7777

New Year’s Eve
The pump stopped at 7.777 gallons.
Wow!
The pump usually stops around 9 gallons.
Something’s wrong?
Who cares? I got 7777.
Should I buy lottery tickets?
An ominous sign for the New Year that
I will get a car with a bigger gas tank or
An auspicious sign for the New Era that
I will get a new beautiful mistress who is
many many years younger than I?

I hate Eves….

Holiday Blues

Shop to live,
Live to shop –
Woman’s life.

If she is happy
I am happy.

Make her happy to live,
Live to make her happy –
Man’s life.

Wife
Daughter
Mistresses
Mother-in-law
Sister-in-law
Nieces
Sisters
Woman boss
Women fanatics in my Church
Women co-workers in my work
Women driving recklessly on the street
…and so on…you name it.

Too many women to please

You Are Free, Really!

Why doesn’t that big bird fly away
with its huger-than-life wings?
‘Cause of its cuter-than-Maltese chicklings.

Why is your life so small
with your bigger-than-you talent?
‘Cause of your dearer-than-mistress kids.
‘Cause of your prettier-than-rose wife.

Why are you stuck in the mud
with your stronger-than-Goliath legs and
with your larger-than-Einstein intelligence?
‘Cause of nobler-than-royals friends.
‘Cause of poorer-than-Lazarus neighbors.

You can fly high alone like the mighty eagle
looking down people struggling in the mud
as if enjoying TV, but
you won’t ‘cause you are free.

Getting stuck willingly in the filthy swamp
with family, friends, and neighbors,
you feel true freedom.

I hope ‘YOU’ is not ‘I’.
This hope could make me free really….

Christmas Eve

Too many books to read
Too many TV shows to watch
Too many women to love
Too many poems to write
Too many things to do
Too many footprints to count

Christmas Eve
One of too many days to spend

I see her passing by
with not-so-mysterious smile
on her not-so-pretty face
with not-so-elegant steps
in all black

She might be interested in me

One of those days

Not Afraid of Woman? It’s a Sin. (Mark 6:17-29)

Among those born of women,
there has not risen anyone greater than
John the Baptist, but

he was killed by two women – mother and daughter
in vain.
John was not afraid of King Herod,
how could he be afraid of
mere women? However,

Who could win over a woman who was harboring grudge?
Who could stop a woman who was holding poison in her mouth?
A woman who was sharpening sword for revenge would sheathe it back?

John who was ignorant of woman
and didn’t try to know woman –
The voice of the wilderness that made the King tremble,
was silenced by a woman’s wrath.
What a humiliating death as a man!

What’s so big deal about how to die?
Even Jesus who is God died a horrible death by ordinary men.
If you die a spectacular death,
your ragged life would look greater?
My life might be pretty shabby since I want to die a noble death.

Well, if I try to be afraid of women for the rest of my life,
I might be able to avoid the shameful death of John the Baptist….

Dirty Laundry

My sincere honesty was pitied by an
arrogant delusional pretty homely woman.
Her dirty laundry was exposed by her

own hallucinative self-proclaimed righteousness.
Now I got a reason to dismiss her. Alas! My
dirty laundry also was revealed by my desperate

condescending, not-so-subtle attitude to
show I was a prince charming. She showed
her laundry basket carelessly. I showed mine

deliberately. Now I got a good reason not to
hate her. I am not a knight in shining armor.
She is not a saintess. If she were a little bit

pretty, I would fall in love with her and enjoy
washing her dirty clothes. We are sinners and
we can commit sins together and produce our

common dirty laundry. How lucky I am she is
not a beautiful woman!. How fortunate she is
not attractive at all! How lovely we are human!

‘Cause She ‘s a Woman

Not pretty at all, but looks fine to me.
Pretty short, but wouldn’t matter.
Doesn’t look like smart, but who cares?
Probably not rich, but I’m not getting married to her.
Perhaps I’m just an object to her, but not a problem.
She’s not attractive at all, but
I am attracted to her,
‘Cause she’s a woman
sticking tight to me and
my right hand is almost touching her thigh,
while she is drawing my horny blood and
her hands are handing my lascivious pee bottle.
She’s a woman, only which would count.
A morning-dreaming of a self-proclaimed pervert….
Not a chance that she could read this PG13-rated poem, but
I hope…