Songs of Ren & Chou

The dawn disrupts me with your fierce qualities
I am so vulnerable, watching thee
Fight for causes I wish I could own with thee
And belong to a voice that has that melody

My words rain over your tweets like New York lights
I delight in your footsteps in the snow
In the dark hazel and rustic baskets
Of your laughter, I follow where you go

I delight ever in your small triumphs
And grow a Titan’s fever for your trials
Small place and random wonder for the
Valley below, my dears, it’s anonymous

Like how spring will come to you in cherry trees
And the worlds you will see, that I will not
But I can share the foam of your dreams from afar
Like raspberry whispers in the after-thoughts

Of my heart that is bigger than it should be
And my soul that hangs lost in a quote
My love is an open-secret for your sport
Humanity disrupts the things we used to know

Don’t go too far off, let me ride the companionless dark
I want to know what aches at the empty stations
And how your movements chime in the smiling years
The lady soldiers of technology, freedom and the new world

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where
The idealism of the young is never squandered
It relapses in waves across the cosmos
And burns in the memories of we are meant to become.

Odes to Ren & Chou

In the implacable sweetness at the edge of time
I was there, somehow with you
Lost in forever, with the thrill of the universe

In our brief work on this particular planet
Earth, climbing for the flowers of the future
There was no us and them, only a weird inclusion

Of all we had become, the thirst of history
The salt-rose and topaz tears of the dilemmas
Like the philosophy of equality and feminism

That burned with the ashes of a billion lives
In secret, we triumphed over fate, by our failures
We who were trampled by white men and government policies

My love, it feeds on your love for a united future
Where colors do not separate us, and birth-status does
Not enslave us, where leaders can be women

I love you as the downtrodden looks for opportunity
As in my own life’s chastity in years of poverty
At the furnace of the barren wombs of youth

I think of your lineage and how you came to stand in this spot
I trace your ideas like the blue birds of revolution
Tomorrow, we will give them a leaf from the tree of our love

Silent and starving, we will prowl the webnet for signs
Of our victory, decades from now
When machines rule the corridors of great decisions

The liquid measures of your steps will lead back here
An open-AI of how we fought for something bigger than ourselves
And gave our best years to a journey we could not name.

Of Corporate Social Responsibilities

Triketora, in the gilded monuments
Of our choices to do good in this world
How shall a Pinterest princess live
For utility, or craft, or boards that dance alive

Like as to make the appetite of
Our New world more keen
And to frame the justice that sparkles
Where women might be the equal of men

Triketora, there monikers make me swallow slowly
These policies of fate, that bind us to a course
In being loyal to a brand, are we so Millennial?
I am astonished to thee, and precarious

To trace thy fame, or know thy cause and course
As one affable with an all too familiar ghost
I must lack more than the mandarin tongue
To live in the strength of others, and find

Thee at the office of my Muse, short hence,
Where I neglect my duties to attain to thee
Greeted by the silence of your mind.

Drying the Tears of Liberation

Triketora, how many pins and tweets
Before the Goddess, delivers fire
Unto men, the smug white man
Little things their God had forgot
Glory is not for all, the riches are for the few
“Alleluia! Alleluia!” Where did
Equality go, in this world where
One quarter of Millennials will
Not be married and the coming automation
Will mean less jobs, less opportunity

Triketora, my heart is broken for
Those fired from Yelp, the victims of the Medium
I read their stories every day
I listen for voices of the minority
I read for their script of authenticity
But we are all stepping-stones to dust
Where I look to India for tech disruption
Where there are no holy ghosts to hold the future down
That’s Durga with a smile, Trike
That’s California falls into the Sea
When the little women rebel, the coders
Breaking the lie that we were told.

Men And Women

A little road not made by man
A little God made by them
A little country of men

I only sigh, nationalism is dead to me
We are not tribe or empire states
We are people on a planet

In a Universe full of people
A little road to the stars
A little racing into the future

A little goal of centuries
And sunshine that bows to everything
Giving life, as we will one day

Creation has so many forms
Gods do not assume their superiority
While men dream and toil

Women should rule
A little Goddess to heal the 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.

#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

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.

