Imprisoned Love Without a Home in the North vs. the South (and Other Directions) by Woo Ae Yi, the Krazean Poet - Illustrated by Mel Rosenburg -
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Imprisoned Love Without a Home in the North vs. the South (and Other Directions)


Artwork: Mel Rosenburg

Woo Ae Yi is a mix of Phil Collins, Erica Jong, Nicole Krauss, and Allen Ginsberg. She is a poet, Read More
  • Joined Apr 2020
  • Published Books 3

Imprisoned Love Without a Home in the North vs. the South (and Other Directions)

By Ame Ai (a.k.a. 이우애)


“The magic happens when you are certain during a time when anyone else would be uncertain.”—Ame Ai (a.k.a. 이우애)

“The road less traveled is bumpier; that’s why it’s less traveled.”—Ame Ai (a.k.a. 이우애)


Table of Contents

Introduction 4

North 6

South 91

Two Poems Dedicated to Dokdo 194

Other Directions 197

About the Author 210



“Imprisoned Love” is a play on three of my books, Love, Not Love, my first published poetry book; Enlightenment without a Home; and Prison, Poetry, and Purpose-Full Songs.

Anyone who has been following Ame Ai will notice that poetry book titles tend to have an element of duality. However, in past poetry books, categorization of poetry is a lot easier, but this poetry book is different in that categorization is vaguer and more open to interpretation.

The North can represent North Korea, The American Union, The North Pole, the top, the upper part of the body, heaven, uppers, or anxiety. The South can represent South Korea, the South Seas, Confederate States, Antarctica, the bottom, the southern part of the body, hell, downers, depression, or something that is “going south.” Other directions can 


represent East Asia, Western Culture, multiple directions at 

the same time, Pacific Standard Time, Central Standard Time, or Eastern Standard Time.

As with previous poetry books, lyrics and musical indicators are occasionally spread throughout the book, in addition to the usual poems. There is also Korean poetry at the end of the South section.




22 Phobias: A Poem About Trade-offs


I need protein to lose weight,
But it’s more important to avoid 16 allergens and exercise at the cost of something else.
I need to control what I eat,
But it’s more important to avoid the tears that come from cooking.
I need to socialize,
But it’s more important to avoid the monthly hike that comes from driving without a spotter.
I need a new job,
But it’s more important to have health insurance.
I’m a writer that needs to be understood,
But my husband has dyslexia.


I need to leave my mark on the world, but I can’t find a soundproofed recording studio to avoid the sound of gaming.
I need help,

But I need to file our taxes and pay our debts.
I need to be happy,
but I have to be responsible
by doing nothing to make things worse.



Being Upper (An Electronic Song)

Being upper :|| x7
I don’t need no stinkin’ high
to make myself feel fly.
I am flying all the time
with this thing
that we call life.

(Repeat with dubstep)



Codie, It’s Up to You

It’s better if you talk talk
not better if you need need.
It’s better if you walk walk
and better if you see see.
The moment that you do is the moment I’m with you you.

…is the moment I’m with you.
…is the moment I’m with you.

The moment I bleed love
is my chance to be with me.


You say that you need love.
So what if you do?
You say that you want me (to love you).
Oh hoo hoo.
So what if I can
and what if you could
feel love
feel love
feel looove?

It’s better if you see that your chance to be with me
is thin is thin
is caving in!




Be well and be wise. Don’t wear a disguise.
You don’t want temporary. Just be a canary
and fly and fly and fly…!



A Destiny in 10 Minutes

I was born to effect change in the lives after me,
But you see the person who maintains the house.
You were born to effect even more change,
But I see the father of my unborn children
and a tentative financial safety net
despite financial and emotional instability.
I have a far-reaching destiny
that requires no compromise.
And you have a world-changing destiny too,
I tell you over dinner,
But you still need 10 more minutes
to play Destiny 2.



Happiness Makes Things Happen

Happiness makes things happen.
Happiness makes the world light.
Happiness brings us together.
Happiness makes everything right.

When you’re happy,
you’re a powerful force for good.
When you’re happy
it’s completely understood
that you could
change your thoughts,
at least the conscious ones,
change your life,
at least right now,


change the world,
at least your part of it,
change your mind,
of what you want.

Happiness is you and me together.
Happiness is kissing you right.

Happiness is touching and playing.
Happiness is our state of mind.

When I’m happy,
it’s because I’m thinking ’bout you.
When you’re happy,
I hope you think of me too,
of what we’ll do
when we’re together.


We’ll see and be seen.
we’ll be a power team.
we’ll be a love scene.
we’ll have all that we need.

We’ll have all that we need
and everything will be alright.



If It Loves You

Arrows and sparrows
are up a late night.

Oh I, I really want to fly.
I really want to go
where I’m supposed to go.
Oh I, I really want to see
what I’m supposed to be
and what I ought to know.

Speed is better for survival.



yo yo

Did you ever make it back to me? :||

[Echo :||]



I’m Fine

I’m fine.
I don’t need advice.
If you ignore me,
you better think twice.

I’m fine.
I don’t need shit from you.
I don’t need a shot for flu.
I don’t need something to do

I’m free.
I will do what I want.
I’ll say something frank.
I’ll say something blunt.


I’m free.
Not gonna be PC.
I’ll be what I want to be.

I’ll know
what you’ll never know.
You can stay or you can go.


I won’t
bend, kowtow, or compromise.
You can tell yourself truth.
You can tell yourself lies.

I’ll do things my way.
You can go or you can stay.
You can keep me close


or keep me at bay.

I’ll be Amy all day
in the House of Whine.




I did not sign on the dotted line. Uh-uh.
A line of instability.
I did not intend to be affected by. Uh-uh.
Your immaturity.
Had I only known. Uh-huh.
’bout your disability.
Emotional. Emotional.

Your weather – unstable.
Your family – unstable.
Your leader – unstable.
Your work life – unstable.


Your team lead – unstable.
Your love life – unstable.
Your feelings – unstable.
Your instability!

You spend frenetically.
You act erratically.
You speak impulsively.
You’re broke emotionally.

Your strong fragility.

This relationship’s debilitating.
It’s ohmygod unmotivating.


I’m tired of commiserating.
It’s not something I want to be propagating.
Or else I’ll be hating
this fucking, this mating.

Your changeability.

Your personality unnerves me.
My lack of enthusiasm curbs me
when you’re acting so turdly.
Your incapacity for love is unworldly.
It really fucking irks me.

Your thinking clouds your judgment.


You need rescued by your guv’ment.
I’m so done with you. I’m over it.
My overment. My overment.

I’m done with you. I’m over it.

From grave to cra-adle.

Your instability’s a fa-able.



Love and Hate


Love hurts feelings.

Love is being overprotective and jealous
of a child, parent, lover, or friend.
Love is overanalyzing.
Love is worrying to death
and taking out frustration on the person you love most
because you cannot see that person enough.

Love is neglectful,
forgetful, and takes people for granted.


Love is vindictive,
reactionary, revengeful, caustic, critical.
Love is having arguments
without anyone winning
because both people had to throw their hands in the air.

Love is showing you care
to realize that the other person
has no idea where you’re coming from

(like dying for someone,
refusing to marry again,
or bringing someone to God).

Love is misunderstood.
Love understands so well


that you grate on each other’s nerves.

Love is abandoning a child.
Love is adopting a child.
Love is keeping a child.
Love is never having children.
Love is comparing children.

Love is saying “love”
too much or too little,
making people interpret it as no love at all.
Love is interpreting hateful actions as love
so that they will be. But you’ll never know.
Love is never knowing if you’re loved,
but through that knowing that you are always loved.


Love is worse than poverty, illnesses,
life, or death.
Love is all of these things,

and wealth, health,
and happiness.

Love is psychological confrontation.
Love is confronting yourself alone in a desert.

Love is giving too much or too little.
Love is keeping too much distance or not enough.
Love is being too honest or too secretive,
too cruel, or too kind.
Love is too much like.

Thanksgiving 2017:


Love is taking a 10-year break from a poem, book, or relationship
to record the transformation resulting from life lessons for posterity.
Love is forgiving
and accepting that we are not our mistakes.
Love is recovering from mistakes, such as cheating again and again
while refusing to call it what it is.
Love is realizing that the solution is trust and self-acceptance.
Love is not recovery from a person.
Love is willing to start over with a clean slate.
Love is waiting for you to process

my confession of undying love.
Love is waiting for you to decide
that it’s worth it to solve the countless obstacles in our minds


and our karmic riddles.



