Life is not a Duty; It’s a Will

Sameness dulls the mind
And love shakes the heart
So do not be too cautious
This life is enough to sip

Do not hurry, but
Carry lovely garlands in your hair
And smile to break up the sameness
Burn with courage, to

Shatter the dullness
Remembering those things
We did in our youth….
Be young and stay beautiful

Give your heart to the world
Or live a miserable existence
We’re all inches from dying
Our genes are mutating at every instance

Instead of playing roles, play music
The music of risk and ventures
The art of losing and winning
In a speed of learning and changing

Life is too short to forget
What longing means, what reddening brows
What breasts that shoot like cupid
Whose heart is apple-plucked

Too soon must drop to the ground
But fruit is meant to be eaten and bountiful
Love is meant to be poignant and profound
Who takes joy in the wounds and errors

Finds life a garden of many delights
There is not enough courage to go around
To find a life worth the exercise of hunts
And strong muses to fill your life

With resonance, spirits, colors
How delicate and wanton the Graces
How easily we lose obedience to desire
As if a safe secure life was the goal.

For Liturgies of Art

For Liturgies of Art

Eun Ji, how shall we find the shrine?
Of others that appear with our soul qualities
Freedom is too bitter-sweet and too inherently
Addictive, that we are lascivious in our faithfulness

Being too faithful to the spirit that moves us
You left him there at the square of hoards
I watched you go, turn from the inevitable
We are all prostitutes to this terrible world

That can be ruined in a moment
For lovers are not kind and husbands do not own us
Must we be as soldiers for our ideals?
In such a world that cares not for values

But so much more for profit, benefit, easy ROIs
I sometimes wonder how we all became corrupt.

Amorphous

Amorphous

We were a spark conceived
From the scope of ether
Rift of dreams that
Navigated separation, changing worlds
I could not seduce you

Amorphous, you were like
Waters through my hands
The ache of happenings

Unreachable, impenetrable
The bubble of too many lifetimes
Your papaya body would be
For others to touch, your tomato kisses
Would be for other lips to suck

The sweetest offers were fleeting
Amorphous, you are, you were
Like a gentle breeze on my back

That I could not reach or sleep inside
A plum tree with forbidden fruit
How sweet the fragrance of your need
Out of those hairy recesses where stood
A triumphant mound of flesh

Free from martyrdom and servitude
Free at least and for what
Soul beneath all kisses and wine

Night-long and aching across distances
I as if with old passion must depart
Too intimate the rose-bush
Too immediate those heaving breasts
We are a spark conceived to alter
The sense of touched destiny.