HEY, MICHAEL PHELPS!
e.melig industan (02/06/2009)
There you were, pumping fist and yells.
At the tank, you’re a dolphin kicking
…Smoothly with your heels. The fastest!
And the world had watched you in awe.
You’re a hero, a role model to many.
They buy goods when your face is on it.
They worship you like a demigod of old.
And money pours in like rain. Splendid!
But hey!
Bear in mind, fame makes one’s head swells.
And the money makes one’s judgment fails.
Hey!
Think twice when you try something new.
Think twice before you flip with what’s new.
When it’s winter to many, it’s summer to you.
Many bundle up at home; you unwind out.
Money pampers you to wriggle at wee hours.
Think! Home is wholesome; outdoor’s full of snares.
Time immemorial, money isn’t real friend.
He lets you own everything, but screws you later.
He makes you famous; later infamous…
For wrong judgment on what to do follows.
Hey!
Look at O.J., Montgomery and Jones.
They were famous. The world caught in awe.
Hey!
Fame and money they have, but see how they end up.
They have both. Both left them scathed.
Oh, fortune! Fortune makes half of a man.
And man’s action will bond to make a whole man.
Oh, Machiavelli, when can these athletes see?
Please tell them, “Prince”, they must understand.
NOTE: 1) Just a Dasang, an experimental performance poetry, patterned after the Higa-onon tribe hortatory discourse to remind Michael and the other famous athletes to think twice before they do something stupid.
2) Also, my new book, PRAISING ALL SEASONS LONG: Haiku Verses, which is available for purchase on Comfort Publishing online store, can be pre-ordered now on Amazon.com, Barnes & Noble, and Target. A super gift book year-round.
Showing posts with label dasang. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dasang. Show all posts
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Saturday, November 15, 2008
On Navy Football Game
College football game is on fire. So even if the state of California has been disturbed by devastating wild fire from Santa Barbara county to Orange county, I cannot help but watched the game between Notre Dame Irish and Navy Midshipmen.
Well, I am a Bruin, having completed a professional program at UCLA; however, I begun to admire the Navy Midshipmen since I have watched its game against the Army last season. The Navy lost today, however they came out with a very good game and left the stadium humbly proud, accepting defeat.
Here's a Hey Poem (Dasang) that I wrote last year on the game between the Navy and the Army.
Hope you would like it.
CELEBRATE WITH FLAIR!
Edmund M. Industan
I tell you this, the way I felt…
Watching the Navy-Army game,
It’s twelve-one-seven football game.
My eyes were moist with joy of tears.
The navy won the game that day.
They cheered so extraordinarily.
Though I was no fan of either one,
I owed them hats off and respect.
The cheering fans and stalwart arms;
The weary seats and bowed heads,
So disciplined…accepted their fate,
Arms in bosom as Navies sang their hymn.
Hey!
Wish society be this way today,
Playing the game living life fairly!
Hey!
Make fantasy a reality,
But face the music with humility!
Sports have so many followers.
It squeezes juice from loans and moms.
It’s almost a religion to some,
A must to attend; acts as heroin.
It makes men act like wild animals.
Some howl as apes with letterheads;
Others come shirtless even in a cold night
Showing support for their muscled men.
For others, they’re like flowers needing rain…
Wilting, dragging their weakened limbs.
They’d stop by a watering hole before going home;
They’d gulp to drown their beat up souls.
Hey!
It’s just a game! Show your sportsmanship!
If you’d go wild, don’t spew fire with your lips.
Hey!
If your team wins, celebrate with flair.
Don’t pour the salt on a wounded soul!
Remember, the ball isn’t flat! It rolls!
It doesn’t stay on your side forevermore.
Try to wear the shoes of those who lost and
Celebrate! Like the navy cadets, so well-disciplined, that…
Peace and joy will reign for good.
NOTE: This Hey Poem is included in my book, THE EXPERIMENTAL DASANG (Hey Poem) and 45 OTHER POETRY FORMS.
Well, I am a Bruin, having completed a professional program at UCLA; however, I begun to admire the Navy Midshipmen since I have watched its game against the Army last season. The Navy lost today, however they came out with a very good game and left the stadium humbly proud, accepting defeat.
