This is too good not to share...

Papa Ken emailed me this. Astig!!! Sa wakas!!! Enjoy po mga repapips.

"Bala" Chords and Lyrics
(M. Lorica/LadyBedspacers)

Intro: A-D (4x)

A D A

bilis, halika na

D A
ano pa ba'ng ginagawa

D
natin sa kuwarto mong

A D A D
inaamag na, inaamag na...

(do stanza chords)
nakikita mo ba,
ang nakikita ko ngayon?
pungay ng iyong matang
ang ganda-ganda...
ang ganda-ganda

A E D E
at tumalon na tayo sa bangin,

A-E D E
magpasagasa pa tayo sa tren,

A E D E
paputukan man tayo ng baril,

D E
dahil 'pag kasama ka

D E (pause) (intro chords)
hindi ako tinatablan… ng bala

(do stanza chords)
h'wag nang magalit pa
at ako'y patawarin na
h'wag nating tapusin
sa walang kuwentang
pagtatampuhan

(repeat chorus)

A E D A

at tumalon ka na, h'wag nang matakot pa

E D A
sa damdamin mo'y walang lugar ang kaba

E D, F#m-E-D (4x)
Itakwil ang hiya, sabay tayong tumawa...

(do stanza chords)

h'wag tayong hihinga
at nandyan na malapit na
dahan-dahanin lang
ang iyong pagkanta...

(repeat chorus 2x except last 2 words)

dahil pag kasama ka

hindi ako tinatablan… ng bala

The War Prayer by Mark Twain

It was a time of great and exalting excitement. The country was up in arms, the war was on, in every breast burned the holy fire of patriotism; the drums were beating, the bands playing, the toy pistols popping, the bunched firecrackers hissing and spluttering; on every hand and far down the receding and fading spread of roofs and balconies a fluttering wilderness of flags flashed in the sun; daily the young volunteers marched down the wide avenue gay and fine in their new uniforms, the proud fathers and mothers and sisters and sweethearts cheering them with voices choked with happy emotion as they swung by; nightly the packed mass meetings listened, panting, to patriot oratory which stirred the deepest deeps of their hearts, and which they interrupted at briefest intervals with cyclones of applause, the tears running down their cheeks the while; in the churches the pastors preached devotion to flag and country, and invoked the God of Battles beseeching His aid in our good cause in outpourings of fervid eloquence which moved every listener. It was indeed a glad and gracious time, and the half dozen rash spirits that ventured to disapprove of the war and cast a doubt upon its righteousness straightway got such a stern and angry warning that for their personal safety's sake they quickly shrank out of sight and offended no more in that way.

Sunday morning came—next day the battalions would leave for the front; the church was filled; the volunteers were there, their young faces alight with martial dreams—visions of the stern advance, the gathering momentum, the rushing charge, the flashing sabers, the flight of the foe, the tumult, the enveloping smoke, the fierce pursuit, the surrender! Then home from the war, bronzed heroes, welcomed, adored, submerged in golden seas of glory! With the volunteers sat their dear ones, proud, happy, and envied by the neighbors and friends who had no sons and brothers to send forth to the field of honor, there to win for the flag, or, failing, die the noblest of noble deaths. The service proceeded; a war chapter from the Old Testament was read; the first prayer was said; it was followed by an organ burst that shook the building, and with one impulse the house rose, with glowing eyes and beating hearts, and poured out that tremendous invocation

*God the all-terrible! Thou who ordainest! Thunder thy clarion and lightning thy sword!*

Then came the "long" prayer. None could remember the like of it for passionate pleading and moving and beautiful language. The burden of its supplication was, that an ever-merciful and benignant Father of us all would watch over our noble young soldiers, and aid, comfort, and encourage them in their patriotic work; bless them, shield them in the day of battle and the hour of peril, bear them in His mighty hand, make them strong and confident, invincible in the bloody onset; help them to crush the foe, grant to them and to their flag and country imperishable honor and glory --

An aged stranger entered and moved with slow and noiseless step up the main aisle, his eyes fixed upon the minister, his long body clothed in a robe that reached to his feet, his head bare, his white hair descending in a frothy cataract to his shoulders, his seamy face unnaturally pale, pale even to ghastliness. With all eyes following him and wondering, he made his silent way; without pausing, he ascended to the preacher's side and stood there waiting. With shut lids the preacher, unconscious of his presence, continued with his moving prayer, and at last finished it with the words, uttered in fervent appeal, "Bless our arms, grant us the victory, O Lord our God, Father and Protector of our land and flag!"

