December, 2000 Volume 3, Issue 3 Past Issues About dis/content Editorial Collective Contributors Contact Us Submissions Links Home   Two Poems [continued] Megamall in Metro Manila A shrimp’s life, one scratch and three pecks. Your vision is shrouded by Stateside goods galore even though you don’t know the signification of commodity fetishism. Condolence to the down and out. The country’s progressing, they say. We owe this to the “new heroes” – the domestics (Overseas Contract Workers) in Hong Kong, Singapore, Saudi, and in Subic, Alabang, and elsewhere. No more barricades even though the crocodiles continue to scavenge the shores. The odor of Pasig River reaches the boudoir of Malakanyang. “Utang na loob” [inner debt] and “hiya” [shame] are alleged to be the two keys to the character of the Filipino. We watch on the movie screen the fantastic rumbles of Schwarzenegger, James Bond, Bruce Lee and Sigourney Weaver. Your thick skull might be contaminated by the fate that’s written on the wall. For the nation to develop, FREE TRADE ZONES and credit cards are needed. Kaput. . . . Tailing behind, you leap and die. In order to test the purity of gold, commit juramentado in Jollibee. Wherever the wilderness, snakes abound, approved by the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund. In the crowds flowing down the escalator, cowgrunts and horsesighs encounter the antennae of your conscience. “Look at yourself, like a shitty rogue.” Because the GNP rose, we don’t need the New People’s Army. The victims of military zoning are piling up, while in Muntinlupa rot the political prisoners. Debts outside up to the hilt, what about debts within? Up to now, no deal, brod. Your strategy’s a dud. Your dreams are now on motorcycles. Still take care? The pain’s in-between the toes but. . . . “Shit, you even named me an accomplice.” When the pile’s way up, it’s time to level it with the strickle. Previous section     Table of Contents