Wednesday, June 10, 2009


(the sun and rain)

the echos of distant thunders
the call of distant wind
life pours bold and generous
till it turned a wriggling stream

the sun beat down on that rock
the crowd hail and exalt
the joruney starts a step by step
life starts a golden dream

what are we searching for,
when lift our sight and stars covered us
how do we know
everything, the fate had planned us

trail leads ahead, answers regardless
heart is taken by courage, life by faith
while walking the walk, bridging the waters
dream is winged, hope, the feathers

we treaded far under heavens
our steps deep and longing
solace was found in true others
our hearts joy and belonging

when time will find us
standing on the end and begin
pilgrim clouds to where sun has faded
and another bout with its grim announcing


I journey the mountain side
to find a peaceful land
flowers and straws and pine
resides the white river bank

I raise three poles of willing
to shalter a temporal dewelling
laiden my songs, my paint, my hands
the floor, the fine white sands

I invite my brothers to my fire
the fruits and hunt we share
we clap our hands and dance
to full of our hearts desire

like wine the gift from field
the prey a hunter's respite
but we can't live among fares
where we bed and searched our highers

follow me, hold out my hands
I'll take you to center of dance
while we celebrate our rites of passage
to the earth and honor our homeage

this land knows not tranquil quiet
it knows the rage of thunders
it knows the falling majesties
and follows its moving powers

only a feet leather and wood
sperate a rich or a poor
don't say home is raised by muscle and sweat
it's raised by a heart light
it's a gifts from mulgore
it meant a peaceful delight

I heard of ancient dreams
and horrors of present days
I travel the civil land
to find a home of a kind
where between cloud and clay
resides the human minds

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

A Brief Light

where a new sun make his way a new day refrain
a rough lioness throw the stony path on her way
would leaf and green seperate
a world fresh and bright, and a life, but pale and faded

How long have they been climbing? oh how much they paid?
into thirsty wind, high on the mountaintop sunrays awaits
to the shadowy path deep, deep down, a pool of rain accumulate

on a new day, rhythm will go on and on in the gorge
light is floting on all their faces
rich, alive and rightous
with sweet music they celebrate
less then sun breathing
oh, more than fire leaping

the summit of life stood its youthes
the winding path wailed its lioness
but wait, before her from merge into grayer haze
a paw reached her, from a muddy form, and a pair of emerald

there is a moment, and only a brife one

she looked back, a path winding into the dust of elasped
he stared, an empty road, of hollowing future
dark blinded the both
she smiled, eyes slowly droping
he smiled, picking up his pace

shadow was abondend, the singing in the gorge is in festive way
and it will be, no mater who lived or who wasn't
the careness in the heart have only room for few names, be valueble they may
but life is a light thing, as a glimmer as brief

The Chant of Sword

It’s the fallen violet of sky

The immune peace of light
That swung the sword of faith
where the fallen body watch by
and silent soil behold
the chant of sword

Of the hands seizing empty air
And the eyes the hollow spread
The reason to look upon what’s left
What’s singing the fading song
Of what recall and remained
The chant of sword

So the fallen raise once upon the time
Bearing the witness of violet sky
That still splash on their chests and arms
Against the earthen gate o sky and fire
The sound of drum rebound
The chant of sword

Lord of War

I’ve been waiting to write this down for a long time but hadn’t found the chance (or the will). It is about a movie I watched a while ago. A random surfing in IMDB movie board had sparked me some new perspectives that I’d like to share. I believe quite a few people would have heard of this movie. The title is Lord of War. It stars Nicholas Cage as a Ukrainian arms dealer living in New York. With some enterprising talent and a quick wit, he timely caught the opportunity of chaotic post cold war arms market and made wealth. As his weapon enterprise expanded, however, he came face to face with conflicting morality behind his business and a dissembling personal life. After death of his brother, confrontation with his wife and an arm embargo agent, the praised and vilified lord of war let out the dark secret of his trade. The weapon merchant portrayed by Cage is profound yet likeable. Minor roles in this movie are vivid as well. The script is superbly written and executed. I think this is a must-see for all Cage fans or anyone interested in international politics and globalization issues.