Here's a Hey Poem (Dasang) that I wrote last year on the game between the Navy and the Army.
Hope you would like it.
CELEBRATE WITH FLAIR!
Edmund M. Industan
I tell you this, the way I felt…
Watching the Navy-Army game,
It’s twelve-one-seven football game.
My eyes were moist with joy of tears.
The navy won the game that day.
They cheered so extraordinarily.
Though I was no fan of either one,
I owed them hats off and respect.
The cheering fans and stalwart arms;
The weary seats and bowed heads,
So disciplined…accepted their fate,
Arms in bosom as Navies sang their hymn.
Hey!
Wish society be this way today,
Playing the game living life fairly!
Hey!
Make fantasy a reality,
But face the music with humility!
Sports have so many followers.
It squeezes juice from loans and moms.
It’s almost a religion to some,
A must to attend; acts as heroin.
It makes men act like wild animals.
Some howl as apes with letterheads;
Others come shirtless even in a cold night
Showing support for their muscled men.
For others, they’re like flowers needing rain…
Wilting, dragging their weakened limbs.
They’d stop by a watering hole before going home;
They’d gulp to drown their beat up souls.
Hey!
It’s just a game! Show your sportsmanship!
If you’d go wild, don’t spew fire with your lips.
Hey!
If your team wins, celebrate with flair.
Don’t pour the salt on a wounded soul!
Remember, the ball isn’t flat! It rolls!
It doesn’t stay on your side forevermore.
Try to wear the shoes of those who lost and
Celebrate! Like the navy cadets, so well-disciplined, that…
Peace and joy will reign for good.
NOTE: This Hey Poem is included in my book, THE EXPERIMENTAL DASANG (Hey Poem) and 45 OTHER POETRY FORMS.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
A Hey Poem (Dasang) on Voting Govt. Officials
I am anxiously looking forward to the third and the last US Presidential Debate, which will be held tonight at Hofstra University in Hempstead, New York.
In line with the debate and the coming presidential election, I decided to post another experimental performance poetry, the Hey Poem, entitled Voters, Wake Up! This poem has been included in my upcoming book, THE EXPERIMENTAL DASANG (Hey Poem) and 45 OTHER POETRY FORMS.
VOTERS, WAKE UP!
Edmund M. Industan
A blot of an ink on a boxed paper board;
A hit of that screen with names that we know,
An effort from us with hope that it would
Better the globe; changed rotting world.
Soar to the world! See how they perform.
First year o’erflows with peaches and cream;
Following months served with decaying fruit…
Good to the cronies; bad to those who can’t be reached
With the magic wand of the elected!
But hey!
It is ‘them’ fault? Or it’s ‘us’ to blame!
Hey!
We put them there! And we sleep and dream!
Hey!
The bed of roses would slip so fast…
Then we’re awake, we cried for a failed task!
We muster the disgruntled; we marched to the street.
To the leaders, we’re roaches to be quashed and contained.
We joined forces to startle and threaten
Wishing for more strength! But alas! ‘twas hard to gain.
Many of us would raise our hands up.
Others would show thumbs down for the lame.
The herd disoriented! Others jumped off! Some were maimed!
Those voices so strong before…now just whispers of dying men.
But hey!
It’s not the end! The full term will come!
Let’s educate every man this time!
Let’s cast our vote wisely mark for those
Candidates, who have brains and brawns…
Morals pleasing to God and not just to men!
(c) e. industan, 2007
I hope and pray that voters will vote wisely on Nov. 4th.
In line with the debate and the coming presidential election, I decided to post another experimental performance poetry, the Hey Poem, entitled Voters, Wake Up! This poem has been included in my upcoming book, THE EXPERIMENTAL DASANG (Hey Poem) and 45 OTHER POETRY FORMS.
VOTERS, WAKE UP!
Edmund M. Industan
A blot of an ink on a boxed paper board;
A hit of that screen with names that we know,
An effort from us with hope that it would
Better the globe; changed rotting world.
Soar to the world! See how they perform.
First year o’erflows with peaches and cream;
Following months served with decaying fruit…
Good to the cronies; bad to those who can’t be reached
With the magic wand of the elected!
