan at maging tanda Na may mga tinig ang nagpupumiglas Huwag lang muling mapagtakpan
Alpas by Miguel Tan (11-Hurtado)
Tahimik ang gabi sapagkat ang paligid ay binabalot ng dilim Sa gilid at tabi-tabi, may tanikalang sa mukha’y takip nakapulupot, naka-igting Walang imik, walang sabi kung kaya’t walang maririnig mula sa sapot na sakim Nasa sabik ang lubid na tali tila lambat sa ibabaw ng bibig sinasaklot ang mga nais na daing Sisiksik pang lalo sa labi Mapupuknat ang balat ng ganid At kikirot sa gigil Hihigpit pa’t dinig ang bawat pitik at ratrat ng mabigat na kadena sa bawat bunot at hila ng bakal na talim Hanggang sa ito’y Tatalsik! Malalantad ang ngiti Mabubuklat ang ngising galit na suot pa’ng nagngangalit na ng ipin At babagsik, papalag ang inapi Isasambulat ang mga hiyaw na nilupig ng takot na kailanma’y di magagawang kumitil. At patuloy na maghihimagsik. Di namuli!
red by Denise So (11-Perez)
if rage was a color, it would be red. red like the skies that rain their tears down on the bodies of the forgotten, like they did once before. if grief was a color, it would be red. red like the streaks dripping down and obscuring a history that was deemed not worth remembering, as it repeats itself once more. if death was a color, it would be red. red like the scarlet flower that blooms from the mother’s chest, as blood seeps into the soil. if red is the color of past mistakes, why does it continue to paint the ground?
50/50 eulogy 3257 1972 ???? 2017 by Angelo Nieto (12-Holland)
adjust modify rewrite alter revise the burgundy on ephemeral pages, written in then-rubicund ink shed by 3257 twist distort warp contort deform the pictures painted across the syzygy that speak: never again (never?) (again?) erase delete scrap salvage abandon the scars that weep sanguine tears forty-five years on And I will remember. By the stone this story is etched in, I stand watch Lest they forget The sweetness of freedom The bitter iron fist The fire of uproar The fire of uproar. I will remember. In memory of the authors who inked This story in their blood, Of the names lost To the dictator’s word Of the justice we still seek Of the justice we still seek. I will remember. Take me to the fifteen steps, and fit the noose on my neck Or line me up against the wall, every caliber trained on my head Or tie me to the stake with chains, and burn me with my own words I will remember. I will remember. I will remember. I willremember I will remember I will remember i will remember remember I remember willI remember i will remember remember remember I I will i will i will I remember will I remember i remember i will Remember i Will I i will remember i will i will remember i will i will
i will i
What The Government Uses by Manuel Felizardo (12-Miki)
hollow pointed bullets fragments upon entering the body spreads poison faster than eyes blink explodes even the hardest skulls hollow pointed bullets aim the barrels at the people’s heads while they have their backs turned they’ll never know it hit ‘em hollow pointed bullets understated, subtle yet able to turn the biggest brains to mush sissy little Ares thinks it’s too much hollow pointed bullets secret weapon that’ll win us this war silences all voices of defiance our instant zombie makers
use literal hollow pointed bullets for those who dare speak up for those who dare think otherwise there’s no reason to argue with them one bullet each is all it takes use bullet points with hollow substance for those naive or desperate for those uninformed of truth and logic no need for credibility, just appeal to emotion feed them these points and they’ll happily die for you
We Run by Kyle Laurel (12-Kibe)
We run this spot like a massacre We don't stop We kill them all 'til their chests pop Never mind arrests When we've got our crew Not in the usual blue Firing at you At your hearts of glass With opaque bullets of brass Making the bloodbath an art form Your screams of terror Your wails of protest As our theme music Our goons and your corpses As power tools For construction of our tower One that rises Above all of you Why bother investing elsewhere? Why tend to your safety? It will only be of hindrance To this tyranny we run
WHY THEY CAN’T KILL US. by Elise Ofilada (12-Carvalho)
what are you afraid of? ghosts? the dead that don't know how to die? why? would they be coming for you? what could they possibly want? to possess you? to reincarnate into the whites of your knuckled fists? wouldn't that hurt them? wouldn't you think it's a pain to live joint in someone else's violence? look behind you. is anyone there? is anything dying to see the light? where are you going? where have they gone? aren't you, now, standing in their place?