The reason why this movie is quite interesting, or one of the reasons, is that it threw spotlight to a quiet truth that was too often drowned in all the noise of global violence yet being an undeniable source for such. We read about wars everyday, but seldom do we stop to ask the question “where did their army get guns from? Who supply them ammos?” As innocent (or not so innocent) citizens we are, we assume governments and dictators alike necessarily have such resources but this movie tells us that’s quite an incorrect assumption. War draws people’s attention because war is always associated with casualty. International trade doesn’t do as well because not so many people believe trade can be dangerous and destructive. But coming away from the movie, one has to ask the question whether weapon’s trade or trade in general, can be blamed for such crimes that had taken of them the benefit.

For any crime to happen, there are three indispensable elements: motivation, means and human action. Motivation is men’s difference in wealth and culture. Lord of War brought its story around with revelation that the means of the most inhuman crimes on earth are being supplied by the great powers of the world. What it didn’t change and could not change, though, is the fact that the man in action, the first person, is the one responsible for the crime and the one who should be harshly judged.

The law of equal risk is a law imposed by nature: the one who endangers others would endanger himself since all being sought to eliminate their own threat. This law has been tested from the dawn of time. Predators lead lives more dangerous than their prey. All weapons by their very nature endanger their owners. Such truth was allegorized by ancient Chinese proverb of one who owns unstoppable spear and impenetrable aegis – you can’ have both at same time. So much as we hate one who sells the gun, too often it is the one who are holding it get punished first by chain of cause and effect. Actually this is one messages posted by movie: never go to war especially with yourself. The movie starts as Nicolas cage stands in a battleground covered by bullet, the movie ends with the same scene. He talks in middle of gun fire without a flinch because instead of guns, he’s holding a suitcase. Likewise, it is he’s “cardinal rule” never to pick up a gun and enjoy as his customer that shielded his way through some of the most ruthless human alive. Wars might be justifiable by human (some of them) but soldiers who take lives would always face the wrath of retribution, divine or otherwise.

Moreover, right and wrong is made by men’s choice of action, not by their given situation. It is as simple as an insane person isn’t responsible for his crime but a sane person is. It’s never morally wrong to be different, or to hate someone who is different. The former is a given truth in our world, the latter a given truth in our nature. Maybe hatred is evil, but if it is, it’s only an evil the kind of volcanoes, hurricane or earth quakes – we have no control over it. What we have control over, however, is what we do about our hatred. So, whenever someone says violence is in our nature, he or she is making an unintentional (I presume) mistake. Violence is only a man’s choice of action. If we were to eliminate all things that could potentially cause violence or be used as weapon, we would all live in cells miles from each other. The only human world that we can live together peacefully is one that we assume control of our own actions and be able to resist temptations to commit crimes (such would never come, arguably).

With Lord of War, although it made a rallying cry to stop export to third world countries the world’s arms, it is clearly seen what are those countries suffering from is their own impurity and foolishness. They shoot armless people for power and rivalry. What only they would do without guns is slaughtering them with daggers and clubs, which is no better form of slaughtering.

Whatever would save those people (I don’t think they are innocent for innocent people do not dwell in guilty societies), it isn’t ideals, such as exhibited by agent Valentine played by Ethan Hawke. He cherishes the dictation of law and merit of saving lives. It is his great irony that ones who make the laws are ones he is after and people who he sought to protect endanger themselves with their own free will. He is admirable law enforcer but he never recognizes the will that runs behind his and others’ society.

The earth is inhabited by much different societies. And each of them had an internal structure that doesn’t conform to external forces. These structures would change and evolve at their own accord quite like humans do. Society cannot be externally designed or installed, certainly we should have learned after all the history.

But quite often, we have men like agent Valentine who like to step out of their own responsibility to burden themselves with the safety of people who do not concern such things. Parents should prohibit their children from dangerous activities for children aren’t able to make judgments and act to their own good. But when men assume such power from other men, they stepped between man and God (oh, it’s a metaphor) and lost their own moral (moral is by choice, not by force)

The same is true concerning economy and welfare. The criticisms that ones who live in suburbia of rich worlds aren’t giving out for Africans in famine is quite silly. Wealth isn’t men’s birth right but have to be earned through trials and labor. Wealth is not part of human and though all men should be equal, their wealth should not. A cargo plane parked at dirt highway of Africa plain is but an abandoned carcass. When the genius that went into building it and operating it had left, its fresh and bone couldn’t hold for much longer. Thus can we imagine if we trade lands between the world’s richest and poorest, our civilization would restore its current form but in a couple centuries’ time.

