Torchlight California

 

 

Xiao Wei, do you know that I

Wait on the bird of the wire for you

I have not heard one word from her

I will never leave that which translates me

Into braided rosebuds, sun sprinkled care

The choruses of us, the life-song notes

While no voices chant of the Seasons

I must a woodland homage pay homage to

The stars, and things eternally there

Xiao Wei, how I have been haunted

By the mandarin symbols of another time

As if my poems belonged to ancestors

You were the day purple ribbon kites blew for me

A day of fresh flowers and eternity translated

In the lyrics of nature’s kindness to me

It’s rare Xiao Wei, to feel all of this like the

Weight of the Pleiades looking down upon me

Don’t ask me why it is but you embroider

Life in me, like a lilac sunset and the silver dawn.

A Woman’s World

 

To fight alone Is not brave
It’s suicidal, the Calvary is a family
Success is empty when not shared
The heart is not a solitary thing
The kingdom needs a female ruler

A smile suffused with creation
A bliss larger than heaven
A womb whose content is hope

No, to live alone is not healthy
To hide in the virtual worlds
We all require the skin on skin
Of happiness, the fruit of labor
The ripeness of summer

Success is not devoid of love or grace
It is for relationships that we conquer
The value is always in giving

I have a missing friend in my heart
Who taught me the joy of service
Fighting is for the tribe, not the individual
A harmony of identity diffused
In a higher aim, in a greater glory

Accessible like an inherited thrill
Or a gene that shines for everything
The dopamine of a better 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.

Intro to Nihilism

Self coward I’ve taken away the plumage
Gone naked, cold and flocked by doubt
I’ve given salt, cheese, my heart away
In wine I’ve tasted the thorny planet’s desolation

I’ve cringed at the noteworthy failures
Of Earth, my home, this arrogant star
These men lusting after power, so brutal
I’ve see the throngs scramble after banks

* * *

Went bankrupt and countries got stoned
I’ve seen propaganda of empires
Make a people crumble and become ignorant
I’ve left kingdoms of so called riches

To live in places more ethical and aligned
With the ideals that belong to the future
Shamed by existence, I’ve met my share
Of suffering, toil, regret, despondency

* * *

I have nothing left to say, death is what it is
Time will break our arrogance, the species killer
Will one day find a way to destroy itself
As humans expand in more meaningless dimensions.

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.

An etude in misplaced desire

To His Mistress the World Going to Bed

I have no license to touch
Your soul, if a soul had qualities to touch
No permission to enter your sanctuary
No heaven’s zone of glittery
I have no intimacy of the variety
That which my state could renew

No pass into the beauteous state
Of harmonious chime of feeling
I have no novelty in this condition
Of incessant repetition
Only hopes and sensations private
Like an imprisoned youth in an older body

It’s hollow here, beneath this flesh
This kingdom called my life, the sameness from
I have no insight into the women
Whom I admire, I used to have female friends
For they go on, like a lifetime of having children
Becoming full with roles

But for the men, they are wild in another way
Hair in their destiny, alone in their temple
Of peculiar tastes and defied responsibility
I have no license to touch these lives
Who are so full with duty, so unlike my own
We cannot truly coexist, only perhaps

Exchange a passing smile on our way
Until I labour, I in labour lie
A foe of women, a foe in sight
And I only have the power to observe
And it’s a hollow temple
Not to be able to touch the world more.

The diviners

I grew weary of the foreign cities Though these diverse faces Make me wonder in awe —————————————— I find empathy in their clear fortunes Of being from undiscovered lands Their glad far genes of gleaming ——————————————– Opportunity, skin tones of celebration For the heart of man must Seek and wander to find knowledge ———————————————– It is the human way, the ancient mariners Knew this, the space finders, the Forest builders, the native custodians ———————————————– I grow loving of immigrants, more So than the homogenous white folk I feel more kinship with those who struggle ————————————————— Simply for their birth-line to endure I find not the privileged have much To truly offer humanity, I see ————————————————- Prosperity in the self-made women Who must brave adventure in a patriarchy And tame men to tender understanding. ———————————————–

On the truth in gossip

listen to the stories women
tell other women, O’
I miss my women friends
who would talk a history in a needle
listen to a name, gossip a little
that sound of other places
with a foreign taste
the ripeness of a voice
made vulnerable and accessible
I am no longer a hunter of women
I have only empathy left
In my bones, in my half-smile
You can only live and learn
In this world, there is no disgrace
That lasts forever, only heartbreak
That is extremely normal
So don’t fret, the falling seas
The falling snow, we’ve seen it all before
Listen to the stories of women
To the wisdom passed down
On hearing a name long unspoken
Take a guess as to why you hear it now
Our cries echo in unique ways
And our voice reaches the heart
At the appointed time, maybe
Centuries later, our love is recognized.

