TOP UNDYING DECLAMATION PIECES

1. "Bad Girl"
Hey! Everybody seems to be staring at me..
You! You! All of you!
How dare you to stare at me?
Why? Is it because I'm a bad girl?
A bad girl I am, A good for nothing teen ager, a problem child?
That's what you call me!
I smoke. I drink. I gamble at my young tender age.
I lie. I cheat, and I could even kill, If I have too.
Yes, I'm a bad girl, but where are my parents?
You! You! You are my good parents?
My good elder brother and sister in this society where I live?
Look…look at me…What have you done to me?
You have pampered and spoiled me, neglected me when I needed you
most!
Entrusted me to a yaya, whose intelligence was much lower than mine!
While you go about your parties, your meetings and gambling session…
Thus… I drifted away from you!
Longing for a father's love, yearning for a mother's care!
As I grew up, everything changed!
You too have changed!
You spent more time in your poker, majong tables, bars and night clubs.
You even landed on the headlines of the newspaper as crooks, peddlers and
racketeers.
Now, you call me names, accuse me of everything I do to myself?
Tell me! How good are you?
If you really wish to ensure my future…
Then hurry….hurry back home! Where I await you, because I need you…
Protect me from all evil influences that will threaten at my very own
understanding…
But if I am bad, really bad…then, you've got to help me!
Help me! Oh please…Help me!
2. "Juvenile Delinquent"

Am I a juvenile delinquent? I’m a teenager, I’m young, young at heart in mind. In this
position, I’m carefree, I enjoy doing nothing but to drink the wine of pleasure. I
seldom go to school, nobody cares!. But instead you can see me roaming around.
Standing at the nearby canto (street). Or else standing beside a jukebox stand
playing the nerve tickling bugaloo. Those are the reasons, why people, you branded
me delinquent, a juvenile delinquent.

My parents ignored me, my teachers sneered at me and my friends, they neglected

me. One night I asked my mother to teach me how to appreciate the values in life.
Would you care what she told me? "Stop bothering me! Can’t you see? I had to
dress up for my mahjong session, some other time my child". I turned to my father to
console me, but, what a wonderful thing he told me. "Child, here’s 500 bucks, get it
and enjoy yourself, go and ask your teachers that question".

And in school, I heard nothing but the echoes of the voices of my teachers torturing
me with these words. "Why waste your time in studying, you can’t even divide 100 by
5! Go home and plant sweet potatoes".

I may have the looks of Audrey Hepburn, the calmly voice of Nathalie Cole. But
that’s not what you can see in me. Here’s a young girl who needs counsel to
enlighten her way and guidance to strenghten her life into contentment.

Honorable judge, friends and teachers…is this the girl whom you commented a
juvenile delinquent?.

My parents ignored me, my teachers sneered at me and my friends, they neglected

me. One night I asked my mother to teach me how to appreciate the values in life.
Would you care what she told me? "Stop bothering me! Can’t you see? I had to
dress up for my mahjong session, some other time my child". I turned to my father to
console me, but, what a wonderful thing he told me. "Child, here’s 500 bucks, get it
and enjou yourself, go and ask your teachers that question".

And in school, I heard nothing but the echoes of the voices of my teachers torturing
me with these words. "Why waste your time in studying, you can’t even divide 100 by
5! Go home and plant sweet potatoes".

I may have the looks of Audrey Hepburn, the calmly voice of Nathalie Cole. But
that’s not what you can see in me. Here’s a young girl who needs counsel to
enlighten her way and guidance to strenghten her life into contentment.

Honorable judge, friends and teachers…is this the girl whom you commented a
juvenile delinquent?.
3. "The Unpardonable Crime"
Only one living creature seemed to take any notice of his existence:
this was an old St. Bernard, who used to come and lay his big head with its mournful
eyes on Christophe's knees when Christophe was sitting on the seat in front of the
house. They would look long at each other. Christophe would not drive him away
Unlike the sick Goethe, the dog's eyes had no uneasiness for him Unlike him, he had
no desire to cry:
"Go away! . . . Thou goblin thou shalt not catch me, whatever thou doest!"
He asked nothing better than to be engrossed by the dog's suppliant sleepy eyes
and to help the beast: he felt that there must be behind them an imprisoned soul
imploring his aid.

