Archive for July, 2010

Erle Frayne Argonza y Delago

Let me O! Motherland meet you

With warm embrace and sweet solace

On wind and air above you.

I now have grown more than the bud

That I was then some dozens of summers past

Now am I prepared for tougher tasks

As all the carabaos are in your sturdy breast.

Accept my offerings—my brain and brawn

To plowshare for your scions’ nourishment

And lift them up from want and hunger done

By sickening evils wrought by lords of wrath.

Let me with your children sumptuously dine

I have no more than heartfelt words to give

So hopefully this might their souls satiate

So they’d regain states o’ sobriety and power.

Let me O! Motherland! Meet you again

Beneath your oceans, seas and lakes

Benign these blankets are to me so real

In them I’m freshened always as a babe.

Wake me up from slumber o! Motherland!

Let me rise up forever from this boorish state

I’d rise the more to bequeath my love

To your scions with whom I am betrothed

For they make sanguine giants out of ants

Gold are they beyond all spellbound words.

Let me reach out to your scions all, o! Motherland!

Arise shall my voice be so redeeming

To herald what dear Destiny had covenanted

‘Bout greatness that resides in all of them

Let them feel your Bosom thru this voice

That rise shall they therefore the quickest

‘Twards magnificence their wondrous wherefore

O’ this swearword let me not just rescind

To rest in nasty bowels o’ Oblivion

Far off your scions shall arise above the hovels

They’d lighten up your sky as rays they are

Of suns and suns from all yon galaxies

O! Motherland you’re lightened for all times!

Let me go forth in fights o! Motherland

To citadels of wealth and luster of crafts

Learn more from them I’d frame commission

Embankments of mind enriched for your accrual

For you alone, yes you alone o! Motherland!

I bade you not in sadness no not this

But in cheered one sweetened by your flowers

Return shall I, I swear, I dutifully swear

‘Tis heard aboard the melodious winds above you

To be a part of your triumphant enshrinement

In all the world’s magnificent halls of Light.

[Writ. 09 March 92, University of the Philippines Manila]

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Erle Frayne Argonza y Delago

A noble ground it is this wondrous room

Where enthused adepts wait in seats a-poised

While mentor fills the air with notes a-flamed

That conquer maladies Ignorance had unveiled

Said conquest needs complete obeisance then

To reason and empirics’ tones of truth

Without which otherwise all things fall ‘part

As dark as what yon Medieval had cast

Sacred! Sacred is this noble ground we’re in

Where flaunted are ideas in liberty fulfilled

Where rigodons of reflection bring emancipation

Eschewed are dogmas—ikons’ benediction

How cool the air from humming fan is blown

Reminds us thus of sunlit valleys warm as old

Where there descend cool breezes from boondocks’ heights

Relieved is tensed up mental bank of yours

Sometimes the heat flack up thermometer’s gauge

Bring swelter hence to enthused minds a-blazed

Alright just mind not that which puts one a-glazed

For cool will be dear mentor’s words unfazed

Let there be praises for all women and men

Who’d fuse their minds in this Platonic den

Should they have grasped so well each lesson learned

Their worlds off walls would better be in zest

[Writ. 02 March 92, University of the Philippines Manila]

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Erle Frayne Argonza y Delago

I am but the emblem of the dust

Blown smoothly away by the wind.

Born from out of the dust

Where rests the cosmic elements

Over a century known in all;

Nurtured within the womb of Terra

Mother of all Mothers;

Delivered as seed by Firmament’s demiurgos

The ultima pater noster;

So was I born, a dust.

Chartered was my life through sojourns

By my Self

Betwixt worlds

Of shadows and sunlit dales

I the dust, I the crafter.

Molded was I so exquisitely humane

Betwixt cast of the hardest metals

Harder than Bernardo Carpio’s will

Was I nurtured out extruded

I am my own furnace, my dust I am.

Founded was I a warrior

Crafted in the trade of the blade

Whose countenance is blanketed with Courage

A most scarce diadem;

Bear I the Will to thrust the majestic sword

Unto the fleshy morsels of obstacles

Conceived by Existence, Uncertainty, Death

That I rise, am I arisen

I a dust, yet a Warrior.

Blown forth am I the dust

Blown forth by my own Will

Astride winds sunbeams waters

Ne’er fixed and transfixed neither

By mischievous forces of diabolical climes

Now dust am I, my Will wind

‘Tis my starship to galactic

Worlds of humans.

What has come to pass in my biographic trails?

My Past and Future, of what constructs made of?

They I’ve myself made

I the baker who’s always been attending

To chores of my oven’s commands

I’ve had my whereabouts made

Even as Future and Past cancel out

In the nothingness of the Omnipresent Present:

Time is but non-Time altogether

A leaf that has crumpled in its own face

‘Tis but a premise of one who’s never lived

So is it a pest that distracts awhile

And later fornicates in its death traps.

What’s the most illustriously true

But that I the dust was ever present

In time as time to me was spent a-non

I therefore live forever.