Love Inside the Matrix

I love you within the Matrix.
Sure, your liberal friends
know that I’ve been brainwashed.
Sure, my conspiracy theorist friends
know that you’ve been brainwashed.
Sure, my conservative parents
believe I’ve been brainwashed.

So, after a long day of propaganda,
let’s clink our glasses
of Kool-Aid,
sit down with some soma,
pretend we’re not some metaphorical Neo,
and watch fake news together,


forgetting about societal pressures
and economic classes.

For if I’m the average of my five best friends,
I hope they’re all a combination of you
and God,
who might or might not
have brainwashed us.
And if I’m just a part of the capitalist problem,

then let’s throw all care to the wind,
party like it’s yet another end of the world,
and buy something good to eat
from Monsanto
and poison ourselves with slaughtered baby animals
in the privacy of our own home.


In a world of rage and injustice
about first world problems,
I think it’s just
that I’ve calmed down long enough
to curl up under a fur blanket
and joke about idle things.
Let’s be activists,
actively revolting by letting the world’s
comments about our brainwashed love
roll off our backs.



Love Me Discordantly

Drums: b’da b’ra
Bells: ting
Strings: huh
Horse: clicking of tongue on teeth in “oo”
Applause: clapping with one whistle

Flute: oo out of tune
Piano: uh with wrong notes hit
Violin: ng with squeeks
Birds: ah before they go crazy

Now is the time to try
E F(&) E D(&) B Ab


[Half note quarter quarter & half note quarter quarter]
C E Db Db D F Eb

Hold-me kiss-me
^ v ^ v

say-how you’ll-miss me–
v ^ v ^ —


say-how you-love me– once more–
v ^ v ^ — v —

hug me love me
^ v ^ v


how much-can you-love me–
v ^ — v ^ —

can-you love– me– any–more–?
v ^ — — v — —



Make Her Smile

It may take a lot to take her breath away and sweep a lady off her feet.
Her passionate eyes hold back the pain and quiet the sound of a broken heart’s beat.
Yet love awaits in the depth of her patience, and you can hear it when she speaks.
She walks along with head held high as her joyous nature’s spring peace filled leaks.
It’s clear she hides behind a mask to protect herself from further pain.
You even try to comfort her that with you it will not be the same.
Instead you only remind her of the times she lived that caused her to be torn.


She promised herself once it was over, she would never again be scorned.
Patiently she awaits a moment that makes her choice worthwhile.
She has waited long enough for someone to finally make her smile.


Author’s Note: Written by guest poet, James Earl Milsap




Thanks to my self-discovery
through transformation,
I am your mouthpiece,
oh Wisdom,
on this personal day of 11.

I knelt.
I prayed.
I took inventory.
I repay my debts
by checking off
each soul correction.


And I lead
by matching my vibration
with our stars.

No longer does my mouthguard
my tongue.
I continue to speak with care
but not that much.
I speak instead with gnosis

and knowing
about deep readings
and other activities.

I have experienced
The Shift
and could never recover


my past priorities,
nor would I prefer to do so.

I have enlightened
my home,
beadazzling all
the soul I push out,
drinking from a circular chalice
the substance of everlasting Spring
made possible through the
Cosmic Blessing
of my Fall
from the materialistic and linear universe
of time, space, and flesh.



My Heart

Here is my heart.
You put on your monocle
to inspect it.
Here is my heart.
You touch it.
Here is my heart.
You melt it.

Here is my heart.
You harden it.
Here is my heart.
You stomp on it.
Here is my heart.
You freeze it.


Here is my heart.
You melt it again.

Here is my heart.
You play with it.
Here is my heart.
You break it.
You don’t fix it.
Here is my heart

given unto you,
only for you.
You try to evaporate it.

No matter what type of human you are,
nor what type of mouse I am,
you will never be able to take away


my choice
to give you my heart,
and it will go on for you
for as long as I live.



New Thought Platform of Formulaic Drivel

In the age of positive thinking,
and equal happiness,
everyone is someone else’s mouthpiece
with someone else’s spit.
Everyone becomes rich
through the power of upcycled ideas
so that they can be the First Spit,
standing on the shoulders of mass-produced giants,
who became rich by making others think they were already
and by making themselves think of themselves
as Shakespearean motivational speakers.

They tell other people what to do


with the first 5 minutes and last 5 minutes
and every minute in between,
verbally abusing them with
positivity on a pedestal,
so that people forget how to adult
and take care of themselves
because they’re too busy being loyal
to New York Times bestsellers

and because they’re too busy saying affirmations
that are not even proper mantras
and not actually in their subconscious.
Everyone starts with the mantra of “love yourself”
to drive off any Kabbalistic soulmate
that their Higher Self lined up.

Creativity is usurped with platinum-plated drivel


that will be usurped by the same drivel
presented in a different order,
like one click
on the same shiny red buttons
under YouTube videos
from the same website-in-a-box company
paid for with the promise that their passive
income will explode,
only to find that when their passive income
is twice their expenses,
they are still at the bottom
of a much smaller pond
and that throughout their journey of reaching materialistic nirvana,
never once did they live
because they were waiting for when


the world changed.


How is this not a conspiracy
of the poor,
the slavedrivers of the famous?
How is it not another insidious
opium of the people,
presented in video form
rather than incapsulated in a vaccinated pill?
How is it not another eradicator of
and distraction from
beautiful Russian literature,
Saturn in Scorpio,
and free speech?

Here’s a toast to your organic cocktail of Kool-Aid,


and the irony of training to be a competitive leader
when still a follower confusing Twitter activity with accomplishment,
incapable of saving money because of
ineptness to call up your Higher Selves.

After filing an insurance claim
of being teachable,
everything your life stands for
falls apart
when confronted by your past lives
under the starry sky, where

quick website templates and population growth,
easy streaming,
unconditional networking, and
monetized spirituality events


are null and a necessary moot point.


An Ore to You

Let me just say I don’t normally write these types of speeches.
However, I will make an exception for an exceptional person.
“Educate” comes from “educare,” which  means to draw out from within.
That you have certainly done.
You have drawn us together in Thanksgiving,
in celebration of your life,
in celebration of how you have helped us along,
in celebration of the basic instructions you have given us
so that we can be successful.
We honor you with food
and great speeches by great people
and stories of a life lived


with good vibrations all around.
But in the end we are drawn here to celebrate our own life,
thanks to you.
We are drawn here to receive joy,
for “it is in knowing that we receive”

the blessings God gave us,
the blessings we gave ourselves.
Here’s to you and to us for cultivating
treasured moments.

And here’s to many more
in the dawning of a golden era.


The Pinnacle of Mercury and Mars

I sit
next to the pinnacle of my salary.
What do I do to keep it?

Let’s talk about what I do not do.
I do not do what I was hired to do
most of the time
because my boss fears that I’d step on toes,
as if I’m doing a waltz.
I do not say “please” lest it be seen as “too authoritative”
I do not share any more ideas
lest they be squashed by the male hierarchy.


I do not do it with any recognition
of my finely tuned leadership skills.
I do not receive acknowledgment or respect
for my senior experience and impressive accomplishments.
I do not go through a goodbye ritual with my husband
in our car in the parking lot before or after work.
I do not do it with the belief that
a knight, frog, prince, or promotion

will fall into my lap.

I put my job in a safe
where it does not collect 0.07% if I pass go.
I do attend every meeting
that my manager is late to.
I do remind my manager to review my work
even if it’s month’s past the last ten reminders.


I do it knowing that I’m in charge of the purse
strings in my household,
not because I want to but because I know the terminology.
I do it knowing that I now make twice as much
as when I had to support two people the first time, but
I do it knowing that it’s not enough
to keep up with my husband’s idealistic, close-to-unattainable dreams.
I sacrifice myself
at the altar of caring
and my love language,
only to be called materialistic.
That is the consequence of choosing love
over business,
but not of choosing family over work.
I choose work because I choose family.


I hold a tenuous position.