In those hours when he was weak with suffering, torn alive away from life, devoid of
human egoism, he saw the victims of men, the field of battle in which man triumphed
in the bloody slaughter of all other creatures: and his heart was filled with pity and
horror. Even in the days when he had been happy he had always loved the beasts:
he had never been able to bear cruelty towards them: he had always had a
detestation of sport, which he had never dared to express for fear of ridicule: but his
feeling of repulsion had been the secret cause of the apparently inexplicable feeling
of dislike he had had for certain men: he had never been able to admit to his
friendship a man who could kill an animal for pleasure. It was not sentimentality: no
one knew better than he that life is based on suffering and infinite cruelty: no man
can live without making others suffer. It is no use closing our eyes and fobbing
ourselves off with words. It is no use either coming to the conclusion that we must
renounce life and sniveling like children. No. We must kill to live, if, at the time, there
is no other means of living. But the man who kills for the sake of killing is a
miscreant. An unconscious miscreant, I know. But, all the same, a miscreant. The
continual endeavor of man should be to lessen the sum of suffering and cruelty: that
is the first duty of humanity.

In ordinary life those ideas remained buried in Christophe's inmost heart. He refused
to think of them. What was the good? What could he do? He had to be Christophe,
he had to accomplish his work, live at all costs, live at the cost of the weak. ... It was
not he who had made the universe. . . . Better not think of it, better not think of it. ...

But when unhappiness had dragged him down, him, too, to the level of the
vanquished, he had to think of these things. Only a little while ago he had blamed
Olivier for plunging into futile remorse and vain compassion for all the wretchedness
that men suffer and inflict. Now he went even farther: with all the vehemence of his
mighty nature he probed to the depths of the tragedy of the universe: he suffered all
the sufferings of the world, and was left raw and bleeding. He could not think of the
animals without shuddering in anguish. He looked into the eyes of the beasts and
saw there a soul like his own, a soul which could not speak: but the eyes cried for it:

"What have I done to you? Why do you hurt me?" He could not bear to see the most
ordinary sights that he had seen hundreds of times —a calf crying in a wicker pen,
with its big, protruding eyes, with their bluish whites and pink lids, and white lashes,
its curly white tufts on its forehead, its purple snout, its knock-kneed legs:—a lamb
being carried by a peasant with its four legs tied together, hanging head down, trying
to hold its head up, moaning like a child, bleating and lolling its gray tongue:—fowls
huddled together in a basket:—the distant squeals of a pig being bled to death:—a
fish being cleaned on the kitchen-table. . . . The nameless tortures which men inflict
on such innocent creatures made his heart ache. Grant animals a ray of reason,
imagine what a frightful nightmare the world is to them: a dream of cold-blooded
men, blind and deaf, cutting their throats, slitting them open, gutting them, cutting
them into pieces, cooking them alive, sometimes laughing at them and their
contortions as they writhe in agony. Is there anything more atrocious among the
cannibals of Africa? To a man whose mind is free there is something even more
intolerable in the sufferings of animals than in the sufferings of men. For with the
latter it is at least admitted that suffering is evil and that the man who causes it is a
criminal. But thousands of animals are uselessly butchered every day without a
shadow of remorse. If any man were to refer to it, he would be thought ridiculous.—
And that is the unpardonable crime. That alone is the justification of all that men may
suffer. It cries vengeance upon God. If there exists a good God, then even the most
humble of living things must be saved. If God is good only to the strong, if there is no
justice for the weak and lowly, for the poor creatures who are offered up as a
sacrifice to humanity, then there is no such thing as goodness, no such thing as
justice.
4. "No Pardon For Me"
I'm sentenced.

Sentenced to life in this dank cell

of misery.
I can see the key-
it hangs there,
just out my finger's reach,
dangling there in a mock of freedom.

There will be no pardon for me,

no stay of this execution.

My life has convicted me

for crimes I did not commit.
My penalty meted out.
I followed every rule,
broke no laws,
have more than paid my fines
to society's shun upon me.

There was no fair trial,

no chance for me to plead my case.
The jurors were sent from hell,
quick to judgement
and showed no mercy
as they read their verdict.