I’d gazed at the celestial mirror

And glanced at Eternal Thou

Or was it? Eternal Thou? What’s it?

A chimera derived from my own image?

An extract from the prurient I?

Or is it the whole Kosmos focused

In the magnificent galactic lens so said?

O! Kosmos! O! Nature! You are Eternal!

Am I Thou?

Please whisper the answer softly

In my ear

Amid the hypnotic melodies

Of the celestial music…

I so earnestly await thy response!

Wherefore the dust shall have gone forth

In the tapestries and gourdian knots of Nature

To be a part of and yet not

Of elements among whom it had immersed

As the Ego does to the countless Alters

It “Is” now and yet “Is Not”

A concrete now and yet a phantom as well

The moving and the rested wedded together

It is, it is such, it is

For and only for it to scale altitudes

To where it fuses with the bounds of its source

It is the changeling, the changeling

That dons the matterly cloak: the Kosmos

Of which it Is:

The Iota and the Whole are One.

Henceforth shall it have known

The All and the Self

Finale regal of its sacred mission.

That I am: the dust

Caringly blown away by the wind.

[Writ. 19 Feb. ‘92, Cubao, Quezon City, M.Manila]

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Erle Frayne Argonza y Delago

The time, yes the time has come

For me to say farewell to you o! Academe

I’d again face the hostile world outside

Where rapacious Existence devours its gullible prey.

How gently comforting are you o! Academe!

A supreme shelter against diabolic boulders spewed

By the volcanic raptures of a putrescent world.

You are the soft bed where I’d laid

My tired body, tired from sojourns aplenty

You are the stars and moons joined together

That illuminated the nights of my life’s first half

You are the magical stove that patiently cooked

The ideas harvesting from my ever-searching mind

You are the resting stations all in all

In the Calvaries and Golgothas of my life.

Why depart I now that in you I am in bliss

Clearly because I’d been fated by history and self

To entrench my soul in humanity’s bosom

Share in the extirpation of malignant social ailments

Rooted in sorceries of injustices and imperial lust

They that had mired people in fecals and hovels.

Thereof I go forth, the molded warrior-poet

To thrust once more my blades against historic demons.

What words have I to say my gratitudes

These I can’t but feel them from my heart

I know that off your walls you are my trusted pal

Whom I will caringly long for in the morrows

Rest assured thus I bade farewell in full comfort.

[Writ. 16 Feb. 92, Cubao, Quezon City, M.Manila]

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Erle Frayne Argonza y Delago

That which was

Lost may not be lost

‘tis but slumbering in its bed

Beneath its epithelial chambers.

Soon shall it wake up

To conquer its sleeping state.

Soon shall it triumphantly march

To possess the majestic estate bequeathed to it.

Soonest that it triumphs its tremolo of voice

As herald of its presence in the here-and-now

It has come again.

Nay, it shall stay.

[Writ. 15 Feb. 1992, Cubao, Quezon City, M.Manila]

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Erle Frayne Argonza y Delago

O! Star youth of the Rizalandian race!

Truly so lovable and minds quizzical

Begotten as leaders yon echelon of thy gesselschaft

Who are to me so near and made so

By dancing with me together in the great hall

Of academic undertaking: tangoed we

As authentically ordained partners: ordained by fate

To feel and think together in states o’ sobriety

By commands of duty and obligation

For whom my everything my mind and heart

Had been encumbered for as my sole offering

Offering my soul’s betrothed my soul’s pure halo

My person a gift given collateralized

Without me demanding for the basest return

Yet but build they their gesselschaft and self sterlingly.

O! Knights and knightesses of today and tomorrows

How in the world can I besmirch thee all

Of whose countenance are to me endeared with plenitude?

Behold there isn’t one iota of doubt in me

‘Bout your knighthood’s prowess and trade’s wherefores

There at the summit of Cheop’s pyramid

Resides my esteem for thee all:

I shall lift up thy esteem

Towards abodes of gods

‘Twere firmaments

Fade in the dazzling light a-beauty

Of the aeternal Thou

I can no more bethink of reasons

For the begrudged flames in thy hearts

I now the crucified caper before thine eyes

Ne’er meant I to unlock a Pandora’s box

For which findest thy self in unfounded apprehension

Not for my endeared partners ne’er for thou

O! How I hope that grasp thou all so clear

The sincerest meaning behind my swearwords of late

That we ought march as one to champion

The triumphant denouement of our joint deeds

In their unique sense be they simple or compounded.

[Writ. 27 July 91, Univ. of the Philippines Manila]

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Erle Frayne Argonza y Delago


Rise up, Man! Rise up!

Your commonwealth’s history had been astride

The cosmic pendulum that had darted

From yon up. Pendulum has reached dead center

And again is rising beyond the dale of time.

The center was lodged betwixt camel and palm tree.

Reckon, reckon that the East calls

‘Twain the valley of time expectant.

Respond shall the camel benignly

And twill change hands with the carabao.

Snail paced is this beast the carabao

And so is your ascent, o! Man!