I know the statistics.
I know the lack of fulfillment at work.
I know the lack of fulfillment from home,
from looking down from my somewhat pinnacle.

I do not
do what
I know
to be fulfilling.

How do I fix America
when I don’t know how to fix this?
When my efforts of turning toward
are blasted away with


confirmation bias,
gender bias,
and overthought thoughts?

I have been at this level before.
Where is the cheat code?

Must there always be a trade-off?
Must there always be burnout,
personality distress,
and second guessing?

What have we gained?



The Power of Potentiality

What a glorious, extraordinary day
filled with love, opportunity, and potential!

I am not at a crossroads.
Nay, I am at the bottom of a hill.
I am at the beginning of an exciting journey,
right after rebirth.

I would much rather buy low than buy high.
I would much rather date a man with massive debt
who changes the way he lives and loves
or a prisoner in maximum security
who gets out and fixes his life
than a rich kid


who refuses to find a job
or a millionaire
who loses all home and all hope
and doesn’t bounce back.
I would much rather date a nice person
who doesn’t change
than a handsome man (or beautiful woman) who does
for the worse.


But as much as I am certain that some people don’t change,
I am certain that those who change things in their life
will continue to get
comfort in discomfort
and certainty in uncertainty.

I welcome the certainty of change.


I love to chase after a moving target
of cheese
in a meditative labyrinth.

I love to think of the present as the past
and of the future as the present.

I will cherish 2017, the year I saw the life I had in escrow
and paid the earnest money,
my year of endings and beginnings,
my year of endless possibilities,
the year when Jupiter was born from Virgo.




I’m not a fan of forgetting
for it is essential
to remember where I came from.

I love hair.
I love basics.
I love beginnings.
I love foundations.
I love my biological family,
wherever they are,
whoever they are.

I love Sumeria.


I love The Richest Man in Babylon.
I love the Kabbalah origin story.

I love the feeling of being anchored to something good,
to Source,
to All That Is
and Ever Was.




No more
living living living living
in the past.
No more
giving giving giving giving
up the last.
I’ve swallowed that pill.
I’ve had my fill.

Now I am
living living living living,
and it can last.
I am
bringing bringing bringing bringing


it to pass.
Prophecy goes on still
with this whole destiny deal.

“Bring me bring me bring me bring me
fruit and wine.
Break me break me break me break me,
I’m bread divine.”


Tell me tell me tell me tell me
that I am saved
from what from what from what from what
Jesus gave.
Turn me turn me turn me turn me
right around.
Change me change me change me change me.


Be profound.
Teach me teach me tell me tell me
to be real brave.
I’m not I’m not I’m not I’m not
a slave.

I am I am I am I am



Solely Symmetrical

I feel like I’m the only one, in my Alliance.
I feel like I’m the only one.

I feel like I’m the only one
who can change the world,
but not from within a foxhole
of contentment,
where I would rather be.
I Give Thanks
that I am free
from that consummating

I feel like I’m the only one, Melissa.


I feel like I’m the only One.

I feel like I’m the only one
to keep on loving
how you feed my poetry.
The only way we can sustain glee
(today, not to mention tomorrow)
is if I remain independently and financially free
from your paradigm

and my own self-imposed time-consuming opportunities.
This time I need to set boundaries.

I feel like I’m the only one, Self-Reliance.
I feel like I’m the only one.

I feel like I’m the only one


in this cube
of mathematical proportions,
where the only thing that’s lit
in this building
is the vending machine repair man in the alley,
where we can dream happy
among nightmarish
misfits and outcasts
and be free from the nightmare
of achieving unspecific dreams.

I feel like I’m the only one
who moves to be with those like myself,
but I sleep alone without a peep
when I romance,
and I am woke up when I am symmetrically me.




The Starry Signal At The End

Right down to the middle.
Small stars aren’t so little.
Everything I dream about is you.
Hey hey hey.

God created music,
And I wrote our song.
God changed my spirit,
And you’ll sing along.



No matter what you are,
Your truth is never wrong.
You are my light,
So light it all night long.

You are my light,

I am your lighthouse.
I’ll keep you bright,
My future spouse.

With a kiss, our love was sealed.
By the stars,
You will be healed.



You’ve earned yourself a grand slam deal
Just for being you even if you don’t know your amazing appeal.
You’ve finally found something honest and real.
So tell me truly how you feel.
Do you want to get well or continue being ill?
The light at the end of your tunnel
Will be there as soon as you will.


Come on and come outside.
It’s time to seek, not hide
In your mind.


So come there as you are.


It’s not very far. It’s not very far.




Three is a holy number.

A triangle is a holy shape

with three sides.

I am a right triangle

but our relationship is acute.

Three dates

was all it took.

Were they dates?

In fact, it only took three hours.

Thank goodness for my intuition.

It can see past

the third function

in your cognitive stack.

It takes a good 3 sense of humor


to roll with punches,

to not take this crazy situation too seriousss-ah.

Best case scenario,

our recovery time takes three months

before we get the ball rolling,

and a ball in motion stays in motion,

but we’re not talking cycles here,

we’re talking points.

See if you can find them

in this speech of a poem.


Upon His Face

One day all shall join and come together
D B A Ab A G Gb G Gb G

and honor Him whose promise never dies.
F G Gb G F Gb F E F E

One day bro-thers will be bro-thers lo-ving one an-oth-er
D B A Ab Ab Ab A Ab G Gb G Gb G Gb

not ev-er being broken, the knot ev-er tied.
F G Gb Gb Gb G Gb F Gb F E F

One day jus-tice will be pro-ven, crush liars in-its hand,
D B A Ab Ab Ab A Ab G Gb G G Gb


mur-der those who mur-der men and re-make those who-were made.
E Eb Eb Eb E Eb E E F E E Eb Eb E

One day the highest honor will be honored
D B A Ab A G Gb G Gb F

and those who bow before Him will never fade.

E Eb E Eb E F E E Eb Eb E

Upon-His face is honor.
F A G G Gb A Ab

Upon-His face is good.
F A G G Gb A Ab


Upon-His face, upon His face is love.
F A G G E Ab Gb Gb G F

Unite and come together. Honor those who honor Him.
A Ab A G Gb G Gb F G Gb G F Gb F

Inevitability comes

come what may.




What About Hugs?

After my car accident,
after I stayed down so as not to overwhelm Eeyore,
after you threatened to kill yourself,
you proposed
in a parking lot.
You promised to cook me
vegetarian meals.
A marriage counselor told us
to get an annulment.
The annulment was annulled.
I got another year older.

When I said we should get divorced,
I had a panic attack


and kicked a hole in the wall
that subdued me long enough
to be apathetic, lazy, dependent, and fat.
You think that being silly
will make up for everything
this relationship lacks.

I’ve taken off my ring many times.
I’m not allergic to it like fake meat

or my Apple watch pedometer,
but you’ve stayed through thick bacon and thin bacon
while you worried about the lives of my Chinese sign,
so I convince myself
that you’re a catch,
that you love me unconditionally,
and I’m ungrateful for having my car totaled


and my drive towed.
We wanted it bad for years,
so we got it bad
with thirty pounds of carbohydrated fat
in my womb,
all for the want of a comforting, squeezable hug.



When Your Subconscious Starts

When your subconscious starts talking,
you’re in for a surprise.
It’s way more than you or anyone may realize.

When your subconscious lays out all the reasons why and how,
you realize you don’t have standard assumptions.
But at least one piece of the puzzle has gumption.

Even though you try to have fun,
and do not let worry weigh you,
you can’t talk your way out of this one.
Before you know it, it’s come undone.


As you try to clear the air,
alone you will appear
as you patiently prepare for your fate.

When you subconscious tells you this
when your positive thinking tells you that,
it’s not just a head vs. heart issue.
It’s a pain vs. dream issue.

It’s a good vs. mean issue.

When you subconscious starts talking,
you need to take a break,
or it will overwhelm you
as you know what’s at stake.


When your subconscious starts talking,
you try to turn it down,
but before you know it,
your smile is hijacked with a frown.

When your subconscious starts,
you write poetry, make art,
as you wait for the clouds to part
and open the gate.

When your subconscious starts talking,
all becomes clear.
You must face and conquer your fear
before your dream prize will come near.



Who Am I?

