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AWAIS HABIB  Sep 2019
XVI
AWAIS HABIB Sep 2019
XVI
Mn kis rasty peh chala mj ko ilm na huwa
Kis makaam peh ja poncha mj ko andaza na tha

Phr b ik umeed hai nazro mai baki
K daiku ga zrur, mn kirno ka aruj

Ye dunya or is k kissy khatm hony waly to nahe
Pr jo khatm hona hai wo hai wajud apna

Ab ye b nahe k haar gaya *** zamany sy mn
Bs na jany kb sy khamoshi ka mn pasnd bn gaya

Ye kahani hai ik ujrhy huwy gulshan ki
Jis ki bahar ko ik zamana beet gaya

Khair hoti rahy gi ye baaty b sath sath
Kabi tum hmko yaad krna tamasha e rozgaar mai....
AWAIS HABIB Sep 2019
Koh gaya tha dunya ki ronak-e-gulzaar mai mn
Tj sy seek k khud ko sulja raha *** mn

or janta *** k pas nahe *** tery
Tbi to khud ko baaton mai uljha raha *** mn

Zamany ki sargoshio ka andaza hai mjy
Tbi to khud ko khud sy bacha raha *** mn

Janta *** k milu ga ik din tj sy zrur
Kia karu baato sy apni gabra raha *** mn
My this poem, i especially dedicated to my friend across the border....
& i wish that May Allah make his life so happy.. انشاءاللہ
Wil Wynn Apr 2010
No One Knew His Name
when the woman called nine eleven she said
there is a guy sitting on the stoop
he's dead..
the nine eleven woman, martha, said
how do you know he
s dead we get plenty of calls like tha
t

she said, the woman, said
he
s got flies in his eyes

martha said we are gonna
be right there!

2.two condoms and a crucifix

when the coroner people cam
e he was still sitting on the stoop
still dead his breath no longer
straining the winter air
then they took pix and measured things
rigor mortis already had set in
and when they took th e pix
they showed two condoms and a crucifix
falling out of his pocket into the light of day

the woman who found him so still
she said it is strange
to see such disparate things spilling out of his pocket
he
was still dead and i believe he
s kept his state of being stubborn as he is/was
he remains forevermore stilled

we talked about those three things
two concepts really
two condoms and a crucifix
and we could not figure out which
he loved the most
because we never heard him speak of
anything but god crack *** amphetamine
trinity cooh, ya know?

3. Discovery Indeed

he came from wolf lake mn
population 31
when he left it went down to 25
ten thousand lakes
he could not imagine living there
anymore
but did he know at the end of the trail
what was he looking for?
two condoms and a xfix
my god he said
although he did not ever believe in such
extravagance
just before he went to sleep
perhaps to be still forever more
my god he said
as the soporific hit blessed
whatever was left of his short life
my god he said
although he was agnostic or so he said
my god
he could not have believed had he not heard them words
himself
as he grabbed the condoms and kissed the xfix
or maybe it was the other way around.

4. No ****
sitting on his ***** chair
he put his hands between his legs
reached for the ****
and squeezed:
yellowish stuff strained out between his fingers.

his grandma slapped him, hard

5. Things Looking Up

he lay down on the floor
to look up the neighbor's dress
he saw a pair of legs descend
from pink *******

then his grandma picked him up
slapped him, hard.

6. Harbinger

winter flew in harsh in minnesota,
battered houses, pine trees,
the wide landscape into submission
let the wind run whistling, whipping
subservient snow, whitewhirlwinding
down desolate fields and lanes

one day it got so cold
spit froze before it hit the ground
it made a little noise midair

7. Cold Dogs

one time he saw some fifteen dead dogs
piled by the side of a road
frozen like the rest of the landscape

even as an adult he wondered
what THAT had been about

8. *** Is Child's Play

in the first grade he fell in love with miss renee
the teacher who let him put his head down on her legs
and petted his head while he glowed glowed glowed
he learned to love school and read read read
so ms renee would say Joe, read!
and he would

one time he dreamed he had *** with miss renee
*** was tying something between her legs
a knot of love in her ******

so how did he know about such things
at five? he always wondered about that.

9. Revelation

his fishing pole was gone!
he looked and looked while spring time
raised giant mosquitos that buzzed and buzzed
about his head

he never found his fishing pole
he thought that maybe when you die
and go to heaven
god showed you in a sort of movie
what had happened so you'd nod yer head and say
yeh, i'd never would have guessed grandma

gave it away.

