My Seoul Longs for You

Away, far far away... from the land that caressed my Seoul.

Four years, 16 seasons of Winter through Fall. I don't

want to forget anything about her. The streets. The traffic.

The cherry blossoms of Spring. The heat of Summer. The

leaves changing colors in the middle of Autumn. The people.

The hellishly cold Winter. The slab of ice on the street that

never melts for 3 months. The food... oh, yes! The food! The

city that never sleeps. Seoul, my friend you hold in your heart

all those people so dear to me. Yes, the people. My friends.

My Seoul longs for you. I reach deep into my inner being

to find that place where you'll never be forgotten. You remind

me that you are always with me. You are now and forever...

My Seoul!

J.L.Only: Reasons Argue & Feelings Arise

Sooner or later your thoughts confronts you.
Selfishness deminished only in your mind.
In time you realize that you are still,
selfish and centered solely on your pride.

Once in a while you face the truth,
of your deceptive ways to find love for one,
selfless reason. You are a victim too.
A victim of wanting to love for purely selfish...

Reasons argue and feelings arise.
Deception fades and the time comes to decide.
You settle for the commitment...
and hope that somehow it's not as realized.

Twenty Ten

A month later he emerges. the year is almost to a close.
Thanksgiving came and went gifting himself with a nice lcd flat screen.
Something for the girl friend and him to enjoy watching on evenings
to cold to go out. Christmas flew up and contributed to the final farewell
to the year two thousand nine. That's right, it's that time.
Good bye Spring of two thousand and nine, goodbye.
Farewell Summer of Two thousand and nine, Adios.
A final wave to Autumn of Two thousand and nine, we're fine.
Now it's time for Twenty Ten with a big ass welcoming party when,
the ball drops on the needles. couples spark between lips as they
squeeze together between their hips. Sparkling champagne corks
fly high and everybody says goodbye to two thousand nine.
Two thousand ten, hi. welcome... & Happy New Year to all.
Cars aren't flying like the movies of the future. We dreamed big,
didn't we? And still we buy cars that roll on roads painted with
the blood of the Earth. Thank God for Mother Earth. We got a new
president and yes, He's black :) and one who got hit in the head in Italy.
We had summits for global awareness and attempt to roll back
carbon emissions... quite a mission but not quite done. Still marching
through the recession. Yup, that's still not quite done. No fun.
Now with twenty ten... we've got problems for sure but we're not
pressed and weary for we've got the world to defend. Children of
the Earth... rise up my friends. Let's take back what's ours in Twenty Ten!

131. Yerg Siul B.

Can I ramble on for a minute... with the exception of making sense
till the publish post button is pushed, the words come out to say:
Here am... I
expressing thoughts to extinguish the sighs.
Sweep of my mental arms around wandering
thoughts that venture to collide like random
atoms. Nuclear. Membranes destroyed with
free radicals on the loose. Brain waves pulsating
the thoughts that could be the source of something
undiscovered, un-relocatable.
Unfathomable, the idea that pristine communication
is somewhere lost in the attempt. The construction
made in any other is a garnished meaning, all to
make less any thought lost in translation. The
situation is repetitious. Seriously, if it doesn't
infuriate it will definitely make a curator
of thoughts...
Welcome to the hall of random thoughts gathered
in the shelves of Yerg...

130. Red

130. Red

The other day somebody gave
me a red marble. It reminds
me of the doors of China. It
reminds me of a bottle of
folded origami stars. On the
top sat a small red marble.
The boy inside who laughs,
plays & wants to
see a smile on the face of
friends. The Peter Pan boy
has been forced into the
world hidden from sight. In
time... hurt & pain compile
to hide the son of the Earth.
Mr. & Mrs. Grim's Son still
lives. Some would say
he moves the world from
behind the scenes. Maybe
his playfulness manifests
in the world of colors...
Maybe, deep underneath
the hardened heart of
a cold & un-remorseful
soul is a boy like Mr. &
Mrs. Grim's Son... longing
to be caressed & accepted
for being. In becoming we
lose a bit of innocence and
we long to recapture it.
Grey carries a red marble
in his pocket to remember
Mr. & Mrs. Grim's Son.

