He Could Sing "나 돌아가"

Nothing is beautiful or interesting in life
And no one is either of those, yet still,
I get lost in a voice with no meaning left

I give up on the world entirely today,
It's ugly, and gross, and I hate it so much
That if I could fly away from it I would,

Last spring I discovered the only way,
To find myself in the stars, reaching out for them,
But I can't see the path these days

It's all lost in a meaningless tenor, softly humming
"제발 가지마..." as if a distant past version of me
Was meant to hear it and understand him

I want sweet soju and the music so loud,
That I can't grasp these carefully written lyrics,
Just the evil world disguised, in pleasant mannerisms.

Three

You, the willing stranger, eager and impressionable,
Like a puppy, with a round face and dark eyes
Peeking out from straight lashes, they greet me
And welcome me as if I know not why I came

Truthfully speaking, you're sweet and handsome,
With your stumbling words and painstaking shyness
Only half-masked beneath your love and enthusiam,
You willingly engage threatening embarrassments

Locked inside of him is an unfathomable depth,
And though I recognize his gaze, I still don't know
The sound of his voice, trapped in a small body,
Wrapped in button downs and delicate dress coats

His eyes, mysteriously distant, are uniquely shaped,
Behind which are his intense goals and convictions,
Lost in the soft sounds I catch from his delicate lips,
His rounded vowels collecting in my crowded head

And with a smile to rival all others, that one rests
In a place between these other two, a puzzling buffer
To my own snap judgements and assumptions,
For his friendliness can cut like a well-aimed knife

Leaving others feeling overwhelmed with him
He departs, packing his artificial warmth up in a box
And flying to other continents in need of it,
No note made of my dizzy silence, my weak articulations,

I would love to contain it in a simple explanation,
But I will never fully understand the human mind
Much less my own, and features of various size and color
Make the most fascinating people, anyway.

Just a Man

Don't you ever look into eyes,
And simply see the soul, the life inside?
You act like it's always an issue, some kind of
Benefit to them or deficit to you or another doubt of yours,

Sure, he's a man, so what?
His heart is beating, he's breathing just like you
Women, who think he's some dormant monster
Nurtured by tradition to be some evil force of chaos

Can't you see him laughing?
His expressions are simply his life,
There's no hatred or presuppositions in that
Deep and loud laugh, because it's just how he is

Do you feel his movement?
Warm and open, putting away all of the
Insecurities we subscribe to; he feels them, too,
But could it actually be courage, how he ignores them?

And these differences you bring up,
Like language, words, and physiology,
They exist, so what? He's just being a man,
As if you didn't wish for him to exist as he does,

To the feminists: I think you're wrong
About remaking the modern men I know and love,
In print-screen tees, wearing conservatism on their arms,
These strong yet mannered gentlemen subscribe to the original design.

The Cherry Blossom Disease

The sunlight should belong to May,
Flowers are blooming too early,
Clothes are far too bright, too warm,
Your smile is so enchanting,

My timing is for disappointment
Like a blissful spring day too soon,
The chill and the rain will come to ruin
This moment of sweet perfection,

People somehow get lonely so young,
You sit facing me, it's such a fate to have
That I can't stop staring, you're beautiful
But your heart is too far away. 

-A.K.-

Inland Dreams

The street light, a beacon at the end
Of this sand encrusted alleyway,
It's golden light bathes your face your
Copper skin, dancing through brown eyes

Poseidon burns with jealousy
Unsatisfied, he bids his black ocean pound
our humble shores, his lover long lost beneath,
My love likewise sunk deep into you irretrievable,

Night smells, fried food and dew
Mingle with sunscreen, your sweet cologne,
A view of distant lighthouse, you smile at it,
We shall go tomorrow in the morning,

The breezes tousle your hair, so mesmerizing,
I trust no cheap liquor,  but your soft voice
Is murmuring words sweeter than fine rosé,
Sea sprite, come closer, let me kiss your handsome lips.

-A.K.-

Spring Break {One Verse}

"Small Hands" 3/12/15

Your hands alone are insignificant
Nothing unique to behold
Losing the dead past, piece by piece,
While I become lost in you.

"Shoulders" 3/9/15

I take rest, I lie my head against
The back of the one so silent
These unassuming narrow shoulders,
Too far away to touch, to understand

"Smile" 3/11/15

How warm it is, the rising moon,
Like your long unseen smile
Growing distant, in the dark, uncertain skies. 

Chapel

Oh, one adorned with praise, by those lost in a sea of conviction
A simple man, living a dream transformed,
Take note, these old iron gates, and your modern congregation

Every feature of yours is endearingly imperfect
Yet a simple movement sways your masses
Addressed to you, the most beloved person I have met

I the dissident reach out, piercing this bleak, cold gray sky,
In some way might I reach the deep
Twisting, unending corridors of your reclusive mind

It is a miracle, they proclaim, how great your kindness
Mirroring the sacrifice of God Almighty
But if you are just a man, with ambitions gone amiss?

Call your scripted words providential, insight from above,
Recite the role, stretch yourself to extremes,
Give of self, hate evil, change our entire universe with one love,

I eschew your social principle, and every word, every smile,
And your coffee communion, uncharted maze of your mind,
And all of the people who claim to be worth your while

The gold of your being is buried deep, you're like an empty canvas
I won't, can't, shan't ever know
More than your chapel door, so the pilgrimage is rendered pointless.