Ambon, Ulan, Baha by Frank Rivera

AMBON ULAN BAHA” is a two-hour ethno-rock modern zarzuela that showcases twenty original musical scores inspired by kundiman, balitaw, ethnic and modern musical trends with choreography based on ethnic, folk/traditional and creative dances

 

An original production of the celebrated Mindanao State University –Sining Kambayoka ( founded by Theater Artist Frank G. Rivera ) in 1978, “ Ambom…” was remounted by Teatro Metropolitano through NCCA Grant in 1992, also at the helm of Rivera.

This long –time running musical which predicted the Ormoc tragedy in 1991, highlights environmental concerns and focuses on the preservation of Philippine forests. It also deals heavily on Filipino values, the importance of education, religion, family and youth. It also carries relevant commentaries on socio-economic and political issues of the times. It aims to educate its audiences especially the youth about issues of urgent and national importance To – date, ARNAI’s “ Ambon, Ulan, Baha” has been sponsored by several organizations and institutions and has seen more than 500 performances. The zarzuela’s success in depicting the Filipino lives after almost three decades after it was first staged, proved its timelessness and its relevance to the evolutions of Philippine Theater.

Its music, inspired by folk/traditional songs like balitaw and kundiman, formerly considered provincial “ bakya “ , and unsophisticated as compared to “mainstream” of legitimate theater, proved to be good venue for improvisation and fusion, thus exploring and experimenting for new forms.

Its dances: a fusion of folk/traditional, modern and creative movements showcase creative interpretation of the play’s songs and scene.

http://krizzadiwa.blogspot.com/2011/02/ambonulan-baha-by-frank-rivera.html

 

Sa Kuko ng Agila

Mahirap man ang buhay
Aking matitiis
Basta't walang talikalang nakatali sa leeg

Hirap ay makakaya
Kung ako ay wala na
Sa kuko ng agila sa akin ay pumupuksa

Sa sariling lupa ay alipin ako ng banyaga
Sa kuko ng agila kailangan kung makalaya

Kailan ang tamang oras upang labanan ko
Ang mga pang aapi sagad na sa aking buto
[ Lyrics from: http://www.lyricsmode.com/lyrics/f/freddie_aguilar/sa_kuko_ng_agila.html ]
Ngunit walang kalayaan
Habang naroroon
Sa kuko ng agila sa leeg ko nakabaon

Akoy palayain
Sa kuko ng agilang mapang alipin

Mahirap man ang buhay
Aking matitiis
Basta't walang talikalang nakatali sa leeg

Ngunit walang kalayaan
Habang naroroon
Sa kuko ng agila sa leeg ko nakabaon

Ako'y palayain sa kuko ng agilang mapang alipin

Sa sariling lupa ay alipin ako ng banyaga
Sa kuko ng agila kailangan kung makalaya

Akoy palayain
Sa kuko ng agilang mapang alipin(2x)

http://www.lyricsmode.com/lyrics/f/freddie_aguilar/sa_kuko_ng_agila.html

Gahasa by Joi Barrios

Eksibit blg.1: baril
o kahit na anong sandata
patunay ng pagbabanta

Eksibit blg.2: panti na may mantsa
patunay ng kabirhenan ng dalaga

Eksibit blg.3: sertipikasyon ng doktor
Patunay na--
a: sapilitan
b: lubusan
ang pagpasok ng ari

Eksibit blg.4: sertipikasyon ng pagkatao
patunay ng hindi pagiging puta

Ipasok sa hukuman ang nasasakdal
Iharap sa hukuman ang nagsasakdal
Simulan ang panggagahasa
upbreadings.blogspot.com/2010/07/gahasa-by-joi-barrios.html

The Way we Live by Danton Remoto

Bang the drum, baby,
let us roll tremors
of sound to wake
the Lord God of motion
sleeping under the skin.

Of choosing what to wear
this Saturday night:
cool, sexy black
or simply fuck-me red?
Should I gel my hair
or let it fall like water?

Of sitting on the sad
and beautiful face of James Dean
while listening to reggae
at Blue Café.

Of chatting with friends
at The Library
while Allan Shimmers
with his sequins and wit.

Of listening to stories at Cine Café:
the first eye-contact,
conversations glowing
in the night,
lips and fingers touching,
groping for each other’s loneliness.