I am the consciousness.

I am the seer.

I see magpies and grackles in my Mind,

the oak tree that connects all humankind.

I am neither here nor elsewhere.

I am All.

I am the queen of Not-



I am the space in between

sleep and awake,

where there is mushin

AND ain soph aur simultaneously.





I feel jittery
on water.
Lack of purpose stresses my mental sanity.
Trapped. Hurt. Sober.
I have no more coping mechanisms.
There’s something wrong with me,
even though nothing was wrong last year.
Seeking support groups,
seeking diagnosis,
seeking pills,
seeking understanding,
seeking love, elusive though it is.
So much energy.
Cannot sleep.


I hate being home within four walls.
I used to have structure,
I was a well-oiled machine,
but I haven’t been oiled for weeks.
I’m seeing my life flash before my eyes,
my age is in analog.
The man who tried so hard to know me has cut
me from his life.

The man who tried so hard to love me has blocked
my thoughts from his eyes.
What’s wrong with my brain?
I’m tired of strangling
my reward center.
I just want to cut
a breathing artery out of my life.


I’m sick of being unheard.
I’m tired of being who you want.
I’m exhausted from being what’s wrong.





All for the Want of a Key


Day 1: One night.

Day 2: One key (to your apartment or heart).

Week 1: Anniversary.

Next Day: No key.


You are not what I declared to the universe.

You are not my Neo after all.

You do not know me as well as I have observed you.

And yet, I could live with you in contentedness.

I could be perfectly at peace with you by my side.

I was enthralled and drunken with your simple life.


My challenging emotions are awhirl

Like the whirled peas


That make me flare up with allergic reactions.


I feel pulled to indulge in you

Even when you push me away with your seizures of survival instinct,

Even when I react to your uncontrollable power of compassion

That has been called resentment and fear at other times.


At the peak,

We are but a blip in each other’s grand scheme,

So much so that we are islands unto ourselves,

And we’ll die by each other’s hypocrisies and inability to see ourselves

If we look at each other the wrong way,

Or willingly wave the white

Flag for


One last night together.


On our journey,

Our blue-eyed sacrifices were too sacrificial,

Sacred and superficial (until I show you my depth)

with a dose of insanity at once

(doing the same thing over and expecting a different result).

The life has been drained from what had thrived

In a secret closet filled with a lion and witch.

Our nonexistent relationship is now a sad documentary about a hungry corpse,

Ravagingly lifeless,

The byproduct of a key, TV show, and movie.

Press the <ENTER> key to delete.


An Unconditional Psychoanalysis by a Good Cray Cray…

…or really a
breakdown of a breakdown
in communication
by someone with stamina.
(Because I really don’t believe that
anyone you’ve encountered was ever anything
other than crazy in love.)

Your lovely ADD,
talking ’bout OCD.
Come on, come on, come ooon,
let me tell what it’s all about,
in chronological


Just because you loved your ex-wife


or so you may have at least implied

(because who else could love a stripper?),
didn’t mean you wanted her to let go,
so you let go
of her.
Just because your family loves you


or so you’ve been told
(or have you ever doubted?),


doesn’t mean you want to lose your hair, physique, or religion
during your R.E.M.,
Just because you loved your ex-girlfriend


(she may have believed),
doesn’t mean you want to tie her down
(other than to a bed
with Japanese rope perhaps).

So then you find a model and seller of beauty products
with three hair curlers, three eyeliners, four lipliners, five mascaras, five powders, eight lipsticks, eight eyeshadow combinations, 14 balms or glosses, 16 moisturizers, 18 hair


products, 32 nail polishes, a gigantic Amazon beauty wish list,
and seven stripper outfits,
not to mention any hats, heels, jewelry, scarves, hair accessories, or wigs,
who treats herself with organic soap,
who uses beauty as a tool to Make Money,
and disappoint her by disappearing
into the night
after she introduced you to
casual acquaintances at a casual
gathering of hippies
on a cold non-miniskirt night
after a two-hour commute from a job
so sedentary she didn’t even sparkle.
This willingly forced her hand to change her ways
and use beauty as a tool to Make Love


(because she’d rather love people and use money
rather than the other way around)
and Grow more
skilled at the self-development
of Good habits
in this unpaid internship.
Just because you care for me



doesn’t mean you don’t want more money, a promotion,
and the eye candy
woman that goes with it, with
the symbols of youth: big eyes, big lashes, and maybe a big butt,
doesn’t mean you’ll ever stop showing off


despite your mental reminders to toot your own horn,

doesn’t mean you want to age,
doesn’t mean you want to stop fending off the inevitable,
doesn’t mean you want to stop chasing an ideal,
doesn’t mean you want to stop
and inhaling
to motivate,
doesn’t mean you want to hear me tell you what you’re thinking in a poem
even if it takes away some of the pressure of face-to-face vulnerability,
doesn’t mean I like your unilateral decisions, but I can drive around bends,
and I’m learning to parallel park.


I have debated whether people prefer to be accepted, liked, or understood,
not to mention approved of and loved.


I accept myself,
and I Accept you as the instrumental to my lyrical poetry.
I don’t want to be liked,
but I Like you,
“flaws” and all,
for I have certainly loved those with
favorite fears and funkier flaws.
I think I Understand,
I think I Understand,
I think I can,
though I have wildly missed the mark before.


I Approve of the impetus for changes in my life,
for the impetus surely would not have come from me,
since peace is without fear and motivation requires
an ounce of uncertainty and excitement!

Haven’t you heard
that the way a person breaks up (or embraces a break up)
is the most important part of a Kit Kat bar?
And I see the


care beyond space and time
(because I can separate the temporal from the Infinite,
since infinite



care is 6x the size of what is valueless)

even where there are superficially superficial


in a spaceful-timeful-physical
forgetting that who you want to be
may not be in alignment with your karma or who you really are,
but then why would we want something we wouldn’t have?



don’t care,

but it’s cosmic indifference to a future result
that I release, let go, and surrender to the present
(me with a bow).
However, I can embrace using means to a (happy) end(ing).

Even though I believe in grace,

the joy is in the journey of earning
either your lack of respect or your heart.




uh oh uh oh
uh oh uh oh
used to be my friend
used to be my friend.
Now I
Now I
a little bit of wisdom
a little bit of wisdom
to see me through the end


Everything I tried fell down fell down
when I was broken–
but now everything I do everything I do
turns from silver into gold yeah.
My transformation means my transformation means
I will never get “old” yeah.



I walked through a wall of fire–
and came out the other side.
It was a crazy ride ’twas a crazy ride.
I changed my desire–
and all I wanna do all I wanna do
is be true yeah.



My life is vibrant
like a beam of light
like a ray of light.
I’ve gained my sight.
It’s lovely insight.
It’s lovely inside.
It is my birthright.



Black Sun/Paper Moon

You, a male god,
were a handsome black son
of a Virgo woman,
but you ended up
not quite an anti-Christ
even though your laughter
was my altar.

I, a female goddess,
was your paper background
so you could shine the brightest
even if my knowledge was brighter.

You told me I was your only love.


I don’t doubt it,
but it makes me sad
that you had no others.

I pray for you to this day
that you don’t lead a Sasuke life
or that it lasts no longer than a decade,
the end of which you will take back
some responsibility

for your thoughts and feelings,
and see how I was
a cosmic blessing after all
to your infinite lives.

I do not know in which life
I will see you again


as I did not call dibs this time.
If it is to be this one,
may you be kind
when you witness my future children
who are not your own.

May I be kind
when I witness what you have
and have not done
by that unfortunate or fortuitous time.

In the end
you were a black hole,
and I was
a figment of your imagination.



Dear Jawso,

Have you Seen
from 10th & Osage to Macau?
Or are you still hanging out with
Jake, Moe, Nehi, and Kuthe,
taking government-issued Soma
instead of shooting it up like
–N. Dent

Meet me at Ben’s Chili Bowl
to catch some celebrity Shaolin Pencil


(maybe even the former Prez)
so I can write you from &Pizza
where even Ratspit gives it a good aroma,
where even sneakers will Dazzle
your senses of Strug…
Can you Seen

in my bedroom
like a Voyer?
Or are you a seeker
from Nepal
or Deep Ellem?