129. Green

129. Green

When I was new to writing
I needed a partner in crime.
Mr. Greenleaf was the
man who was by my side
all the time. He gave
color to Grey and helped
to explain away with
his questions of inquiry
into the dreams of mystery.
Psychoanalyze together
until one of them
realized... that inquiry
isn't a reason to
sympathize. It was fun
to look into whats
generalized.

Alter ego this & that
with colors to name. Some-
times amazed at how
deep is the maze... Mr.
Greenleaf has been here
from the beginning. Framed
with personality that
attempts to reflect
reality. Actually, how
much is true comes
back to blue... Not to
be rude. In the end
whats true is what lives
in you. That's what
Greenleaf says with a
smile & his cup of java
brew.

128. Purple

128. Purple

Pearl Pull. The ideal girl.
The woman of my dreams
that I've never met.
Pearl Pull Grey has never
been seen because she
only exists in the place
of dreams. I once loved
a girl who was young
& lavender. I hoped she
would mature and become
my pearl...

Dear Ms. Pearl who dis-
appeared into the shadows.
I hope to meet again
with the victory over
our battles.

All the things that we
claim to matter doesn't
really matter. Rather the
things that are important
are the things that can't
be shattered.

The fragile things that
are easy to break are
the things we should
treasure without fear
or hate.

Pearl Pull, the unknown
bride is my disguise that
I claim to hide. My image
of a wife. She is not
alive, not yet. Not in
my eyes.

48. Who Is He?

In an attempt to get the upper hand I almost resigned from my job. I had a long talk with my supervisor/director of the school I am employed at. Hopefully things will change and will be less stressful and a lot more enjoyable. The good news... we're going on a field trip tomorrow to a living museum of some sort.

There's this blog site that I follow that is a writing prompt for bloggers. Today's prompt is about being a writer and if so what would be the subject or topic of preference. For myself... a novella about self discovery. I just can't seem to make it funny.

Here's another poem from the archives. This poem is from the Mijogle series (A name of a place that I made up). Enjoy!

48. Who Is He?

In desperation he felt no choice but to click the button. His thoughts unclear like puzzle pieces scattered across the dining room table. The confusion did not succeed in keeping his desire enveloped in despair. He knew that it had to begin and the moment could not be delayed any further. The words poured out of him like water falling into a basin from high above the cliffs. A waterfall of thoughts interwoven to speak like a Persian rug's decor. In volumes the images crossed all perspectives. He unleashed his contemplations upon a surface of white to see scribbles of lines that made sense to the eyes. Through the window of the soul his world was magnified for the world’s eye to see, to discover that he is me.

127. P. Ink

127. P. Ink

Phillip Ink has a lot of
emotions ready to burst.
Feelings bottled up I
suppose is worst. Which
can lead to high blood
pressure and an eventual
Hurst. The lesser of two
evils, that's the curse. I
can attempt to explain
like talking to a
psychological nurse.

At intervals of ticking
time, seconds are replaced
with scheming rhymes. behind
each constructed line...
The truth stripped of lies.

I'm tired of the bullshit
that accompany
the job. The minipulation
& micro-management in
between sobs.

Pay me my overtime & cut
the drama act. It all comes
down to the facts. your
pouring down the s tress
about useless things no
less. Your taking away my
joy for teaching & replacing
it with contempt for breathing.
Your not helping me to be
my best. Your making me want
to resign so I can get
some rest.

126. Ken Harry Yellow

126. Ken Harry Yellow

A little bit of me with red
is Orange. it's also a term
used for coward. The truth
of the matter is that
in 2007, I was created
to hide behind. In my
mind's eye I could not meet
the line, the standard
of excellence aesthetically
denied. Criticism realized
that my enemy in time
was my own mind.

