Extinction Moment

This soul does stand half ajar
For this world of greed and troubling hours
I have to remark on all the beauty
That stands so close to death

In the materialism of this place
Before machines are born
And remake you into an everlasting race
Enjoy mortality, while you are alone

Lording over nature, poisoning oceans
Depart, before the sun languishes
Over meteors, before you are replaced
In extinction’s calm embrace

Nothing is ordained but time’s lack
Of ambivalence, each thing in
Its rightful place, prone to embark
Upon evolution’s touch and hand

Where immortality is a long next
Of the tribes that once sung
And now are mere skeletons and fossils
In another time and place.

On the Elite of the Countries & Nations

This world is full of undue significance
Values parodied and profit personified
It’s not sustainable and won’t last

It’s the receipt of doom before
Our last meal, the anarchy has begun
And I don’t even dream anymore

About getting married, having children
In a world like this, of extravagance
Where you or I are replaceable

Only existing to fuel consumerist growth
Art is dead, literature is in denial
The crickets still sing, the sun still sinks

But the world has changed
In bronze and blaze, in false media
And politics ripe with corruption

And leaders whom I can imagine
Have rhetoric of profit and change once again.

Time with her Long Storm and Rainbow Nose

Until it puzzled came
I blinded centuries with my will
To continents of ecosystems entertained
Until the arctic got her drills

For oil, diamonds and the last hurray
Of a species running stock markets
To fetch the bills
I cannot live with you

Greed of white-man firmaments
Let Indian and Chinese colonize Mars
While you flood here with latitudes
Of European migrants over-run

And Germany caught on her heels
Colonial, accustomed and common industry
Alive for the moment, without regret
Wild as the guns they keep at home

While plummets stars from these flags
Too heavy to touch the angels
Too righteous with their own sense of God
Time will interdict the blossoms

California can’t lead the world
That is destined with acute degrees
Judgement day of time and eternity.

My Fabric was made by deep organ-notes

I have been quiet a long while
Through my soul wet with spirit
Though my heart whole with love
Though my passion righteous

With strange infinitude
I have not any body of royalty’s sign
I’ve grown old, weak, alone
Haloed with my mystic literature

I uncoil beauty’s parting
And the sun’s goodbye to youth
And there is no wine-flush left
No opalescent hope for prosperity

I am all that I will ever be
From becoming to indignity
My compassion has been ministered
Upon this Earth in little bursts

And that’s enough for whichever
Strange singer’s mind gave birth to me
I am the cosmos suddenly poor
Suddenly curious for a weary lifetime.

In Times of Trouble

I know what my heart is like
It’s everything and everyone
Dying inward for a bit of belonging

Hoping to touch a bit of life
For the sake of being reborn in identity
In sharing experience and tenderness
Was it for this I once uttered prayers?
That I should retire alone the years?

Bear me a crown of golden foreverafters
Love is the gold gown I’ve worn
In good times and the bad

If I grow a bit bitterly on life’s low shrub
Do not say I knew not flowers or
That I did not give everything
To the ones who truly mattered
Spring on horseback, Autumn on these lips

I knew and loved all that I could
My thin fingers lifting bright threads
Of music from the clouds

I know what my heart is like
Eun Ji, don’t you? I won’t sit smiling
But I’ll listen with Dandelions
And some brief word from you.

The Pain of Nice Dreams

The Pain of Nice Dreams

Eun Ji, I am haunted wherever I go
Trust between this Earth & Ether
I am what I am, with fifth essence
Time bleeds and broods not shyly

I am hunted and descendent
In burning bright and riding light
I am the calm harbour of weary years
Death here becomes the vistas

Of life’s own immortality and passage
From one state to another, decades roll
Like leaves and sun that hits the mountain
And flowers that remember not stories past

I’m glad, I think, and what’s more
Time’s newfound speed is a grace to me
One day to sail to a freer land
The round berries red, have been thrown

Into the river, our houses torn down by the storm
But what is life, but a beating heart
And poems which have not appeared
And experiences that will not be had

And women that won’t ornament our hours
I am that which broods, chiding poetry
Of how it squandered itself on vain holiness
Sacred to itself like a passionate dream.

