Cockfight: Something About Human Condition

Have you ever watched a cockfight?

Just like the other games you've seen:

Spectators around the site

And two cocks fighting for the win

But, of course, there's a referee

Who decides when the game's over

Then men would collect their money

Happy they'd bet for the winner

But before the end of it all

Let's see the real situation:

There are some men who shout and call

On bets for 'wala' or 'meron;'

Some men who sit in the front seats

Are the most addict for the fight;

Some in the middle are for luck--

They're not there for the spectacle

Cause when they lose, they always mock,

They almost die like a candle;

And there are those who feel boredom

Because they really want to free

Themselves from other men's humdrum,

That endless loud monotony.

So what's the moral of the scene?

I say, the world's really like that

For some it's good; for others, mean;

For few, boring; for many, not

But how about the referee?

Is he there in order to judge,

To neutralize, to oversee,

Or to cause in some men a grudge?

It is that every mind has role,

That each man has limitation,

That all mind's can't be in a bowl,

Can't be in total concession;

That there's always a difference

In the way every man values,

In the way a man gives license

To a life-belief he pursues

No one, even me to writes this

Anecdote of man's existence,

Has the power to feel the bliss

Of a God's mind of omniscience

And if there is a superman--

Or if there is truly a God--

He can't escape the heat of sun,

Not even the curse of the 'mad'--

No one, even me who tells you

About the game we are into