Fine, we're past that. Ken
Harry is one of many whom
without, there would not be
any. The series of ten
that are accredited is
not any less because of a
name invented. In the
end it all gets red/read.

If I want to be pink. I
can be Phillip Ink. Modes
of writing form the same
one writer. Pearl Pull is
a sister disguise. All colors
intended to be radiance
of surprise.

All this has been said in
explanation for Ken
Harry Yellow. With this
poem he says... Hello.

125. Orange

125. Orange

Orange you glad to tell
a tale of animated figures
alive in your head? At the
least, you know your not
dead. Magnetic fields of
characters array, socially
interacting to pass the day

Candice O. Ranges meet
the rest of the world. We've
begun to get bored &
needed some inspiration to
entertain. Things here
were beginning to seem
a little mundane.

Whose who in this world
of ours? I see that your
Blue & he must be Green.
Are these the colors that
make up our dream?

Yellow, Hi nice to meet you.
Without your influence I
wouldn't be me. I wouldn't
be free. I wouldn't be
alive as part of this
dream. Thoughts are
aligned to be a stream...
of semantic pictures
of elaborate... Hmmm.
Seems redundant to say
dream.

Red sun so bright, your rays
of light have given me
life. Bless this form of
color to life...
Candice O. Ranges was
born in my thoughts tonight.

124. Mr. President

124. Mr. President

If I were President, I’d have a heavy burden to

carry. It would feel like the titan with the atlas

on his shoulders. My student thinks that he can

have dinosaurs as a pet. I’d be worried about getting

the world out of debt. However, It’s almost impossible

to help all the people in the world. The gods would clash

over the states. All to gain status as a blue or red

state. With me as President, I’d keep all states in

the grey. I’d convert the entire world to the

color of love. They say that color is true. The world

would rejoice because finely we’d have a great

President in the states. Hooray! The world would

shout, for B. Luis Grey. The new color of love is

really grey! The irony of that cheer makes me want

to sneer. It’s clear, I couldn’t be President. No, not

this year.

123. Work

123. Work

Repetitive folding of evaluation cards
The end of the day seems so far. Teaching shapes of circles
and squares. Feeling slightly numb, like I really don’t care
Lessons in phonics, the sound of ‘u’. Sun, bun, run, gun,
nut, hut & cut. It’s a dinosaur, those are boats &
these are spaceships. They’re all toys. Sounds bizarre, like the
Flaming Lips. Lunch comes around. Please eat & stop yacking.
My break is lacking, it’s beginning to stack. My back
and neck is cracking like a chiropractors touch to
the spine. What I really need is some ancient wine or
cognac. Don’t have the cash flow to get a hold of that,
at least nothing aged well. In truth, I really can’t tell
unless it’s whiskey or bourbon and I’m writing about
drinking while at work. Back to class, the subject is math.

108. Worlds Collide:

I'm tired from being busy all day at work. Too busy to find time to continue with my goal. Goal number two. Blog for 31 consecutive days. I hope you don't mind another poem from the archives.

Which reminds me. I was thinking of doing a series called Ken Harry Yellow. A series of poems written in 2007. Anybody interested?

Kids are quite funny. I teach Korean kids who are barely able to speak any English. Some do speak better than others. The funny thing about teaching these kids is that they pick up the way you speak. They emulate whatever is said even trying to get the tone of voice.

There's this one kid in particular, Hennessy [not his real name]. He's watching me intently as I'm trying to get organized before teaching the lesson plan. It dawns on me that I've forgotten to bring something down from the office, 'shnaps'. As I'm walking out the door to run up to the office Hennessy is saying, 'shnaps'.