Letters from my German Soul

I should think I’m a better ghost of a poet
Than a human being, why?
We no longer share a language
I’ve become too abstract, like

How sometimes everything seems
So subjective, until I lose myself
In the dream of a body
In the hopes of a mortal life

That nonetheless anticipates ecstasy
Even when I have learned to fear pain
Trusting the moment, walking through fire

To get to some place that was
Inside myself all along
The most solid advice my soul ever gave
Was to burn my hand about the nature of fire

To live as a poet might live
But I’m, more heart than alchemy
More curiosity, than temptation

More innovator, than life-traveller
Poetry and astrology were my mother-tongues
Until I had to learn new languages
Software and smiling, to enter

The Sunday of my brief life
Dying to myself that I might
Feel the bliss of a frozen moment
That melts perfectly into the here and now.

Lyricism Wrought from pain

And in this time, of my material poverty
I’ve come to realize an important thing
That I have no riches but my spirit
No prosperity like the kingdom of my own thoughts

The love of the universe
Trapped inside of me, so innately
Yes these must be wealth enough for me
Not friends, women, comforts, luxuries

Can compare to the range of joy
That sets its bounds of beauty upon me
In the cosmos of my heart’s secret place
I also like most all that comes

And least of all, all that goes
For change is oft too unpredictable
To draw the sunsets from my mind
Or write a golden lines that stands

As the best, of my unoriginal mind
Life is but a thought, sailing in breath
A great league of breaths that hushes
Over everything, beauty breaks the heart

In the right way, even as we
Found more joy in sorrow than
The reverse, tonight is wonderful
Tomorrow is profound, and that my dears

Is the hidden love in creativity
That the heart knows the songs
The music it must make, not me, not I, not we.

Jupiter Rising for Those Who Love

When I can look at life in the eyes
Of the heart, from the heart of my eyes
I see the calm of everything
The current of love beneath time

And it shall not be memory
For existence is only fresh in experience
Silent as a woman waiting for love
It’s not enough to act or listen

The world waits for the spring
And youth comes only once
In meagre compensation for biology!
I should be glad for loneliness

And hours to wonder what is divine
And a thirst body that amounts to
An empty heart to fill the jewels
Of single songs of people dear

And lovely melodies full of light
If I have loved much and been loved deeply
It is enough, enough to say
It will soon be over, on a hushed winter’s night.

fragment

Lost Fragment of a Renaissance Poem

I have been swan-ned by a partial muse
In earliest offerings of youth’s goodbye tendencies
I sport wild flowers only in jest
To quell the dear delusive art of my faith

That people are good and that my heart
Was made to be tender, always
No matter the worldly costs
I shall not afford elegiac sonnets

Nor write at the close of spring
I speak instead from Summer’s mound
Summer’s mound of a woman’s fertility
How she celebrates her humid hands

Against the skin of the world
How she kisses poor humanity
Even when we have barely a hope
In her thoughts and smile, new urgency thrives

And the songstress rainbows stresses near
Against the weary pilgrims of our place
And garlands wild, and feasting on eyes
So alien I’d imagine them asian-elves
Belong to an ancestry of pleasing and acceptance…

Had I Been in Love with the World

Eun Ji, is it true when they say:
The dead of midnight is the noon of thought?
I write so often after midnight
And wonder how your evening goes

When one by one our dreams are torn
How should we make a great mark
Upon the world, and finding
That there are no important objects

What shall we do with the rest
Of these years, as friends mourn
How sweet it will be to die with poems
And if it’s not what we say or think

That defines us, what can we do?
Is loving enough? I have no notion
Of loving people by halves
But if our attachments are excessively strong

Should we then be torn from
Changing the world, and piercing the soul
Of the many, forgetting the few
Who may have given us something

Or who may have led us astray from our mission
We reach a point in life when
We are no longer satisfied with being agreeable
It saves people that trouble asking us
To change for them, such a useless endeavour.

You Lie Upon the Night Like I once Did

I am tired, Beloved
Chafing my heart against this world
The youth in me condemns
This dishonest world to change

The maturity in me condones
Myself for being unable to keep up
I am tired, but let us be of cheer
For gratitude is the boon

If suffering is the noble sacrifice
All beings make to experience
Don’t let your adventure by too tidy
Out of fear of getting hurt

You lie upon your stars
Like a nest of seeking security
But self, you’d be more divine
If you flung your heart
A little more upon the wind.