10. Alone At Last

say to the darkness this
emptiness covers all this
suffusing light scrapes away
some pain some excruciating i am
lucid preamble to my nevermores
in plural congruent universes
coexisting rapt in its own
say this is a dream a vertigo
a swirling metaphor for then/now/and again
can days still mean something new
today everyone left
everyone left


staring out the window at six years old
he saw woods slowly fade into the night
he thought they sank
into an oblivious fog

why didn't i go to the neighbors' house

11. Death Becomes The Fisherman

the lakes were all around
they said let's go see the drowned man
so they went to the shore
a boat with two men rowing
approached
you could see a hand and an arm sticking out
from somebody lying on the floor
someone said "hey, he
s waving"
close to the shore
the wind brought the overpowering
stink of death
that shocked him because he'
d not thought of "drowned" as "dead"

they brought the body out
to the shore
covered it waiting for the coroner to show up

mother and sister cried nearby
neither could approach the stinking corpse

he then realized that no matter what
you can't kiss a rotting corpse.

12. Rubber Match

the first time he met a ******
there was no formal intro
he just found it in his father'
s drawer
filled it with water
dumped it on the neighbor
s'
yard

later on he could hear them fight

13.Prurient Discovery

when he was 13 he made love to her
who was 16
and all he could think about
was how gross it was and wet

until he came

then his opinion suddenly
changed

for the

better

14. Death Is

his grandmother was sick
in the MN winter cold home
she coughed and coughed
so she
put kerosene on her back
and chest
he saw she got blisters
he did not want to help
clean them up
so he hid
until she was quiet for a couple of days

he went to see her she was dead
so he stayed drunk for a week or so
until he could not stand the stink no more

15. The Beginning of the End

he went to a foster home
there were 5 other teenagers there
the first night
he went to bed
someone put a pillow on his head
while hands turned him over
held him down
pulled his pjs down
5 guys ***** him then and there

the next day he ran away

16. The End of the Beginning

they brought him back 23 times
on the 24 he met one of the kids
by the lake
stuck a knife under the guys
ribcage on the right side

all the guy did was sigh
and slide slowly down

he pushed the guy into the water
somehow it took weeks to find the body
by then nobody could tell he'd been stabbed

but none of the kids ever held him down
again

17. COOH

alcohol alcohol
its sweet old name tells me all
i need to know how spinning
the world distances itself
in a warm blood red haze
and only a swollen torpor remains
alcohol alcohol
its sweet old name tells me all
i need to know
and not to know

18. Not Late, Just Timely

time 'sss a stone a sash a thunderbolt up high
a rudder a list a lisp a restless meandering
time 'sss a spire a fish still below the waves
a constraint a push a shove a deal a nothing
time 'ssss a look a lock a rail
a sunrise a fall a crack a vial
time 'sss a sock a pen a handgun
a radiant breeze a solid solid hand
two elbows and one mouth

he took his time and time took him
step by step he climbed the stairs of his cognizance
such as it was just this
no hope

i say no hope but no despair either
the world sometimes it's just the way it is
he understood that but what to make
of this breathing hearing seeing tasting feeling smelling
thinking self
he knew not
and in not knowing
he passed the time that isss not
what you think it isss
time 'sss not even a ticking tocking clock
just let it be he said to himself
time 'sss not me
yet time isss me

and he took another ****


19. Luger

his father came back to town one day
the war had been over for a few years then
they told him where he could find his father and he went
and watched his father, dressed in combat rags,
as he counted the fingers of his shooting hand

they exchanged glances and he left

got drunk and did not hear or see his father ever again.

20. Life As A Long One Night Stand

the girls are many the girls are new
every day they seems to look at you
and you melt and then you are gone
in another trip with another stranger
in your bed do not say much
cause *** is just another drug

just cheaper and easier to get
than smack

21. Epitaph

he learned a song and a little dance
at the emergency rooms where he got
the prescription pain killers man he could
lie and act and pretend so much
he knew they'
d really have to give him stuff
cause that'
s the way that things work
in big city hospitals
he re-membered a doc who smiled at him
saying man you'll be dead soon
although you think you are fooling me
the only fool in this room is you

he laughed cause he could not agree more
put that in my tombstone he said
the doc said no, you are gonna do it all by yourself

22. Lost Weekend
-.- -.- -.- -.- -.- -.- -.- -.-
-.- -.- -.- -.-
-.- -.- -.- -.- -.- -.- -.- -.-
-.- -.- -.- -.-

23. Dashes and Spaces
---- -- -- - - --- --
-- - -- -- -- - - -- - -- -- -
--- - - - - - -- - -- - - - --- - -
-- - - -- -- -- -- ---- - - --

