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Seffy | M | PH | NDWSP | Most of the stuff here is original; you'll know when it isn't | Message me if you want to use one from here

[ichieliebedich-blog]

What comes when it rains light?

Death, only death

There is no rapture

The heavens extend no mercy

At the dead of the night,

When the shadows of metal birds mimic

The grin on Beelzebub's face at the trembling-

Of a thousand innocent souls awaiting-

The smoldering judgment to fall upon them,

When angel's white wings are made of phosphor,

When the tongues of fire are of blazing napalm,

When the trumpets herald the coming doom:

Clouds of heat in the shape of mushroom,

The light that spares no space,

No room for life,

Only death indeed.

#

January 5, 2019

Wrote this after seeing a post regarding the bomber raining napalm upon Seito and Setsuko, and the lights are not fireflies at all.

[ichieliebedich-blog]

A Strange Cup Of Coffee

I don’t remember having to taste iron on coffee,

This hint of metal isn’t at all dainty,

But I am reminded that in the past few days,

Plunderers, traitors, beasts are now among us,

Roaming unpunished as the law of this land chase-

Those who aspire justice and freedom the most,

‘The kids who die’ in the words of Langston Hughes,

Children of earth who’d be victims to bombs and bullets,

Those who bled in the aisles of a cathedral in Jolo,

Or lay lifeless on the floor of a masjid in Zambo,

Those preyed upon, harassed, cordoned in hamlets,

Intimidated, threatened, arrested and murdered,

In Mindanao, or in the name of Randy Malayao-

Asleep on his bus seat, shot twice to make sure,

The most valiant of men fall in the darkest hour,

Dawn breaks illuminating the face of the martyr,

Among thousands sprawled in the path of the tyrant,

Yes, I don’t remember having to taste iron on coffee,

This cannot be good to start a morning this chilly,

Maybe it’s the cup, so I threw it–smashing against the wall,

Then there’s the pain coming from my lower lip,

Guess the cup hasn’t anything to do with the taste at all.

                                                  January 30, 2019

[ichieliebedich-blog]

The Mall @ Payday

Everyone’s walking around eyeing on– The skins, shirts, accessories worn- By the lifeless dolls inside glass tanks, Dull dimensions of a boring world, Colorized, framed in idiot screens and boxes, When the folks get tired of strolling, They pull out their own idiot pads, phones, From their branded bags, satchels, pockets – Of pants from the sweatshops in Asia, Things the mall people would know – Through their social media window, And nowhere would that information go, Other than the bottom of the feed, Some get lost in the hedges of garbs, Blooming with red and yellow price tags, Some will buy, some will only try, But the sales personnel could only smile, Some tried to be cool and grabbed a book, Took a look and a pic of a line that fits – The current relationship status of his, Oh, the people, souls lost in the maze, Of glass partitions and black mirrors, The unobvious labyrinth of the beast, Devouring the essence of the laboring man, And certainly, no one’s to be Theseus, 𝑰𝒏 𝒂 𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒅𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒂𝒚𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝒔𝒂𝒍𝒆.

(August 31, 2018)

[ichieliebedich-blog]

A dreary morning by the sea.

Photos taken on the morning of July 15, 2018 at Long Beach Resort Hotel in Paringao, Bauang, La Union Province. The resort was a pioneer in the La Union Province (1950). It has seen better days definitely. Though it’s still a good place to spend some time being with the sea. And the rates are very affordable (http://longbeachresorthotel.blogspot.com/p/rates_20.html).

[ichieliebedich-blog]

Bleak weather. Alone.

(And so I’m reminded of these photos I’ve taken on May 12 at my professor’s house).

[ichieliebedich-blog]

𝒃𝒂𝒚𝒃𝒂𝒚

Photos taken before dusk of July 15, 2018. Fisher folk from Paringao, Bauang, La Union drag their catch ashore with the 𝘥𝘢𝘬𝘭𝘪𝘴 - the Ilocano fishing dragnet.

[ichieliebedich-blog]

A Nighttime Story

I remember the sun was high that midday, I remember how it hurt when hunger pangs Father returned from the fields with nothing Not a single grain of rice was on his hands 

I remember the sun was high that midday, I remember how the heat scorched the earth How the harsh drought robbed us of bounty Of anything we could put above the hearth

I remember the sun was high that midday, I remember the noise, the comrades calling "We need to demand for the aid!" they say "Act now or we all die in hunger!" they say

I remember the sun was high that midday, The march to the capitol, the calm, then the fray, I remember clutching to my father's hands We scampered from the scuffle, ran away

I remember the sun was high that midday, I remember father fell to the ground that day I remember the words said unto me as he lay Dying from a bullet wound on the chest, he say:

"Child, tell our story to your sons and daughters So my blood would be avenged someday"

I still remember, children, I still remember How I swore to the heavens, at the lords and their men- The remorseless, how that day was not ours nor theirs, And how the night just like ours, will give an answer.

