Poems & Short Stories

In the morning, we ride a river

The sun glares and blinds us

We honk, sip our coffees and shake our fists

Down the river we go

In the noon, we ride a river

A melody plays and we sing along

We wave, we smile, we rejoice

Down the river we go

In the night, we ride a river

The moon greets us

We roll down our windows, our hands caressing the wind

Down

Down the River we go.

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#POEM

#POETRY

#HIGHWAY

#LOSANGELES

#LA

#FREEWAY

#RIVER

#LIFE

The heart aches and yearns for days of yesterday

It wants a repeat, a rerun of memories

It wants to revisit the good times

On hot days, I am transported back to Shibuya, Tokyo

I feel the humid heat on my legs as I wander through the avenues, making my way to a house where I am greeted with a pour of red wine cold, a lighter igniting a pair of Japanese cigarettes and a set of stools out in the patio

I hear her murmurs, her soft voice speaking in her sing song lilt,

A quiet laugh

A quiet look

The heart aches.

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#STORIES

#STORY

#POEM

#POETRY

#SUMMER

#LOVE

#SHIBUYA

#TOKYO

The tents caught fire

A plumage of smoke wafted in the hot air

The Valley was alive and if that was any indication of the night

I knew I was in for one

I sat at the bar at Sally’s minding my own business, chewing through my umbrella

The drink was hitting at a good angle as Mona appeared to my right

She cooed in my ear asking if I wanted a dance

I looked at her and she looked pretty, pretty enough

She walked me to the back, signaled to cue her song and began her trance

I sat there looking at her, examining her face, that dimple on her back

She was young and experienced, there was hurt and danger in her eyes

She slowly churned her butter, swaying her hips, mouthing the lyrics to her song

I smiled quietly to myself and thought of her, the other, the women who had shared their tales of sadness

They were lost and found and lost again

Soon the music ended, I stepped outside feeling the still of the night.

The moon yellowed and strange.

I looked as far as I could, admiring that dark sky, that cloak of ink blue as I walked down the road alone.

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#STORIES

#VALLEY

#WOMEN

#LOVE

It’s not about the car

It’s not about the clothes or your looks

It’s about what you’re trying to say

And how you say it

As quick and bold as possible

It’s not about the girl

Its about how she made you feel

It’s how she made you look inside of you and admire parts of you, you never knew

And then, It’s not about you either

It’s about how you can help your fellow man see inside of himself, so that he can help others

We are only one organ of many

One note, not even a song

It’s the moment when you meet her, when you meet him

that in which you are enlivened, where you feel exact, where you feel alive

This is the construct, this is the way.

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#POEM

#FOCUS

#THEWAY

#LIFE

#PHILOSOPHY

She was a looker

She came in with her gaggle of girls, laughing aloud, enjoying the attention

She knew she had that thing

He was new, back in town from a voyage afar

He walked with the confidence of a man who’s been to places

His American Marlboro Red lazily resting from his lip

He smiled and gave her a kind stare

She liked him

He liked her

They danced the night away

Each sharing a puff of his smoke, drinks in hand, feet shuffling, laughter abound

To be Young

To be Free

My Mother.

My Father.

.

#STORIES 


#🇰🇷


#LOVE

#LOVESTORY

She follows me in my dreams

Sometimes I hear her voice

I said goodbye to her months ago

Yet she reappears and sits, stares at me and remains silent

It is then, that I awake

She follows me in my dreams

She was my lover

She was my one

Where have you gone

What have you done

She follows me

She follows.

We enter alone

We leave alone

Throughout our travels we meet lovers and broken souls

We are all broken

We are all needing to be loved

We are empty

We are full

We are joyous

We are blue

We may be happy for many years

We may be sad the following

We are sure of ourselves one day

We are unsure on others

On what note will we leave when we do leave

What model, what pattern, what rubric

Better not bitter

A Journey

A Quest

A Life

This is a Gift

Treasure it

Celebrate it

Give thanks to it

The Solo.

My father said he waited for 7 days.

He looked up towards the hill to see if she would return.

Each day he looked up, each day he looked down.

He began to lose faith.

He was 5 years old, a little boy, desperate, face wretched in hunger pains

His younger brother was only 3, he would nurse him with what little food he could find

Moments of delirium mixed with fear, despair, then fear again would mingle and dance around him

He could hear the moans, the feeling of grim, the silence of hopelessness

If only he could rid the hunger

If only he could avoid his eyes from seeing the pain around him

He looked up and she was no where to be found

He was looking for her, his mother

One day she appeared, her silhouette casting a shadow, her hands holding a bushel of grass

She would boil what vegetation she found and would feed her children telling them she had already eaten

My father knew she was lying but he ate quietly, swallowing his tears.

A HEAVY BLANKET.

The kind that smothers you in your sleep when you wake, desperate to breathe, bewildered that you haven't been swallowed in its grasp already.

You dreamt a pleasant dream. You felt calm and you felt still, much like what you imagine it must be within your mother's womb, that cloak of flesh, that feel of being contained and held.

A natural opiate this blanket is as such is the feeling of self pity, that essence of the han.

That streak of pain unbridled from generations of men and women. Such is the feel of this pain, this sorrow, this slight.

A heavy blanket.

Go Farther

Go Beyond

Be the Rhythm

Be the Song

Enjoy the Valley

Enjoy the Peak

Forget the past

The Future you seek

Cherish the present

Be alive and wary

Everyone will pass

And all will be merry

Open the Heart

Open the Mind

Be One

Be Many

And always be kind.