Of driving home
under the flyover’s dark wings
(a blackout once again plunges
the city to darkness)

Summer’s thunder
lighting up the sky
oh heat thick
as desire

Then suddenly the rain:
finally falling,
falling everywhere:
to let go, then,
to let go and to move on,
this is the way it seems
to be. Bang the drum, baby.
www.seasite.niu.edu/.../The_WAY_WE_LIVE.htm - Estados Unidos
Pagninilay-nilay;

The New Yorker In Tondo

"New Yorker in Tondo" is a classic Filipino Play by Marcelino Agana, Jr. It is a satire written in the 50's. It is a story about a girl named Kikay who goes to New York and fell in love with it. She acquires all the New Yorkish things - style, looks, language and manners. These things are very obvious when she arrives in the Philippines specifically in Tondo.

Aling Atang, mother of Kikay, has been carried away by her daughters way of living. She tries to converse with everybody in broken English.

Tony, childhood sweetheart of Kikay, decides to visit and catch things up with her friend. He is a simple guy who got secretly engaged with their other childhood friend, Nena.

Nena is a tomboyish type of girl. On her visit in Kikay's house, she finds her friend different and weird. She gets irritated and even imitates Kikay's ways.

Totoy, the Tondo "canto boy" is their other friend who is funny and has a secret love for Nenan which has only been revealded when the two females had a clash.

Near the end, the secret love of the characters in the story is revealded. And the two pairs end up in each other's arms. Kikay is back to her old self -- simple and kind. Most of all, the Filipino value learned by the protagonist which is "there is no place like home", is a lesson on love of country and its culture.

http://ajgv02ls.multiply.com/reviews/item/1

Though you Tell me not by Evangeline Guerero

I know you love me, though you tell me not, I know you hold me captive for always In the strong nets of your life, Celestial thurible of a perennial dream.

Though you tell me not that without me You cannot live, My desire tells me ‘tis all true: That many sad flowers girdle your forehead If when depressed, you think of an Awakening.

What shall I tell you? I look at you… and I am silent. Well do you comprehend now my deep Silence. The star turned flower in the distant sky Contemplates its shadow on the waters Without fear.

Let my sorrow on your breast repose, Like a weary traveling dove. Beneath the tepid shade of the tranquil Orchard Let us the kind caress of peace enjoy.

May repose be a song, a serenade, While in the hour serene we baste The ripened dreams of past epochs That with effluvium fill our old souls.

Though you tell me not you think of me, That all of me in your heart you keep, Return to remembrance shall I and finding You, Though you tell me not I shall know that It is love!

http://www.angelfire.com/realm3/rmcsolidarity/link5.html#tell

Another Invitation to the Pope to Visit Tondo by Emmanuel Torres

Next time your Holiness slums through our lives,
we will try to make our poverty exemplary.
The best is a typhoon month. It never fails
To find us, like charity, knocking on
all sides of the rough arrangements we thrive in.
Mud shall be plenty for the feet of the pious.

We will show uoi how we pull things together
from nowhere, life after life,
prosper with children, whom you love. To be sure,
we shall have more for you to love.

We will show you where the sun leaks on
our sleep,
on the dailiness of piece meals and wages
with their habit of slipping away
from fists that have holes for pockets.

We will show you our latest child with a sore
that never sleeps. When he cries,
the dogs of the afternoon bark without stopping,
and evening darkens early on the mats.

Stay for supper of turnips on our table
since 1946 swollen with the same hard tears.
The buntings over our one and only window
shall welcome a short breeze.

And lead prayers for the family that starves
and stays together. If we wear roasries round
our nexks
it is not because they never bruise our fingers,
(Pardon if we doze on a dream of Amen.)

But remember to remember to reward us
with something . . . more lush, greener than all
the lawns of memorial parks singing together.
Our eyes shall belss the liveliness of dollars.

Shed no tears, please, for the brown multitudes
who thicken on chance and feast on leftovers
as the burning garbage smuts the sky of Manila
pile after pile after pile.

Fear not. Now there are only surreal assassins
about who dream of your death in the shape
of a flowering kris.


http://www.oocities.com/phil_poetry/menu_poems04.html