In the hallowed halls of power, where shadows dance,

Bongbong and Sara, a political romance.

Marcos echoes past, a dictator’s kin,

Yet Sara’s ambitions wear a familial grin.

The sins of the father, a convenient refrain,

As Bongbong’s aspirations play a power game.

Martial law’s ghost lingers, a haunting recall,

Yet Sara’s gaze is set on a dynastic thrall.

In this theater of politics, where history repeats,

Their sins diverge in deceptive feats.

The offspring of power, a legacy to uphold,

A satire of redemption, where stories are told.

by Rene Astudillo and ACAI

Photo credit: Jedan Topiagon

In Baguio’s hills, where stories unfold,
Whispers of Tallano gold, a tale of old.
Buried not in earth’s embrace,
But in the eye, a gilded grace.

Marcos, a figure in the lore,
A share in wealth, forevermore.
Speculation weaves its thread,
In the sunrise, a truth unsaid.

A canvas painted with intrigue,
Tallano gold, a myth league.
In shadows cast, a glimmer bold,
A treasure in the eye it holds.

Yet, like dawn on Baguio’s height,
The truth eludes, dances in light.
In tales and gold, the legends spun,
A wealth untold, beneath the sun.