Life/Death, what does it matter?

Its all the same in this prison.

I am but a mere victim,

the criminal has gotten away,
while I do the time
for fate's crimes against me.

I can't escape the hounds they'd release,

should I attemp escape,
for the walls and barbed wires
are too painful to scale
and the hounds would scent my fear.

So I sit here,
waiting...
waiting for the day they walk me
that longest mile,
waiting for the flow of their poison
to seep within' my veins.

That lethal injection

that will finally end this misery
of a soul so wrongfully convicted to die.
5. "The Plea of an Aborted Fetus"
LET THIS PRECIOUS ANGELS LIVE !

"SET ME FREE. LET ME LIVE, I DESERVE TO BE BORN, I WANT TO LIVE. FOR HEAVENS SAKE, HAVE
PITY."

Ladies and Gentlemen, dear fathers and mother, listen to my plea, listen to my story. I could have
been the 17th Lady President of the Philippines Republic, had you given me the chance to live, had
you not deprived me of my life, had you not taken away my privilege to be born.

Some eleven years ago, a healthy ovum started to generate in the womb of a
woman with six other children. My coming should be a herald of joy, a symbol of
love incarnate but to my mommy it was a burden, a problem, an additional mouth to
feed. To Dad, it was a mistake, an effect of Mom's carelessness for not taking the
contraceptive pills.

One gloomy day in June, my unexpected coming was confirmed. It was a painful
decision. I could sense the imminent danger as Mom got inside the abortion room. I
was an unwanted child. No one loved me. No one cared. I was a rejected being, a
tiny lump slowly forming into human being with human soul. I was already alive,
kicking, struggling. My heart was already beating and my thumb had already the
unique mark. As I was holding to my mother's womb a splash of heat came all over
me. I writhed in extreme pain.

-- "Mom, why have you done this to me? Am I not the flesh of your own flesh, the
blood of your own blood?"

The rubber suction caught my tiny limbs and mercilessly twisted it slowly cutting it
from my body. I struggled for my life. 1,2,3 and the first part of me came out.

-- "Mom, why have you permitted this? Am I not Dad's pledge of love to you?"

Then it was followed by another rubber suction sucking the other part moving it with
force until both were fully amputated.

-- "Mom, why have you done this to me? Am I not God's image you promised to love
and protect?"

Then i felt shaken once, twice, several times until I do not know anymore what has
been going around. I gushed forth my last breath...

Then came the final blow, my head - the abortionist termed as No. I was totally cut
from my torso: total annihilation.

GONE IS MY CHANCE TO LEAD A HEALTHY NORMAL LIFE.

GONE IS MY CHANCE TO BEHOLD THE MANY LOVELY THINGS GOD CREATED FOR
US.

GONE IS THE PROMISE OF A BLISSFUL LIFE.

6. "I Killed Her"
I killed her because I do love her. These hands, these hands that gave life to many,
killed her because of my love for her.

Ladies and Gentlemen of this honorable court, please listen to me, listen to my story
before you give my verdict. I am Dr. Reyes, a cancer specialist. I was born in a slum
district of Batalon. My father oh! I don't know him for I am a child of faith. My mother
brought me up in such determination and my ambition was to escape the filthy and
horrible place of Batalon. I was nourished with hope that someday I might live a life
different from her. My mother had a burning faith that she turned the nights into days.
All her efforts were not in vain for I pushed through with flying colors. My mother who
had given her whole life to me had tears in her eyes as she pinned the gold medal
on my proud chest.

Later on, I was sent as a scholar of the Philippines to the United States of America. I
embraced my mother… tightly as I've reached the plane….."Mother, mother,.." I
whispered. You will always be my best mother in the world.

After four years, I came back with laurels. I became a cancer specialist. I gave my
mother everything but I was too late. I who had used to ease the pain of many, came
too late for the life of my dying mother. I gave the best treatment but the grasp of
death was so tight around her. My God, what is the use of ten years of study if I
couldn't even use it at my mother's pain.

Then one night, I heard a strange cry. I run to her room. "Do you love me, child?"…
she asked, as I embrace her. " Yes, mother….. If only I could get all your pain and
agonies…"

" Then….. if you love me, end my sufferings, kill me… Let me die."

