His inspiration came from the dailies,/ Reading them, taking down notes/Everyday of his short life, at least/When he started learning his alphabet./ His comments are acerbic/His sentences just and severe/
Like a news writer in heat./But Alfredo was a Gobi rain-cool/And deliberate and wise, his punches
are sudden, straight like the arrow
Of Longfellow.
How sad he died so early/He could have produced more poetry./O, the restless wind could not stay/He had to go for his body was tired/Broken at its core--he was a fat man once--/The disease, like the terrible fish/Gnawed and gnawed/And he was all bones,/When he journeyed to the grave.
Fare thee again, comrade of the pen,/Feisty social critic to the end./You are the earth we now tread,/But we walk with your message/In these uncertain times/Of stress and screaming headlines--The First Gentlemen Mike Arroyo/And his supposed paramour Victoria Toh;/Joey Marquez the oversexed gigolo/And his girlfriend Kris Aquino.
May this madness be put to rest
May this country be given due respect/Is it fair, Alfrredo
If I speak to them instead of you?
Photo Caption ; San Fernando City bus waiting area on a hot windless afternoon
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