Spin, my poor head does,
In writing what I must,
Events that have passed this year,
As the end of it draws near.
A penis on a deity,
Reactions were anything but dainty,
Hell's fury wrought on Cruz,
As an artist, he did not lose.
Supsup was named a hero,
For winning a tilt so shallow,
To be judged solely on one's shell,
This is, indeed, fresh hell.
Enrile, Cayetano and Sotto,
With their mantras and singular motto,
Supplicants to the Catholic fraternity,
The RH Bill, they deemed unnecessary.
With lies, fear and religiosity,
They thwarted our path to democracy,
Where everyone has the right to plan,
Their family to the last wo/man.
Pacquiao was once again victorious,
Though the manner was anything but unanimous,
A pugilist, a lawmaker and a singer,
The list goes on, we shudder.
And this country, whose faith is "strong",
Whose norm is the corrupt and wrong,
Was brutalized by Nature's Song,
A hurricane by the name of Sendong.
The blame game is once again in season,
While the ones who lost their reason,
For living, struggling and loving,
Must cope with the deaths surrounding.
Who can forget the little lady,
Who would have loathed to be in solitary,
Demanding a suite for incarceration,
In the guise of a "medical condition".
This country has come full circle,
A horrific past is a mere hurdle,
When the Marcoses are back in power.
This generation, none the wiser.
So as the year comes to a close,
And we cheer the same variety shows,
It pains me to say with shame,
2012 will be more of the same.
(Photo courtesy of freechristmaswallpapers.net)