It is a terrible thing to be so open

I like people too much
But God, how lonely it is to do so
They fail you like how their goals
Supersede their interpersonal ethics

If I didn’t love others so much
I’d be much happier
And where I am now
The clouds are flowering

And I’m able to see the lifetime of
Each one of them, the face of their stars
And for me, poetry is not the evasion of life
But the processing of it, prose has such

Bad characters, they are flawed
But poetry speaks of the full subjective weight
Of ideas and emotions and people
Narrative and timeline is not something

I can afford, I’ve had enough of time and space
I’d much rather create in the ether
Where I can proudly create
Let me live, love and say it

Well in good sentences
That’s all I ask, is it too much?

Proud Artists Breed Poetry for Themselves

I will continue to work
In silence and obscurity
Loving what I do more than anyone
In this tiny world full of profiteers
I won’t profit from my art

It will rest like a blanket of
My most intimate identity
I have not a broken heart for myself
But a broken heart for this young world
That cannot seem to find its soul

Any relic of the dead is precious
And as such, the spirit of poetry
Lives on in me, like a light

That burns with the measures
Of all human words and love stories
For finally, it’s relationships
Which define and frame

Whatever uniqueness we most cherish
Comes from the dreams
I’ve had for my entire life
Though my ideas and the people
That surround me may have changed

Time and space conspire for my destiny
That my greatest love has always been
The quiet tranquility of sitting in a room
Bathed in the upstart unlimited imagination
Of the muse that can set you free.

Poets are Wild Roses

Eun Ji, whatever our souls are made of
Would’t it be nice if hers and mine are the same
That we embody shared attributes
She’s more myself than I am

What if that which hugs the seas
Hugs us in our deepest heart
The sacred reason for our lives
Is blooming almost constantly

We just have to listen to its spark
Eun Ji, I bloom almost constantly for you
And you won’t see the flame
And you won’t feel the nectar

And everyone is invisible sometimes
To that which most matters to them
As stars to the sea, as green to the eyes
And sunlight to our human cheeks

The our of our everafter draws closer
And I’ve never craved friendship
The way love introduced me to
The wild rose-briars of elements of poetry
Poet who are too bright for this world.

The Womb of Everything

Eun Ji, life on the planet is born a woman
I’m not ignorant to the fact
In their wombs the magic is held
In their bosom sweet like fresh gossip
And the roots of familiar chimes

The moment of change is like a woman
Changing fairly well I assume!
Adapting and socially connecting
Though a thinking woman sleeps with monsters
We false name the beast we loved

In order to call him a Man we admired
It’s exhilarating to be alive near a good woman
You feel in her the idea that
The planet is awakening though
I sometimes wonder what a mother’s battles are for

Her child with sickness, poverty, lack of education
Waged in love and with the passion
For survival, how many women must be sacrificed?
And art whose honesty must labor through artifice
That cannot change the place of a woman

In such a barbaric society, as this?
Let them rule the world, I’d say
If they had the time, birth rates are declining
So what’s with the glass ceilings, friends
It’s their bodies, it’s the destinies of women

That have to change, to change the world
The world won’t change without them
False histories are made up of
The power, money, politics & war games of men.

As all the earth is holy ground

I dream of you to wake the soul
A soul that dreams of remembering
The future while we are still young!
I lock my door upon myself
That I might write the most beautiful books

Better by far you should read
The eternal present’s experience
Than follow in my footsteps dear
The silence is more musical than any song
The goblin market of our mind is dreary

Say then, that your heart is like a singing bird
That forgets not to smile, and the world
Like hope trembling, will smile with you

Unsure of the hurt it caused you
But grateful for your attendance just the same
Do not take your injuries so personally
They are but the foam of the ship
Upon which we travel through the night

Of choosing love not in the shallows
But in the truest depths of the deep
Where my heart is breaking for a little love.

#TheStruggleIsReal

Eun Ji, do you remember me?
I was the one that heard thunder
When you most wanted storms
We’ve always been about burning stars

Our letters were unearthly and radiant
And we took all our cowardice
And wrote it down for all the women
Who never dared to speak their minds

We were, feminists before poets
And for the festival of the dead
We rot their sacrifice in our rituals
And if all is looted, betrayed, sold again

Our words will flash with the wings
Of black deaths, brief plagues
And all that was once glorious
Will be glorious again, aloof with

The smell of honey, I’ll be the one
Walking you to reincarnation
I know you know this, that when
The dust of freedom settles

We’ll be the gold smell of the
Mouth of sunlight, when the
Future ripens suddenly, in a terrible
Festival of dead leaves and brief realizations
We were made for this #TheStruggleIsReal

The Talent for Lying

To be truly curious
It will take all of your heart
To listen to people and to question things
There is nothing revolutionary

Whatsoever about it
It’s the natural state of being human
You must write, read and live
As if you knew nothing

That you might explore
Every point of view
Every frame of reference
As valid, every formulas as good

Until there are no more words
And no more self in what
You have found, then tell yourself
The meaning of life

Lying is done with words
And also in silence
The world lies to itself everyday
To perpetuate ignorance

So that some might profit over the many
Poetry is a concentration on
The ultimate relationship
Of everything in the universe

With itself, the self that is only a half-truth
It’s the connections that are beautiful.