The stranger touched his arm, motioned him to step aside—which the startled minister did—and took his place. During some moments he surveyed the spellbound audience with solemn eyes, in which burned an uncanny light; then in a deep voice he said:

"I come from the Throne—bearing a message from Almighty God!" The words smote the house with a shock; if the stranger perceived it he gave no attention. "He has heard the prayer of His servant your shepherd, and will grant it if such shall be your desire after I, His messenger, shall have explained to you its import—that is to say, its full import. For it is like unto many of the prayers of men, in that it asks for more than he who utters it is aware of—except he pause and think.

"God's servant and yours has prayed his prayer. Has he paused and taken thought? Is it one prayer? No, it is two—one uttered, the other not. Both have reached the ear of Him Who heareth all supplications, the spoken and the unspoken. Ponder this—keep it in mind. If you would beseech a blessing upon yourself, beware! lest without intent you invoke a curse upon a neighbor at the same time. If you pray for the blessing of rain upon your crop which needs it, by that act you are possibly praying for a curse upon some neighbor's crop which may not need rain and can be injured by it.

"You have heard your servant's prayer—the uttered part of it. I am commissioned of God to put into words the other part of it—that part which the pastor—and also you in your hearts -- fervently prayed silently. And ignorantly and unthinkingly? God grant that it was so! You heard these words: 'Grant us the victory, O Lord our God!' That is sufficient. the *whole* of the uttered prayer is compact into those pregnant words. Elaborations were not necessary. When you have prayed for victory you have prayed for many unmentioned results which follow victory--*must* follow it, cannot help but follow it. Upon the listening spirit of God fell also the unspoken part of the prayer. He commandeth me to put it into words. Listen!

"O Lord our Father, our young patriots, idols of our hearts, go forth to battle—be Thou near them! With them—in spirit—we also go forth from the sweet peace of our beloved firesides to smite the foe. O Lord our God, help us to tear their soldiers to bloody shreds with our shells; help us to cover their smiling fields with the pale forms of their patriot dead; help us to drown the thunder of the guns with the shrieks of their wounded, writhing in pain; help us to lay waste their humble homes with a hurricane of fire; help us to wring the hearts of their unoffending widows with unavailing grief; help us to turn them out roofless with little children to wander unfriended the wastes of their desolated land in rags and hunger and thirst, sports of the sun flames of summer and the icy winds of winter, broken in spirit, worn with travail, imploring Thee for the refuge of the grave and denied it—for our sakes who adore Thee, Lord, blast their hopes, blight their lives, protract their bitter pilgrimage, make heavy their steps, water their way with their tears, stain the white snow with the blood of their wounded feet! We ask it, in the spirit of love, of Him Who is the Source of Love, and Who is the ever-faithful refuge and friend of all that are sore beset and seek His aid with humble and contrite hearts. Amen.

(After a pause.) "Ye have prayed it; if ye still desire it, speak! The messenger of the Most High waits!"

It was believed afterward that the man was a lunatic, because there was no sense in what he said.

Sa Paghinto Ng Tibok ng Puso Mo - Kami Ang Magpapatuloy

Nilisan mo man itong daigdig
Tinig mo’y patuloy na maririnig
Lulan ng mga himig mong alay
Na lipos ng pag-ibig

Pag-ibig sa bayang sa’yo’y nagluwal
At sa manggagawang labis mong minahal
Tulad mo ay ‘di malilimot
Habang kami ay narito

Marami pang dapat imulat kasama
Lipuna’y puno ng problema
Sa paghinto ng tibok ng puso mo
Kami ang magpapatuloy

His death did not have the "stereotype heroism" flair that the deaths of countless patriots have, be it Katipuneros, Huks, or NPAs. His death did not have the "tragic drama" of victims of extra-judicial killings, enforced disappearances, and political detainees. As must of us know, he died after falling from the roof of his house, which he was trying to repair.