But hey!
It is ‘them’ fault? Or it’s ‘us’ to blame!
Hey!
We put them there! And we sleep and dream!
Hey!
The bed of roses would slip so fast…
Then we’re awake, we cried for a failed task!
We muster the disgruntled; we marched to the street.
To the leaders, we’re roaches to be quashed and contained.
We joined forces to startle and threaten
Wishing for more strength! But alas! ‘twas hard to gain.
Many of us would raise our hands up.
Others would show thumbs down for the lame.
The herd disoriented! Others jumped off! Some were maimed!
Those voices so strong before…now just whispers of dying men.
But hey!
It’s not the end! The full term will come!
Let’s educate every man this time!
Let’s cast our vote wisely mark for those
Candidates, who have brains and brawns…
Morals pleasing to God and not just to men!
(c) e. industan, 2007
I hope and pray that voters will vote wisely on Nov. 4th.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
MY TAKE ON NATIONAL SENTIMENT
Here we go again. Scriptwriters and actors continue to hit Filipinos below the belt. I understand. They wanted to make their TV programs draw more viewers. Nevertheless, if they do it at the expense of someone’s dignity, to the extent that it results to a skewed stereotyping, that’s a different story. The problem is that many actors are so irresponsible that they would just blurt anything a scriptwriter would put in their mouths and late night talk show hosts would scour for funny dialogue to keep their viewers awake.
First case was on September 30, 2007. Susan in “Desperate Housewives” boldly said, “Can I just check those diplomas because I just want to make sure that they are not from some med school in the Philippines.” This was a dialogue between Susan and her gynecologist. Next was on October 25, 2007. Late night talk show host, Jimmy Kimmel, while interviewing actor Josh Hartnett said, “(in the Philippines) people probably don’t speak English there”. Now, similar case has happened in the U.K. A comedian included in his performance a Filipina domestic helper, who was flirting and acting like dumb with her British master. Such irresponsible dialogue and showmanship maybe flattering to many, but (oh, boy!) it is a live coal waiting to rekindle the national sentiment to others.
National sentiment is a sense of collective solidarity by a group within identified geographical and cultural boundaries. It sparks when an outsider unfairly treats them. Such treatment, more or less, draws emotional, impulsive, irrational, regressive, with high intensity to the subjected cultural group. That has been happening among the Filipino communities, not only in USA and U.K. With easy access to electronic communication highway, such sentiment quickly spreads in other parts of the world.
Depending on the harshness of the event, responses by subjected group may vary. Anger, disgust, strike, picket, demonstration, boycott, mob, lynching, and those who see TV programs as purely entertainment see it as a matter of art. Nationalistic individuals, who have strong affinity to their country of origin or those who have experienced indifference from their host culture or another cultural group would react vehemently. Mentally unstable individual could react injuriously. Bicultural and assimilated individuals would take it ambivalent.
Just like individualistic artist, I take my national sentiment differently. Besides boycotting, (I haven’t watched “Desperate Wives” and “Jimmy Kimmel Live” since then) I paint and etch the event in paper hoping that those who could read it would get a kernel of history lesson in it. Hence, I wrote this “Hey Poem”, which is an experimental performance poetry adapted from the indigenous Dasang of the Higa-onon tribe in southern Philippines against the words of the late night talk show host, Jimmy Kimmel.
LOOK! WHO’S TALKING
Edmund Melig Industan
Oh, yeah! That midnight show on ABC.
And Josh Hartnett was with Jimmy.
They talked about the film per se
That’s partly shot in the Philippines.
I watched and listened with delight. (Oh, yeah)
Nostalgia purling with my insomnia
I watched the antic with a grin until
The host said they can’t speak our English there.
Hey!
My blood has spurted so high!
Hey!
Bellagio fountain… that high!
Hey!
My head has spanned ‘round three sixty.
It triggered a fiery anxiety.
I’m pinoy! I speak English well. Not a lie!
But I’m just a piece of that whole brown pie.
I even taught English to Texan kids;
So, check your mouth, more research, you need.
It is true that some pinoys could only say,
‘Hey! Chocolate, Joe!’ ‘Hey! Cigarette, Joe!’
