Sunday, April 11, 2010
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Well
I always have had a terrible tendency to abandon blogs throughout the years. There always comes a point where I feel too overwhelmed to attempt putting my thoughts in writing. Hopefully I can pick this thing back up consistently once more. I've been taking a poetry class and I feel like its done wonders for my writing. Here's a few.
Just give me a stage dive
A three second jackknife into a raging sea of perspiring men
Standing shoulder to shoulder
Shouting words like some demonic liturgy
Over the din of skin scraping feedback
And ear throbbing cymbal crashes
Just let me dive
My eardrums cry out for mercy from the clash of vocal cords and power chords
That almost block out the words:
Grow up. Get paid. Be responsible.
Sure, of course I will.
I'm obliged to do so
But tonight is Friday and I drove four hours
Paid 5 dollars in tolls and blew at least 5 more stops
To get to this shady looking club
Surrounded by liquor stores and strip clubs
To see a bunch of out of work twenty somethings play instruments
So let me be, cus for a brief moment
When I launch myself off that sneaker bruised stage
I'm an Olympic gymnast on my gold medal dismount
Untouchable
Credit card vertical be damned I'm '96 Jordan in his prime
Pure poetry
For that three seconds I'm high above the teenagers second hand smoke
A stratosphere away from the angry minimum wage workers running in circles
The world is just right
And when I come crashing to earth
And every bone in my out of shape body feels like jumbled up pieces in an erector set
I think, maybe I'm getting too old for this......
But the band just announced they're playing a Minor Threat cover
So if you could excuse me for just one moment, responsibility
I have to take a dive
JEONG
Hello Mr. Lee, Ms. Kim
I'm here today to speak to you both about your son.
Oh, Mr. Lee, you were not aware of a son?
My apologies.
Ms. Kim gave birth to a premature baby on the 3rd of January 1989
She gave him up for adoption on January 4th 1989
Not to worry the boy has become a young man.
Please wipe away those tears Ms. Kim, they are quite unflattering.
Did you know that your son, the boy you didn't name.... please Mr. Lee don't appear so stunned.
You were only 24 and she was 32, it didn't work out, I understand.
But I digress. Your no name boy sometimes spends what feels to him like hours looking at his bathroom
mirror wondering which features each of you gave him.
I can see now that he has your eyes Ms. Kim
And certainly that defiant look he gives when he feels something is unjust, Mr. Lee, he received that from you.
Your son used to imagine being swept away from rural prison by you two. In his dreams you had wealth.
In his dreams you would give him anything he would like.
I see now that these dreams were a far cry from reality.
But not to worry he's matured since then.
He's traveled a bit as well.
He was blessed enough to see where you have walked.
Wondering if he had passed you in Buson or caught a glimpse in Seoul.
Ms. Lee, you would recognize him you say?
Would you hug him, throw your arms around 21 years
21 years of simmering anger
21 years of questioning tears
21 years of immeasurable doubts
You would? Good.
Because your son would do the same.
Just give me a stage dive
A three second jackknife into a raging sea of perspiring men
Standing shoulder to shoulder
Shouting words like some demonic liturgy
Over the din of skin scraping feedback
And ear throbbing cymbal crashes
Just let me dive
My eardrums cry out for mercy from the clash of vocal cords and power chords
That almost block out the words:
Grow up. Get paid. Be responsible.
Sure, of course I will.
I'm obliged to do so
But tonight is Friday and I drove four hours
Paid 5 dollars in tolls and blew at least 5 more stops
To get to this shady looking club
Surrounded by liquor stores and strip clubs
To see a bunch of out of work twenty somethings play instruments
So let me be, cus for a brief moment
When I launch myself off that sneaker bruised stage
I'm an Olympic gymnast on my gold medal dismount
Untouchable
Credit card vertical be damned I'm '96 Jordan in his prime
Pure poetry
For that three seconds I'm high above the teenagers second hand smoke
A stratosphere away from the angry minimum wage workers running in circles
The world is just right
And when I come crashing to earth
And every bone in my out of shape body feels like jumbled up pieces in an erector set
I think, maybe I'm getting too old for this......
But the band just announced they're playing a Minor Threat cover
So if you could excuse me for just one moment, responsibility
I have to take a dive
JEONG
Hello Mr. Lee, Ms. Kim
I'm here today to speak to you both about your son.
Oh, Mr. Lee, you were not aware of a son?
My apologies.
Ms. Kim gave birth to a premature baby on the 3rd of January 1989
She gave him up for adoption on January 4th 1989
Not to worry the boy has become a young man.
Please wipe away those tears Ms. Kim, they are quite unflattering.
Did you know that your son, the boy you didn't name.... please Mr. Lee don't appear so stunned.
You were only 24 and she was 32, it didn't work out, I understand.
But I digress. Your no name boy sometimes spends what feels to him like hours looking at his bathroom
mirror wondering which features each of you gave him.
I can see now that he has your eyes Ms. Kim
And certainly that defiant look he gives when he feels something is unjust, Mr. Lee, he received that from you.
Your son used to imagine being swept away from rural prison by you two. In his dreams you had wealth.
In his dreams you would give him anything he would like.
I see now that these dreams were a far cry from reality.
But not to worry he's matured since then.
He's traveled a bit as well.
He was blessed enough to see where you have walked.
Wondering if he had passed you in Buson or caught a glimpse in Seoul.
Ms. Lee, you would recognize him you say?
Would you hug him, throw your arms around 21 years
21 years of simmering anger
21 years of questioning tears
21 years of immeasurable doubts
You would? Good.
Because your son would do the same.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
It's been too long
I've neglected this blog for quite some time now. But it seems I never know how to put all these experiences into proper sentences. Adjusting to home has been easy and difficult at the same time. In some ways I feel like I've never left but when I'm not around my old friends my mind starts wandering towards other things and I start to realize how foreign my surroundings are starting to become. I've started to neglect time with my Father and I feel like I'm relapsing into old habits once again.
Terminal Views
God I need to find some truth in this
I just want to be happy where I'm at
But foxes have holes
Birds have nests
and it seems I have no
place to let my head rest
I'm starting to think that sentiment may hold some truth
When Dublin's sunrise is all I see
So far removed from that rolling midwest view
My life now seems to consist of airport ques
It's ages away in my mind
but the midwest is as close to me as the veins are to my skin
as vital as the heart they pump into
I would kill to feel the cool Illinois breeze
The kind that send leaves blowing end over end
I feel it
Hear it
Beckoning with open palms to lay my luggage at its door
But two days home and my legs get that restless itch
and my mind starts chasing after timezones once more
Each time away I leave with less baggage but with more urgency inside my chest
A stronger outlook towards tomorrow but an even greater love for times before
There is no
no place to lay my head
no other place that has my heart
Terminal Views
God I need to find some truth in this
I just want to be happy where I'm at
But foxes have holes
Birds have nests
and it seems I have no
place to let my head rest
I'm starting to think that sentiment may hold some truth
When Dublin's sunrise is all I see
So far removed from that rolling midwest view
My life now seems to consist of airport ques
It's ages away in my mind
but the midwest is as close to me as the veins are to my skin
as vital as the heart they pump into
I would kill to feel the cool Illinois breeze
The kind that send leaves blowing end over end
I feel it
Hear it
Beckoning with open palms to lay my luggage at its door
But two days home and my legs get that restless itch
and my mind starts chasing after timezones once more
Each time away I leave with less baggage but with more urgency inside my chest
A stronger outlook towards tomorrow but an even greater love for times before
There is no
no place to lay my head
no other place that has my heart
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