Day: October 30, 2017

Caveat: It’s the same in the whole wide world

Background Noise / Not My Poetry

What I'm listening to right now.

Ministry, "(Everyday Is) Halloween."

Lyrics

Well I live with snakes and lizards
And other things that go bump in the night.
Cuz to me everyday is Halloween.
I have given up hiding and started to fight.
I have started to fight.

Well any time, any place, anywhere that I go
All the people seem to stop and stare.
They say "why are you dressed like it's Halloween?
You look so absurd, you look so obscene."

Oh, why can't I live a life for me?
Why should I take the abuse that's served?
Why can't they see they're just like me?
It's the same… it's the same in the whole wide world.

Well I let their teeny minds think
That they're dealing with someone who is over the brink
And I dress this way just to keep them at bay,
Cuz Halloween is everyday…
It's everyday.

Oh, why can't I live a life for me?
Why should I take the abuse that's served?
Why can't they see they're just like me?
It's the same… it's the same in the whole wide world.

Oh, why can't I live a life for me?
Why should I take the abuse that's served?
Why can't they see they're just like me?
I'm not the one that's so absurd.

Why hide it?
Why fight it?
Hurt feelings…
Best to stop feeling hurt
From denials, reprisals.
It's the same… it's the same in the whole wide world.

[daily log: walking, 7km]

Caveat: Random Poem #155

A Daily Poem / Banalities & Journaling / Book 1 / Life in Korea / My Poetry & Fiction

(Poem #456 on new numbering scheme)
신의 은총이 없었다면 저도 저렇게 되었을 것이다.

My coworker was sad. Her sister died.
The cancer had declared its wish at last.
The funeral was all the way across
vast Seoul. These Koreans mourn the dead
as they live - with kimchi and alcohol.
The grace of god descended, so we kept
our silences while poking rice with spoons
and fetching bits of food with chopstick-thrusts.
Of course my own unlikely failed demise
was apropos - but felt indulgent too.
I spoke about it with reluctance till
at last we drove back down the Han to home.
The night was cold. It carved heavenly paths;
expressways sought to give us maps of hope.
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