24. Two Condoms

at the end of the road
the road the empty road
the sinuous complex road
the road the heavy road
where lust and love entwine
who knows the end or the beginning
who knows alpha or omega
who the what who the where who even
the hidden sentient how
the nothingness the emptiness
of come and come and come
just emptiness of not becoming
he heard himself saying screaming
at the end of something like a bumpy ride
she was who knows who but she was
you know the hole the whole the mankind whole
the all embracing whole the whole hole
the destination origin
the one and all
he said here i belong elementary
i exist because of this
he pounded pounded in his anguish
of becoming one and whole
he howled his grief intermittent
as pulse wave of heart
the heat of his despair
the only drug that it's living protein
he felt his way
and then was gone from virile crisis
to distant remote self acquiring its orthodoxy of despair
because as he put it once you cannot ever **** yourself
square the circle as it were
so he accepted two trojans
at the bar when a guy in the adjacent ****** said
these are the best and yes
we gotta protect ourselves
and left the couple of rubbers
by the sink
and he would have washed his hands
had he known how
but instead put them products in his pocket
a premonition of some kind of future bliss
tugging the sleeve of his presentiment

carving already a vast innocent tomorrow
while he walked out

he truly did not care

25. Crucifix

at the end of the road the empty road, the road full of lies, deceit and a hunger so great it overwhelmed all else, at the end, the terminus, the appointed hour, at the end of the alpha, the omega, the in-between, the road sinuous road that led down the miriad steps to the steps on a stoop in the city of new york, at the end of a long concatenation of minutes, each ethereal, insubstantial, a construct, a vapid dream or nightmare indeed he sat down one last time with his burden of hours to dream one last warm oblivious cozy, embracing shroud, sweet balm to assuage the freezing claws of grief. in the seedy bar last
night he met a blonde who said, your eyes remind me of a long ago boyfriend, he said well, he musta been one hell of a guy, she said indeed, he died in iraq, suicide, ******* he said that is not right, she said we are all at war, daily intimate war, i think, who said we met the enemy and it's us? he did not know but understood, he said although denial is more than a river in egypt, ha ha, but they both got it since they both craved the same intoxication, the same zig-zag and feint, she said the first time i got drunk i was eleven, that was my first time for *** too, he said the first time i got drunk i too was eleven, the night had fallen i was alone in wisconsin among the wolves of winter howling their relentless wind outside, i found a bottle of the hard stuff, not beer like everybody drank i could not stand the taste it was too bitter, but gin, and i drank it convulsed at first by the shock, then not, just drinking a few more gulps and believed i had found the greatest gift on earth, the greatest warmest kindest confidant, she said you talk funny, but i understand what you are talking about, i know the allure but my hangovers, wow, he said no, i never got one, but. here is the but. i knew a limit, i was never blind blind drunk until much later in new york, she said we each have our cross to bear and laughed and dontcha just wanna do a line now ha ha, and it went on like that for quite a while. when she was leaving she said, you wanna see something funny, yeah he said, she brought out a crucifix and it was indeed jesus, his mouth open, imploring relief from his harsh dad, and he had a gold tooth, blue eyes and dreads, he laughed and said that's quite contemporary and she said wha? you don't think he looked like that? but really who knows what the truth was, he said or is, so they both lifted one in memory of the dear departed one who had caused so much trouble here on earth, but, she said, he did not mean it, here keep it and he did. later on he found his fix it was extra good ****, too good in fact, and who knows, when he sat there with flies in his eyes, his life a dream, invention, make believe, whether any of the episodes were true at all, sob stories to assuage the beast of craving within, get his hand in your pocket and whether, as he sank below the surface of his tortured bliss, he saw his true light at long last.
kalpana nayak Jun 2015