Have you ever wondered
how much is your Petworth
in Georgia Avenue?
–on behalf of Slug

Have you heard that some say
that the world has already ended
and that Nero is the Antichrist?

Banksy is so last (two) decade(s).
I prefer the Billboards
of the Choe-sen.


Whatever 4ever



Flight 333 to Potentials Lane, US


4AM: I tell my story

again, groggily,

to the nearest taxi driver

about boy, have I learned my lesson

about the one I wanted to get away.

Excuse me, three,

you and you and you,

but not you.

Stop 1:

4:30AM: I walk past

the potential hobo who had the look

but never got trained by the professional,

the first boyfriend I tried again.


I sit down with a cup o’ Joe

staring out at the scene I remember

from when I kissed the last ex I called,

to tell him I won’t fall for him again.

6:30AM: I attempt to leave the past behind.

Stop 2:

8AM: I pray silently

that I never see the face of the last boyfriend I tried again

and again

and again

and again

and again

and again

and again,

the one that became a part of my robust story

ready for a court of law,


even though Facebook wanted to show me him.

The story was the boy-I’ll-never-do-that-again story,

the boy-that-was-a-lesson-learned story,

the what-a-blessing-I’m-free-from-that-rollercoaster story.

I spit up a little puke.

I have my story at the ready

in case I need to dial police.

I breathe a sigh of relief.

9AM: I look outside the window

as I see the vehicles

we used to manufacture

between the shelves,

the ones on which I wrote tooms,

used vehicles.

They wave to me

as I drift into the sky.


Just as before, you distracted me from the other one and the other one.

I leave the past behind again.


11PM: We arrive early

after I napped across two whole seats!

I am grounded at my new boyfriend’s old stomping grounds

alone but “hopeful,” my body’s favorite word,

for a sense of stability

and love in the details.

I think I’ll stay a night to tour what could be.

I have many more hours left in the day,

many more years left in my life.


From Hero to Zero

Second date: 10 things in common.
First month: 15 things in common.
35 things checked off my dream list.
You perform your music for an audience of one,
me, because I’m special.
You try to capture these moments in time.
I didn’t realize why you had to.

I didn’t realize that when I said,
“I love you,”
you muttered, “olive juice” under your breath
because you couldn’t love yourself.
I didn’t realize that even though I loved you
and liked you,


you just liked me
the way you’d like any one of your harem
of sisters.
When I felt accepted by you,
I didn’t realize you were superficial,
petty, and focused on the past.

I thought you would top my list of best boyfriends,
but you ended up topping the list for worst excuses given for a

For all your fears that I’d be crazy, you turned out to be.
I was shocked, but I didn’t bat an eye
or a lash
out at you.
I’m not sorry to have wasted my time,


and definitely not sorry to have wasted yours,
but I won’t be wasting anymore
on your desire to have your tiny cupcake and purge it too.



Fulgur Cimex

I fall in lo-ove.
I fall for many things.
I fall in love.
I fall in doubt.
I fall in you.

I looked far for you.
You looked far for me.
And wouldn’t you know,
I was nearby,
in backyard trees.

You carried my heart


within your mega hands.
You had it lit up.
I wasn’t afraid.
Cause I was with you.


You challenged my thought.
Want me to be

a better myself,
better for you,
better for me.


You see-ee my heart


through a glass container.
As long as I fly,
I’ll be your light
in your dark night.

As long as I fly,
I’ll be your light
in your dark night.



Given Perfect Timing

I am simmering embers on a commercial break.

I am slow so I can cherish the blue roses, a symbol of the impossible being possible, given time.

I am not on normal time because we’re just a little different from our coworkers.

I am in expectation of perfect timing.

I am introspective about external circumstances, but I let them float by like a cloud.

I am thinking of…


how I can write better than a Hallmark card.

I am being careful because I care.

I am patient because I can.

I am full of thoughts and feelings to do with you.


I am a paradox;

I am complicated, but not really.

I think you are swell.

I feel good about us.




I Can Drive You, Baby


In a non-physical universe why should I judge your non-physical self

by your mode of transportation

when a soul is no older than 40 in appearance?

Why would I judge you by your make and model?

It is not a bright red exterior I seek.

No, I am not interested in that financial burden.

But I might be intrigued by your safety rating.

However, that is only a factor in my decision.

It’s not the year that attracts me, but the mmm…mileage, the wisdom, the experience, the tales you have to tell.

I like that your van has space for me. I might even stay the night as if you were an RV.

Perhaps it is also your VIN that I find attractive.


Isn’t that unusual?

And it doesn’t hurt to get a good driver discount because I have used public transportation for the past eight years.

I’m not fond of the car salesmen in my amygdala or brand new sports cars–

the cost is too steep

in wire transfers, overdraft fees, and revolving debt.

Even leasing does not seem wise in my case.

Being with you is a fun ride.

It is your intellect that revs up my engine.

When I have had my fun on the highway of life, I enjoy your leather seats when I have run out of gas.

I know that sometimes you might have road rage


or that you are a master of none, including me.

I know that you are for sale by owner,

but if someone else can enjoy you, I can too.

I know that you don’t work the way you used to, that maybe you are a little slower or the electricals don’t always work, but

I will make sure you get your annual check-up and oil changes.

I will call AAA when you are smoking, not sssmoking.

I will care for you and will change the things I can in my maintenance habits.

Do not change. Do not let me be a backseat driver.

Even though you chose me, like a magic wand, I reciprocate by driving you off the driveway.


Let’s go for a roadtrip.


Imaginary Husband

I had a husband
that didn’t exist
when I was young, restless,
and a little princess.
He was the yard post
with whom I compared
the men who were not so aware.

Why can’t you be like him?
Why can’t you say things that make sense?
Why can’t you be him?
Why are you so dense?
Why can’t you be perfect?
His name is Illusion,


a crack in this.

I held him for ages.
I spoke to his soul,
but truth, by comparison,
was lifeless and cold.
I asked to be loved
by the one who knew all.
I asked for some help

in feeling less small.
I asked to marry
someone like him.
I gave him a promise
but impatiently threw the towel in.

A man asked for my hand,


and I wanted it real,
so I said yes
to have a real person to feel.
But when I felt
the ways I have since birth,
he planned his escape, away from this earth.
I expected compassion
and met with some fears.
I expected reason,
but had to fight back the tears.
I wanted someone normal,
normal like me,
but I have lots of problems,
one being OCPD.

I realized that image,


brown hair and blue eyes,
was the one that was lacking
because he had died.

In fact he could not
be the death
after life,
for he’d need to have lived,
to have experiences,
to have strife.

So I decided to love
the me that was so wise,
despite knowing everything
and being right all the time.

This person I married


was not at all like me,
but I guess that’s a good thing.
We both just want to be free.



I’m Not Here for You This Anniversary, Your Birthday, or Any Day

I’ll tell it to you straight
with abstract poetry,
and I don’t say this lightly
because if I wanted a doghouse,
I’d keep a dog.
I say this because you have unleashed
your karmic repercussions
that I warned you about.

Your windy emotions conflict
with your simple minimalism.
I listen for you,


but you’re all noise,
no content.
When I dedicate a weekend to you,
you fill it up with bullshit.

Your work, your certifications
are a blanket you pull over your head.

You never know
where your influence will end
or how much your flakiness
affects my friends,
their lives and schedules.
When you affect me,
you affect my sphere of influence.

For the highest good of all,


I’m willing to take tests about darning my socks off for you.
I’m willing to wash my hair for you
and get headaches right before bed,
but I can go no further than this.

You grew up North.
I grew up South.
I try to reach you,
but you’re too far East,
and I’m an occultist of the West.
Our worlds do not collide.

On Friday,
after One Week,
I’ll give you Lithium
as an anniversary gift


to encourage you to Meet Me Halfway.

I’m Not in Love
and you mean nothing to me,
but I want you back
so I have the pleasure of
flipping you off
with sarcasm.



Mr. Nice Guy

You are an intolerable condition.

You want things your way.
You give when it’s convenient.
You take time
and waste my effort.
You cannot afford time for me
or the money you waste.

You cool off when things heat up. Another way of saying that is that you excite me
to let me down.
You break commitments,
but keep coming back.