What his death did have was a reflection of the life he led. The blogsphere has been flooded with anecdotes, memories, and reflections about Ka Bel. One which particularly struck me was that after attending a hearing, all dressed in formal attire, the car he was riding got stuck in a ditch. Without any hesitation, he went out and started pushing the car along with other passengers, never mind if his clothes got all muddy. As one of his mourners said "He was that kind of man".

What kind of man is he? He is the kind of man, who despite being in Congress, did not use his position to enrich himself. The house in Bulacan where he met his demise was constructed with a GSIS loan, just like your ordinary government employee. In his most recent SALN (Statement of Assets, Liabilities, Net Worth), he was only worth around 20 thousand pesos. While his colleagues in the House of Representatives were worth millions, his only assets were his house, clothes, and a few glasses. He did not hire any domestic helpers, and did all the household chores. How many government officials, or even ordinary UP students, do that? - Anton Dulce, CSWCD Rep, USC 2007-2008

How do you pay tribute to someone whose whole life in itself was a tribute to the nation?
I don't know.

What I do know is that the only that makes sense is to make sure their life, their struggles, have not been in vain.

I met Ka Bel during the UP Charter hearing in Congress. And while I realized then that the passage of a pro-student charter had as much chance as an ice cube in hell, it was nonetheless comforting to know that UP students were not alone in the fight. Ka Bel came and talked to us, and told us not to let the struggle get us down. He even joked around with Ka Satur and us. With his help and that of other representatives, some key provisions from our proposal to the charter got through.

I realize that to some people, activism is irrelevant. Those people probably never knew what it was to struggle to make ends meet. They never have to worry about price hikes or cartels or crises.

Before he became a congressman, Ka Bel was a janitor, a jeepney driver, and a taxi driver. He himself experienced how it was to be at the mercy of the state's neoliberal policies, hence, it is easy to see why he chose to join the struggle. It would be a long march for a young movement to end centuries of repression, nevertheless, he determinedly threw himself into the fray by helping to organize workers and campaign for their rights. Such was his life as an activist. And to the workers whose lives he touched, to the people who were beside him in the struggle, his life and his works are far from irrelevant.

Pagpupugay kay Ka Crispin Beltran!
Tuloy ang laban para lupa, sahod, trabaho, at karapatan!

Kay Gabriela Francisco, Summa Cum Laude

The Valedictorian
by Nessa Abad

I

You atop the centenary podium
triumphant, hailed, basking in glory.
Image of academic perfection,
Envied and adored, the star.

You invoke the names of our heroes:
Rizal, Aguinaldo, Mabini.
Most of all, Mabini.
For you say he was a studious man
a role model for UP students.

Poor but bright; so bright
his name blazed through history books,
immortalized in the very pages
he would have loved to read.
(You wonder if yours, too,
shall be immortalized one day.)


You say our country today is plunged
in crisis, and students are forced
to rally in the streets for justice.
Or be branded as apathetic.
You urge a quieter resistance
of books and classrooms.
To do well in one's studies
is patriotism, my dear graduates.
Waste not the lowly taxpayer's money,
my lovely dears.

(Mabini would have rolled over in his grave
to hear you talk.)

Silly Summa.
Mabini was not merely a student,
he was a dissenter.
He wrote
against military atrocities,
against American colonization
Mabini had struggled for your freedom.


By the way, who are these browbeaten taxpayers
that you mention? Do you know them?
Have you come face-to-face
with misery, desperation, sweat and shit?
(The flutter of your beautiful hair betrays
perhaps three hours in the salon, sweet Summa?)

And yet your words have a truth
students are forced to walk out of classes
to stand up for their rights,
and for the rights of the taxpayers, too.
(This crippled society produced them,
yet they have learned more than you.)


You bow down to rabid applause,
the State smiles benignly on its star
epitome of intelligence, bearer of dreams.
Off you go to wine and dine in the night.