CONTRA OMNES TYRANNI by Angelo Nieto (12-Holland)
suppose it is the ghost of the dictator, master of puppets genius of a megalomaniac two steps ahead, with his enemies on their way to the fifteen steps by his word suppose it is the strongman words are sawn-off shotguns it’s at the heat of the moment living deity, cult of personality following forty-five year old footsteps no matter what the powers that be I remain a sentinel, unmoving against their verbal battering rams against their crimson-stained steel against all tyrants against all tyrants, I make my stand let my name be another stone etching let my blood become burgundy on asphalt let my body be lost and irredeemable let my form be forgotten, but I will never forget for amnesia is the victory they crave.
Lost Accounts by Will Manahan (12-Anchieta)
It took a second for the bullet to make contact with an already wounded heart. Allowing it to penetrate as it pierced the flesh, waiting to shock another human out of life. Another minute for the pain Hit yesterday’s sweet honey back to reality that only time could tell them. Blood called out their name, screaming for help yet all it could do was to excruciate mankind. It curled and flowed An hour has passed by It took that long for the wound to be drenched. Mankind has crossed all their deadly rivers but it was God who chose to drown another corpse in its own blood Another day took place waiting for the unsuspecting spectator who is bound to witness the cadaver. Dragged by troubled waters across the very shores of peace and tranquility tarnished by another alleged accident. Murmurs surrounded the body - some claimed it was killed, Others thought it was suicide, most of them, however, transubstantiated Very little knew That it was a murder but
Never a crime. Another week has been, once again, hushed A month has passed, without answers in sight the invisible hand took over. It, however, crushed anyone who wishes to believe otherwise. The corpse meant to die. It had nowhere to go but hell for that "animal" deserved Suffering fit for a criminal Life went on As the invisible hand Constantly crushes anyone who dared Defying his own judgment A year has passed, The very first account Has also drowned with another History even forgot that it ever existed It took a decade for a brave soul to awaken the lifeless corpse That body Uncorrupted yet breathing. The soul was its harbinger for its much awaited revenge Silence has reigned for far too long the end is near, as pandemonium strikes again. Countless apparitions Took place hoping to replenish Mankind of their corrupted ways Some Corrupted, Very Few Succeeded but all were unaccredited. None however lasted, a century has passed and ghosts were still being hunted. Millenniums come and go But the cadaver of the very first Corpse Rotted without signs Of ever being found But the universe decided That it, too, shall be another star
In the galaxy waiting to explode I, too, shall be another corpse left unfound
Ang Babala ni Magdalene para sa pamilyang Marcos by Elise Ofilada (12-Carvalho)
'di ko rin malimutan, jusko— aking pagtagpo sa katawan yaring tunaw na paniniwala; siyang ‘kalokang paghimay ng rabaw, lupang ayaw lunukin ang hatol ng hukumang hinugas ang kamay sa mukha ng duguang, nilapastangang bangkay, ka-buwisit. ‘di pa ba kayo naniniwala? na kahit anong pilit-isuksok sa karimlan ng mundo, sa pinaka-malalim na hukay, nako, kahit sino pa 'yan— walang nananatiling nakalibing. tiyak, lahat ng sinakripisyo'y mabubuhay muli. at muli. abangan niyo lang.
This Is How We Remember by Nicole Anne Cobarrubias (12-Oldcorne)
and so if the gushes and wounds are the stories we cannot live to write, if all the unfathomable ways we burn and bleed make us no more than names tacked to brooding conversation, if the bloodbath can almost taste like freedom, like a word they have sentenced us into forgetting, let it be known that this is exactly how we have learned to remember.
Take A Step by Sergei Lim (12-Carvalho)
little child, mine, never once have i been afraid: —to take a step outside. i wander these roads, searching for something... worth it; never thought that life was not. —to look past the window. i look to the skies, trying to fathom — why— birds, drop like stones: ever ice cold. —to enter reality. i open my eyes, crying. tears blur, i can’t see; but, it is quite clear. crystal. little child, mine, be brave.
Coming Up For Air by Rizzie Rapada (12-Carvalho)
one day you will wake up, roll over your mattress, shake the sleep away from your eyes, and feel the heat of the morning sun leave your skin. one day you will watch as your words are taken from you; you will try to scream, but the air you breathe will not be yours, anymore. one day you will gaze upon the night, the stars glinting red— smiling eyes of the sickle moon— reflecting the ground you wish you never had to step on. one day you will mourn the light, the cries, the uncuffed wrists, the hands that once held placards, wrote poems, shook the world, demanding your freedom.
and one day you will look back, trying to find consolation in the things you could have done. (but didn’t do. if only you could.)
by Lilac Fameronag (11-Nakamura)