Running Amok
In the slums of Tondo, people dwell
in shacks of cardboard, bits of bamboo,
corrugated metal, and a few cement blocks.
They come from all the provinces--
a farmer’s son from Cagayan,
a coal miner from Bulacan,
a field hand from the banana plantations
of Davao. They come to Manila
for work, for better pay.
The highest incidence of men
running amok is in Tondo,
or at least, that’s what the local tabloids
have for headlines every week. Amok in Tondo
kills seven! Police shoot him to death!
During the Filipino-American War
from 1900 to 1902, the Colt .45 pistol
was refined to kill crazed
Moro fighters who ran amok
and would not stop attacking
with rabid animal urgency
when shot with bullets of lesser caliber.
The superstitious old women in Tondo say
that no rice, no shoes, and no work
breed beetles and violence.
They say that small black beetles
can lay eggs in a man’s ear,
and this is what makes a man run.
poem by Nick Carbo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Hari Ng Tondo
Kahit sa patalim kumapit
Isang tuka isang kahig
Ang mga kamay na may bahid ng galit
Kasama sa buhay na minana
Isang maling akala na ang taliwas kung minsan ay tama
Ang hari ng tondo, hari ng tondo
Baka mabansagan ka na hari ng tondo
Hari ng tondo, hari ng tondo-ohhh
Baka mabansagan ka na hari ng tondo
[Voice: 'May gatas ka pa sa labi, gusto mo nang mag-hari dito sa Tondo? ']
Minsan sa isang lugar sa Maynila
Maraming nangyayari
Ngunit takot ang dilang
Sabihin ang lahat
Animo'y kagat-kagat
Kahit itago'y 'di mo pwedeng pigilin ang alamat na umusbong
Kahit na madami ang ulupong
At halos hindi iba ang laya sa pagkakulong
Sa kamay ng iilan
Umaabusong kikilan
Ang lahat ng pumalag
Walang tanong
Ay kitilan ng buhay
Hukay, luha'y magpapatunay
Na kahit hindi makulay
Kailangang magbigay-pugay
Sa kung sino mang lamang
Mga bitukang halang
At kung wala kang alam
Ay yumuko ka nalang
Hanggang sa may nagpasya
Na sumalungat sa agos
Wasakin ang mga kadena na siyang gumagapos
Sa kwento na mas astig pa sa bagong-tahi na lonta
Sabay-sabay nating awitin ang tabing na tolda
[ Lyrics from:
Kahit sa patalim kumapit
Isang tuka isang kahig
Ang mga kamay na may bahid ng galit
Kasama sa buhay na minana
Isang maling akala na ang taliwas kung minsan ay tama
Ang hari ng tondo, hari ng tondo
Baka mabansagan ka na hari ng tondo
Hari ng tondo, hari ng tondo-ohhh
Baka mabansagan ka na hari ng tondo
[Voices: 'Sino ang may sabi sa inyo na pumasok kayo sa teritoryo ko? Amin ang lupang ito.' 'Hindi, kay Asiong! ']
Nilusong ang kanal na sa pangalan niya'y tumawag
Alang-alang sa iba, tsaka na muna ang paawat
Sa maling nagagawa na tila nagiging tama
Ang tunay na may kailangan ang siyang pinatatamasa
Lahat sila'y takot, nakakapaso ang 'yong galit
Mga bakal na may nagbabagang tinggang papalit-palit sa hangin na masangsang
Nakakapanghina ang nana at hindi mo matanggal na para bang sima ng panang
Nakakulawit subalit sa kabila ng lahat
Ay ang halimuyak lamang ng nag-iisang bulaklak
Ang siyang tanging naghahatid sa kanya sa katinuan
At hindi ipagpapalit sa kahit na sinuman
Ngunit nang dumating ang araw na gusto na niyang talikuran
Ay huli na ang lahat
At sa kamay ng kaibigan
Ipinasok ang tingga
Tumulo ang dugo sa lonta
Ngayon, alam niyo na ang kwento ni Asiong Salonga
Kahit sa patalim kumapit
Isang tuka isang kahig
Ang mga kamay na may bahid ng galit
Kasama sa buhay na minana
Isang maling akala na ang taliwas kung minsan ay tama
Ang hari ng tondo, hari ng tondo
Baka mabansagan ka na hari ng tondo
Hari ng tondo, hari ng tondo-ohhh
Baka mabansagan ka na hari ng tondo
poem by Sirius White
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Thinking Of Your Work And Life (Cavatina Sequence)
Thinking of your work and life, a yearning
to earn much more;
where now I do lack all kinds of good things,
where you deplore
me for my lack to breed, build and to become
great as before;
still I have a good sense of confidence
while my words are reaching for excellence.