Jee aur aieee k sadme k mare ** jte h anjne anokhe unvrsts k hawale,nya clg nya jgh nye dost sb kch hta h nw nw,clg k strtng s hr ksi k dil m hta h rgng ka dar....2nd yr m cnr bnne ka hta h sbko gurur,frnds kai grp m bat jte h,hr koi dkhte h nye luks m,3rd yr m sbko ati h apni jimedari ka ahsas aur fnl yr ata h dston m fasle bdhte h...rah dkhe the is din k kbse,age k sapne saja rkhe the njane kbse,sb bde utavle the yhn se jne ko,zndgi ko dusre trke se dkhne ko....pr njane aj dil m kch aur he ata h,piche ja k waqt ko rok k apne andr sare lmhe ko samet lne ka jee krta h....at d strtng f btech kha krte the bdi muskil s y 4 sal bitenge lkn kse pta tha y sb chd k jne ka mn ni krga...na vulne wali kch yadein reh *** o yadein jo ab jine ka sahara bn ***...na jne aj q un palon k yad bht ati h jin baton ko lekar tab rote the ,aj un palon ko yad kar bht hsi ati h....y sch k ankhein nam ** jte h k mri tang ab kn kncha krga,m apne bton s kska sar khaungi,pranks ksk 7 krngi,ab mjhe kn itna jhlga,ksk smne ntnki krngi,jin dst p lakh kurban whn 1 rupye k ly  kn ldhnge,kaun rat vr bina soye bt krga,kaun bina pche 1 dusre ka chj istml krga,kaun nya nm rkhga,bina ksi bt k m ab ksse ldhungi,bina ks tpc k fal2 bt kn krga,bkws q kn krga,xam k ek din phle o tyri o rate,kn rat var 7 jag kr pdhga,kn fail hne p dilasa dlyga,y hasin pal ab ksk 7 jiungi....yad ati h o rec k choti si cntn bar bar jhn kch v ni mlta mre yar fr v na jane q hum gye hnge so bar...tum jse kmine dost khn mlnge jo khai m v dhaka de ayen sale srs mtr ko v joke m cnvrt kr de,par fr tmhe bachane khud v kud jye....mre hrkton se nakhro se jid s prsan kn hga ,ksk 7 brng lctrs jhlngi..bina mtlb k ksko v dkh kr pglon k trh hsna,na jne y fr kb hga....ky hm y sb fr krpaenge....bdy clbrt,ek h rm p bth k 1 dusre s wtsap p bt krna...rat k 3-4 bje khna pkana....bina ksi mtlb k rat ko chilana....mlk pina...pgl jse hrkt krna..mlk ghumna....kaun mjhe apni kabiliat pr vrosa aur jyda hawa m udne pr zamin p lyga....mre khusi m sch m khus kn hga,mre gam m mjhse jyda dukhi kn hga....keh do doston y dubara kb hga....dil m ek kasak hoti h jb hr ankhein nam hti h,fir mlne k wade se hm ek dusre se juda hte h,kv na akle rhne wle dost bas yadon k sahare zndgi bitate h....lkn jb v y clg k din yad ate h ankhon m hasin aur ansu ek 7 late h...engnr bnne k khusi v ansu rok na pai ,q k njr aa rai t doston s judai...ab jo hna tha o ** gya akhir m sbse juda ** h gye....aj v un palon ko yad kr k ansun rok ni pte h ....nkl he jte h...aur yuhi lkh lkh k apko pka rai hn....char sal yu he gye hmri beet..ab khn mlnge wo dost wo mit...dua krt hn sb k ly race y zndgi k jao tm jit....
I ms my clg clg dys.....
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2019
.i don't know any other music genre, where the bass is left alone, left exfoliating married to the drums, and the guitar? there's no such a thing as a rhythm guitar section in blues... the guitar is consrtantly married to solo... to a sense of orthography... best represented by ´ (the acute accent) without an o: to cream out a "hidden" u, i.e.: ó... or a cedilla (¸) bound to a c: ç to form the greek sigma (ς) - e.g. garçon... waiter, waiter: i'll just wait... that's how i see the blues guitar... the rhythm guitar isn't there, the bass is married to the drums... but the blues guitar keeps the rhythm in a "funny" way... pair up john lee ****** with lightnin' hopkins (on the piano)... and you... keep rhythm, by working solo accents into the rhythm set by the bass and drums... you rhythm by a continous sparring with the solo - you solo by ensuring your remain in the confines of chord, or something much -esque to a chord... milk, cream & alcohol... again and again: the blues... oh my dear the blues... where the rhythm of the guitar is kept with constant soloing... sometimes engaging with the bass and the drums for a reference check of rhythm... but mostly: solo the whole **** through... but it's not the sort of soloing associated with hair metal of the 1980s jerking-off for performance art piquance... sometimes the solos come in the form of chords... it's like i said already... layers:

         waiter -   garçon
                                 and garcon
                                               (¸)

blues guitar? the latter...
                                             solo accents...
rhythm of syllables: gar-çon
                              but mostly gar-con
                                                         ­  (¸)
since the bass and drums rhythm section
is so perfected in the blues,
the guitar is allowed to do what the hands
want owned by the devil...
        a thorough solo to keep the rhythm...
the one genre of music
where the solo works like a rhythm...
     instead of that in between section
of showing off
between verse chorus verse chorus solo chorus
standard of rock...