But, please, don’t dare say that leaf is a tree;
Don’t leave out adjective ‘some’ off the tree.
Hey!
Though we speak English with gongs;
Hey!
So loud that they’re bikers’ “broom”!
Hey!
And others need to learn it well!
But don’t dare label that all don’t speak
English that well.
Think of your name, for once, Mr. Host.
It does not sound a “Smith” or a “Post”.
Trace where your blood originally sprung;
Check if they can speak the universal tongue.
Should you find the other way, you’re lucky.
Should you find they’re like what you say?
You’re sorry! You just hammered yourself
With an infected nail that breaks our society.
Hey!
I’m going to say this to you!
Hey!
Those tactless thought and racial jokes!
Hey!
They’re hard to chew as rubbery meat.
Well-done for safety sake! It’s not worth it!
Hey!
It tastes like bile in castor oil!
Hey!
It’s bitter, cleanses…entire bowel!
Hey!
It makes cold sweat that so gooey;
It could blow someone’s head away!
But hey!
We don’t need more brutality.
We need relation…harmony!
Your role as a celebrity is
Quell the fire spreading in the city.
So hey!
You let your voice fly high so high.
Let those night owls laugh hard but have them sigh.
Fly as a dove on sleepless night
Bringing olive spray to those in-fights!
We ought to check what we say on the air
Pay attention to those modifiers!
…For labeling and generalizing?
Not the best way to peace and understanding.
© edindustan, 2007
I hope everybody will become sensitive to the feelings of other people, especially when one is talking about people outside of his race. PEACE!
First case was on September 30, 2007. Susan in “Desperate Housewives” boldly said, “Can I just check those diplomas because I just want to make sure that they are not from some med school in the Philippines.” This was a dialogue between Susan and her gynecologist. Next was on October 25, 2007. Late night talk show host, Jimmy Kimmel, while interviewing actor Josh Hartnett said, “(in the Philippines) people probably don’t speak English there”. Now, similar case has happened in the U.K. A comedian included in his performance a Filipina domestic helper, who was flirting and acting like dumb with her British master. Such irresponsible dialogue and showmanship maybe flattering to many, but (oh, boy!) it is a live coal waiting to rekindle the national sentiment to others.
National sentiment is a sense of collective solidarity by a group within identified geographical and cultural boundaries. It sparks when an outsider unfairly treats them. Such treatment, more or less, draws emotional, impulsive, irrational, regressive, with high intensity to the subjected cultural group. That has been happening among the Filipino communities, not only in USA and U.K. With easy access to electronic communication highway, such sentiment quickly spreads in other parts of the world.
Depending on the harshness of the event, responses by subjected group may vary. Anger, disgust, strike, picket, demonstration, boycott, mob, lynching, and those who see TV programs as purely entertainment see it as a matter of art. Nationalistic individuals, who have strong affinity to their country of origin or those who have experienced indifference from their host culture or another cultural group would react vehemently. Mentally unstable individual could react injuriously. Bicultural and assimilated individuals would take it ambivalent.
Just like individualistic artist, I take my national sentiment differently. Besides boycotting, (I haven’t watched “Desperate Wives” and “Jimmy Kimmel Live” since then) I paint and etch the event in paper hoping that those who could read it would get a kernel of history lesson in it. Hence, I wrote this “Hey Poem”, which is an experimental performance poetry adapted from the indigenous Dasang of the Higa-onon tribe in southern Philippines against the words of the late night talk show host, Jimmy Kimmel.
LOOK! WHO’S TALKING
Edmund Melig Industan
Oh, yeah! That midnight show on ABC.
And Josh Hartnett was with Jimmy.
They talked about the film per se
That’s partly shot in the Philippines.
I watched and listened with delight. (Oh, yeah)
Nostalgia purling with my insomnia
I watched the antic with a grin until
The host said they can’t speak our English there.
Hey!
My blood has spurted so high!
Hey!
Bellagio fountain… that high!
Hey!
My head has spanned ‘round three sixty.
It triggered a fiery anxiety.
I’m pinoy! I speak English well. Not a lie!
But I’m just a piece of that whole brown pie.
I even taught English to Texan kids;
So, check your mouth, more research, you need.