You set negative goals for us and have unrealistic pipe dreams.
You talk to yourself negatively,
and your dominance beats yourself into submission.

You perceive me to be young when I am youthful. I perceive you to be old when you are stubborn.

You feign interest. You have no interest in my interests.
You don’t really want to know me. You don’t give a damn.

You feign care when you tell me what I should do.
You don’t even know how I feel, but you feel
guilty about my passive-aggressive sarcasm or my conscious
avoidance of
sound conflict-resolution techniques,
like the use of “you”


as vengeance for your use of me,
so you blame me for feeling bad about yourself
because you are too sensitive to how insensitive
I perceive you to be.

You think it is illogical to be with me. I do too. It’s not worth the effort.
You do not know me.

I cannot do



New Ways

Before, I was filled with enthusiasm,
but it wasn’t until we were apart that I was truly excited
to see you,
thrilled to win you over.
But when I won,
it felt like a loss.
The rush rushed away.
My anticipation became sarcastic
due to a male kind of double-speak.
My drive became empty,
and yours did too.
I was fueled by leftover emotions.
We were entirely different people,
though inherently the same people


we didn’t see in each other.
We fell into a downward trend of lower highs,
and though I felt my heart become misty-eyed
when you spoke after my sexy emotional persuasion,
I still didn’t feel clear
on what part of me you saw,
or on what part of you you thought I knew, if I ever did.
Is our situation ironic? Did God play a cruel joke,
that sick bastard with no parent to speak of.

No, we were appropriately matched.
We were both appropriately uncomfortable
with how to proceed.
I told you what I sought.
I yearned for emotional stability.
You accepted the challenge,
but we fell into our new ways.




Shadow Sex

I will cut right to the chase.
I will have sex with
your shadow,
for that makes all the difference.
I will make love to
the voice inside your head,
for it’s the thinking that matters.

I’m a shadow lover.
I want to be ready
for what you “should.”

I don’t care about what you “want,”
for it holds no candle to what you “can’t” do.


I’m here to hold a light up to
your poverty consciousness.
I choose my battles wisely
so I choose to battle your creature
with my millionaire mindset.

I have more HP
because I have more land
in the landscape of my dreams.

I have more Magic
in the eye of
my fingertip
than you have in all your
Dungeons and Dragons.

The only way I can affect change


is to affect your first house
in Washington state
and your Pluto, your underworld,
your underconsciousness.

You are getting sleepy,
as you often are,
living in an un-woke state
behind the veil.
When I count to three,
you will open your eyes.

1, 2, …



Sick of Not Being a Priority

You’re hard
to take.

All the times we cuddled,
All the times we shared a laugh,
All the times I massaged your scalp,
All the times I told you I loved you today,

All the times you showed me what really mattered,
All the times you told me you loved only me,
All the times you surprised me with a gift,
All the times I kept you alive,


Put below your blame,
Put below your faulty logic,
Put below your vengeance,
Put below your all caps,
Put below your easy state.

All our dreams of future potential,
Put below your grudges,

Put below the past.

This time
you want to do the talking,
all the talking.
Your only regret and fear is
not getting in the last word,
and it’s not something you’d say on your deathbed.


You want to tell me I’m projecting,
screwed up,

for wanting respect,
for standing up for myself.

I’m sick

of this.

But I
Put up with it.
Put it above work.

You wanted the last word.


I wanted your attention,
to hear your voice,

to know that you’re on the other end thinking of me,
to not say goodbye just yet.

You will remember me
as a monster.
I will remember you
as my love.
If that’s sick, then I’m ill.
My illness is my cure.



Someone Blue, Borrowed, and Broken

You are someone blue, borrowed, and
I must bite my tongue when you reject
my loan advances
for it is not I who lost out
for I gave it my best shot.
When I go Green, you will be green with envy.
When I get my revenge, it will be because I got my $uccess.
When I win at the weath
I may decide to donate
to your fund,
and I may not.


I am a planner
who takes calculated risks;
you live spontaneously
only to find that it doesn’t make as much ¢ents.
When you are focused on wanting security,
much like a stay-at-home wife who looks for security from her groom,

I will have my reward for my calculated risk.
We will both reap our karma and our consequences.

When someone else borrows you,
you will be Time-worn,
and I will be aging backwards,
like an anti-buttoned-up Benjamin.

When your mirror breaks


in your broken-down, buttoned-up shack,
you will worry about the next seven years,
whereas I,
will dust your brokenness into the trash
and will be thankful for the empty space left
where I can put something a-new, something a-woke.

After I have eclipsed your radiant moon emotions
out of the picture,
the luminescent red and passionate sun
will take your place,
and only then will you realize what you
missed out on
when you had the power to choose wisely,
and you chose securely.




The Opposite of Foreverness

We have a good mental rapport
and conditional affection.
We are not attached,
but we are compassionate.

Ours is an impulsive one-night stand
or a free event
extended by a month.

Ours is a Mercury
retrograde rebound relationship.

You are like a friend with benefits,
but we are monogamous and uncommitted.


You are adorably needy.
You need free sex now.
I come and go for the intellectual equality.

We do not waste food,
and it is not true that we waste time.

You have plenty now and some later.
I have some now,
and plenty later
for someone else.

You are a stepping stone,
a good luck charm for me,
a way to keep my vibration up
to attract the real thing,
and you’re okay with that.


I am a test.
I make you feel manly and challenge you
as a conflict resolution and language study buddy,
and I’m okay with that,
for now.

I don’t love you,
and I know you don’t love me,
but I have been in sexual relationships
without as much superficial spiritual indifference.

Ours is better than my longest relationship,
even if I’ll know you the shortest amount of time.

You’ll stay

as long as I want,


and we can negotiate.
I control the end, and the end will come
when I realize this doesn’t serve my long-term aims,
when I have a scheduled appointment with destiny.

That is okay, even if we don’t stay in touch.
I am beautiful
and okay.
You are fascinating
and okay.



To Your Past Life

Virile shmuck
and ignorant fool,
you think my life is built on sand,
made of a house of cards!
All you can see is the top of the iceberg.
I am made of many lives.
I tower above
from below.
Ignorance of your own power
is toxic
to the air you breathe–
Clinging to my leg
with your arms wrapped around


something long and hard
reminds me of when you were a girl.

I would like to discontinue
my anger, shock, and trauma
(throw it all back in the ocean),
but you long for me to give you
a third chance
before I have given you a second

of my emotional attachment.

Twist and shout at me
and show me the fairest of them all.
I looked in the looking glass
and saw you,
your supple skin, your innocence, your naïveté, your idealism.


Only pragmatists should make the big decisions. Should I return your tiara?



What I Have to Say and Sing

Week 1: It’s a Twister
We’re not in Kansas,
Idaho, or Virginia anymore.
What has been written
On the wall
Is now written in history.

Day 8 Strike 1: Ossification
When we were a million miles apart
On the same bed,
After your flashback unrelated to me,
I wanted to say it right,
“It is you who I crave,”
But it came too many days too late.


Nothing seems to get in
Your skin
Because mine is so jacked.
You have been classified
As secret.
You have been ossified.

Perhaps you are a mirror of my former me.

Week 2: Failure to Resist and Launch
You are far from perfect,
But you are irresistible.
As hard as I try to stay on the topic
Of proactive action,
I am mesmerized by the ways you veer off course.


You yourself are a half-cooked sticky situation.

Will we ever have a serious conversation?
I must remember,
“When there’s no time for joking
There’s a hole in my plan.”

Day 17 Strike 2: A Songwriter’s Questions
Do you want to get to know me?
Or do you want me to get to know you?

I cannot hear a yes to the former,
With my bad hearing,
And you cannot see all my noes
To your demanding dominance,
With your poor sight.


I can lead you to my water fountain,
But your noes prevent you from
Drinking my love.

How does it feeeel
To have the burden of responsibility
To both our feelings?

When I say it right,
There’s nothing else I can say,
Thus I give you a heads up
About the rabbit tail you never followed,
“From my mouth I could sing you
Another brick that I laid.”

Day 20: A Songwriter’s Questions (Continued)


You’ll let me know when you’re ready to knock on my heaven’s door, right?
You have a small window of opportunity left—
To make three strikes in 30 days.

This experiment…failed.

