The Thinking Dog

I want to call that guy ‘philosopher dog’;
His eyes that are gazing at the void,
Serious look that are not like dog’s,
Tenaciousness of not moving for a long
time. Is he meditating life? Otherwise
only thoughts of eating are stuffed in
that small head? How would I know that?
But out of human pride and prejudice
I would say; no matter what and how you
think, you are just a dog, you know.

My nickname was ‘philosopher’; sleepy
eyes, the look as if I shoulder all the
anguish in the world, out-of-body status
– sitting for a long time without saying a
word. People are wondering – what is that
guy thinking about, but in my head, most
of thoughts are about women. Right. The
almighty God would say; no matter what
and how you think, you are just a creature.

Between God and I, the whole universe
would be able to be inserted, but between
my dog and I, even a single mayfly can’t
get through, so we together should thinkers.
After all, men’s best friend is dogs…
(Jesus too claims He is my best friend…)

Why Am I Here?

I am sitting on a wet blanket
Where is this blanket from?
Unpleasant as if I am lying in a casket
What am I going to become?

I am sinking in this nasty mud
Who put this mud here?
Restless as if I am a lonely stud
When am I going to disappear?

I am gazing at the gray sky
Who painted the sky dull?
Depressing as if I hear woman’s cry
When am I going to cry like a gull?

I can go on and on and on
But no answer to the question;
Why am I here?


As the doe pants for streams of water,
So the buck longs for the doe.
As David’s soul pants for God,
My soul longs for you.
Like a doe that wanders around for water,
I, like a buck, would fill my hollow heart with yearning,
sniffing the scent of you small footprints.

You are my beloved doe.
As David’s heart is ripped to pieces,
and his soul is broken into fragments
by longing for God,
even though My heart is exploded,
My life is shattered into dust and
is blown up in the air,
as if the buck jumps with joy
at the trace of the doe,
as if David is rejoiced at the voice of God,
longing is my energy.

The doe that is drinking water in the stream,
How fortunate I am
Since I can only see its shadow!
The buck that is watching doe’s shadow behind a tree,
being afraid that its longing might get away…

Is This the End…?

“Don’t go, please.”
It grabs my ankle
with its beautiful vine.
“Well, shall I not?”
It knows the smell of my fatigued feet?
It hears the rumor about the wind I have in tow?
One day out of nowhere
It had burst into bloom on the roadside.
“I’ve been waiting for you…”, I hear.
Now I should stop being a vagabond,
holding its heart in my bosom,
and listen to its beating
Before this road ends,
shall I try a little bit further?
“Don’t go, please.”

King’s Chastity

“I’d like to know what kind of man you are.”
My chastity is now on cliff edge.
I would’ve rather remained silent.
Ah! But, In King’s bed where
concubines used to sleep on both sides,
the king is sleeping diagonally.
Queen’s jealousy makes him chaste.
King is not a king.
“You think you are a man…”
The king won’t have to hear
woman’s voice leaving disappointed
so King’s sleep is comfortable and
Just like Adam who put all blame to Eve,
I’m wondering how long my chastity will last…?

A Poor Painter

A poor painter -
building the world only for him -
won’t paint people’s world.
That is why he is so impoverished.
A beautiful woman -
crouching down her body -
is looking for a crack
to get in his tiny world.
How small are you -
Trying to come into my world;
A bird nest that is too small even for me?

An obscure poet who
fills his empty mind
with his own world,
Is a poor painter.
Fill your void with me fully.
Perhaps if you can see the people’s world,
you could be still poor but happy.

A Pioneer of Feminism (Esther 1:9-22)

When the beautiful Queen Vashti
(Is there a not-beautiful queen?…)
was giving a banquet for noble women and
was enjoying gossip of the palace,
(Women are women….both then and now…)
The sloshed King Xerxes,
Trying to show off the beauty of Queen Vashti to his nobles,
(Men are men…both then and now…)
summons Vashti to his banquet.
Then, see what happened!
The queen was supposed to run like a 100-meter Olympian
to the King in the most fancy garment.
But Vashti refused to come!
(Is this a true story?…)
If a rumor that the Queen disobeyed the King comes out,
all women would disdain their husband.
This judgment striped the Queenship from Vashti, but
it wouldn’t be surprise since pioneers are usually sacrificed.
No matter how glamorous the life in palace is,
She would rather live free as a country woman
than live as one of ornaments of her King husband.
(Nobody knows what happened to her after…)
This genuine feminism has been evolved…
Now men have become ornaments of women…
Would Vashti be pleased?