Yet with similar conviction I am
still reaching out
to a world that is beyond all human sight,
loud you may shout
and act in word and deed very harshly
and bring about
great acts of violence and great strife
while unseen forces of darkness wreck my life;
but hours and days of utter loneliness
wreaks their havoc
and forever ticking and running on
is the old clock;
wealth and snobbism enfolds you like a cloak;
running amok
are the words and deeds of my enemies
while constantly I only long for peace.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Datemi Una Pompa
Stai qui, bastardo posto,
fuori dal mondo e sempre pi nascosto
stai qui, amico muto,
come se fossi un bel vestito vuoto
io voglio andarmene via di qua!
Pompa, pompa, datemi una pompa
perch mi sento un palloncino
pompa, pompa, datemi una pompa
voglio volare sul cielo alpino.
Stai qui sulla ringhiera,
fa presto tardi e presto viene sera
stai qui, con l'anima stanca
fra tutta questa nervosa gente bianca
io voglio andarmene, via di qua!
Pompa, pompa, datemi una pompa
perch mi sento un palloncino
pompa, pompa, datemi una pompa
voglio volare sul cielo alpino.
Se fossi un aeroplano,
che fa un giro tondo, uh da da
dipingerei arcobaleni,
che rasserenino il mondo, uh da da
portami via lontano, su ali di velluto, uhm babe
che ho tanto freddo e mi sono perduto!
Come on junkie, move it
Con on junkie, let's move it
che viene sera e vado via di qua
Pompa, pompa, datemi una pompa
perch mi sento un palloncino
pompa, pompa, datemi una pompa
voglio cantare col nonno Pino.
Se fossi un aeroplano,
che fa un giro tondo, uh da da
dipingerei arcobaleni,
che rasserenino il mondo, uh da da
portami via lontano, su ali di velluto, uhm babe
che ho tanto freddo e mi sono perduto!
Come on, che come vedi,
si pu volare anche con finte ali
come on, che il sole manca,
fra tutta questa nervosa gente bianca
io voglio andarmene, via di qua!
Pompa, pompa, datemi una pompa
perch mi sento un palloncino
pompa, pompa, datemi una pompa
voglio volare sul cielo alpino.
Pompa, pompa, datemi una pompa
Perch mi sento come l'Irene
Pompa, pompa, datemi una pompa
Potresti almeno volermi bene
song performed by by Zucchero
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Round the Rugged Rocks (Death Poem)
...the rugged
Raskols ran amok again
Using guns, knives and stones
Made black a sunny Port Moresby day
Robbery the intent, murder on their minds
Sir George attacked by thirty animals
Tete settlement violence victim
Just another day in Paradise
Airways breakfast last
Of his 78 years.
poem by Ian Beckett
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A Wonderful Beetle——Shi Xiaoqun
Beetles, beetles beautiful movie star,
Shi Xiaoqun is the emperor's lover of Ir star,
Beetles, beetles beautiful movie star,
How I wonder who you are.
Up above the world so high,
Like an empress in the star,
Beetles, beetles beautiful movie star,
How I wonder who you are.
Beetles, beetles beautiful movie star,
Shi Xiaoqun is the emperor's lover of Ir star,
Beetles, beetles beautiful movie star,
How I wonder who you are.
Up above the world so high,
Like an empress in the star,
Beetles, beetles beautiful movie star,
How I wonder who you are.
When the world loses love and tolerance,
When I no more love you,
When you no more love me,
Then you know what will happen!
Beetles, beetles beautiful movie star,
How I wonder who you are.