     another freedom given to the blues guitar?
the rhythm set by the vocals,
of repeating lyrics...
hell... if someone is going to sing
and play at the same time...
                  why explore lyrics as some sort
of narrative... ping-pong along
with the freedom of the itchy fingers...
by having no real verse,
and no real chorus...
                just a steadied momentum...
        and you really need to drink to appreciate
the blues...
                   just like all the hippies
will tell you that dropping acid enchances your
chances of enjoying the 13th floor elevators
or jefferson airplane...
              i don't know which is better these days:
jazz or blues?
sure as **** not rap...
                       and they say the slave trade
was all bad... sorry...
      without these west africans budding
in h'america... i'd still have a clarinet shoved
up my ***... or folk songs...
                  or mozart's woodwind imitating...
or vivaldi's *******' worth of spring...
yes, and we all know that Idi Amin was white...
wasn't he? who died peacefully while
under asylum in saudi arabia...
           Idi Amin was white! oh come on!
he was the last king of sctoland!
              on a side:
   they were picking cotton...
             well... at least they weren't working
the ******* coalmines... where they now?

ever watch that video
of milo
  yiannopolous:
       congresswoman
ilhan omar
           (d-mn)
       addresses
david horowitz's west
coast retreat?

where is the old milo
gone to?
anyone pick
up on the heavy breathing?

there's the stag ***
of only 2 years prior?
he's not here...

         i was never into making
videos,
only because i just liked
those japanese godzilla
movies from the late 80s...

and i'm still a sucker
for modern pop,
currently?
           mabel - don't call me up...
huge, huge sucker
for the expected reaction
to pop music...
synch. vocals and
a very limited circumstance
of lyrical poverty...

sucker... might as well
don a dunce hat...
elsewhere,
on the ibernian peninsula
it's also called
a *capirote
...
and **** gets freaky...

i agree...
the northern crusades,
the polacks became christened
in 962...
   the teutonic knights
were ready
to explore lithuania...
we were about to allign
ourselves with them,
ergo: defend them...

            the concept
of reconquista came after
the crusades...
         i'm pretty sure it came
after...
           jihad is reconquista...
worded differently...
   is it? the crusades were one
thing...
     jihad = reconquista...
         the current form of jihad?
it's like crusading...
     to claim a jihad is to claim
reclaiming lost lands,
there must be some muslim genius
who could come up with
a counter term to jihad:
the jihad on the offensive...
rather than on the defensive...
we need some muslim genius
to come up with a conquering
ideology of islam...
   umayyad script...

i'm reading into the video
and i'm like:
is he angry...
       or is he simply scared?
all that heavy breathing...
maybe it's both?
   do i "think" about
throwing him from
a roof... are you sane?
as they say:
in a mad mad world,
the only sane people
                    are the madmen...

talk about memes finally
coming across "genetic"
mutation...
                why are all the "liberals"
and "progressives"
so surprised by mutation
creeping into memes?
doesn't that usually happen
with genes?
so... what's with all the outrage...
if memes exist outside
of the biological reality
of genes,
then... surely,
any counter-thought
from the est. order is equivalent
to a mutation, isn't it?

               so... what's the outrage
about?
    well if genes are going
to by hijacked by a mutation,
why would memes be immune
to a mutation,
akin to the o.k. hand sign?
you want a script?
i learned this at primary school,
but you need two hands
in tow:

   (right hand RH,
left hand LH,
   thumb TH
         index I
      ******* MF
        ring finger RF
pinky P)...

and now the motion

   RH (I + MF hand down) slap on the
the LH palm of the open hand...
   RH (I + MF hand up) slap
on the LH palm of the open hand...
RH (I + MF
               V shaped insertion
of the V shape into the LH's
side)
      clenched fist of RH slammed
on the open palm of the LH...
clenched RH with an extended TH
poiting toward caesar's favour
in the coliseum (thumb's up)
moving away from the LH open
palm...

   translation?
   why, don't, you, ****, off...
primary school,
some of the kid's parents
must have taught them this sequence
when their children told them
that some foreigner ******
was attending primary school
with them...

                   poor milo though...
notably in that video...
           he's either really angry...
or he's ******* himself...

i'm still left with this sign language...
i don't even know if it's correct...
a kevin spacey "conundrum"...
i'm not exactly going to, *******,
am i?
                knitting and picking
points of criticism...
   made easy:
   no niqab, no turban,
   no copper skin,
             no black skin...
no wonder my fellow countrymen
are leaving
with a massive F          and a U
from this island...
                    good for them...
if i was sane enough,
i'd also leave...
      but given that i'm also a dual-citizen...
well...
         milk the ***** for
her last worth...
    this language...
                    the people are another story,
but my lover affair with
this language is exactly
this.
Arya  Apr 2016
Bitaw na
Arya Apr 2016
Gusto ko ng bumitaw dahil sa sakit na aking nadarama
Pero hndi ko pa kaya kasi mahal na mahal pa kita
Hanggang kelan ko to titiisin?
Hndi ko na kc madama ang pagmamahal mo sa akin
Hndi na ikaw ang taong minahal ko noon
Asan na ba siya?
Mali, hndi ko siya hinahanap.

