Social Media

LinkedIn Group for Writers & Poets on WordPress – Please join

Howdy All,

Here on WordPress, we span continents and share a passion for writing, let’s do more to keep in touch,

Link to Join:

WordPress Linkedin Group

If you don’t have a LinkedIn profile or don’t want to join as your work persona, create an artist profile portfolio on LinkedIn and join.

Please invite your friends on WordPress and help make this group fun.

If you have no discussions to make or contribute to, you can always post your blog posts on the promotions section, to increase traffic to your blog and posts.

Thanks,

We need content contributors, social moderators and poets who want more comments on their poems. Lastly please share this post on wordpress so it reaches more poets & writers.

On Learning to Tweet

On Learning to Tweet

I tweet my own quotations
Exposed in lyrical Haikus blended together
I’ve hashtags for my own symphonies

Little themes I rehash with ginger-lemon tea
After midnight, with a glass of red wine
I yearn to be defeated by greater
Things than I by myself could access
That’s the synergy of souls
We’re walking catalysts, you and I

Out in the crazy dark, we’re vulnerable
It’s a tremendous act of violence
To endure solitude, we’re not bred for it

I don’t condone you for being platonic with it
But I worry about you, I tweet
My worries about how strong you have grown
And I tried to reproduce myself
Objectively, and failed, and left

Unquestioning of my own subjectivity
Distorted, human, insufferable to myself
I left you there, truly about to sing

You wanted different breaths and
Required an excessive amount
Of space to find it, I learned finally
To let you be.

Titled In Bold Below

Stay Tough Champ

There are algorithms that can predict
If you are a follower, or an innovator
They take your entire life and break it down
Into the analytics of your free-will

Urbanization is like an experiment
Where people are compressed
Into smaller places, trained
Where everyone is trying to be like

Everyone else, the same as being no one
We are taught to search for stability
Our parents remind us to start saving young
But what if, the entire system is unsustainable?

Economics like so many things, are the domain
Of dead white men from Europe
Old elite families who like to believe
They pull the puppets of the world

Social psychology can’t keep up with change
Neither can art, it just has its lucky super stars
Like some kid the New York times calls a prophet
Who appears to be some kind of junkie

There are algorithms that are trained on your data
What you buy, what you view on the internet
What kinds of people you are social with
What keywords you search, what kind of porn you watch

And it’s a disenchanting process to be reduced
To a trend, but experience is so inauthentic these days
There are these same internet sites everyone goes to
And we are raised to be strong, independent, alone

It’s elusive to be happy when we are disconnected
In our essential connectedness, like being
Surrounded by social media without true intimacy
So much for being a catalyst that turns misery into art.

To a Translator of Korean Poetry

To a Translator of Korean Poetry

We wanted to be writers
Cult of the amateurs and all
We wanted to witness other writers
In the social equation of

The reciprocity of our art
But we were timid, at first
Haunted by the prizes
That you won of contests

I didn’t enter, would never
Throwing ourselves out there
Invisible, pretending, unnoticeable
A snippet, a fragment, a leaf

Blowing in the virtual wind
We were like a tweet waiting to happen
And I watched the game of you
Shouting from the rooftops

About language on much smaller level
Of the ingredients for memories
That can be used as expositions
Can a soul be excited to tears?

That way time goes by without justification
And how we feel our inner child
Awake, but no longer afraid
Of the dark or the big bad dangerous world

We’ve come to call New York City
Or any other city on the planet
We wanted to be writers
It was the lifetime of bright green fingernails

Like Angels from Seoul where we migrated
3rd generation immigrants of being on fire
For doing what we love, and the backlash
Of how translation become a game

And novels became what we ate
At morning, noon, for dinner, midnight snacks.

Note: EJ Koh is featured in:
http://theculturetrip.com/north-america/articles/10-young-american-poets-changing-the-face-of-poetry/

global connectivity

it’s survival here, nothing new
lungs knotted by thirst
sunheat in our heart, starving to belong

it’s corrupt the way
the social feeds are telepathic
last chance for freedom
not likely, when water goes on the stock-markets

I’m pinned by this world
like as the love for my criminal child
the kind of wound that

is never quite urgent enough to heal
but sticks around like deformity
“heal the world”, there are too many
bodies you say to feed the planet

it’s survival down here, at the ends
stomach growling to be someone
heart’s pitter-patter against the gloom

our fragility was really contagious
the world learned how
to suffer together, it was a kind
of progress, to realize we all belonged

to the same economy, a doomed currency
where the sun was thrown, raised and lowered
for the number of years we had left

before some tipping point of our anarchy
until we have to depart, to say goodbye
we make do, with teaspoons and testimony
with words from vague saints who were cripples

we learned to see, a bit of ourselves
in everyone who suffered, in how they fought.

art courtesy of: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Global-Warming-86554791

The Roggenbuck Principle

So I have heard you are obsessed with wonder
The predominant thought of your being
Is your Showzen, the arc frequency

Everything sent out returns to the source
You are a human transmission tower
Your channel is your life
Your thoughts attract consequent vibrations

So I have heard you are obsessed
With how to touch the world?
The law of attraction is a creative law
You are speaking or listening to someone

Most of all yourself, your harvest vibration
You emit and perpetuate your experience
The pattern, like a funnel of light
So focus on what you want, very very carefully

The power of your mind is innocent
Like an instrument, it requires executive oversight
So I have heard you are obsessed with success
Mind is your quantum alphabet, calculator, antennae

It’s not a secret, but it eliminates a degree of worry
If you know how to use it, feel it, channel it
Thank God there’s a time delay, choice is temporal
So now, decide what you want to be and think it.

Intervals of Living Happily

I am excited to face morning
blue morning with all the happiness
that the world can contain
this is my maximum of joy

my interlude of peace
O Sun how happy and not carefully
expecting the best of the
many others I will see, the other selves

the nymphs of delight, all sharing
some mood of eternity
our goals are rosy limbs of
the species, our closed wells of

treasured value, the stamp
of what we once held dear –
I am excited to face morning
with you, do you remember laughter

that opened large bright eyes and gazed
like an archangel expecting fiery swords
of light wielded in ways
i cannot explain, the impossible play

of colors at dawn, that dangles infinity
on a rope that became the flesh
of my young children, singing and playing.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Kohnio-III-404152924

Lost worlds of writers & being

Our words are lost worlds
where we may never come again!
a thousand fragments for

each person, thoughts that pass
everything will pass, said the Seer
the boats inscribe our circles

the fish lead us to our new world
the day there’s not a single gull
the world will sink, in change

hang on, words will leave you
memory’s roots will drift
across an inkless body, your hands

which once yearned for flutes in frost
for flowers on branches of other worlds
will find being and form in

the imagination that comes from
another kind of life, musical torture
for language, that is never fully at home

to express spirit, to re-live all that has
been lived, and which can never fully
come again, alone in the sun

we are all unique, you write:
i am the self like all other selves
that draws beauty in the night.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Ocean-50422805