#

This poem is dedicated to the martyrs of the Kidapawan Massacre on March 30, 2016. Two years and some months of no justice. As an unjust agricultural economy that maintains a feudal character ruled by antagonistic landlords, massacres of peasants by the state armed forces have riddled Philippine history. But the struggle for land, rights and justice could only intensify with these atrocities.

Learn more on the Philippine Peasant Mass Movement on this Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/kilusangmagbubukid/

[ichieliebedich-blog]

When the will is weak

The mind is imbecilic

Truth is then obscene

[ichieliebedich-blog]

Salt and Iron

Salt and iron,

Blood on the water,

The sea has taken another-

A fallen worker

Of vessels of men

Of conquerors and lords

Of the imperial contraption.

A lust for power,

The sea will take another.

Salt and iron,

Hot blood on saltwater,

The earth beneath cries for-

The betrayed and fallen,

It groans, it grieves,

The sea heaves,

A great wave

Of salt and iron,

Of boiling blood and water,

Laying waste to the contraption-

Of the foolishly ambitious,

And the sea will take no more.

#

Recently, the workers of Hanjin Shipyard in Subic, Philippines have been organizing themselves to protest against inhumane working conditions, meager wages, insecurity of tenure and contractualization of labor. These unjust practices have been with the Korean Hanjin Heavy Industries and Construction Philippines (HHIC Phil) since their operation commenced in the country on 2006. The current death toll among workers is 60 (common causes of fatality are drowning and falling from great heights as the construction scaffolding often fail).

Learn more from the laborers’ organizations Kilos Na Manggagawa [FB: https://www.facebook.com/KILOSNAManggagawa/] and Kilusang Mayo Uno [FB: https://www.facebook.com/kilusangmayouno/; Twitter and IG: @kilusangmayouno]

[ichieliebedich-blog]

aldaw

Scenes in Bauko Municipality during the day of May 26, 2018.

[ichieliebedich-blog]

The Misery of the Dark Elder

(Before it devours the lesser sentient)

 I’ve been drifting a thousand light years,

Counting ages and eons,

Waiting for no one.

But eternity.

I’ve came from no one,

Or nothing I’ve known.

I was bereft of the knowledge

Of my source, who’s likely a transcendent.

You can never comprehend the void,

My emptiness, my longing.

Look at me, foolish denizen!

Look at the darkness which is your destruction!

Look into the blackness you’ve failed to conquer!

Your lust for power,

A force greater than I,

It is a folly you cannot admit,

That you seek to quench only your longing-

As much as I.

 And on that brief moment of mutuality,

There were two less lonely fools in the universe.

[ichieliebedich-blog]

I stare at the stars

Phosphorescent as they’re lowly-

Made of men, I stare-

At the glimmer of the ember

Of a lit cigarette

A pathetic remnant

Of what used to be fiery

Being with you, at the front

Where the stars descend

Upon the mountains,

Masses rock-solid as your will

To vanquish the bravos

Of men who cannot defend-

Themselves from looming judgment

 I face the galaxies

Sitting on a mountain’s shadow

A landmass already hollowed

As you, across a universe

Of struggles I claim mine,

Of light years of fluorescent

And neon and decadent,

You, at war against the cosmos

Of men who’ve claimed this mount

Your flame does not waver

Radiating against obscuring dark

Awaiting just the moment

It’ll burst through the parallel

 Then I will see you again

Just to tell – I have loved you then

                               Baguio, April 22, 2018

(Photo taken on May 12, 2018 along Session Road, Baguio City)

[ichieliebedich-blog]

malem

(Ilokano: afternoon period to dusk) All photos taken probably at 5:30 to 6PM of May 25, 2018 while on the way to the community in Bauko Municipality where we would spend the night.

[ichieliebedich-blog]

bannawag

Ilokano word for dawn (still have to check if it's the same term in Kankana-ey). Pictures taken on the early morning of May 26, 2018 at a 𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘰 in Bauko Municipality, Mountain Province.

[ichieliebedich-blog]

Don't Panic They're O r g a n i c

Photos of crops and other plants in the backyard and rooftop gardens of urban poor women in Baguio City. The crops are definitely organic and very safe for human consumption as these ingenious women with the guidance and assistance of Cordillera Women's Education and Action Research Center (CWEARC), utilize natural pesticide and fertilizer from the compost casts of African Night Crawler Worms (Eudrilus eugeniae). This process called vermiculture wherein the worms are put on casts and fed of biodegradable waste, also helps in reducing the heaping waste on the praticing women's respective communities.

Vermiculture is one component of the CWEARC initiative Ayyew-Ubbo. This is the response of the poor folk especially women, on the worsening garbage crisis in the Summer Capital of the Philippines. The goal of this endeavor is to employ indigenous knowledge and cooperation in reducing waste/wastefulness. Ayyew is a Cordilleran concept of regret in throwing away materials; therefore, it is also choosing wisely what to keep and what's for the bin. While ubbo is an indigenous system of community-wide cooperation. Combined, ayyew-ubbo is a system of cooperation among households and individuals to reduce waste through ingenious community efforts such as vermiculture.

Learn more from http://www.cwearc.org/en/