When the white man first came, he brought The Book, a cross, goblets of wine, white bread, silk robes and the promise of a Heaven.

When he left, he took our sun and mountain, our worship, our medicine, our brown magic. He lined his trail with mosaic bastards,

the aberration of a people who once sanctified women and battled with spears, yo-yos, blow guns, western wind.

The white man came again, this time in camouflage and boogie-woogie. He brought Santa Claus, democracy, and hand grenades.


He took our fight and aimed outwards to the yellow neighbor and his Kamikaze, took our women for servants, nurse maids, wives.

When he left he took our words, yung alibata namin, our lessons, the drum beat of our tambol our open fist. He lined his trail with shrapnel and gunpowder,

flattened our cities, tarnished our dreams. When is the white man coming back? I look around and see his ghost everywhere,

he is never there. Pinagasawaan mo na ba   ang pagsintang wagas, ang pagtingin na kay tamis, o irog kong maputi ang kutis? 


Why won't the white man love my country anymore? Has he grown tired of our unflinching love?

The bountiful lands he pillaged for rice, pinya, bananas, tabako, mangga, coconuts are barren now. They long for the white man's science again.

My tears have always come with ease, this is something you learn in my country. I remember when the white man told me my tears are prayer,

blessings from the white god with the high nose. The one cheek the white man never touched, it still burns from his un-loving.