Premises Of A Revolution Poem by Cheryl L. DaytecYañgot

The noise drowns all the rhetoric
on a culture so misunderstood and cashed in
The microphone booms with voices of
self- proclaimed experts
The board blares and glares with letters and syntax
that profess to be the truth
Those who hold the gospel of a culture as ancient
as Adam and Eve gather around fire on a mountain’s zenith
The older generation chants to the gods
as the hope of the future beat the gongs
Kabunian has blest the past with full harvests
Want was an unheard word
But a few leaped to the loft and grabbed
the food for the legion
Hunger and desperation were born and multiplied as
gluttony became robust
Now, gluttons give token service to want
that they may have more of what desperation lacks
Outside the extensions of schools rock rooms with
heavy words cast upon microphones
They speak of the ways of the mountains untrod
by their delicate legs set on high heels
and misshapen by machines that dug the earth’s bowels
in eternal mission to abstract the yellow stone
A mission never accomplished
while greed is etched in the heart of the compradors
and the corporate elite and the banks
Money pours in, but not a cent
for them that cling to the gods
for hope to save their mountains from the curse
that buried thousands of weeping willows and infants
and torrents of murky water gush out with pollution from
the technology of development bringing destruction
In the end, who must pay?
Those with blood on their hands enter the palace
and march the halls where the assembly rules
Where speeches put earth upon earth
on bodies that wailed for justice
never to be remembered
But their cries will ring clear in the ears
of the orphaned throng
They were there
They will grip the bullet and pull the trigger
Seize, seize
Reclaim what was theirs and reverse the wheel.