Beetles, beetles beautiful movie star,
Shi Xiaoqun is the emperor's lover of Ir star,
Beetles, beetles beautiful movie star,
How I wonder who you are.
poem by Zhijian Jiang
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Forty Hour Week
forty hour week (for a livin')
There are people in this country who work hard every day.
Not for fame or fortune do they strive.
But the fruits of their labor are worth more than their pay.
And it's time a few of them were recognized.
Hello detroit auto workers, let me thank you for your time.
You work a forty hour week for a livin', just to send it on down the line.
Hello pittsburgh steel mill workers, let me thank you for your time.
You work a forty hour week for a livin', just to send it on down the line.
This is for the one who swings the hammer, driving home the nail.
Or the one behind the counter, ringing up the sale.
Or the one who fights the fires, the one who brings the mail.
For everyone who works behind the scenes.
You can see them every morning in the factories and the fields.
In the city streets and the quiet country towns.
Working together like spokes inside a wheel.
They keep this country turning around.
Hello kansas wheat field farmer, let me thank you for your time.
You work a forty hour week for a livin', just to send it on down the line.
Hello west virginia coal miner, let me thank you for your time.
You work a forty hour week for a livin', just to send it on down the line.
This one is for the one who drives the big rig, up and down the road.
Or the one out in the warehouse, bringing in the load.
Or the waitress, the mechanic, the policeman on patrol.
For everyone who works behind the scenes.
With a spirit you can't replace with no machine.
Hello, america,
Let me thank you for your time.
song performed by by Alabama
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Darling
my love for her always boils down to
money, credit and ATM cards, and
trips and vacations,
expensive clothes, and flashy cars
and a modern house
in the suburbia
she slides
my ATM card, relies on my credit card,
and plans my trip to islands with white sands
and expensive margaritas
she imagines the next trip
in Hongkong, Singapore, Thailand
China,
and Austria, and i jokingly add
the North Pole
just to check how white are the glaciers
and how warm is it
inside the igloo
and the United States of America
Las Vegas, and Texas
and visit some of her friends
in Chicago and California
not to mention her New Yorker
friend from Tondo
expensive dreams of my darling
but i do not really mind,
she will soon pay for all of them
you bet.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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How fast does time fly by
How fast does time fly by
and with a wink of the eye,
the world has changed.
The time of sweet solitude,
unlocked doors
and little cares are past.
How fast have every thing changed
from a world of promise,
to a world gone wild and mad.
Before I can wipe
the sleep from my eyes,
I find myself in another time and place.
Uneducated people
are running my country,
into the ground.
Kids have no respect
and run their own lives
and use drugs and steal,
live only for themselves
and the here and now
like a bunch of hooligans running amok.
There’s corruption and gangsters everywhere
and hijackers and house invaders
and the police do not really seem to care.
How fast does time fly by
and with a wink of the eye,
the world has changed.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Turning corporations loose and letting the profit motive run amok is not a prescription for a more livable world.
quote by Tom Scholz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Frankenfood
Science has run amok with GM Food
By splicing genes of animals’ n’ plants
Please don’t think me unkind or rude
Aren’t we better off eating weeds n’ ants
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Chariots Of Fire
The small dung beetles lot is a chariot of fire
For some it is a life of a slinking liar,
To get a wife he has to be tall
Fact is some are dam too small.
To get among the hen pecking lot
The big fellow has an easy choice on the spot,
After a hard day’s work rolling up the dung
He’s off home to his wife for dinner and fun.
The little chap dines alone like a single sire
Now for fun he saddles up his chariot of fire,
He rides off to the big guys love nest without any din
Sneaks past him, up to the loft for his wages of sin.
The beetle chick loves him for his gallantry and guts
Gives him love and dung biscuits in his hand she puts,
On his chariot of fire He sneaks off into the night
Silent satisfied disappears out of sight.
NB. FACT
Scientists found this behaviour of the smaller
Beetles and when dissecting them found the
Smaller beetle had bigger testes.
poem by Ken e Hall
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Who who who Says the Night Owl
Who's awake at this dark drowned hour?
Who's asleep running amok in the zoo?
Who's creatin?
Who's exploitin?