It is true that some pinoys could only say,
‘Hey! Chocolate, Joe!’ ‘Hey! Cigarette, Joe!’
But, please, don’t dare say that leaf is a tree;
Don’t leave out adjective ‘some’ off the tree.
Hey!
Though we speak English with gongs;
Hey!
So loud that they’re bikers’ “broom”!
Hey!
And others need to learn it well!
But don’t dare label that all don’t speak
English that well.
Think of your name, for once, Mr. Host.
It does not sound a “Smith” or a “Post”.
Trace where your blood originally sprung;
Check if they can speak the universal tongue.
Should you find the other way, you’re lucky.
Should you find they’re like what you say?
You’re sorry! You just hammered yourself
With an infected nail that breaks our society.
Hey!
I’m going to say this to you!
Hey!
Those tactless thought and racial jokes!
Hey!
They’re hard to chew as rubbery meat.
Well-done for safety sake! It’s not worth it!
Hey!
It tastes like bile in castor oil!
Hey!
It’s bitter, cleanses…entire bowel!
Hey!
It makes cold sweat that so gooey;
It could blow someone’s head away!
But hey!
We don’t need more brutality.
We need relation…harmony!
Your role as a celebrity is
Quell the fire spreading in the city.
So hey!
You let your voice fly high so high.
Let those night owls laugh hard but have them sigh.
Fly as a dove on sleepless night
Bringing olive spray to those in-fights!
We ought to check what we say on the air
Pay attention to those modifiers!
…For labeling and generalizing?
Not the best way to peace and understanding.
© edindustan, 2007
I hope everybody will become sensitive to the feelings of other people, especially when one is talking about people outside of his race. PEACE!
Monday, June 2, 2008
An Experimental Hey Poem (Dasang /dah-SANG/)
As promised, I am posting the first experimental Hey Poem on the web and elsewhere. At first, I thought of posting a Hey Poem about McClellan's book; however, I decided to go for this poem on Mr. Poetry Prose.
Since this experimental Hey Poem is an adaptation of the Higa-onon's dasang(dah-SANG), I also would like to post a clip from You Tube of a tribal chieftain performing this speech-song. (Sorry guys, everytime I paste the Dasang clip, an animation is messing up with it. Promise, I'll try to post the dasang clip next time.)
Hope you'll appreciate the beauty and the art of the Higa-onon tribe of southern Philippines as adapted in the English poetry form.
Please enjoy!
TO YOU, MR. POETRY PROSE
(c)edmund industan 2007
Twenty-four seven, I am sharing my soul.
Daytime, I lay in some anatomy class
Naked to my minutest part! Students
Checking my innards to learn my craft.
At nightime, I wanted to be laid,
But very few invite me to bed.
Most prefer to be embraced by a silk
Not by a wool or a crocheted sheet.
So, at ten, I wear shades in the dark.
The night owls are dancing their hearts out.
'Though I'm not sure if they could hear my words
They added jolts and croons to my chords.
But hey!
I am awake! I am doing my part!
Hey!
I entertain until they are out.
Hey!
I stir the minds of the academe
But, I would love to be in someone's dream.
It's true, Poetry Prose, I'm in discontent.
I would love to expand and evolve...
Be active, out in the street...
Not passively awake in the shelves.
I'm glad you tried to adapt the form
Of Meticulous Prose! But, sure, not enough!
Convince me, P.P., I'm still an old Thomas...
Structure isn't enough to win the reader's heart.
You think you're better off than those on a diet?
They restrict too much to come up with a skinny form.
Ended up emaciated...light as a cotton ball!
People can't make a sense of the dress they don.
But hey!
It is not late! We still have the time.
Hey!
Let's associate; let us check the street.
Hey!
Let's check the world how they pace their time.
And evolve! Need to grow along with the time.
So Hey!
As mother hen, I am clacking for one,
'Come to my bosom and learn evolution.
There is a change to benefit the world
Not a change to be self-contained.'
Yes, we are a spook of the culture and not...
A hermit! We can't survive on our own.
We have to adapt on what other's need;
So that our art can help us better the world.
