Your Philippines is stripped naked
by the logger's teeth;
raped by the treasure diggers,
leaving her a prostitute by the
blistering embrace of a foreign hand.
My Philippines is gifted
with its mountain peaks,
surging reverently to the heaven,
beaded by trees, blanketed by forest;
veiled by the clouds.
Upon its shade, rests a home,
a sweet home for its local dwellers.
Your Philippine land
is turned into haciendas
by few multi-nationals.
Its plants are mono-cultured,
its products turned into agri-business,
its choicest fruits are served
on the foreign plate.
My Philippine land is to be shared;
made into mini-farms by the Filipinos;
its plants multi-cultured,
its products, the means of livelihood,
its choicest fruits serve the native mouth.
Your Philippine mountain, in the years ahead
will desert their position,
to invade the rivers, mangrove and seas,
rendering the fishing nets useless,
leaving man's mouth gaping-empty.
My Philippines must be cared for.
get rid of nature's rapers
whether illegal or legal.
Get them to put on their pants,
chase them out of this sacred land,
less they plunge mankind into the empty kettle.
My dream will come true:
only when I take pride of what is my own
and not of others;
only when I can think with my own mind
without the intervening grasp of foreigners.
For the value of man, as in any race
lies not in the gathering of possessions made by others
but by producing something through his creative mind.
Crude might be his creations but these will move
toward excellence, with his dignity exalted.