What is the roof of all these Smiles

Build a house for
Women and birds
In your heart, so when they come
You can house them

And look into their
Beautiful eyes and hear
Their warm sweet song
For birds and women

Are part of the best of this world
Their sounds and colors and moods
I cannot think of a better reason
To build a house or to keep

It clean, inside and out
This body is a temple for
Love to welcome me into the world
I am grateful for every drop

I’ve been thirsty for a lifetime
For a bit of belonging
I’ve been hungry for a lifetime
For just a bit of hope

Teach me how to love again
Or sing me the song that you do
By instinct or the melody which
You were taught, by the Spring

All things are-to return to God
All lives find peace in the end.

“It is She alone that Matters”

Fan Page: https://www.facebook.com/becomingpohlin?fref=nf

It is she alone that matters
for she is evolution personified
mother, daughter, life-giver

while men play games
for profit, in politics
with imaginary paper
and virtual numbers

the custodians of the planets
are women, care-takers
without their empathy
our world would die

it is she alone that matters
those words mean more
than the history of feminism

or the inequality that exists
in many societies, it means
that our from the light and dew

women shape the future
while men sacrifice what they can
our teachers change society

with a bouquet, from the inside
and for all the comforts
of this world, the majority
are given by women

It is she alone that matters, maybe
You will understand when you

Find a wife, when you have
A daughter, then let’s be clear
Why you do evil every day
To feed your family.

Having a Kafka Moment

Gratitude bestows reverence, allowing us to encounter everyday epiphanies, those transcendent moments of awe that change forever how we experience life and the world.
~ John Milton

i’ve been growing old slower
with all this beauty around me
my peers lately, have been chatting
about the power of gratitude

every revolution evaporates
so why bother, bureaucracy
prevails, politicians are corrupt

i’ve been growing old slower
since i started not doing politics
not being political, learning
to be productive in the spheres

that aren’t touched by the marketplace
i’ve learned not to lie, by staying silent
i no longer read advertisements

i no longer occupy my time with wanting things
i’ve been growing old slower
with a quiet beginning of understanding
the first wish to die has risen in me

like a bud that will flower
a medication from my own substance
i have the true feeling of myself

only when i give up happiness and unhappiness
there, the world will present itself
to you with its unmasking
like a child that only wants to play

i’ve been growing old more slowly
in theory where I abandon the second world
the idea that suffering is necessary

that pain is a natural argument of time
i’d rather read a book
that serves as an ax for
the frozen sea within me

and associate myself with human beings
that not only lure me into a self-observation
but allow me to laugh at myself better

or realize how pathetically scant
my self-knowledge is compared to say
the awareness that I am growing older
and care less for my youthful failures

by consequence of a natural decline in memory
it’s there, that evil is whatever distracts
me from whatever I consider my calling

at the time, did I mention that
i’ve been growing old more slowly
since I’ve surrounded myself with kind women?
it’s true, women are precisely

my favorite religion, i could hide
in their dogma for any number of years
feeling totally young in their emotions

find many hiding places listening
smiling to their relationship-antagonists.

No Home like Femininity

Lying in bed I almost mistake Good health for youth Moonlight on the floor For memories of your skin Looking up I see the cold light For what it is, birthplace Source, cool strength Like your body that carried me …

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

Ode to Virgins

A girl to a man is an ascended tree
Who bears the most magnificent fruit
The tree has grow in my breast
Downward like arms of moss

Trees you are, nourished glee
Moss you are, ravished romance
A chill of violets in the wind
A girl to a man is the folly of the world

The gift, the goal, the great deception
A virginal biological imperative
Like heroin, a dopamine-testosterone high
For the spoils of estrogen and smiles

Slight her arms that stealthy subtle clearness
Her vague ethereal beauty, so remarkable
A girl to a man is the twin peaks of the world
The reminder of April’s shooting branches
The white bark of skin, the young lady’s hours.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Kika-403043718

