Endowed on high bark pedestals,
Emerald leaves of sparkling days
Govern volumes of trembling grass.
With last autumn memorable,
Our Mother urged infant leaves the day
Her menstruation, built of wrath, will crash.
Funny, how pleas are forgettable
When they deny their declining stay
And forbid the starved grass the sun’s path.
Barely the blind leaves see plentiful
The bloody leaves shattered that still lay
Till their final days on stage have passed.
“You say you can vanquish my darkest memories so near.
Thus I shall tell my tale only for you to hear.
These memories, which cloud like swarming startled bees,
Give birth to grotesque midnight miseries I see.
Every night I never miss
Her face of freakish pale
Eliciting a haunting smirk of bliss;
Carved by the citizens of Satan’s jail.
Her bulged eyes yearn of a sickening tale to tell
Of miseries only experienced in Hell.
At a distance, arrived he, from the car of metallic blue.
This man, my deus ex machina
Of the midnight haunting scene,
Provided no healing to the damaged dame, fading my hope’s bright hue.
Instead he slithered himself into her, loaded with his white cream
And caressed her breasts with his lustful lips.
All the way to the neck did he nip
And swooped her like a bird would to his prey.
And dumped her into the dark river and blurted:
‘It was a nice play.’
And…”
“What you’ve said I’ve already heard before —
The exact same word that spread on this very floor
And they…they were heard of no more.
And so shall you, once your blood spreads on this very floor.”
I’m so sorry, my friend.
So sorry I keep fading,
Fading away from you;
Leaving myself colorless
In our color book.
I have left you nothing
But a ghost —
A ghost, in your memory, of a friend
Deceased.
I’m sorry I couldn’t hold on to you.
That’s because…
Because…I need time,
Time to sand off those restricting rocks.
Time to liberate,
Liberate myself from those memories
That still confine me.
And when I crush free from the rocks —
Please, my cherished friend, please color me back
So that I will no longer be a ghost
Ever again
In our color book.
Look beyond my Oriental lineage;
Beyond the yellow complexion
That governs my brothers’ perception
Of my American heritage –
The true heritage my brothers have failed
And still fail to see.
What they cannot comprehend is this –
Fused with my dragon spirit is
A bald eagle that soars in my heart –
The American pride that burns and radiates
In camaraderie with my brothers
As we admire our gallant heroes march in parades
And savor juicy burgers united on Memorial Day.
As our ears cringe to the thunderous sparks radiating
Luminously upon the ink sky on Independence Day.
And as our stomachs sink to the massive meal
Before the extravagant touchdown on Thanksgiving Day.
See,
Every second of my waking existence
I take pride in residing in the home of the brave
Till the day I enter into my grave.
It’s because
I, the Asian American, am also America’s homegrown.
Let it be known.
It always has been and forever will be
That lovely short roads that “never” grew old
Would eventually mold for us to venture unseen roads
Unfolded by the heavens for us to see.
But -
That lovely short road that never grew old
Had the twigs, trees, and leaves positioned
In such a way that I could sail, conditioned,
through the blissful path; never wanting to ever mold.
(Inspired by Robert Frost’s Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening)
Ferocious fangs gnaw on my feet
As I balance through scorching sands.
So much pain the amber grain creeps
Into my brain that burns so deep.
“No more!” I say as I collapse
Onto the sneering sands and stare
The alluring sea that gently taps
The strained knees to a numbing nap.
How serene the sea is to me!
The azure beauty of her draws
My soul towards mystical peace.
Yes, please let me be with the sea!
But the breeze from afar yearns
For me to see the sea’s darkness.
For it is time for me to learn
How to stroll on the grounds that burn.
Enchanting the young night is
Shielding the blossomed, bright moon.
The dashing black coat of his
Twirls her white dress to the tune.
Gaily, he sings and swings his hips
Bestowing the maiden fresh lips.
His heated blood furiously whirls
As intimate passions unfurl.
The piercing ringer stabbed the heart of my rest
As he dragged me from the calm sea of dreams
Onto the rough sands of consciousness.
Little the motherly bed cradling me could do
In a pulling struggle with the ruthless ringer.
I clawed onto the rosy pillow instinctively as the duel grew.
Inevitably, he snatched me from her with shrilling power
And dictated my drunken mind to hustle the scattering feet
Towards the drenching waters of the weeping shower.
“Invisible” friend, please do not go!
This news has my soul composed of dark crows
And will leave our future adventures mowed.
For you and I already know:
My heart thirstily turns
In such a different term
Than that of what the “Normal” yearn.
This is why you had been churned.
I’d rather join you in our fights with the Mad Hatter
Like we’re Batman and Robin and be badder
Than the schoolyard punks who make the girly girls flattered.
Having you in my life is all that matters!
Wild child, I’m sorry to say –
You must not crayon me no more
Nor can we place a time to play.
No longer can you be a hermit hardcore.
And why to your mother you protest so loud?
Do you not understand real is truly real?
Real friendship,
Is sung with a sweet sound
That time by time never loses appeal.
My time is a time of a man hanging on the thin tip
Of a crumbling cliff.
So just end me with a whiff
And now life you live.