Nakakapagod,
Nakakapagod talaga, hndi mo mn lang ako tinulungan.
Grabe ka!
Nakakapagod din kcng intindihin ka
Hndi ko alam kung anong problema kc hndi ka naman nagsasabi ng totoo **** nadarama
Para bang itinatago mo sa iyong bulsa
Bahala na, sabi mo nga sa akin "Bahala ka"
Bahala na talaga.
Bibitawan na kita.
Sa wakas,
Ang pagmamahal ko sayo'y matatapos na.
Ang sakit na aking nadarama ay matatapos na.
Matatapos na talaga.
Ito na, ito na ang huling sasabihin ko para sayo na kasabay ng mga luhang tumutulo sa akin mga mata.
#pag-ibig
#masakit
Sidney Nov 2014
I am that petite build, with that straight, black and shiny hair that every white girl envies.
I have those slanty eyes that turn into slivers when I laugh.
I love kimchee, rice and mandu.  There is never such a thing as too much garlic.  I put red pepper flakes/paste on everything.
I use chopsticks.
People think I'm "cute" and pat me on the head.  That drives me nuts.  It still happens and I'm 32.
I regularly tell people that I don't speak Korean, except for "Where's the bathroom?" and of course "Anyonghaseyo".
My skin turns a dark tan in the summer months and I wish I was more peachy or pale like the white girls whom I think are beautiful.
I wear glasses.
I love to read and research things and I'm a good, diligent student, but I'm terrible with math and science.
I'm musical.

****

I play the clarinet, not the piano, violin, or cello; like every "Asian" should play.
I'm a tom-boy; you will never find me in a tu-tu or frilly-like dress (in public).
I do not wear make-up.
I'm loud, boistrous and obnoxious at times.  I have a serious *****-mouth and I'm not reserved or "refined".
I ask the guy out; not the other way around.
My career is more important than "settling down"-- at least during this point in my life.
I choose to never have children -- EVER.
I bite my fingernails and I've never had a manicure.  I've never even been inside a manicure shop.
I am a fantastic driver.
I am the only person of color in my immediate and extended family.
Over 99.5% of my friends are white.
I have never been in a relationship with an Asian man.
I grew up in an all-white neighboorhood and when I saw the Vietnamese, Cantonese, and Hmong students at my elementary school, I always wondered what it must like to be "them".

In 2007 I lived in South Korea for 3 months.  I encountered complex questions concerning who I am.  Who am I, really?  Am I an adopted Korean?  Am I a "real" Korean? Am I a Korean-American?  Am I none of these?  Does it even matter?  I was left with a gaping hole in my chest of deeper questions, deeper insecurities, and a poignant feeling of loss.  I thought, back in the States that who I am there is who I really am.  But, here I am, in the country of my birth, surrounded by people who share my ethnicity.  This is who I really am, right?  I felt such a deep responsibility to be more Korean.  I felt that if I identified as "white" or even a Korean-adoptee, that I was betraying my culture, my People, my home.  But, while I was in my homeland of Korea, I was so homesick for Minnesota.

When I returned back to Minnesota around Thanksgiving time, a few months later, Eastern Social Welfare (adoption agency in Korea) found my birth mother, Yoon, Young-Hee.  They were able to confirm that she was indeed my mother.  They tried to tell her that I have begun a search and that I wrote a personal letter for her, waiting at the agency.  Once they mentioned me, Young-Hee hung up the phone and would not answer Eastern's calls over a course of a year.  Children's Home Society and Family Services in St. Paul, MN contacted me and said that Eastern Social Welfare suggested that I wait a few years and try again.  I waited 6 years.  Last Decemember I re-intitated the search with the hopes that Young-Hee had gained the courage to talk to the social worker.  I had prayed for this for so many years.  I visulized light and love surrounding her.  I asked God for help.  I have heard nothing from my social worker and it's been almost 10 months.