"But, mother, I promise to give life and not to end it."

God…. She did not deserve the unhappiness. She deserves to be happy.

I run to my room and came back with a syringe.

"Mother, forgive me…. God, please understand me…."

"Mother, mother, you must not die….. Don't leave, I love you. It was only a distilled
water…..Mother…… Mother……. MOTHER……"

Now, Ladies and Gentlemen, give me your verdict. Yes, it was only distilled water
which ended the sufferings of my mother.

Judge me….. Punish me………

GO, punish me………….. Thy will be done!!

7. “Conscience”
I wept, I cried so hard. But this tears can’t bring back my sister to life. My being brought here by my
conscience. I want to ask forgiveness. But can she still hear? O heart, forgive me for what I have
done, please bring peace to mind.

Dry leaves were crushed down below. As if to freshen my memories that her life perished because of
my selfishness.

Since our childhood, I always believed that I was the favorite of

She was my only sister.
our dad. One night, while I was facing all about to the mirror, with my micro mini, I
puffed powder, when I saw Luisa’s face, reflecting in the mirror. "You can’t get out
tonight, Lucille." I heard a threatening tone from her. I turned to her, but I can’t
resist at her sharp stare at me. "And who says so, my dear sister?" "We are to
celebrate Momma’s death anniversary, you know that don’t you?" In a relaxed and
condescending voice, I replied "well I don’t care. I’m going out to party tonight!"

Then I heard a knock on the door. I shouted "Help Papa!" for I knew that it was he.
I pulled my hair, I tore my dress away as I was attacked by a squad of monstrous
creatures. When the door opened the site Papa saw was that Luisa was holding my
neck who was trying to make a rescue. But I cried so hard that made Papa grew to
the height of anger. He threw Luisa to the corner, where the head of my poor sister
was hit at the edge of the chair.

I slowly rejoiced for I have made a successful revenge. But when she lifted, I saw a
different sparkle in her tearful eyes. "Ha ha ha ha ha!" O my, Luisa, she went out of
her mind. I was not able to move, as well as Papa. Both of us were motionless. And
before we returned to our senses, Luisa ran to the door and proceeded to the open
gate of our house. We followed her calling out her name. "Luisa!" "Sister!" "Luisa"
"Sister" "Luisa the Truck!" "Don’t cross the road, Luisa, the truck don’t Don’t DON’T!"

The next sight I saw was that Luisa was thrown five meters away from the truck. I
ran to her and embraced her. Blood was all over her face. In a low but distinct voice
she murmured, that made my heart break so much. She said, "Lucille, please be a
good girl. I love you. Please be a good girl ‘coz Papa loves you very much."

"Luisa? Luisa? Sister… sister!!!" From that moment I cried so hard for killing my only
sister, who loved and cared for me, even at the last moment of her life.

Now can you blame me, for asking God to forgive me? Forgive me dear God, Forgive
me!
8. “Am I to be Blamed?”
They’re chasing me, they’re chasing, no they must not catch me, I have enough money now, yes
enough for my starving mother and brothers.

Please let me go, let me go home before you imprisoned me. Very well, officers? take me to your
headquarters. Good morning captain! no captain, you are mistaken, I was once a good girl, just like
the rest of you here. Just like any of your daughters. But time was, when I was reared in
slums. But we lived honestly, we lived honestly in life. My, father, mother, brothers,
sisters and I. But then, poverty enters the portals of our home. My father became
jobless, my mother got ill. The small savings that my mother had kept for our
expenses were spent. All for our daily needs and her needed medicine.

One night, my father went out, telling us that he would come back in a few minutes
with plenty of foods and money, but that was the last time I saw him. He went with
another woman. If only I could lay my hands on his neck I would wring it without
pain until he breaths no more. If you were in my place, you’ll do it, won’t you
Captain? What? you won’t still believe in me?. Come and I’ll show you a dilapidated
shanty by a railroad.