Day 23: The End
I feel so much ambivalence

No matter which way I turn
In my sleep, or when I lie in awakening.
I know there will never be enough
Or unsaid
Nor enough
Time, money,


Answers, understanding, compromise
To ever satisfactorily
Be at peace with you.
No matter what happens,
And despite everything
From our past lives,
I enjoyed every minute
Of the last few weeks
(And every minute counts).
Today it’s a blue thing that I am future-oriented.
“You take the blue pill, the story ends.”
So I say,
“Boy, we’ve had a real good time
And I wish you the best on your way…
Not that I don’t care about you
Just that things got so compliquées.”


May the road rise to meet you
When you understand how to be

Happy because you sing.



자연속의 새  the birds in their natural habitat

–공군 아내의 부군으로부터


우리가 함께 했돈 참새, 사랑의 시간이 천국보다 더 좋았어라

매일 밤 달무리 와 함께 잠들고

새 아침 새 비전으로 잠에서 깨어났으니

우리들은 싸우기도 했고 논전을 벌리기도 했고 다투기도 했으니

그게 다 사실이나니.

나는 모든 다른 남편들이 하는 일을 하기로 노력했어요

그러나 나는 내가 당신과 함께 있었을때 다른 남편들과 전혀 다름을 알았어요

우리는 영원한 평화의 이름으로

하늘은 신의 이름으로

하늘로 가는 천사, 사랑

당신과 함께 했을때 자연스럽게 그렇게 왔어요.


크리스마스 장식등  christmas lights


두 개의 장식 등 전깃줄이 엉키지 않게

어떻게 시작을 해야하나 몰라

조그만 등이 깨지지 않게 하기 위한 걱정

소음을 내지않도록

비난을 받지않도록

끝까지 엉키지 않도록

하는 믿음이 필요해


두 개의 등불 전깃줄이 엉키지 않고

한 목소리로 속삭이도록 빠른 속력으로 나와 선으로 연결되어있다.


통제 control


나를 멸균용 봉합제로 싸놓아줘

격렬한 마오을린 현으로 그물을 만드어 주어

내 DNA를 비틀어줘

핏빛 스파게티 처럼

내 삶을 돛제해줘


죽어가는 사람들의 말들을 내게 들려줘

내 생각의 흐름을 흐릿하게 만들어구

미친 사람처럼 웃게 만들어 줘

나는 남은 여생 반투명의 사람이 될거야


그래, 그래 반투명

그래 나는 투표하지 않을거야


당신이 그렇게 가르처주었으니

나는 항복할거야

척추가 없어


그냥 양배추 더미야

내 인생을 통제해줘.


감각  feeling


그냥 느낌이야

그냥 느끼고 있어

나는 어쩔지 몰라

그냥 느낌이야

그런 느낌이 사랑의 감각이야

그냥 느낌

나는 그 느낌을 사랑해

그것이 지금 내가 필요한 것

그것이 내가 추구하는 인생이야

나는 거기로 다이빙할거야

거기 함몰할거야

내 자신을 껴안을거야

이것이 나를 자해할지라도.



바닥 floor


오, 나는 너를 일으켜 세운다

너는 이 세상에서 가장 겸손한 자

분노한자가 강하게 짓밟아도 상관하지 않고

즐거운 일이 생겨 사쁜사쁜 걸어도 받아드리고

길을  잃어버린 자에게도 길을 안내한다

아무도 기억하지 못하고 감사할 줄 모르는 자

너는 모든 것을 보았고 모든 것을 느끼는 자

아무렇지 않게 흙발로 디디고 서도 불평하지 않는자

하대를 받아도 싸우려 하지 않고 상관하지 않는다

너는 인내하고

인간의 잘 못 과 모자람을 다 각인하고 받아주는 자

세상의 모든 죄악을 용서하는 자

너는, 너는 바닥

오, 나는 너를 일으켜 세운다.


바닥 2 floor 2


안녕, 다시 한번

너를 더 알게 되어 재미있어

정말 너는 놀랄만한 존재

너는 내게 무엇이 힘인가를 알려줘

적어도 내 몸을 가르처 주어

내가 얼마나 가해야 하는지를 알려 줘.

바닥, 너는 언제나 거기 있어

언제나 떠났다가도 너에게 돌아가게 해

너와  접촉이 없으면 두려움을 느껴

너는 믿음이 무엇인가를 가르처 주어

나를 지지해줘. 고마워.

나를 다치지 않게 해줘

내가 혹 다첬다면 내 잘뭇이야


그리고 내게 교훈을 주어

삶은 단단한 것이라고 가르처 줘

바닥, 너는 평가절하를 받고 있어

아무도 존경하지 않아

그러나 항상 사랑을 주고 지지해줘

너는 언제나 조연에 만족하고 있어.

항상 보이지 않지만 보여줘.

존경을 받지못하는 아픔

내가 증언하건데 그래서 너가 나를 슬프게 해

얼마나 큰 지혜를 너는 나누는가

얼마나 많은 생명을 너는 지지해주었는가

그러나 다 잊어버리고 살아

너가 주는 사랑 다 헤아릴수 없어

아무도 내가 준 사랑 갚지 못해.


전형적인 틀 속의 저를 용서하시옵 forgive me for clichés


저는 빗처럼 보드라운 사랑을 꿈 꾸워 왔어요

함빡 젖은 저의 마음을 아시나요

(오, 하나님, 분석을 멈추게하세요)

저는 부드럽고 조용한 사랑을 알고 있었어요

그 외에는 재일 뿐

(당신은 우리 앞 미래를 알고 계시지 않나요?

솔직히 말하면 거부감.생각을 멈추세요. 모든 활동을.

저는 듣고싶지 않아요)

수양버들은 새롭게 피어나고

폭포처럼 내려오는 머릿칼.

바람 속을 걸어가는 사랑이 꿈

말해주세요 왜 내사랑이 구체적이지 않은가


(어디에 내 이성적 면이 있나요?

술 취하고 있나요?)

아무에게도 보일수 없는

꽃같은 시를 내 사랑에 쓰고 있어요

(바보같은 아이. 저는 당신을 움직일수 없어요)

마음, 몸, 정신 3자가 나를 무력하게 만들고 있어요

누가 내 동화같은 감정을 보호하고 있는가요

아무도 보지 않을 때 누가 나와서 놀아주지 않을까.


친구들 friends


20대 우리들은 서로의 날개로 자유롭게 멀리 날아가.

우리들은 영원한 친구.

나이드신 어른이나 현자들이 하는 말,

우리들은 두터운 우정, 가벼운 우정으로

그렇게 영원으로 날아가리.

물리적 경계를 넘어 우리들을 영원한 친구로 묶는 끈이 네게 연결되어 있어.

우리들은 결혼한 관계처럼 가깝고 평안하고 열려있으니 경계를 존경하며

포옹하며 동정적이나 동등한, 가짜가 아닌 진짜로

이해하며 완전히 이해하지 못하나 이해하려 노력하는

존재로써 먼 거리를 가는

우리들의 미래가 외롭지 않다는  확신으로

우리들은 항상 친구들.


구멍 hole


나는 그 구멍으로 기어들어 갈거야

당신이 그렇게 만들었어

지금 당신 기분이 좋아?


존경함으로 in reverence

–내게 힘을 주신 아버지만큼 위대한 사람은 없어요


인생은 견디기 어려워요

지상에서 서있기 힘들어요

사랑으로부터 선이 오면서

선이 내 무기가 되고

칼이 내 방패가 되고

성스러운 빛이 내가 걸어갈 길을 비추고

슬픔이 그 길에 오고.

누가 우리를 심판해요?

그래요. 선을 바라보기 위해, 아직 선이 남아있다면

우리가 씨앗을 찾아서 먹을수 있는가 볼거예요

우리들은 명상하며

볼 수가 있으면 보이는 것 들 위에 생각하며


인생은 구차하지만

우리는 시간을 두고 천천이 사물을 배우며

—내게 힘을 주신 아버지 이상 위대한 사람은 없어요.

매일 매일

2000년 12월 25일


나로 하여금 let me


나로 하여금 당신 피부색을 음미하게 해주십시오

나로 하여금 당신 머리칼의 향기를 숨 쉬게 해주십시오

나로 하여금 감히 당신 속으로 들어가게 해주십시오.


