I Am Just a Prop

He was a real genius, she said.
Do we need a genius, for that kind of thing?
Alas! Because of all the fuss she made,
I couldn’t say that I was a genius too.
How fortunate I am!
I could just be a wine bottle for that genius,
it would be better if I could be a chair the beauty sit on
and it couldn’t be better if I were a bed
the genius and the beauty make love on
Don’t praise for my modesty.
How come he can be a genius without drinking wine?
How could beauty’s butt touch the floor?
A good bed is a must for a passionate sex.
This kind of cute ambition should be allowed, shouldn’t it?
I am just a prop
that takes whatever happen to me
and keep my place
While just watching admired genius and beloved beauty.
A prop that won’t reveal its ambition,
just like a forest that wraps the village,
just like a mountain that sustains the forest.
If ‘prop’ sounds too small,
How about calling it a stage background?
Nah, calling it just the stage?
How could a genius and a beauty exist
without a stage where they play on?
Just like the Earth on which humankind is living,
just like the Space in which the Earth is breathing,
the prop that has accomplished its long-cherished goal.

My October Bride

On a splendid day in October,
Be my bride.
Treading on the fallen leaves
With your bare feet,
Wearing short wedding dress,
Boasting of your beautiful legs
On which moist drizzle is flowing down,
Come to me.
To spend the unforgettable
Last night of October,
Make today a wonderful day.
Before this October passes away,
Be my bride.
To greet ash-colored November
With blue-sky-colored heart,
Be my October bride.

Wondering who this woman would be…

I Shall Be a Flower 13: If only I could just watch

The lyric of a pop song is now my song.
I am trying to sink my root deeper in order to be a flower.
How can I dance trying to get closer to her?
If only I could just watch her.
If only she won’t vanish in the morning fog.
She would give up becoming a butterfly
so as to remain a flower for me.
Then we are a couple of flowers
gazing at each other, hiding our desires.
It might be a beautiful picture.
But rather would we be happy
if we are plucked together and
being withered in the tap water of the vase?
Would we be happy
if only we could just watch each other
and feel good as we are?

The Orgasm of the Mountain

Mountains are
not necessarily supposed to
be climbed.

Mountains do
not necessarily reach orgasm
by being conquered.

Mountains feel just
content with uncontrollable exclamations from me
looking up from their feet.

Mountains often reach
orgasm by looking down on me with

I won’t try to
climb the unreachable summit.
I can hit my orgasm through
not being discouraged and
enduring contempt and insult from the mountains.

I Shall Be a Flower 12: Jealousy Despair and Hope

It’s a big tree
with its root like a strip of grass.
How the root endures that big frame is a mystery…

A little bird lands and sings a beautiful song.
A ray of jealousy hits the big tree.

The little bird boasting of its colorful feather
jumps around the wobbling twigs.
The gorgeous look of the bird brings
a shadow of despair that darkens the big tree.

The little bird,
its struggle to settle down on the big tree,
its singing to hurl jealousy to other birds.
The tree is aware of this or not?

the little bird that cherishes an ambition
bigger than the tree, which tries to carry
the big tree in its bosom.

The root of the big tree
digs deeper in the ground.

An Eschatology

You didn’t send me flowers this time.
I realized you were much more beautiful than flowers.
I am slow, you know.
Would she smell the end from my lame excuse?
She might disappear like a ghost at dawn.
If there is a beginning, then there will be an end.
But the beginning like a volcano eruption
shouldn’t end like an iceberg in the South Pole,
which is melting due to the global warming.
Regardless of Earth’s demise,
we have been holding up against the world
with the memory of just one night?
Who knows what was between us?
Just like a virtual reality with run-out battery,
after being distorted and chopped constantly,
the illusion might pop up to the real reality.
A fantasy in which only the flower is real
can’t have a beginning and an end!
At the end of the world,
What will remain is not
I or she, but
The memory of sending flowers,
The memory of receiving flowers.

I Shall Be a Flower 11: A Rhapsody of Temptation

How long can a cat endure
in front of a fish?
There was a fish
that a cat didn’t even
give a look.

A plump dear caught in a snare
is blocking the way of a ravenous tiger.
Catch both dear and tiger together?
Avaricious God or Satan
Illusion of the tiger or the dear
Illusion duet of the tiger and the dear

A tiger is not a cat.
A dear is not a fish.
A tiger that releases the trapped dear
and disappears unhurriedly;
A daydream of a tiger
with full stomach.

The hungry but patient tiger
that prays facing the face of the
poor dear caught in a trap.