For Fairest Woman, of Worthiest Men

Oh do not leave, for I shall hate
All women so, when thou art gone
That I have celebrated women
(In the best & worst of times)

For the world’s soul signs its name
In my heart with the breath of devotion
To human and diviner things
Oh love is a strange fever in organics

That burns with a knowledge of possession
Giving the fire of meaning in attachment
Though I have sought to flee attachments
I have found that a good mate is

A kind of death to the world, and all other women
Such being the case, I am enslaved by
A world full of women, and their care
With only cause to essay to please them

That is the true fever from which I suffer
Gladly or nobly, I do not know
So shall burn this world, and none have wit
That such roles as man and woman
Were given to us, for breeding and other cares.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Empty-400146375

To the Women of our Ancestry’s Heroic Age

The cities are falling
Only the hills and rivers will remain
What will happen to all these men?
Spring will overtake the streets
With green, toppling old empires
The letter from home may
*
Never reach you, it’s not worth any
Gold, but the last attempt
To tell you I loved you
That I would never be coming home
You listened for me in the bird songs
Sorrowing over the times

The flowers wept gently
Nothing can stop the advent of Spring
The caress of Summer
Life is a calligraphy beyond regret
It surpasses even our old kingdoms
The names of gold and currency
*
Are like paintings in the wind
Old economies will die, like floating clouds
But love will ascend her frequency
And remain, like nature’s Emperor-praise
That is why I cannot do without you
That is why I will always hold you dear

Even if the end of the world comes
Still you will survive in the new world
Because you are that which
All civilizations are built upon.

Her Veils are White as Snow

My resurrection is a sensitive process
Like a bee-line of women, as symbols
Of the remuneration of my destiny
I want their food, their shelter

Their fragrance, not as significant
Of what I might hoard, or plunder
But of a banquet of trade
That I might have something enriching to offer

O blasphemy is love’s ecstatic fire
I am reckless with the reality of it
Smoothing and apple-green
What in their skin could possibly redeem me?

It’s an illusion of the material world
I’m sure of it, flowers on the water
Lotus bud in the air, I stare past mirrors & windows
Back to nature, back to God

I am clothed in sensual clothing
My resurrection is a taboo exploration
Like a woman’s body that has never been fondled properly.

Photography Credits: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Youthful-heart-373919675

A Poet as a Lover

The best poets wait for words
I rush them as I would a woman
I have no patience for timid steps
The hunt is not an exercise of will
But a routine of loving, relentlessly!

The best lovers are fueled by smoldering desire!
Slow movements seem too dull
Youth is a show that passes quickly
So make it happen, poems & women
Easy come, easy go, they have taught me

With darkness at their steamy cores
I am a watcher of the rarest birds
And a hunter for the most exotic women
I’ll risk rejection – it shall Kill me not
So long as I hold, a great perspective to Love-Making.

We All Arrived from Grandmothers

How noteless is this life
The Real is an instinct of locality
All a question of proximity
And sense to spirit integration

I’ve forgotten all odes familiar
Whims to bloom, and buttercups to smell
I’ve spurned Daises and rules of Noon
With Recollection of your numbness

How irreverent and cordially anonymous
Is every moment from the next
That fancy and sunrise
Are simply doors left ajar

This world a simulation of requests
That you disdain men, and I find women
Like Oxygen, necessarily toxic.

A Drop of Blood Like Shadows

My shadows have remained
Behind there, like a midnight guest
That doesn’t know when to leave
But the truth of the matter

Will surface, in sleep
The frosted sacrifices for art
Will suffice, the choice to be free
How the house is altogether preoccupied

Dust to dust, something called love
In the world, perhaps it’s not for me
Into a sterner living I must surrender
Why? Because life’s calculation found me wanting

There is no mercy in these stark designs
Of fate, no morning ray that sweet
Uncouth are the women who left me
Just as with my mouth I used to travel

Down their spines, their hips, their hands
Like a quiet shawl of tremulous abandon
I must warm myself with paler dreams
The dread of separation still in my gut

Heavy as a lost gleam of a lake of swans
There is nothing to forgive, nakedness is ruthless
My shadows have remained
I only sow the reaping done, a late comer

To reality, and ecstasy and maturity
I arrive at incredible vexation
A rage to break the barriers of sheltered patterns
Afloat in me like ice in foaming wine.