Your intimidating presences is unwanted,
Leaving me frightened and taunted.
Iâ€™ll have you know I wonâ€™t be damned,
To anyone of your angered commands,
Nor your pathetic greedy demands.
So this is where we say goodbye,
You should be ashamed,
Time is slowly fading,
Your memory is now shading.
Yes itâ€™s trueÂ youâ€™ve been forgiven,
But this lust for love remains forbidden.
I refuse to break down once more,
You’ll never hurt me like you didÂ before
You say that you never once flaunted
But I for one remain undaunted!
Sacred wind sings a song
About the beings it has traveled upon.
Who unawares are connected within
Ancient grace and truth carried in the wind.
It carries the song into our ears
Of a thousand voices throughout the years.
Manâ€™s actions are now in the winds of time
Recorded and carried with accurate rhyme,
And sang once again after travelling afar
To our hearts all the memories of peace and of war.
welcome to taipei
smell the wet air
thick with car, motorcycle, bus fumes
step into the subway
feel the thick heat of thousands of bodies that have pulsed through
look away from the eyes
there are too many of them
but they are all differing degrees of bright
once upon a time children
now shadows of children that are hiding
hiding behind make-up and heels,
suits, vests, and bags
hiding behind poverty stricken grime and loud begging cries,
prostitute women shy yet brazen leaning against the bridge
welcome to taipei
raise your arm above your head
hold on tight as the bus rattles over the bumpy roads
stopping often to avoid hitting the thousands of reckless fast others
biking, motorcycling, walking, and driving
feel the bodies pushing and pulling against your own
and hold your breath when the door opens
and someone steps in smelling like cigarettes
the smell of the wet pavement rising up behind him
well, might as well step out now then
and smell this wet pavement
rich with too many years of too many feet and vehicles
wonder about what lies beneath the pavement
raise your head to look beyond the buildings
and watch the clouds reaching and pulling towards and away
from the tall mountains
some soft some jagged
so far, too far in the distance
imagine the echoes of monkeys howling
close your eyes yes even on this dirty street corner and
see ancient spirits living in holes in rocks in caves in mountains
mountains so old that even here in this city
there are shrines honoring the mountains spirits and earth gods
say yes to the grandmother that offers you some incense
she gives you three sticks of incense
one for the sky god, one for the earth god, and one for the god of the present moment
smell all the years of incense trapped in this one little room
all the smoke wafting and billowing up into the red rafters coloring them a dark blood red
closed eyes again, seeing the blood of my own body coursing through into my heart
feeling the pulsing of my feet hard against this cement-layered earth
feeling lava pushing way down below my feet
so far below
but it once created this very island we stand upon
welcome to taipei, taiwan
sit upon these old stone steps with me now and watch the sun rise
it first hits that tall skyscraper over there
and then the light bounces over to that other skyscrapers over there
until eventually we can see the reflection of big red circular mister sun himself reflected on that skyscraper far over there
and the birds will sing louder and louder
until eventually they all get drowned out by the motor vehicles’ songs
welcome to taipei
watch the faces of the thousands of people passing by and listen to their little songs
the gate guard sings a native american chant as he bikes to his post
a customer returns day after day to a shop. they are friends now
the schoolboys walk fast and chatter even faster. something is so very exciting.
the women’s voices are high pitched, their skirts even higher pitched.
an old couple walking hand in hand, him carrying her purse and umbrella, her laughing at his jokes.
couples at night all over the old temple, watching the lights of a city that doesn’t quite sleep.
faces with scarves that show only the eyes. walking fast. going somewhere incredible.
browned farmers at farmer stands everyday with loud voices and fresh fruits.
bus driver that says peace be with you, and you are blessed. gentle eyes in the mirror.
old women dancing all the same dance in the park, saying come join us, and welcome.
the eyes of a baby in the subway, shining, laughing, innocent, curious, and amused.
welcome newborn one, welcome to taipei.
here, enjoy this cup of fresh tea.
hotwire my phobia,
place it on pins and needles,
elevated above 500 staring eyes,
Leave me hog tied
a sorry joke,
caught in buffoonery,
While I bellow
8 trembling stanzas,
17 sour notes,
one crasing song
That went on 3:54 seconds too long.
Day in day out,
Same sort of thing,
The music is the same,
Yet today it sits,
Sliding in sliding out,
Of an all too
Fight as we might,
We are stared down,
By the same weary concepts,
Faith vs. death- money vs. love- right vs. wrong
Awakes my sense of lingering time.
There is a chipmunk that lives in the same trees I am camped under. And for some odd reason this little forest fellow loves to chirp and bark and squawk all day and night every hour or so. He does this so often, and frankly wakes me up so many times during the night that I have revoked my “no-kill” policy on wild life to seek out the destruction of this little wilderness prick. This article is dedicated to expressing (and maybe dissolving) my animosity with that chipmunk:
I tried to hurt you today, I admit it.
I threw those rocks hard and missed you 100 times before giving up,
Wish you would die so I could sleep peacefully at night.
What part of evolution gave you that piercing bark,
And why do you feel the need to torture the air with it this wasteful shrill?
In the world of tree-rodents are you a minstrel of peace?
Or have the other chipmunks left the trees in spite of your constant pinging in their ears?
Just as you do to my ears, and to my nerves.
And now my nerves petition to my brain – to kill you now.
Bark all day if you will, bark ALL DAY.
But STOP when the sun goes down.
Stop making noises at 3am, 4am, 5am, 6am…
12pm, 3pm… WHAT’S THE POINT!
Are you mad that my tent has been under these trees all Summer long?
Sorry, I’m not going to move it.
You have one thousand trees to go to, I have only one campsite I’m allowed to stay in.
That’s just the way it is.
Go away stupid chipmunk.
Squirrels are much better than you.
I don’t care how cute that stripe is down your back.
I’ll take a mono-colored gray squirrel ANY DAY over hearing you make your dastardly shrieks.
So go away, or face death.
When at first you do not see
The person that might be.
Make no judgement sure
Only friendship is the cure.
You may find out in the end
They can become your friend
I took this picture the other day while sitting on the riverbank next to where I live.
I’d like to share this poem with you. It’s one of my favorites:
One cannot stay on the summit forever –
One has to come down again.
So why bother in the first place? Just this.
What is above knows what is below –
But what is below does not know what is above
One climb, one sees-
One descends and sees no longer
But one has seen!
There is an art of conducting one’s self in
The lower regions by the memory of
What one saw higher up.
When one can no longer see,
One does at least still know.
soul search, who are we?
Iâ€™m rubber and you are glue
adulthood is hype
strawberry ice cream
outside, whole box to myself
makinâ€™ kids jealous
to be or not to
eeny, meeny, miney, mo
questions made easy
no hope for escape
surrounded by enemies
pink, brown, white, yellow
for breakfast, lunch or dinner
milk is delicious
Do you know light without sensing what is darkness?
Void of love, dressed in half-truth, a slithering tongue.
Can you feel what is light?
Familiar, like your motherâ€™s arms,
Heart hugged, a gentle melody.
There is no yin and yang-just good. Just evil.
There is no stars to follow, no mystical force, no voodoo.
Just good. Just evil.
Touch. Hold. Listen. To Know.
OÂ How you can sit with it,
Comfortably converse and carry it.
Unfolding as a blossom,
showing itâ€™s colors-unbounded brillance,
piece by piece,
A sweetÂ yetÂ familiar symphony,
composer: the great Orchestrator.