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  • Poetry on My Own Identity
    Kaydi Chou
    11 Jul 2004


    There are a lot of Me poems out there
    Describing their writers with wit.

    But mine,
    Is honest
    And calm
    And true.

    There are no similes
    But straight facts,
    No metaphors
    But astounding bluntness.


    So some of the edges
    Of the harsh words
    Are softened,

    And a splash
    Of femininity
    Runs across the page.

    But I am a writer.
    That is what I do.

    I'll write my Me poem
    On pink paper
    Sprayed with bright citrus

    But I will write in print,
    Not cursive,
    Because my Me poem
    Will not be that feminine.

    And in between the lines
    I'll add myself-
    My curiosity,
    My creativity,
    My caring nature.

    Through my poem,
    People will see

    They will see my pain
    And suffering
    Through the troubles
    I have faced
    Which will be
    Blazoned in my passionate words.

    My love for life
    And others
    Will shine through
    Letters like
    and E.

    The way I hold my hands,
    The way I touch my face,
    And the way I carry
    Will be there
    For everyone to see,
    As told by the noble
    Diction that I will choose.

    People will know
    Who I am
    Through my Me poem.

    They will know my laugh,
    My song,
    My message,
    Which will be proclaimed
    With subtle curiosity.

    Every shade I am,
    Every tinge I turn,
    Every color I fade
    Will be seen
    In the black printed ink.

    For my poem
    Will be a Me poem,
    And like its name,
    It will be just like me.



    Sit sit sit
    The door creaks open
    Then shuts closed
    The monotony lulls in the angel choir

    Lord Lord Lord

    And the pictures on the walls
    Of cherry trees and pale Chinese maidens
    Stand still and quiet in silent hopes
    That people will come again.

    Clink tink tink
    The crooked dirty silverware
    Slides around in grimy plastic bins
    As eaten food
    Glides around on chipped porcelain

    Red lanterns
    Braised beef
    And steamy kitchen smells
    Sift through the "In" and "Out" doors
    With open candidness

    Little fish in big tanks
    Big fish in little tanks
    Like the people in the booths

    Credit cards
    And cash money
    Come in and out
    Babies scream and everone stares
    "Can I get some take out?"

    Paid and waiting
    Hunan chicken
    Sesame beef
    Painful feet

    Damn shoes



    Hearts of the unprotected
    The rejected
    The infected
    Blur in the light of the sun
    Where sins are shame
    And shame is blame
    That rots to pieces down the run

    So join hands
    And throw your troubles into the center of the circle
    Where children cry
    And parents lie
    All to avoid the trouble

    Of understanding
    The demandings
    Of life at its troubled best
    So throw your trouble
    Like the spit
    Kept in your empty chest

    Hollow words
    Are hallowed
    By the ears of Time
    While the colors
    Of white lies
    Are seen solely by the blind

    And the creepings
    Of tea steepings
    Drunk by English rhyme
    Are made common by
    The wicked men
    Who eat cake laced with thyme

    And time will only tell
    Of the sins of all the Men
    From William Tell
    To sweet Adele
    And all thereforth within



    If you looked into my eyes
    And discovered all the lies
    That have built up
    And regulated over the years

    Would you cry
    And stretch out your hand
    In a futile last attempt
    To save me?

    Or would you allow me to fall to my death
    Upon the breath
    Of a quick wind?

    Oh sweet bitter
    Cold wind
    Life me up and float me away to another summer day

    Where it will rain
    And I can sit there
    And feel the empty pain
    Of all the lies I have told
    Conceived in every raindrop

    Like Karma
    Like Sin
    Like the Golden Rule
    Let the pain
    And the hate
    Come back to me
    Which I have started

    I am not afraid to die
    Even if on the inside
    I am not afriad
    To let my empty shell
    Smile and laugh
    On a sunny day

    When it will rain
    And all the smiles will be pain
    And all laughs will be empty

    It matters little what I do
    For I am one of many
    It matters little what I say
    For many just make of it a mockery

    But it matters much for what I cry
    For tears only fall once
    Before they are lost to the world

    So let me die
    Sweet bitter
    Cold Wind
    Come fly me away
    To a summer day
    Where it will always rain
    And I can feel the pain.



    A shadow in the corner
    Huddled beneath the dark
    Breathes softly
    Icy breath that comes in and out in soft white misty vapors

    She shifts and moves
    Greasy hair in dank pieces fall around her face
    And her stomach rumbles as if driven by demons from Depths

    Her slow heartbeat
    Soft but steady
    Rattles her little body
    And her theiving mischieving eyes look around shakily

    It is cold and it is dark
    It is night and no one is around
    There is but one streetlight that casts distorted shadows on the brick walls of the alleyway

    Fingers bared to the cold
    Shivering getting stronger
    Along the tops of the buildings
    Strung are moods of life

    Foods and laughter
    Perfume and calogne
    Sheer and utter delight
    In a fantasy too far away and beyond reach for poor little beggar girls

    All alone in the dark little alley way
    With no one to see
    No one to watch
    No one watching

    Her eyelids fall heavy
    Things start to blur
    And empty stomach reminds her it is not too late
    But the heaviness of boots and clothes and limbs keeps her from moving

    Sunken eyes look up into the streetlight
    It turns orange and then white
    Her eyes are yellow
    With a small gasp from her two part'd and chap'd lips

    She says, "


    The End is supposed to end that way- in an abrupt stop. It has been said that we are born in a flash of life, and we die in the blink of an eye.