I am learning how to let go of this search and let go of Young-Hee.  I am learning how to take my healing and my identity into my own hands.  I have a million questions that I wish I knew -- questions about my birth family's medical history.  Questions about why she gave me up. Questions about her current family.  Endless questions.  Now, I have come to terms that my questions may never be answered.  I could always have a mystery around my birth and possibly the future cause of my death (until I am diagnosed with something).  Can I live with this ambiguity?  As of right now, barely.  I am barely able to keep myself from falling apart with the frantic wonderings of my mind.  But, this is something I have to live with every day.

The Adopted Korean Community often hears wonderful and inspiring stories of adoptees being re-united with their birth-families. This is not my story.  My story is the all-too-common story that is rarely heard.  No one wants to hear how your birth mother will not cooperate with the Korean social worker and even read a letter you wrote for her.  No one wants to face the fact that millions of adoptees around the world live with this reality, too.  No one wants to acknowledge the pain, the rejection, and the loss that prevails.  Why would anyone want to hear a story like that?  Well, people who do not find their birth families or are turned away by their birth families have a story to share too.  It may not be an "upper", but it's a pretty important story to hear, too.  It lets us remember how we've all felt this way at some point in our lives, as an adoptee.  Most importantly, hearing stories like this helps other adoptees cope and feel that it is okay if their birth families wish to not meet or communicate with them.  It's not the adoptee's fault.  Adoptees who do not have success stories need to hear that this happens to many others and that a giant rejection does not mean he or she is worthless and less "special" than an adoptee who has been fortunate enough to reunite.

Why is it that I so closely tie my identity and then my self-worth to my birth family?  Why can I not be sovereign unto myself?  I am Korean.  Yes, I am.  It doesn't mean I must do, be, act, believe, see, or think in a certain way.  I am human, too.  I choose to have little identities that I see myself as while in different situations, with different people.  Indentity is complex-  it often signifies one thing-- oh that, (points) THAT is a chair. But simultaneoulsy, identity can also be so fluid and flexible -- (points) THAT chair is a folding chair, but this one isn't. But they're both chairs.  Maybe in some situations I can be a folding chair.  I'd like to play around with identity and let the concept roll around in my mind.  The thinking error comes when we think we must be one, same thing at all times. That is when we become stagnant.  How refreshing it is that we get to have such fluid identities!

Like every person on Earth, I have many shades.  I have many identities, and I surrender the long, hard fight to conform to one identity or another. This is my life and this is who I am, so I reserve the right to identitfy with whatever and whomever I see fit to be ME! :-)
J  Sep 2018
Dandelions
J Sep 2018
a n d
           t h e r e     s h e
           g o e s;    r u n n i n g
           w i l d     a n d       f r e e
           l i k e   d a n d e l i o n s
           d a n c i n g      a n d
            f l y i n g  w i t h
          t h e
       au
       tu
     mn
   br
  ee
ze.
wild and free
2 Dmn Pssed... 11/26/14

2 Dmn Pssed to read
2 Dmn Pssed to concentrate
2 Dmn Pssed to think

Education is a joke to them
Rules and respect
They have none

Women are for serving them
They are dumb
Thoughts...they have none.

Children are learning to
Disrespect me
Children have learned to
Ignore me.

I am just a babysitter maker.
I am just a babysitter.
I am just a stupid woman.
I am just another problem.

U never loved me.
U never knew,
U could be happy,
I loved you, too.

U never loved,
U never knew,
U never cared,
U're never true.

So many lies
That you have spun,
So many times
You think you've won.

Now I just play
Your little games,
Now I must tell
Your ***** lies.

Your family hates me,
My family hates you.
All I ever wanted
Was for you to be true.

Now I must keep
Your ***** lies,
Now I must be
A ***** spy.

So many secrets,
So little time,
But I don't think
I can drop the dime.

