I.
It is unleashed.
By malls, shopping centers,
commercial establishments.
Bombardment of artificial lights
shaming the stars.
Stereos blare the seasonal songs
in aid of merchandise.
There are no silent nights.
The four-month season
in all its burlesque glory.
II.
In the slums, the children
have Cronus for their Father.
In the slums, the children
fall prey to Herod’s henchmen.
In the slums, the angels
drop their guard.
In the slums, the saints
don’t intercede.
III.
Come New Year’s Eve, fireworks.
There will be explosions.
And sparks, from firecrackers.
Some, from the mouths of guns.
One, the last Xmas light a child
shall ever see.
IV.
Somewhere, a manger.
Somewhere, a silenced night.
..
Karlo Sevilla writes from Quezon City, Philippines. His poems have appeared in Philippines Graphic and in the following international political literary magazines: I am not a silent poet, Radius, Matter, Tuck Magazine, Outcast Poetry, and Razorhouse. He also coaches wrestling, trains in Brazilian Luta Livre, and does volunteer work for the labor group Bukluran ng Manggagawang Pilipino (Solidarity of Filipino Workers). He tweets @KarloSevilla.
Advertisements
Reblogged this on reubenwoolley.
LikeLiked by 1 person