II

My heart beats wildly in its cage,
It is almost time.
Indignant, defiant,
I am ready to spit fire
The call has started;

I rush forth
raising clenched fists,
crying our challenge,
closing ranks
with the sons and daughters
of Mabini
and the Revolution.

There's no such thing as quiet activism.
To be quiet means to deny your voice to the masses, to the people who have been robbed of their own voice.
Because activism is more than just the rallies. It is the constant task of educating, arousing, and organizing the people, who themselves have been unaware that their rights are being trampled on before their very eyes. It is realizing the roots of poverty of the country are deep and will not disappear overnight. But most of all, it is about taking action: putting theory into practice and bringing about the changes that we seek.

And that, Gabby Francisco, is something that you, for all your unos and your achievements, have failed to comprehend.

As a teacher, I can honestly say that grades tell you nothing about a student's ability. True, they may say something about the student's work ethic. But they do not tell you how much a student really knows or has learned. Nor do they tell you whether that student will truly be an Iskolar ng Bayan who will really give their skills for the upliftment of their countrymen.
And it doesn't take a summa to know that the most important lessons in life are learned outside the classroom. Real life and real people will teach you more than all the courses you can take in your years in UP.

What kind of reality do you know Gabby? The ones that you read in your books? The hypothetical reality that you discuss in your classes? Is your view of reality limited to the petty outreach programs during your Catholic schoolgirl days? Have you ever come face to face with a starving child? a family whose home is about to be demolished? a woman who has lost her husband to a summary execution perpetrated by the military?

Marami pang dapat mapaliwanagan. Marami pang dapat imulat sa katotohanan.

Galing sa Isang Tala :)

He will have to learn, I know,
that all men are not just,
all men are not true.
But teach him also that
for every scoundrel there is a hero;
that for every selfish Politician,
there is a dedicated leader...
Teach him for every enemy there is a friend,

Steer him away from envy,
if you can,
teach him the secret of
quiet laughter.

Let him learn early that
the bullies are the easiest to lick...
Teach him, if you can,
the wonder of books...
But also give him quiet time
to ponder the eternal mystery of birds in the sky,
bees in the sun,
and the flowers on a green hillside.

In the school teach him
it is far honourable to fail
than to cheat...
Teach him to have faith
in his own ideas,
even if everyone tells him
they are wrong...
Teach him to be gentle
with gentle people,
and tough with the tough.

Try to give my son
the strength not to follow the crowd
when everyone is getting on the band wagon...
Teach him to listen to all men...
but teach him also to filter
all he hears on a screen of truth,
and take only the good
that comes through.

Teach him if you can,
how to laugh when he is sad...
Teach him there is no shame in tears,
Teach him to scoff at cynics
and to beware of too much sweetness...
Teach him to sell his brawn
and brain to the highest bidders
but never to put a price-tag
on his heart and soul.

Teach him to close his ears
to a howling mob
and to stand and fight
if he thinks he's right.
Treat him gently,
but do not cuddle him,
because only the test
of fire makes fine steel.

Let him have the courage
to be impatient...
let him have the patience to be brave.
Teach him always
to have sublime faith in himself,
because then he will have
sublime faith in mankind.

This is a big order,
but see what you can do...
He is such a fine fellow,
my son!

Para Kayna Matt, Art, Mico, At Mon

Buhay na nagisnan, puno ng ginhawa

Buhay na kumupkop, hindi yata makakayang iwan

Buhay na kayhirap, bagay na di gagap

Bukas o nakaraan, saan nga ba ang patutunguhan

Naguguluhan pa ako ngayon

Naghihintay na sila doon

May panahong magduda at magtanong

Ngayon ay panahon ng pagharap at pagsulong

Pagtatanong ay huwag lubayan

Tunggalian ay walang katapusan

Aking mga mata, malinaw ang nakita

Luha ng kapatid, dusang na di napapatid

Diwa ay natalos, humayo at kumilos

Tawag ng pangangailangan, di na matatalikuran

At ang bisig ko'y handa na ngayon

At makakayang iwan ang noon

May panahong magduda at magtanong

Ngayon ay panahon ng pagharap at pagsulong

Pagtatanong ay huwag lubayan

Tunggalian ay walang katapusan

'Sbeen A Long Time

Wow, halos 2 1/2 years kong naiwan tong blog na ito. Naging busy na rin masyado, what with acads and all, lalo na sa mga kampanya.