두려워마라 no fear


아무것도 두려워 말라

어디든 가소싶은 곳으로 가거라

하고싶은 일 해라



그래 그것이 길이다

나는 :ll 그렇게 살아가는 것을 좋아한다

두려움 없이


온전한  믿음

두려워 말라


위험을 감수하라







아무것도 두려워마라


우리는 그렇게 할 수 있다 :ll4x

우리들이 마음을 합치면

이 세상을 영원히 바꿀수 있다

당신과 나.


부모님께 to my parents


부모님께 강조하고 싶습니다

더 이상 불화가 없다고

부모님은 단테의 지옥이 합당치 않다고

설익은 판단을 변명합니다.

동등한 판단도 합당치 않다고.

코린도 전서가 함당하다고

더 높은 데서

더 많은 년봉으로

편안한 은퇴 생활에 아무 근심 걱정 없는

삶이 합당합니다.

하나님처럼 행동하는 것,

우리들의 심판이 연기를 끄고 인력을 유발하고

단단한 프라스틱 봉지를 매는 끈으로 우리 세사람의


새 다리를 메어놓았으니

다른 다리에 메어놓은 불구자 가 되었으니

이 모두를 용서하세요

오직 우리 셋의 좋은 추억만 떠 올리기로 합니다


새롭게 시작합니다.


내 영혼에게 to my soul


감정에는 기복이 없어요

생각은 오직 하나

인간의 기본적 욕망이

우리 둘 혈액과 기억 속에 들어 있어요.

당신은 내가 말하는 것이 무엇인지 알지요

오감이던 육감이던

생각의 깊이 넘어

은하계 간 전쟁을 넘어,

뭐 다른 것이 있나요

조금 더 뻥어서

용서할수 없는 것들을 용서하면서

공통적인 결함을  거부하면서

아니 공통적인 것이 아니야


부적합한 것들이야

아니여 그것들이 우리둘의 실체였어

우리 둘의 필요한 욕망이었어

출생과 죽음, 내세의 삶이 추상적으로 복잡하게 얽여

마음에 와 닿았지만.

무엇이 우디 둘의 힘이었나?

삶, 당신, 사랑.


추함 ugly


나는 추해요

공허한 이기주의자

대중적 미학에 추함

주류사회의 완두콩에 추함

인기있는 요청에 추함

나는 나의 추함을 자랑스럽게 믿고 있어요

나는 나입니다.


독도에 바친 두편의 소품 Two poems dedicated to Dokdo


은유 metaphor


오,  독도

당신은  낭만적인  섬

당신은  누구처럼  이해를  구하고  있다

당신은  누구처럼  어디에  속하기를  바라고  있다

당신은  태어난  가정에  속하기를  바라고  있다

당신은  누가  당신을  소유하고  있는가,

누가  당신을  소유할  권리를  갖고  있는가

복잡한  법적 증명서에  관심도  없고,  피곤하다

당신은  다른 나라에  입양하기를  원하지  않는다


당신은  조선의  사생아가  아니기  때문이다.


고독 solitude


독도는 고독하다는 의미

아파트에  혼자 살고 있는 사람처럼

동과   서의  이중자아를  갖춘  사람처럼

북과  남의  이중 자아를 갖춘  사람처럼


당신은 두개의  반이  함처  하나된  몸

새 신부와  새 신랑의  낭만적  반이  합처저

하나된  완전한  사람


Other Directions



mecca of majestic mountains and mountaineers,
country of climbers,
nest for nature seekers.

area of art and animal lovers,
vista of vegans,
land of left-handed libertarians, and
state of disappearing snow.

land that I love
where I can be what I will,


the destiny of my daring dreams.

site where I see the stars,
lady of luck,
place of precious people.

My home is here.



Middle Path

I prefer neither the morning nor the evening.
I am neither completely married nor completely single.
I am neither entirely disciplined nor entirely impulsive.
I am neither surrounded nor lonely.
I am neither wise nor a fool.
I am not a hypocrite, but I do have a mote in my eye.

I am neither rich nor poor.
I am not in the 1%, but I am in the 96th percentile.
I am neither smart nor dumb.
I am neither narcissistic nor self-sacrificing.
I am neither owned nor owner.
I am neither slave nor master.
I am neither victim nor perpetrator.


I have neither high visibility nor invisibility.
I am neither abnormal nor normal.
I am neither understood nor misunderstood.

I am neither Korean nor American.
I am neither Korean-American nor American-Korean.
I am fortunate to be white enough to listen to country
and Asian enough to listen to classical.
I am neither a fostered orphan nor an illegal immigrant.
I am neither East nor West.
I am neither North nor South.

I am neither white nor black.
(I am fortunate to be on the periphery of the white-black dichotomy.)
I am neither red nor blue.


(If I were a color on the flag,
I’d be a white star, but I’m not white.)
I am neither blue nor pink.
I am neither straight nor crooked.
I am yellow, but not “yelluh”
with olive green skin
and a golden tan.
I am a model minority daughter
and have been an honorary black girlfriend.
I am a token
but I am slightly moorish (less than 10%).
I am fortunate to be Asian enough to benefit from
chaebol alliances with Afghanistan
and the hallyu in Mexico.
I am whatever color I choose.


I decide what dance suits me.
I decide what cuisine suits me.
I am finally thankful for adoption
this Thanksgiving Day.
My race is like an ethnicity
if ethnicity had a color.

I am neither somebody nor Nemo (no one).
I neither fit in everywhere nor do I fit in nowhere.
I am in the space between sleeping and waking,
but I am not a fairy. (I do not die if you do not believe me.)
I am in the space between thoughts.
I am where Black Holes Matter.
I am not moderate,
but I may be in the middle.



Thou Art An Artist

Feel feel feel in
See see see in
Lean lean lean in
to your soul.

Deal deal dealin’
Kneel kneel kneelin’
Seek seek seekin’
with the old.

Thou art wise in thy heart.
Thou art wise in thy soul.
But if thou art seeking wisdom outside thy control,
Seek first the wisdom that you hold.


Thou know what to find.
Thou know what to seek.
Thou know it be not found among the weak.
Thou know therein it lies wisdom of the meek.

Seem seem seemin’
Gleam gleam gleamin’
Mean mean meanin’
to be bold.

Beam beam beamin’
Reel reel reel in
Dream dream dreamin’
to your goal.

I have to want to be famous to be famous.


I have to want money to have money.
To have grit, I must believe it is nutritious.
To be an artist, I must love painting my life.



To Andy

Do you believe
that I am like an animal?
I have my own invitation to my heart.
I have no tears that cry when I want to.
I’m the only person who really knows myself,
and yet I don’t know who this stranger is.
Are you as confused as I am?
Do you know who you are?
No, I have no amnesia;
I just haven’t found myself yet.

I sing with the wind, and I like it, but, yet I dance with the weird.


I guess I am one with myself. Maybe I might learn how to tear.

Now, I think I’m safe and calm. Now, I know who I am.
Now, I’ll never be torn apart to danger, but, I’ll still hide myself in a den.

I’m a split personality, and there’s nothing really wrong with that.
I am like a bird, a bird that’s free. I am shy and innocent, but also hyper and phat.

My life includes the songs I make with the help of a friend.
I’m creative, and I like to decorate, except it’s hard to mend (my life).


I’m secretive. I’m artistic. I am who I’ll be.
I’m authorized to sing my own songs in my own house, nice and neat.

I– feel your pain.



About the Author

Ame Ai covers all bases, all four directions and everything in between in an inspired, timely, and relatable fashion. Ai runs the gamut of good vibes and positive lyrics about happiness to capturing the frustrations of being misunderstood by a loved one. Some of her poetry is like a mantra, some of it is like a coded message, and some of it is a fast, powerful, repetitive rant, making sure that she’s being heard.

She poses questions about who we are, where we are, and what we are. She digs deep into sometimes uncomfortable topics about how we subconsciously brainwash ourselves or keep ourselves trapped.

Sharing her emotions comes easily to her, as if a nudist undressing in front of another nudist.

갓난아이 적에 미국인 가정에 입양한 아이로 미국에서 성장, 조지 메이슨 대학


에서 석사학위를 받고 시인, 작가로 활동하고 있다.

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