To the pinnacle of your godly, godly zen.

You shall be god, your being’s made

By you a living clay molded

Millions of times by your own hands.


Man! The Light has come forth

In dazzling photons it fused with seawaves

And fluvial ripples. Gracefully had

It landed, guided by a dozen eagles.

Shine brightly shall the Light

Sky beacon that illuminates eagerness

The clear landscape of the Promise.

The Promise has been slumbering in a bed

Of coal and gold: ‘tis coal and gold.

The Light shall burn the coal

To be fed into the waiting furnace

Where the gold shall be molded into one

Magnificent icon as tall as the azure sky.

‘Tis the longed for icon that shall herald

The historic swing to grandeur’s height.


Wherefore lies the heart of grandeur?

Wert this not but a dead man’s wish

Long buried in the hovels of the earth?

Wert this not but a sweetened piece

Of bitter gourd: its stinging taste betrays

Its endless senselessness in the world sensical?

Man! This height of grandeur is the state

Indescribable to the wisest among grandfathers

A million generations stretch: ‘tis a million

Times a million times of pure majestic luster

Only but Inner Selves can comprehend.

‘tis the founded form-being of all

Sublime inner selves that have been struggling

In putrescent marshes of history.

This to the grandfathers is  mere dream

Induced by the spirit elixirs of Bacchus.


Rise! Rise it shall

High above the hills and valleys

‘Twards the azure firmaments

This majestic commonwealth of yours, o! Man!

For which freedom-in-life is

A concluded spell of benevolent magis.

Reside shall its spirit in people’s bosoms.

Gone shall be the seismic struggles

Alone for bread as if this were the most

Valued diadem atop the zenith of greatness:

The world shall be its own bread

And man, the luminary figure at last

Whose coming was pronounced before

By a trillion bards of eagles and doves.

Rise! Rise it shal

From where corals had made lands

Where sturdy races have eked out living

And slave they were for others;

No more are they slaves but are free cranes

Atop carabaos their benign carriers.


What is reality after all o! Man!

For which you have buried yourself

Millions of times in search for its enigmas?

Is it like spiral moving poles a-clashing?

Maybe, but maybe not. Maybe

‘Tis a swarm of flies that swats

Made festive killings by the dozens

And yet aren’t flies but gems.

When upon each gem Light gently touches

It brings forth radiance to all

Corners of the cosmos: it makes bounds

Anon betwixt its grounded state

And the unbrimmed infinite extent

Apast spaces: ‘tis unbrimmed space

And yet spaceless brims.


Man! A promise made a million times

And delivered a million times makes a million

More than its primeval state: ‘ts a grain

Of sand and the universe made one.

The sea has recognized this secret lore

And had sung it lyrically in melodious tunes

That no one cared to listen to

Save for man-slaves on a dozen mountains.

Mushroom-eaters they are who’d sensed

What the real is: the Promise realized overboard

Its primordial state—a giant that wakes up

From zillions of earth revolutions or slumber:

‘Ti a Being stronger than ever that turns rivers

Into founts of gold, cause for merriment

Atop the nature-world the bed of bread.


Happy, o! happy will be

The suns and stars and moons

And winds and waves

Over your final dawning, o! Man!

Even as the day starts on the sixth hour.

Man! You are the sixth estate:

Risen and made one, freed at last

From tsunamis of disintegrating forces.

Behold! No more forlorn are nature and cosmos

The citadels of true life.

And you, Man, finally regained, revived,

Realized as your guardian and maker.

[Writ. 22 July 1991, Cubao, Quezon City, M.Manila]

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Erle Frayne Argonza y Delago

Restive is my heart, o! sweetest Friend!

Again has it lifted Will and Reason

Astride vortices of waves from beneath

Ocean’s floors: to you it reaches out.

Is your heart not restive too, sweetest Friend?

Wish I in the eternal moment

In the morrows too wish I

That we gift one another with words

Worth the world’s fauna.

Yet what for are words? They need not be

The best chronicler of the sublime messages

Heart longings of any willful person.

Ah! Words, what loathsome bedfellows

Wert they used to mask as can be

The impeccable messages of the Inner Self

In garbled twangs and phantasmagoric abracadabras.

Nay, had can they be for someone

Who wishes ceaselessly to be in illusions entrapped

For the person who refuses to heed the calls

Of Inner Self the true bank of being

For someone who’s being chased by shadows

Dark shadows of indecision.

Indeed what are words for, spoken?

They aren’t the slightest necessaries

For an authentic reader of the vast book—one’s

Inner Self—made calciform in the Outer

One can’t conceal the message in the sphere

Of action the truest ‘word’ beyond the spoken.

Thou and I, readers of the Book

Let us listen, listen to the murmurs

Of our inner selves.

O! Sweetest Friend, heed the call

Of thy Inner Self!

Heed! Heed its call!

Heed it!  Its noblest call

‘Tis music in most stately beauty.

[Writ. 22 July 91, Cubao, Quezon City, M.Manila]

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