The fortunate fact is that we can’t decide how others live their lives. We can influence but we can’t decide. When we set out on such goals, our actions would be vile and unjustifiable just as the histories we have on power politics and war sponsoring. They quite often have other errands but the moral one is false. They violate a basic human right, the right to form society of their founders’ vision without interference. Compare to that, big words like freedom is but a minor right for freedom only resides within a society.

Should we watch people getting killed assuming they know what they do and they’re responsible for it? Yes we should, only we wouldn’t. It sounds like I just contradicted myself but hear me out.

In Lord of War, Yuri Orlov’s small brother Vitaly Orlov did what a human instead of an arm’s dealer ought to do and he sacrificed himself. So does Yuri Orlov’s wife Ava Fontaine Orlov. I don’t bring them up to praise them for they really didn’t make any difference for the bloodshed that was happening in Africa. Nor do they have to and that is the point. They did what they did not for ideals or any conviction that they saved lives but for their feeling and nature that belongs to human.

I spend an hour or so writing about responsibility and its limit but there is a realm such term doesn’t apply. Our world in front of our eye is a world of doctors and soldiers, policeman and gangsters all trying to build Tower of Babel. Doctors are not professional savers nor are soldiers professional murderers. They are both just professionals. What makes men and women noble lie in their human traits. Thus the human world is built only by humans, not professionals.

It is very important to separate these two realms: imagination and reality. When one mixes them, he or she’s bound to be deluded by such lines as “our soldiers are there to help them” or “cooperation are contributing to our economy”. Help and contribution are something that human do. Soldiers kill and cooperation make money (for itself), whether they help or contribute is up to the human that resides in these shells.

Obviously, not all of us are very human. As Yuri Orlov chose to be a good arms dealer before a good human being, our current society is filled with more means than ends. However, the effort to elevate this society cannot be resolved in means. It is not a war to be fought, or a tower to be built, or anything professionals could do for us. There are surely ideas, inspirations and motivation that’s intriguing but it is up to the man in action, you, me and everyone decide what kind of society we form. It is often human’s first inclination to oppress what we consider evil such as terrorism, dictatorship even selfishness, but instead of a society of goodness we would only build a society of oppression. These words and their audience wouldn’t save a single life in Africa if they are so inclined to kill themselves. But what all of them comes down to say really is: be aware of what you are and aren’t responsible for. We are not responsible for lives and welfare and civility of others in this world. We are responsible (and willing) to be humans that are compassionate, inquisitive and lovable and we’re charged to build a society in which such traits dwell.









Fly Again

Sarah was a young girl both pretty and fragile. Her whole world was covered in white: her bed, sheet, and the bandage entwined around her limbs. The doctor said the bleeding could one day be cured. He had never told her when. Her life, as was told, was to stay on bed without shifting a muscle. However, she would dare a inch beyond that and peek out her large bedroom window to see the subjacent street.

The street in front of Sarah’s apartment was a market place. It was full of stands, carriage, and people shouting prices to each other. It was dirty and messy. Comparing to this, Sarah’s white room was a high up sanctuary. But, Sarah, like most of kids, views their world without realistic prejudice and practical assumption. For her, the world outside was colorful, amazing and full of wonders.

Being on bed whole day made Sarah quite a drawer. She drew every thing in the small frame of her limited observation. Those include traders, stands, carriages, roofs and birds. A professional artist would think that her drawing lacks details. She missed how people’s expressions were bothered and unhappy, how the horses driving carriage were dropping their head in fatigue and how the street was messy and dirty. However, for the common eye like mine, Sarah’s drawings were absolutely beautiful. Drawing birds was Sarah’s specialty. Birds refer to sparrows, crows and occasional gulls. Sarah would give them each a pair of exaggerated large and beautiful wings like those of angels for such was her impression of their lives to be like, angels.