I Made a Fire

Eun Ji, I thought I knew
Every side of you, like
A student of your lifetime
Experience is us, the ones

They stick it in, perhaps
Human beings just use each other
The red wall of our heart
Winces, every time a lover

Shames us in misunderstanding us
Not comprehending why
We put our passion before them
Ironically, it’s the quality they

Love most about us, or envy
Our drive, the talk of immortality
In our will to produce and take action
A bit like how Sylvia Plath
Far outranks Ted Hughes in quality

And merit, it’s obvious now
How women are forced to sacrifice
Or become lonely women

Who labor a lifetime to have a literary baby
For another glass ceiling
Until we burn all our letters
Of love, well, and tiredness
Until the wastebasket is full of love’s lies

And letters full of their death rattle
And rubbish other women buy into.

Mother’s D a y

Mother’s D a y

Thank you for bringing me
Into the world, Mother
My soul was built upon your love
My spirit blessed by your protection

I trust the world because of you
And claim special joys
For my descendants because
You loved being a Mother

With love and tenderness
That I might multiply it like beauty
In the Universe, and find
Respect and cherish women

More so than all other things
My Mother, you have always been
Like a dear friend, and have allowed me
The freedom to be myself

And in that freedom the Earth-mother
Has spoken to me, of what I need to do
To contribute back to life
All the labours of love

And all the sacrifices
To fight against cold fathers
And the rules of this world
Who hoard and profit while we struggle

These corporations who have
No ethics, barely any authenticity
Towards giving back, community
Thank you Mother, for making me

A feminist, in this world of Patriarchy
Where men exploit women
Rather than learning from them
And fault them for wanting so badly

To have children, like you did Mother
A good mother is irreplaceable
Somebody who is right for the job
It’s not everyone who should be a parent

My mother is my spine, keeping me straight and true
My blood of spiritual minerals
Making it run rich and strong
She is the beating heart of our humanity

Our guide to dreaming water
Our guide how to love ourselves and each other.
Mother, you filled my heart in the first place
With so much goodness, I am kind

A bit each day, like speechless gratitude
That purifies all it touches
It was you who taught me most
“We find ourselves in the sacrifices we make”

That love is to enjoy giving
More than receiving, it is true
The hope for altruism is still strong in me
Because I had a mother like you.

Further reading:

Millennials opting out of Motherhood:
http://mic.com/articles/114040/for-young-women-not-having-children-has-become-the-rational-decision

In some Secret part of Her #FreeVerse #gender

In some Secret part of Her

I felt a pang of loneliness when
I watched the lives of others
I could not place the appalling self-consciousness
I felt, surely horrible and common?

The inner words we dare to utter at ourselves
Cramped in the dark for so long
God, but if life is loneliness
Then every act is one of saving ourselves

We get married for companionship
And have children to grow old together
We volunteer our time to help society
Yet does the neurotic element

Ever truly wane, wanting mutually exclusive things
And not having them, we make do
For the rest of our days, this
Is the great compromise, feeling misunderstood

We learn to not take anything for granted
As if the present is our forever
And forever is always shifting, flowing, melting
And as a woman, we are required to serve

While men can escape social roles by rebellion
Or male privilege, or utter irresponsibility
As women we were required to give life
Until we forget who we were without them.

Too poor for activism

Too poor for activism

Pretty words are not enough
They were never enough
Sometimes, they were just
All we had, without actions
————————————

Like cowards, we wrote
We tripped on beauty
Lyrical, sweet, like pretty
Necklaces of lace lit

By the lanterns of our moons
We cherished our pretty nothings
Calling them precious, we
Stood in our own myths

Self-aware of ourselves only
As the center in our own game
We crafted what we could
On Earth, like a soul on a mission

Pretty words are never enough
Revolutions are rare and bloody
For the majority of people
Have no courage, no true inspiration

To fight or stand up
For what they believe in
We are all watered down
Moderates, shy to go against the norms

Where women are raped in India
Where women are hit in Mexico
And women are killed for family honour
In many places where marriages are arranged

And here, where the internet
Is being monitored and our privacy
Is evaporating in regulations
Of the firm resolve of a police-state
That likes to call itself a democracy.

To Be a Woman

What’s it like to be a woman?
To know the joys of Motherhood
To serve as if it was your duty
A man, a family, a community

Not getting paid for it
What’s it like to feel a woman?
To feel a vacancy between the legs
Under the skirt, a summer breeze

And eyes on me, like the feast of gulls?
What’s it like to be a woman?
To have closer social bonds
To never truly be alone, how

Does that feel? To have protective
Fathers, and possessive boyfriends?
What’s it like to be a woman?
I will never know, to feel the dresses

Caress you, as you blithely change
From mauve, to peach, to blue.
How does it feel to have skin
Like olive oil, and wear perfume

What’s it like to seduce a man
With just a pouty look, what’s it like
To have to earn your place twice
As hard, in the boardroom?

