I Audition to become Asian


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I Audition to become Asian

I am white, but I love Asia
Mandarin is my second language
Korean dramas are my favourite media
I admire the rise of a people
Who are more industrious

Who age better and respect the collective
As noon every day I wonder
Why I live in a French City
When it’s Asia that I love
But, the truth is, I’ve a lot to learn

From Japan, India, Korean, China
I’m not Asian so there is so much
I do not understand, about the East
Being a western, I cannot pronounce
Their names or name their cities easily

I still have trouble differentiating faces
But the first step in becoming
A world citizen, is forgetting our last name
Forgetting where our ancestors happened
To breed and farm and fish

We are one people, but the Asian
Ones stand out to me, like a younger ambition
Born of ancient traditions
I recognize the future is Asian.

The Silent Revolution is Inevitable


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– Pictured, Tina Chang (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tina_Chang)

Ascent of Asia

I am haunted by how little our children
Know, what we have done
To each other, to those we deemed
Beneath us, to the Earth…..

How a republic falls and how
Democracy can lie, how News can be distorted
How money hides its debt
By printing more, by pretending we are alright

Or worse, an old idea of Nationalism
Idols of a world out dated, euro-centric
I’m haunted by how little
Millennials realize Asia is the new Queen

Why do they not learn Mandarin, Korean?
We forever think we are the center
Of the globe, but I’m not a daughter
Or a son of East or West

I am haunted by how little writers
Write about revolution, about change
We cannot always repeat what others have said
We cannot always unravel in our

Personal voice, there’s a secret stairway
To broader concerns, more existential themes
There, the ultimate fiction is reality
There is a new world ready to be born
Will you join?

My body is all bodies


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My body is all bodies

In a world becoming Asia
I wanted to be Asian, not be so white
I wanted a cross-cultural affinity

After India, after these utopia myths
And dreams had been buried
Sufficiently, purged from my being

I wasn’t about to stand out
I wasn’t published or spread
Out on google with photographs

I was an obscure library book in training
We wanted to be writers, that’s all
To dream our tapestry and bring it

Dear and negligent, cleaning
Up from the mistakes of youth
Fresh with that foreign fragrance

Of prophetic hermit-years
I wanted to cut through the Spring
One living thing, to a word
And never suffer again the same

I wanted to speak for minorities
That didn’t know my name
But I am nobody, and nobody is language

And nobody has a voice, a tongue
That burns with the future
With a voice that is like the sun.

Maiden like a Sage


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My housewife is a Buddhist Queen
She sweeps the intimacy
Of our colored blooms with compassion
Dropping amber threads

Where I may have failed so –
She litters dust of emeralds
On our sleep bed, and lights
The candles for our meditation-bath

My housewife is a Buddhist Queen
She dreams vivid messages from
Lives before, and abolished all my captivity
She endears my fate to Gardens & birds

And speaks the dizzy Music of the Mandarin
That I pretend to say, the Ripest Rose
Of Jupiter-in-pink before I leave for work
My housewife is a Buddhist Queen

A logician of the deeds of the mundane
She cooks with righteous vegetables
I have never seen before, spicy mushrooms
To complement my idle touches

She washes my Noons with fruit-basket-care
With the algebra of hope in her yellow veins.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Hetalia-Taiwan-162202623

Orphans of Asia


May 22, 2013

The orphan of Asia is crying in the wind
She is this young, not old any more
Lost with the new age at her heels
Nobody cares to play fair with her
She must find her own literacy
In games of power and pitfalls of fortune
Create her own ideology of feminism
Dreaming of bananas, pineapples and freedom
Dancing in the street, a new order of consciousness
She is a kingdom of honey-sweet sugar
A pragmatism of following ancient ingenuity
The orphan of Asia is a sleek mistress of the west
Parody of the Earth, song-mother of empires
Out of Africa, home of the first-settlers
How large is your opportunity
Why else would you be smiling? India? China?
The orphan of Asia has Japanese wings
Singaporean inclinations, Taiwanese wise-sayings
The orphan of Asia practices many religions, and none
She does not sleep in her mother’s arms
Everybody tries to take her favorite toys
Lips of forgotten genius, voice of new originality
Pakistan, Malaysian, Indonesia
The orphan of Asia is crying in the wind
Still remaining muddled, trapped, a lost kitten
Under the weight of a terrifying World Government
In place before the outer signs are seen
Your air still sneezes intellectual adolescence
Your spirituality has been banished by your politicians
Your soil still stinks of colonial dictators
Your education still forces you to betray yourselves
What nationalistic statements can save you from yourself?

Morning Breaker


Dawn breaks amid desperate acts
The cries of loneliness
Gone are the flowers of poetry

Survival beckons in love-making
The bohemian morning
At Nature’s lips

Her pussy lips fall into place
Before the sun’s large eyes
Cries glory on the bed

Morning, like an upturned gem
Smiling out the door
Someone whispers goodbye to me

My heart is firm with reverence
For the woman who let me into her bed
Slow is the drip of hope

Safe is the faith of loving
Like a hunger and a satiety
That always returns to the same bowl.