(For a son who writes poems about his love for his land)
Young man, welcome to the world, worded
Divine and pristine, uncorrupted. You are
Going to be past the teeny-teeny wishes
Of your youthful years. Nineteen is some
Game, some kind of a peek-a-boo for
Poetry in rallies, the one you join in, go
With to shout it out with your lungs out
The ugly reality of a nation's life,
One defined by cheap fish now inflated
To include egos of presidents and actors,
Crazies all in cahoots with crazed luck.
No, we made the luck, with the votes
And all, with our forgiving hearts,
Unable to whack the child in them,
The impostors and pretenders of country
Love, loves. Pretty soon you will see all.
At twenty you will see the bravado
Of braggarts, politicians, their alias.
Aurelio S. Agcaoili