108. Worlds Collide

i look out from the world inside
in towards the world outside.
through space that takes time
to traverse from my world to yours.
in space our worlds collide
to make electrical impulses seem
more than random fire blazing
trails. magnetic pulls of centered
lives on important confessions
of relevant claims. of human
interest, splattered on matter.
the gray images of matter... all
presented from creation till now.
protons with electrons gathered
around the neurons of life. and we
say with opinions of morality
what is our likes and the rejection
of dislikes. it falls apart in the light.
levels of success fade into strivings
of inter-galactic strains of space.
all of wo[man] a rock in space, each of
whom contains a world inside
a micro version of macro space.

Poetry

[Yawn]

Rise and shine with the morning sun. I look out towards the sky and see that indeed the sun is out today. A perfect day to attend a wedding. This entry will be short and something dug up from my archives of poems to keep in step with 'blogger block' goal number 3. Write 31 consecutive days.

It's Saturday Morning and I skipped my usual Friday night of debauchery in favor of an American styled breakfast. This will take me to the part of Seoul, Korea where foreigners are known to congregate and hang out. One reason for this congregation towards Itaewon [the name of the neighborhood] is because it's located next to a U.S. military base. It is also in a central location in the City. Itaewon is also the center for foreigners and for me it's breakfast day, American style.

I'd like to take this time to welcome a new subscriber, Lucky Thirteen plus one. She's got an interesting story being blogged. Check her out! She's also helping out the cause to help 'grey image' to fulfill bloggers block goal number 2. Obtain 7 followers. Thank you Sandi.

And now... acrchived poem number 15:

15. Poetry:
They say I am a poet,
Until I am dead, no one knows it.
Drawn to the page my reader and thoughts
Casting a vision, un-tying the knots.

Deep in my stomach a gut wrenching voice;
A sound, a noise, in your soul my voice
You catch a glimpse of a life not your own,
Like one of many layed across a beach of stone.

Grown from the inner sacntum of Earth,
Meaningless to all, to a reader some worth.
Clasp the page make it say your name.
Surround it in frames pick away at my brain.

Artistry in words, This is poetry proclaimed.
Nonetheless, in the end, it's just words on a page.

Antarctica Needs You

I found a fresh blog site with a focus on doodles. I don't mean doodles as we normally would think of them. The doodles I speak of is in relation to poetry. The basics to the blog is doodles. Doodles in poetry are short lines written with a limited amount of corrections. The lines can also be interchangeable. Check out the site.

Peter de wolf has a doodlepalooza event going on. I made day 5 with my poem: Antarctica Needs You. An inspiration from my previous days blog.
Enjoy!

If you can't link to the site check my side bar for Peterdewolf.

On another note. I've been searching blogs based in Antarctica and leaving comments to fish them in to visiting 'grey images'. I've almost got visitors from every continent on Earth.

On a more serious note. I'm going to a wedding tomorrow. It's to complicated to get into explaining why I'm divided concerning marriage. In short I think children are great, for the most part. I'm a kindergarten teacher for goodness sake. However, I don't feel the pressure to get married yet and I've already surpassed my 20's and slowly notching the marks into my 30's. In any case, must enjoy the festivities.

13. Life:

Beautiful!

My mouth is watering from the intensity of the verse,

The repressed emotion I'm ready to burst!

Beautiful!

My hand quivers at the thought you could know,

How repressed my emotions ready to blow.

Beautiful!

My mouth confess, I'm torn.

Recharged in the middle I'm worn... I see the moment like Janis.

Beautiful!

I express my words in content.

Alright. It's quite tormenting, it being repressed!

101. when

101. when

when walking through the grass,
i'm a giant walking through the forest.
when looking through a glass,
i'm a tower looking past the desert.
when looking at the sun,
i'm a tree dancing in the light.
when i see the clouds,
i'm a sea creature looking up from the sea.
when i'm in my car,
i'm an asteroid passing all the stars.
when inside my house,
i'm on a mountain a foundation for the heart.
when i'm living a day of a life,
i'm a theme of a long beautiful melody.
when i think of all the lives,
i'm a strand within a tapestry.
when i see my friends,
i'm alive in them in the end.
when i'm all alone,
my heart to you is my phone.