Copyright From A Poet's Heart
11/26/14
This is when I was still miserably married to my ex husband. Thankfully, i am divorced from him and remarried to a wonderful guy, whom incidentally, I met thru poetry.
TR3F1LD Feb 2024
I write sometimes li̲ke I'm out for
blood (I kind of have been & am)
like vampires; tha[ɑ]t's for
all the injustice & violence absorbed
[video games, films, (& later) rap & politics-related stuff]
from this unjust & f#cked world
you may think I'm a kettle boiling, 'cause
writing rhymed texts & going hos—
—tile in 'em is a way to blow steam off
besI̲des that, I'm bored
like a plank that I̲ would, o[ʌ]f course
["board"]
not mind watching a ****** dumb war—
—mongering, power-drunk ****
walk off into the waters galore of hungry cro[ɑ]cs or
sharks, though I̲ would o[ɑ]pt for something much worse
if punishing power-corrupted schmucks were
up to mO̲I̲ with my warped
mind; like a drama queen, or a jihadi fiend
at a public spot with **̲[ɑ]stile in—
—tentions & a bomb, or a gun on him
I'd make such a scene
["sin"]
one tor—mentors would love to observe
one worth grabbing some ****** po[ɑ]pcorn
[like the one portrayed in "punishment of an autocrat"]
****** alert; the cynical fiend
inside wants to join this lyrical binge
give 'em *******, dude
————————————————————————————————
listen U̲p, you da[ɛ]mn fool
this message is also for the trap rap playschool
that you pU̲nk pertain to
consider yourself LIA 'cA̲U̲se you're plain doomed
[lost in action]
like an aircrA̲ft which is about
to crA̲sh into the ground (plane, doomed)
call thI̲s sh#t maltreatment
but don't get the joke twisted
saying that, like a wicked professor prone
to acquitting indecent, bold, I'ma teach you a lesson, ***
I don't mean you'll be a victim of *** assau[ɔ]lt
or something
["molltreatment"]
a lesson 'cause in this lyric-writing game, you
are as qualified as lame stewds
[stu(ew)dents]
you better find some da[ɛ]mn tools
'cause the screws of mine are cray loose
just like Deadpool's; memorize this name to
call me by: Slay Illsome
[Deadpool's real name is Wade Wilson]
you're like pup: so ****** tame you
should be called Lame Chillsome
["po[ɑ]p", in the sense of "pop music"]
so inept that holding somebO̲[ɑ]dy's dra[ɛ]nk, you'd
prob'ly wind up with the dra[ɛ]nk spilled, chump
I'm an instiller of awe & distaste
a thrill killer, nuts, A̲lthough well-trained
and I really like to slay noobs
I'll be enjoying some thrilling, high-octane tunes
while you'll be stricken by the grave blues
'cause I'll have you feeling such a pain you
are gon' wish it were Max 'stead of me & start to pray to
["Payne"; Max Payne, who mostly just guns down his targets]
me to put you down like I̲'m the type slinging
off at others; I'll I̲ce you by swinging
my ****** blade through
your neck like a batter, whereA̲fter I[ɑ]'ll pick
up your nut & make use
of it as a **** bA̲sketball, *****
I'll chop you in parts, then bo[ɑ]x 'em, like a way to
verbally tag an attrA̲ctive gal with
a set of plumply shaped *****
["buxom"]
I'll have the box wrapped a la gifts
and then get the remainders of you sE̲nt ta
a replantation-focused center
(so much for something with the littlest of spite...)
————————————————————————————————
like a substance a[ɑ]ddict
tryna quit but quickly sliding ba[ɑ]ckwards
one verse & I'm back to mY̲ bad ha[ɑ]bits
[the prelude]
of writing; like someone you wa[ɑ]nt, this art form
is something I sure have go[ɑ]t a lust for
which explains why
I'm sO̲ de—voted to my stuff when it's getting laid, like
a carnal co[ɑ]mmerce; lyrical self-indulgence, much more
than self-indulgent "I̲'ve got" type twerps
making unco[ɑ]mplicated trap
as if there were something like a cavy that
those diletta[ɑ]nti aim to catch
like someO̲ne depraved, I have (what?)
a ba[ɑ]wdy-like urge in my mI̲nd when I verse
like a tI̲ght-fit guise worn by a gal with nice curves
exercising, intention... of nailing rhyming
["in tension"]
as if rhymes were lush girls
the type to whom technical seduction comes first
lyrics-wise, which is why some of my works
may be regarded as hot stuff
like a heated iron flyi[—]ng to[—]ward
the face of a tyrant-like ****
with the bo[ɑ]ttom side forth; do this kind of stuff for
fun & to maintain these mI̲nd skills I scored
["slay just to maintain some relish & killing skills"]
which explains why I dub it "bar sport"
[sport/fun of making bars (rhymed lines)]
you trap rap hacks ou[ɑ]ght to ha[ɑ]ve your
bars shA̲rp just like swords of samurais, for
["sharp" in the sense of "stylish"/"attractive"]
as I̲'ve said afore, I'm O̲U̲t for blood, twerps
————————————————————————————————
struck this "bar sport" writing up short
["bar sport (prelude)" followed by this one]
on hope, wound up with a flood of thou[ɑ]ghts versed (wow)
guess this writer's inner fire's no[ɑ]t burned... out
like someone dO̲ne too much work
"bar sport (Slay Illsome)" by TR3F1LD (TRFLD) is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (to view a copy of this license, visit creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0)

— The End —