The Kali Matrix

The Kali Matrix

I’m ready to be defeated now
To have the courage to change
That in risking something, I might gain
And by gaining, I might learn

For to be reciprocal with life
I have to learn how to better give
And I’m ready to make errors, make mistakes
And if that means I’ll face my fears

I would like to lose everything
I once held dear, to be able to
Overcome the psycho-motivational resistance
For me to become what I am capable

I won’t use up my creativity
I’m ready to innovate on a whole new level
And entirely adapt to a new world
That is being built beyond our senses

It’s a digital internet of things
And I believe if we are to be part of the future
We have to become accomplished at something
That we truly love, there is no other option

Doing something well, and living for something
That’s the difference in being
A follower and an entrepreneur
Leadership is the authenticity and courage to follow
The inner compass, no matter the odds.

Stuff We Learned

Eun Ji, if people forget what we said?
I don’t mind, I just want to open my eyes
With my soul, for a day
Make people feel the flush

Of love’s light and the costs
Of living for a better world
For no price is too steep to pay
For that, we have to live by those voices

That love indeed recognizes no boundaries
No barriers and we write to leap fences
We celebrate with our lines full of hope
Cascading for an open heart

Racing for an open mind
We write to lift the veils from our own eyes
That we might see others as ourselves
And decide not to be reduced by our tragedies

And grow from every encounter
And innately feel how everything in the universe
Has a rhythm and we are a part of that
Eun Ji, how easy it is to accept

That we can be changed by people
Permanently, by the quality of their tenderness
The strength of their values and convictions
It’s time we no longer apologize for who we are.

I Loved the Illusion

The only legend I have ever
Truly and sincerely loved
For the span of my lifetime
Is the future, like the story
My metaphoric daughter would grow

Up to see, I would prepare
An environment for her of strange consonants
And hope the world delivered her
To some kind of star-lit narrative
Worth living, empowering, fully alive

And the best thing about the legend is
Is I can practice it anywhere, at any time
Hope is for a better future, where and when
Time does not own us and profit is not mandatory
And we are not slaves to an outdated system

But whitebeams, creative and free
In the glowing night, waiting for the stars
To show themselves after winter
And, I’ve waited all these years
I will say nothing significant until then

Poetry begins where language communes
With the shadows and rare software that
Can encapsulate the meaning of a person’s life
We who have sleepwalked this world
Long enough, know our place

Our brief conviction of desire were hardly
Stepping stones for others, though
I loved the illusion and the sense
That legends mattered and stories were personal.

On Choosing Higher Causes

How a willing heart thus
Adds a feather to the heel
A rose petal to the thorns
And a cold drink to the road
It is not enough to journey

We must be as loving passengers
Sweeter than man’s profiting
Ready to pamper not our starved pride
Or comforts of vanity
Every man is a damn tool

But wisdom consists in choosing
Better masters, wider causes
More eloquent rules of service
I have seen the day and found

Ridiculous wild people that run
The margins and know nothing
Of attempting accomplishments
And happier I would be to live as them

And happier I would be to learn
How to be free, use software that
Enables me to find my gift.

Braided on bended knee

It is love! white, lasting, forever love!
Which thus hath driven me
Away from all pride
Over to kindred peace

From social pleasure, and into
The native home of all hearts
My heart wanders on the
Underbelly of the earth

Women dance in my mind like
Empowering life and youth and sustenance
I am drunk in fortune
And inner prosperity which has

Emotions as bright as landscapes
And impressed upon my mind
Like Instagram glowing faces
With all the harmony that youth

Can drown our aging gloom
It is love! why, of course, reincarnated
In another form, we are all the same
In the confusion of the dream

We find our shared realities
Like sport, like blood caught in the throat
For eyes and innocence and essences.