Then one day came the small demon of this sad story. It was a tigress cub.

The girl saw the tiny striped furball one day being auctioned on the market. She called her dad and asked him to buy the small cub as her pet. The father, knowing not it was the beginning of his problems, decided it would be good having a living creature around his immobilized daughter. He bought the cub for Sarah. Troubles followed closely behind. Upon arrival, the little beast clawed the girl and made the whole family busy for a whole day calling doctor for Sarah and tying to capture the cub and lock it. In the following days, the matter got even worse. The cub would run and mess up the household and snarl loudly and show hostility to the host who feeds it.

Sarah might think the animal would live in harmony with humans. It was a naïve girly notion indeed. The cub was from wildness and possessed none the quiet and cultivated mindset of Sarah’s. She soon gave up on letting the cat approach her and surrender her interaction with the cub to her mere observation of cub clawing the window and ramming the door in vain attempt to escape. Sometimes, she was psycho enough to talk to the beast. Then she would ask why the little creature was so full of anger and resolve, what had happened in its past? “Have they killed your parents?” The only answer from the cub was a sound snarl.

Then the whole house was hating the beast. When it was not on Sarah’s eyes, they would take the cub and beat it with a rod. That adds on how the female tiger cub was playing ruthlessly made it always appeared with bruises, but odd enough, the girl wouldn’t give up the little beast neither did it die. To the surprise of the people who hated it, the half-fed cub grows in a fairy-tale rate.

In the meantime, people around Sarah started to notice her change. It first appeared as her illness was worsened and her bleeding took a much higher frequency. one day, one of the maids walked into Sarah’s room and dropped breakfast in shock seeing Sarah standing in front of window. The father talked to the girl asking why she was moving her body but Sarah wouldn’t say anything other than “sorry”.

In those days, Sarah gave up her drawings. She would get off bed when nobody was in her room and join the cub in its play. It started to show affections to the girl and it did much to lighten her heart. She even dare to open her window letting air carrying wild savor and disease into her room.

Sarah’s family was confused in girls continually worsened bleeding and her obvious joy. Many had talked to the girl advising her not to use her body and worsen her condition. One of them said to Sarah “don’t give up on life, don’t give up on what tomorrow promises.” She looked deep into his eyes and answered “don’t give up on life indeed.”

After diagnosis, doctor told Sarah’s father she wouldn’t hold for long. The father sadly accepted the news. He talked to the girl telling her he wouldn’t give up on his daughter and she should live as best as she could. The father kept his promise and carry out a wish by his daughter.

It was during the time when Sarah was getting weaker. By her wish, the tigress cub was still in her room although it was a larger cub by then. She tried to portray her favorite pet, but soon found out it was difficult to do so. The cub was moving constantly, and it was hard to capture its pose and the dazzling dynamics of its movement. She didn’t wait for cub to go asleep for she didn’t want to portray her cub sleeping. So she decided to use her imagination to draw a standing tigress cub. Upon finish, she looked at her drawing and compared it to the cub. The cub on her paper was much larger and matured as if it was what the cub would look like a few years forward, a real tigress. Tears streamed down her pale cheek as she thought how happy she would be to see cub like that one day. Just than, as if lighting split her mind, she started to draw, rapidly. A new object appeared on tigress’s back. It extended its feather to form a pair of white, angel-like wings. It was a pair of wings she used to draw on birds, but then it was on tigress. It gives the cub a solemn and heavenly looking she just stared in awe. She called her father and told him her wish for the cub to be release to the wild. “but it will never survive out there” argued the man. She put a finger on her mouth gently hushed him. “Don’t give up on life; don’t give up on tomorrow’s promise.” She said softly.

That was the last picture she ever drew, and the last wish by her. The cub was never heard of after release and some still thought it was the devil behind this fatal tragedy.

Now the girl was gone. But we can’t easily forget her, because a lot of our dreams are like Sarah, both pretty and fragile. We peek out behind the watch glass but dare not to probe in fear of it would shatter. Then dream comes as a cub, strong, impatient. It never stopped to wait its cue. Wings are as easily taking flight as breaking down, but dreams are also a tigress cub, who will bleed, persist, grow, wings rebuilt, and fly again.