(Note: This hey poem is included in my upcoming book, "150+1 Poems...:An Anthology")
Since this experimental Hey Poem is an adaptation of the Higa-onon's dasang(dah-SANG), I also would like to post a clip from You Tube of a tribal chieftain performing this speech-song. (Sorry guys, everytime I paste the Dasang clip, an animation is messing up with it. Promise, I'll try to post the dasang clip next time.)
Hope you'll appreciate the beauty and the art of the Higa-onon tribe of southern Philippines as adapted in the English poetry form.
Please enjoy!
TO YOU, MR. POETRY PROSE
(c)edmund industan 2007
Twenty-four seven, I am sharing my soul.
Daytime, I lay in some anatomy class
Naked to my minutest part! Students
Checking my innards to learn my craft.
At nightime, I wanted to be laid,
But very few invite me to bed.
Most prefer to be embraced by a silk
Not by a wool or a crocheted sheet.
So, at ten, I wear shades in the dark.
The night owls are dancing their hearts out.
'Though I'm not sure if they could hear my words
They added jolts and croons to my chords.
But hey!
I am awake! I am doing my part!
Hey!
I entertain until they are out.
Hey!
I stir the minds of the academe
But, I would love to be in someone's dream.
It's true, Poetry Prose, I'm in discontent.
I would love to expand and evolve...
Be active, out in the street...
Not passively awake in the shelves.
I'm glad you tried to adapt the form
Of Meticulous Prose! But, sure, not enough!
Convince me, P.P., I'm still an old Thomas...
Structure isn't enough to win the reader's heart.
You think you're better off than those on a diet?
They restrict too much to come up with a skinny form.
Ended up emaciated...light as a cotton ball!
People can't make a sense of the dress they don.
But hey!
It is not late! We still have the time.
Hey!
Let's associate; let us check the street.
Hey!
Let's check the world how they pace their time.
And evolve! Need to grow along with the time.
So Hey!
As mother hen, I am clacking for one,
'Come to my bosom and learn evolution.
There is a change to benefit the world
Not a change to be self-contained.'
Yes, we are a spook of the culture and not...
A hermit! We can't survive on our own.
We have to adapt on what other's need;
So that our art can help us better the world.
(Note: This hey poem is included in my upcoming book, "150+1 Poems...:An Anthology")
Saturday, May 24, 2008
A PROSE POETRY ON DASANG (Hey Poem)
I promised you a sample of a Hey Poem (Dasang) to be posted this weekend. However, I decided to post this prose poetry, instead, to give you more information about it.
THE WORLD NEEDS A "DASANG" (Yell)
(c) e.industan 2007
I entered the jungle of concretes and brains. Then, I hopped in a cave full of bound papers and shelves. I went to a corner and fiddled some keys to find my way in the maze.
The cave is primeval, but houses all species from living to the dead. Only a cave, but I walked around the globe and onto someone's grave.
I strutted through the brown condos of famous and the sage. I gazed up, then down, while slightly touching the numbers of those in my reach: storages of Dickinson, Lowell, Sigourney, Whitman, and the rest.
Unnoticed at first, a mountain began to grow. As I rested, my mind wandered away from those tomes that caught me in awe. I whispered,'...but something's missing. I still am not convinced. There were lots of gentle...subtle voices in verses, but didn't hit me hard, as a hammer, in my head.'
I folded my elbow, thumped my forehead to rest. Eyes closed; mind zapped beyond the shelves. I heard from afar the yell of a speech-song by a tribe, the Higa-onon. A tribe in the Philippines, the speech is a "Dasang".
A hortatory used mainly by the chiefs...to admonish, advice, argue, implore, and scold the mischief's. They used flowery and sweets to numb the pain, while they hurled fiery arrows to those wolves among men.
The vision seemed so real as I listened to the rhythm: da-da-DAT-da-da-DAT on line after they said, "Git". After the "Git" the speech was sometimes flat...sometimes contoured with rhythmic patterns, but not strict at all. I'm conviced this is "it" that would fill the void in the caves.
Revived, I took a quill from my coat tail. I started stringing flowery words about our world. I hope to lift reality to its next level... that the world could see poetry, not just artsy, but as an active part of society.