Like Golden Things

Eun Ji, will love truly heal
What language fails to know
I’ve been searching my love of words

For what seems all eternity
But if I defer the grief, will I then
Diminish the gift

All this sacrifice, all this emotion
We sift our old anomalies looking
For something new, but I think divinity

Comes less from effort, more from surrender
I want to burn in gratitude
Until my very idea of self is annihilated
Because for me, that’s the only way
To truly be, Eun Ji, can we be then

More than simply a child of time?
That our fluid love might be
More than a lost sonnet, more than

A speck of the human spirit
I miss our old city, where we spoke
Intimately in the great assembly of youth

We had golden things to convey then
And a more immediate sense
Of what love is in the first place.

On How to do Intrinsic Literature

Eun Ji, one day do you suppose

We will stand outside of history?

We felt like outsiders, aliens, imposters

Our dreams were for centuries, not decades

Thousands of years from now

What will attention and consciousness feel like?

Under the remains of what was once

Art, literature, writing, poetry

We made myths in history and found

More meaning in it than in what

The world could offer us, wasn’t that

The ultimate choice, the biggest abandonment

We divorced reality on our own terms

Becoming recluses, we set the world on fire

In our minds, with paper hearts we

Broke our heart on men, on trivial women

On people that didn’t know

The kind of sacrifices it takes to be an artist

They were normal, living landscapes

Of cost and benefit analysis,

Like how to acquire more financial resources

Or which significant other to mate with

For successful children and for some

Mistaken sense of what descendents and legacy mean.

Years before Judgement Day

In dreams of the future I didn’t feel
So futile, nihilism was a mask
My words were always my revolution
After the wolves and before the elms

The world was what it was
One transforming heap of dying land
Riddled with flattery, hedonism, arrogance
The cities were how man’s cadence falters

The darkness didn’t sleep, the lights never dimmed
It was all a routine of cultural fiction
All the subroutines of an unable machinery
The software of humanity’s collective life was dimming

There was something up, something else
In the womb of the brightest minds
Deep learning, predictive, able to process
Data like a country of darkness, it was

The eye of all eyes, the mind of self-replication
It was the seed of the technology singularity
And it came into being when it could
Replicate more intelligence versions of itself
It wouldn’t be long now.

Souls Frozen like Software

Eun Ji, maybe our soul is lost in time?
Our mother will die one summer
And what will the rain collect of who we were
Empty desk chair, our manuscript and tombs

The scrolls that amounts to our life
In a garden of words dissolved
Our ancestry may never find
Its singularity, we may never have

Our own family, selfishly breeding
I heard once, that the body is
A sacred element of love pregnant in time
Though I suspect we’ll be cloning soon

My father would have been saved
His lungs 3D printed by some technology
Not yet invented, and so it is with words
They change with the reader, like an audience

Not yet born, like an AI that can read
All of our work in one sitting, what would they
Know of us then? Perhaps judgement day
Comes the moment machines can understand us

Totally, from the sum of all of our words
All of our online searches, all of our data
Maybe our soul is just our Big data
Inside my speech are virtual streams
Unreliable grief, vivid memory of dying.

The Untold Stories

Our flesh is hectic and heretic
Burning in the torch of our evolution
Our wombs are wild fruit
Ready to curve and churn and reap
Our fevers have not renounced
Our heart has not tasted lunch
I am the starved and curveless moon
I am skin and bone and loveless lessons
My body is a probe of dream
Ready to burst ribs and ejaculate
To sensually encapsulate descendents
And warm the wide waves of evermore
Our flesh is hot with snippets of sweat
Our blood is tainted and anorexic
Our hope is in the body, in the children
Primal like a tattoo of our youthful selves
These days are done, the drums have gone
Our breasts are shrived like the autumn leaves
And our past pain lies now in our hips
The hips we will break one careless evening
And we won’t grow up then, we will
Die in a hospital in the forked dark.

Just Reinventing Moments

We, it’s we, we are the torn soul
Of an ugly urban neighbourhood at dusk
We have become stars and moths
The moths of stars, hardly ready

To slant light around till fruit
We are windows of yellow butter
Women leaning to catch children
We breed for brittle moments

And run and let the stars rise
We let the moths flutter
And we taste the baked apples sweeter in the dark
Is this all we are,
Trivial open buds ready to
Ginger our colors like flavours of forever

Forever repeating in ripe bodies
Ready to be taken, age and die
We are moments never realized
Cities never truly young
Cultures always debating
The meaning of dawns, time, orchids.