Mother, mother I’m home, mother? mother?!. There Captain, see my dead mother.
Captain? there are tears in your eyes? now pack this stolen money and return it to
the owner. What good would this do to my mother now? she’s already gone! Do you
hear me? she’s already gone. Am I to be blamed for the things I have done?
9. “A Glass of Cold Water”
Everybody calls me young, beautiful, wonderful. Am I? Look at my hair, my lips, my red rosy cheeks
and a pair of blinkering eyes.

I remember, somebody says that I look like my mother that I look like my mother. But that when she
was young.

Now, I am much lovelier than she is. I’m a mortal Venus. Oops! What time is it? I must get ready for
the party!

Beep-beep…!A-huh! Here they are! Yes, I’m coming!

"Child, are you still there?"

"Hmp! That’s my mama"

"Child, are you still there? Will you please get me a glass of cold water?"

"Mama, I’m in a hurry!"

"Please child, try to get me a glass of cold water."

"Mama, please, try to get it on your own."

"Please child, try to get me a glass of cold water!"

At the party, I danced and danced the whole night.

You see, I can’t leave the party at once. I have to danced with everybody who
proposed to me. At last, the party is over. I’m very tired. Very, very tired.

So, I went home to tell mama what happened.

"Mama, I’m home! It’s very quiet. "Mama, I’m home!" Nobody answers.

Where is she? I look for her in the sala, but she’s not there. Where is she? A-huh! In
the kitchen!

I saw my mama, lying down on the floor, dead. With a glass on her hand. I
remember, she tried to get it.

Oh, God, just for the glass of cold water! Mama! Mama! Oh, Mama!
10. “Vengeance Is Not Ours, It’s God’s”
Alms, alms, alms. Spare me a piece of bread. Spare me your mercy. I am a child so young, so thin,
and so ragged.Why are you staring at me? With my eyes I cannot see but I know that you are all
staring at me. Why are you whispering to one another? Why? Do you know my mother? Do you know
my father? Did you know me five years ago?

Yes, five years of bitterness have

passed. I can still remember the vast happiness mother
and I shared with each other. We were very happy indeed.

Suddenly, five loud knocks were heard on the door and a deep silence ensued. Did
the cruel Nippon’s discover our peaceful home? Mother ran to Father’s side
pleading. “Please, Luis, hide in the cellar, there in the cellar where they cannot find
you,” I pulled my father’s arm but he did not move. It seemed as though his feet were
glued to the floor.

The door went “bang” and before us five ugly beasts came barging in. “Are you
Captain Luis Santos?” roared the ugliest of them all. “Yes,” said my father. “You are
under arrest,” said one of the beasts. They pulled father roughly away from us.
Father was not given a chance to bid us goodbye.

We followed them mile after mile. We were hungry and thirsty. We saw group of
Japanese eating. Oh, how our mouths watered seeing the delicious fruits they were
eating,

Then suddenly, we heard a voice call, “Consuelo. . . . Oscar. . . . Consuelo. . . .

Oscar. . . . Consuelo. . . . Oscar. . . .” we ran towards the direction of the voice, but it
was too late. We saw father hanging on a tree. . . . dead. Oh, it was terrible. He had
been badly beaten before he died. . . . and I cried vengeance, vengeance,
vengeance! Everything went black. The next thing I knew I was nursing my poor
invalid mother.

One day, we heard the church bell ringing “ding-dong, ding-dong!” It was a sign for
us to find a shelter in our hide-out, but I could not leave my invalid mother, I tried to
show her the way to the hide-out.

Suddenly, bombs started falling; airplanes were roaring overhead, canyons were
firing from everywhere. “Boom, boom, boom, boom!” Mother was hit. Her legs were
shattered into pieces. I took her gently in my arms and cried, “I’ll have vengeance,
vengeance!” “No, Oscar. Vengeance, it’s God’s,” said mother.

But I cried out vengeance. I was like a pent-up volcano. “Vengeance is mine not the
Lord’s”. “No, Oscar. Vengeance is not ours, it’s God’s” these were the words from
my mother before she died.

Mother was dead and I was blind. Vengeance is not ours? To forgive is divine but
vengeance is sweeter. That was five years ago, five years. . . .

Alms, alms, alms. Spare me a piece of bread. Spare me your mercy. I am a child so
young, so thin, and so ragged. Vengeance is not ours, it’s God’s. . . . It’s. . . . God’s. .
It’s…