Soon, I'll post the seed that I want to germinate. I hope the poets and the non-poets will stop by in some caves to see and savor the goodness of this ethnopoetic.
(Note: This prose poetry is included in my upcoming book: 150+1 Poems on THE EXPERIMENTAL DASANG (Hey Poem) and 45 OTHER POETRY FORMS: An Anthology.
THE WORLD NEEDS A "DASANG" (Yell)
(c) e.industan 2007
I entered the jungle of concretes and brains. Then, I hopped in a cave full of bound papers and shelves. I went to a corner and fiddled some keys to find my way in the maze.
The cave is primeval, but houses all species from living to the dead. Only a cave, but I walked around the globe and onto someone's grave.
I strutted through the brown condos of famous and the sage. I gazed up, then down, while slightly touching the numbers of those in my reach: storages of Dickinson, Lowell, Sigourney, Whitman, and the rest.
Unnoticed at first, a mountain began to grow. As I rested, my mind wandered away from those tomes that caught me in awe. I whispered,'...but something's missing. I still am not convinced. There were lots of gentle...subtle voices in verses, but didn't hit me hard, as a hammer, in my head.'
I folded my elbow, thumped my forehead to rest. Eyes closed; mind zapped beyond the shelves. I heard from afar the yell of a speech-song by a tribe, the Higa-onon. A tribe in the Philippines, the speech is a "Dasang".
A hortatory used mainly by the chiefs...to admonish, advice, argue, implore, and scold the mischief's. They used flowery and sweets to numb the pain, while they hurled fiery arrows to those wolves among men.
The vision seemed so real as I listened to the rhythm: da-da-DAT-da-da-DAT on line after they said, "Git". After the "Git" the speech was sometimes flat...sometimes contoured with rhythmic patterns, but not strict at all. I'm conviced this is "it" that would fill the void in the caves.
Revived, I took a quill from my coat tail. I started stringing flowery words about our world. I hope to lift reality to its next level... that the world could see poetry, not just artsy, but as an active part of society.
Soon, I'll post the seed that I want to germinate. I hope the poets and the non-poets will stop by in some caves to see and savor the goodness of this ethnopoetic.
(Note: This prose poetry is included in my upcoming book: 150+1 Poems on THE EXPERIMENTAL DASANG (Hey Poem) and 45 OTHER POETRY FORMS: An Anthology.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Ethnopoetic and the Higa-onon Dasang (dah-SANG)
Ethnopoetic isn't new to the literary world. It has been existing for, at least the last 200 years. The New Princeton Encyclopedia of Poetry and Poetics (1993) considers a literary work as such, if it is a means to compare poetry and related arts with a characteristics, but not exclusive emphases, to stateless, low technology cultures and on oral and nonliterate forms of verbal expression, and if the poetry or the idea is about the culture being studied. Ethnopoetic can also be a movement in contemporary literary world, in which literature and social science (particularly anthropology and sociolinguistics) devote to studying and adapting such poetic verbal expressions.
Even though ethnopoetic has been going on for many years, the term itself had been popularized in 1968 by a journalist, Jerome Rothenberg, and an anthopologist, Dennis Tedlock, when they collaborated to edit the magazine, Alcheringa, from 1971 to 1980. Alcheringa was an avenue to promote ethnopoetics. Consequently, 2 international symposia on the movement were held in 1978 and 1985. Unfortunately, ethnopoetic did not stir a considerable interest to the literary scholars and social scientists. Currently, it is in hibernation and would surely disappear into its eternal death if no one would attempt to revive it.
I really am feeling bad for the imminent demise of ethnopoetic, because ethnic languages are just as beautiful, interesting, complex, and unique as others. Let us take dasang, a poetic hortatory discourse of the Higa-onon (hii-gah-OH-noon) of southern Philippines. German ethnomusicologist, and my good friend, Hans Brandeis, who extensively did his research in the Philippines, categorized it as a speech-song. (see Hans Brandies Homepage)
I lived and worked among the Higa-onon tribe in the 70s and constantly heard dasang (dah-SANG) in tribal meetings to investigate lawlessness and resolve issues on intra-village problems. It is delivered, full of imagery, to avoid direct insult, shame, and embarrassment to a suspected culprit. At the same time, it is a way to win a case, negotiate for a lighter penalty, to advise the culprit, and to showcase the oratorical skill and artistry of the chieftain.