Who's bored
chainsmkoin
up at two
with nuthin to do?
Who waves?
Who openly engages
the sad dog eyes roamin
sub purgatory streets?
Who bums a smoke
who buys a round
roamin town
coversatin
with every strange
stranger he meets?
poem by Gregory Allen Uhan
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Shoot Shoot
Was a fast tough woman loved to play the clown
You wont do nothin about it
Break a good boys resistance down
Know shes got a pistol
Laid it down on me
She said shoot, shoot, shoot it boy
You gotta shoot it for me
Convinced me that she was worth it
Never knew I was her kill
And two 45s would do the trick and pay the bills
*know shes got a pistol
Laid it down on me
And she said shoot, shoot, shoot it boy
You gotta shoot it for me
** Ive really got to get a fast ride out of here
Gotta get a fast ride out of here
Gotta get a fast ride out of here
Gotta get a fast ride out of here now
--solo--
Holding out in my hotel room police they finally come
Had her as the prosecution, and my prints upon the gun
* repeat
** repeat
song performed by by Ufo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blues For Barack - Work Song
The glinty-eyed Roman faces in suits
that stand behind you
are all white, like the papers you sign.
the patrons at the bar in Birdland
would shout work work
when Lester lept into a solo.
I remember why he drank himself
to death
in a small room at the Alvin. Do you?
There are nameless voices that cry out
from the Chattahoochee
Brickyard in Atlanta. Mr Backlash Mr Backlash
sweat & blood stolen like money
transmigrating generations
James W. English, First National Bank,
Coca Cola, Wachovia Securities
work work
god bless the child that got his...
the abandoned graveyard of Tennesse Coal
Iron & Railroad
has been bulldozed
There never were any markers anyway
US Steel owns
the mine now but no memory
of the 30,000 black forced laborers
who died there
what compensation? Work work
there is a woman sitting in a tenament
wondering what
to feed her child today. work work
there is a man sleeping on a piece
of cardboard
over an open grate
there is a crack whore turning tricks
a boy 'shamed
to go to school without shoes.
today we hear that there will be
no financing
of contraceptives. Work work
there are those who speak
of love
without reading history
Pope Nicolas V started the slave trade
to convert the
'Moors, heathens, & other enemies of Christ'
What if i don't want your love?
show respect? ? ! !
Mr Backlash. Mr Backlash
The old ones said do what you will
& harm none
The native peoples advised
take only what you need
& give thanks
when the christians spoke
the light went out of those eyes.
there were black
overseers back in the slave days too
work work
poem by Peter Bormuth
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I Don't Wanna Work
Well i give it little care
Does anybody out there even know
I'm in here?
I just keep my movement going
Somewhere
Like playing in the background baby
Like playing in the background baby
I play the game
You play the way that most men would choose
I'm surprised at you
Way back in the middle of a broken down love affair
You and i found each other
And we fell in love
I ain't never met a man and woman get along better
Than you and i when get together
Still i say
I don't wanna work that hard
I don't wanna work that hard
Don't wanna work that hard
I don't wanna work that hard
Don't wanna work that hard
I don't wanna work that hard
Not if it makes me cry
No no
See the lady walking down the street
She's got on high heel shoes
And her hair full of curlers
She's got stiletto nails
And some black mascara
She's got a push up and a pick up
I tell you that girl's working overtime
I don't wanna work that hard
I don't wanna work that hard
I don't wanna work that hard
Don't wanna work that hard
I don't wanna work that hard
Not if it makes me cry
No no no no no no
I don't wanna work
I don't wanna work that hard
I don't wanna work it if makes me cry
Spent last night
Talking to myself in bed
Wondering why i do this over
Over and over again
I don't know
I, i, i, i don't wanna work that hard
I don't wanna work that hard
Not when it makes me cry
I don't wanna work that hard
I don't wanna work not that hard
I don't wanna work it it makes me cry
I don't wanna work that hard
I don't wanna work not that hard
I don't wanna work if it makes me cry
song performed by by Donna Summer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love- Her Fun
I loved a flower
Beetles
Swarmed round
The flower
I asked imploringly
they
Did not go
but to
Blackmail threat
Gone
yet
The flower allured
Such beetles
Calling back
Again and again
Beetles
Swarmed round
The flower I loved
...................................
