A small collection of poems I wrote today, inspired my visit to South Korea
Yongsan Poems
It is oft said that hell is other people
But this I find unfair
Much of the time they are at worst a purgatory
But a soul in purgatory will sometimes dream
Of the heaven above, of a paradise
So for a while, I take my leave of purgatory
And go in search of heaven
I am borne there not by no choir of angels
No Valkyrie carries my there on horseback
Instead, I take a train to Ichon Station
And disembark for Yongsan Family Park
Today, for me, heaven is a bench, a biro and a notebook
And the raw matter of words
Here in Korea, I study Taekwondo
I hone my body, strengthen and sharpen it
So that flesh and muscle become as potent and focused
As the very best of blades
Here on my bench, in my tiny heaven
I hone my mind
I find paradise with a pen
Nirvana with a notebook
For an hour, I scribe my heaven
Write my enlightenment
Pen my zen
With the gnosis of a biro, some paper
And the raw beauty of unshaped words
Electric Rivers
These streets
Come night
Go live
Neon Flares lights glare
Headlamps pump amps
Photons fly through air
Wide streets between buildings alight
Signs, streetlamps, cars, neon aglow
Seoul city’s streets blaze with electric fire
Phosphor-water flowing between gravestones
Glowing rivers of artificial light
Broken by concrete and glass
Rapids of sweeping headlamps dammed by crimson
By day, this heaving life is dimmed
Cars drive through these tarmac riverbeds
Lit sometimes by sun, more often by grey cloud
The lustre of the buildings is gone in daylight
Seoul’s face for the day flatters none
But
These streets
Come night
Go live
And Seoul becomes beautiful
In the glow of electric rivers
Korean Mountains
Imagine if
You slept
So long
So deep
So quiet
That the world around you changed forever
Your hair was now a shag of trees
Your flesh now changed to soil and dirt
Here and there, erosion-worn to the bone
Calcium ossific with time
And a thousand animals call you home
And tiny people raise buildings and paths
And trek across you day by day
Imagine if
You grew
So Tall
So wide
So huge
That you changed the world around you forever
When I see the mountains of Korea
I see people in those slopes and crags and peaks
Deep in slumber, gentle stone gods snoring silently
What were to happen if they woke?
What were to happen, if eyes of rheumy marble opened?
What would they make of us?
Us scurrying, tiny things
Reaching for but never achieving
Such heights as held by them
Perhaps they would be bemused
Perhaps they would laugh
Perhaps they would be indifferent
Turn over to slumber once more
Imagine if
You slept
So long
So tall
So deep
So wide
So quiet
So huge
That you became part of the world and the world became part of you
The Two Brothers
I see the two brothers under a pagoda of stone
Lying at its base, watching all who go by
Twin lions, keeping eternal vigil
One seems dour, but the other playful
Smiling, welcoming, teasing of his twin
The small plaque before them lists no sculptor
And so I can never be sure
Whether he carved them so, or whether weather,
Erosion, wind, rain and entropy
Bestowed such countenances upon them
And if all that I see just comes from my mind,
Patterns spotted on clouds of carven stone
The Artists
The artists face one another
And consider for a moment what art they shall create
Plan a result to this antagonistic collaboration
They set to work
Kick block punch dodge
They separate, appraising the artwork
Their contribution, that of their foe
And move
Strike counter spin
Their canvas is a sparring ring
Their brushes their bodies
Their paint is violence
Violence refined
Violence distilled
Violence controlled
So that from an evil comes aesthetic
From the last resort comes beauty
And that artists reforge violence
Into the pure form of art
Verbal Fisticuffs 