Dasang , by itself, is a beauty and art when performed. The lifting of the orator's behind and the swaying of the arms when the orator says a unique interjection, "git" or"kit" ( which I equate it with the English term, hey), is so entertaining that the villagers will congregate to witness an hour or so, of otherwise, boring meetings.
Despite its beauty and uniqueness, dasang is disappearing. Since it is transmitted orally, the younger generation, who are more inclined to adapt the national or world's pop culture for social acceptance, most definitely, has to be motivated to learn, embrace (as they embrace hip-hop), and have the self-pride to preserve it. One way for scholars to help in motivating the young generation is to promote and elevate dasang as a poetry form, which is adapted and accepted internationally.
I, as a member of another Philippine tribe (the Bukidnons), is advocating the revival of ethnopoetic. I have introduced dasang, as a hey poem, in my book, KOILAWAN (koi-lah-ONE): Letters and Poems of a Jungle Dad-Mom, which has been marketed worlwide. My upcoming book, 150+1 Poems of THE EXPERIMENTAL DASANG (Hey Poem) and 45 OTHER POETRY FORMS: An Anthology, have a dozen more hey poem to promote it. I hope that more literary scholars and social scientists will join the bandwagon in promoting, preserving, and reviving the movement of ethnopoetics.
Even though ethnopoetic has been going on for many years, the term itself had been popularized in 1968 by a journalist, Jerome Rothenberg, and an anthopologist, Dennis Tedlock, when they collaborated to edit the magazine, Alcheringa, from 1971 to 1980. Alcheringa was an avenue to promote ethnopoetics. Consequently, 2 international symposia on the movement were held in 1978 and 1985. Unfortunately, ethnopoetic did not stir a considerable interest to the literary scholars and social scientists. Currently, it is in hibernation and would surely disappear into its eternal death if no one would attempt to revive it.
I really am feeling bad for the imminent demise of ethnopoetic, because ethnic languages are just as beautiful, interesting, complex, and unique as others. Let us take dasang, a poetic hortatory discourse of the Higa-onon (hii-gah-OH-noon) of southern Philippines. German ethnomusicologist, and my good friend, Hans Brandeis, who extensively did his research in the Philippines, categorized it as a speech-song. (see Hans Brandies Homepage)
I lived and worked among the Higa-onon tribe in the 70s and constantly heard dasang (dah-SANG) in tribal meetings to investigate lawlessness and resolve issues on intra-village problems. It is delivered, full of imagery, to avoid direct insult, shame, and embarrassment to a suspected culprit. At the same time, it is a way to win a case, negotiate for a lighter penalty, to advise the culprit, and to showcase the oratorical skill and artistry of the chieftain.
Dasang , by itself, is a beauty and art when performed. The lifting of the orator's behind and the swaying of the arms when the orator says a unique interjection, "git" or"kit" ( which I equate it with the English term, hey), is so entertaining that the villagers will congregate to witness an hour or so, of otherwise, boring meetings.
Despite its beauty and uniqueness, dasang is disappearing. Since it is transmitted orally, the younger generation, who are more inclined to adapt the national or world's pop culture for social acceptance, most definitely, has to be motivated to learn, embrace (as they embrace hip-hop), and have the self-pride to preserve it. One way for scholars to help in motivating the young generation is to promote and elevate dasang as a poetry form, which is adapted and accepted internationally.
I, as a member of another Philippine tribe (the Bukidnons), is advocating the revival of ethnopoetic. I have introduced dasang, as a hey poem, in my book, KOILAWAN (koi-lah-ONE): Letters and Poems of a Jungle Dad-Mom, which has been marketed worlwide. My upcoming book, 150+1 Poems of THE EXPERIMENTAL DASANG (Hey Poem) and 45 OTHER POETRY FORMS: An Anthology, have a dozen more hey poem to promote it. I hope that more literary scholars and social scientists will join the bandwagon in promoting, preserving, and reviving the movement of ethnopoetics.
(Note: A sample of Dasang or hey poem will be posted here sometime this weekend.)
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