Sa dalawa't kalahating taon ano na nga ba ang naganap?
sakin:

• Naging councilor ako sa college SC
• May nakaaway na mga propesor dahil sa ideology (at nabansagang smart-aleck intellectual rebel)
• Muntik nakong bumagsak sa ilang subjects (kakasali daw sa rally)
  
• Naging chairperson sa org ko, ang CNS
• Gagradweyt na, siya nawa, at magiging guro ng bayan
  

Sa bansa:

• Oplan Bantay Laya 2 at Human Security Act
• Rampant impunity, kung saan aabot na sa halos 1,000 ang biktima ng extrajudicial killings since maluklok si Arroyo sa puwesto
• PEACE Bonds scandal ni Arroyo
• Fertilizer Fund Scandal
• NBN ZTE Scandal
• papatinding pagpapahirap sa mamamayan

Ngayon ang panahon ng pagbabalikwas at hindi ng pananahimik. Ika ng The Jerks, panahon na para magalit...

Children begging at the streets at night Knocking on cars till the morning light
People standing in line for a kilo of rice
Welcome to the dark ages, the era of lies
Dreams of progress, of visions gone mad
Mendiola’s still drenched with innocent blood
Demolition men rumbles through smokey mountain homes
Darkness indeed, justice dressed in gloom

But I’ll go not gently into the night
Rage against the dying of the light
Sing a song about this terrible sight
Rage until the lightning strikes
Go not gently, go not gently, go not gently
And rage with me

And the names and faces of the tyrants change
But poverty, pain and murder remains
And the voices of truth are locked up in chains
Darkness remains, freedom in flames

So go not gently into the night
Rage against the dying of the light
Sing a song about this terrible sight
Rage until the lightning strikes
Go not gently, go not gently, go not gently
And rage with me

Hindi hiwalay ang nagaganap sa bawat indibidwal sa nagaganap sa lipunan niya. Binabago tayo ng ating lipunan, ngunit tayo rin mismo, sa pamamagitan ng kolektibong pagkilos, ay mababago ang lipunan. Diba? Diba? (^.^)v

The Great Oblation Run

Contrary to what most people believe, the Oblation Run is not just about fratboys running around naked in campus. Yeah. May dahilan kung bakit ang ilang APO ay hubo't hubad na nililibot ang AS lobby (at the request of the UP president, tumakbo rin sila sa Quezon Hall dahil may foreign guests na manonood).

The run is a form of protest action, lalo na sa mga tampok na issues sa campus. Ngayong year, ang protest ay against the UP Budget Cut at ang political repression ng Arroyo regime. In short, the run is for a cause, and not necessarily for the viewing pleasure of the spectators.

Kaya nga warla ako kahapon. Diyos me, okrayin ba naman raw ang mga tumakbo? Kesyo anliliit daw ng youknowwhats ng mga ito. Fweh, hindi mga YKWs ng APO ang dapat suriin, kundi yung mga calls na bitbit nila. Tapos, dapat raw may map para alam ng mga viewers kung anong route yung tatakbuhan. Sos, demanding.

Anlungkot kasi napakababaw ng pagsuri ng iba sa Oble run. Pagdating ko nga sa bahay, tanong ng mga tita ko: "Hubad talaga sila? Itim ba talaga bulbol nila? Ba't naman na uso yang ganyan?"
At dahil may mga babae rin raw na tumakbo: "Ikaw ba yung jubad don?"

Hay. What if ako nga? Hehe. JL. Hindi pa ako ganun katapang. Pero siguro, balang araw, hindi lang sa pagtanggal ng damit at pagtakbo ng hubad sa UP ang makakaya kong gawin para sa mga paninindigan ko. Sana.