What’s it like to be a woman?
To be stoned to death for being human.

Psalm 10 – Politics

I will praise thee, O Lord
Not for the fair world
Thou hast created, making
Man rule over women

Making one kind of a man
Richer than another, not for
How docile your creation is to
One species, which plunders

For the cheap profit of a few
Decades, what nature took
Millions of years to create –
I will observe how change will fix

This Era of its doom, its politics
Of heathens, mine enemies have
Wallets, they have bought power
They possess superiority

I will sing praise to thy name, Selah.
Even in the darkness, I will find
A way to feel the light
Not because this world is fair

Or that there are many Good men left?
For all creations come to an end
And some cities in peace, still perish
In the game beneath the stars

But the Lord shall endure forever
Like nature, like love, and some remember him
Who may or not be our descendants
It does not matter to me, history

Will always be determined by
The new masters, and masters
Rarely have an objectivity of truth
That might reveal their former wickedness.

Elegie to the Spirit’s Freedom

We are bound to nature
Not bound to any one man or woman
Truly, we are free in the

Will and whim and wit of change
Likeness glues love but how
We art all similar, all shaped
By the wild roguery of the age
We are bound to nature

And to her we rebel
Not bound by the custom of our day
But free to resist and gloat and panic

Against the conformity of the times
We are not even bound to love
Some live in a pure state of individualism
Managing their wealth and health
Just so, and finding new paths to happiness

If I have caught a bird, let him fly
For in flight have I witnessed
The Soul of the Earth

In heights, in speed, in liberty
Women are like the Arts
Forc’d unto none, open to all who search
The liberal arts thus never go out of style
Nor the women who read

Those sort of books, the seas
Receive their contemplation of nature.

Photo Courtesy:

http://www.deviantart.com/art/Place-for-dreaming-489692545

THE PLUM GATHERER

Desolation dreamed, of a less Golden cage
So my heart to rocking
Like a song in a boat
On a rainy day, without fish
To every face, I say farewell
Which of my possession do I propose to leave?

My jeweled faith or my
Unfaithful friends, desolation holds
This feigning to be asleep
When wide awake is all the loneliness
I shall ever achieve, I must leave

The fast-reddening sun to her own stride
Drops, against the open sky loom
Larger in the heart of this weary traveler
Home to a wordless hush of memories
I must speak in silent words to myself

Desolation dreamed, of freedom in a Sonnet
Somebody long ago, must have lost poetry
To insanity, dust which here and there
Floats in a short dazzling beam
Ready to give in to intangible dreams

So my heart to hoping in all directions
Like a song curving and delicate
Must stop, for all music ends
There is something to be learned, I guess
From looking at the starts for many years.

Sexism

No woman can compass despair
As one without a child, husband, family
For we as Travelers proceed

Not in a man’s world, but our own
Unconscious of the Width of Time
Unaware of evolution’s secrets hid in us

To pilot necessity without loving arms…
It is a Crucifixion to be a modern woman
With unequal pay, and duties more –

Breadwinners this time, history affirms
The feminine strength, endurance, beauty more
Than lazy men, so ignorant, so inhuman

Perhaps world, you should be ashamed
To shut out women from management
The true stewards of the Earth, those who care

No woman can compass despair
As pioneers who must strive as would men
In the bodies of women, to suffer more!

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Vector-Woman-411922911

Patriarchy in Exile

It is not doom we fear, nor extinction
We live for the brilliant present day –
Erected as if for the first time, we
Are built to survive, endure, come home to find

How our colossal steps keep us dreaming
There is no permanent haunt, we know
How to move on, forwards, afterwards
Adapt, before we fall, as we reclaim

The living bronze of another golden day
Even from futility, we have resilience
In the form of youth, and immortality –
All we find are changing altars

Alternate futures scrawled in time-machines
There is only the riddle of collective ignorance
The bribery of the profit motive of the illegitimate
That strive for supremacy, not love

It is not testosterone that makes us strong
Selfishness and vanity move us only so far.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/CUBOZOA-III-393220443