. ..................................
I asked the flower
All my friends
including you
Said the flower.
Love- her fun
I routinely top
poem by Parithi Muthurasan
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The Farmer's Bride (Cavatina Sequence) (In Answer To Charlotte Mew)
There was a farmer's wife, who was afraid
every day,
was driven wild with unmentioned fear;
always away
she was hidden beyond some lock and key,
never was gay
but doves gathered at her window sill,
many birds fluttered near at her will.
Without much love she was driven to work,
once she did flee
with the farmer and his labourers searching;
she was happy
while she was hiding in the large cornfield,
was from fear free,
later sneaked into the nearest church,
while drunk from the bar her husband did lurch.
Like a small animal she was hiding,
the minister
prayed for her but then took her back home,
quite sinister
acted the farmer as he whipped her,
did register
her into a lunatic asylum
and of his actions that was the sum.
The magpie's feathers did lie in her room
and she was gone
as if she had suddenly taken flight,
had moved on,
one day to a much better loving world,
but all alone
until his sudden death the farmer was,
they found him deep in a field of green grass.
[Reference: 'The Farmer's Bride' by Charlotte Mew.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Season Of Unrest
Watching TV, I really can’t quite believe my eyes.
The country’s losing control, I’m starting to realise.
If I was caught up in the riots, I’d be shaking with fear,
But, to be honest, I wouldn’t even dare venture near.
All that people can see for many miles around,
Are buildings on fire, being razed to the ground.
Some people have literally lost all their possessions,
Which hits them harder in this time of recession.
Faced with rioters with masks to hide their faces,
Riot-trained police are put through their paces.
The authorities seem to be rapidly losing control,
And their lack of strong presence is taking its toll.
In some places, are police dressed in their riot gear.
All around, you can almost smell the sense of fear.
Cars and buildings are being deliberately set on fire.
People are running amok till their heart’s desire.
They’re breaking down people’s front doors,
As well as looting goods from the nearby stores.
Many shops have had their windows smashed;
Their goods carried off to where the loot is stashed.
Petrol bombs and missiles are being thrown at the police,
Who are doing their best to restore relative peace.
The streets are bathed in orange firelight,
As police and rioters continue to fight.
Staff have locked themselves in; to scared to leave work.
Scared of getting caught up in the mobs going berserk.
TV reporters try their very best to keep us up to date,
But, with their own lives at risk, reports have to wait.
Unrest has now spread far and wide.
Law abiding citizens run and hide.
People are being forced to leave their homes.
Through the dark streets, terrified, they roam.
Unrest has been brewing for quite a while.
With cutbacks and job losses, people get riled.
People wonder where will be targeted next.
The whole country, this problem now affects.
I’m concerned for the safety of a dear friend.
I do so wish these awful riots would end.
I really do hope that it’s not long before,
Peace and harmony are restored once more.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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There have been times in my life that I've had a ton of vices, and my demons have run amok for years and years and years.
Leaping Fire
Trees jump up behind the orange flames;
flames surges high – oh high.
Crackling is heard;
Flying ashes is seen.
Girl amid the sprinkling heat.
Flames surges high – oh high.
Heat intensifies,
tears swell in eyes…
…the breeze blows the crackling fire amok.
Run cries the wind, run Girl!
Trees murmur,
sirens in the distance are heard.
Circles of circles:
leaping fire –
leaves, branches are swung
carelessly among the fire amok.
Run cries the wind, run Girl!
Leaping, leaping high into the:
echoing distance –
the fire runs in the mind.
Sirens are heard in the distance
race across town, across
the open city lights of:
heavy burdens…
…only in the mind leaping fire
controls the lonely, oh the lonely.
Fire away, fire away of:
heavy burden.
Leaping fire leaves the mind.
Run cries the wind, run Girl!
Running afar –
sirens racing to catch time,
to catch the heavy burden
cast on:
Run, run Girl…
…and leaping fire
Moves of to disturb:
Another helpless mind.
poem by Celine Berghmans
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