Saturday, July 13, 2013

There Political Poems

What A Great Wall! 
- Inspired by China Commy Government Firewall Installation

Mud Wrestling 
- Bible scripture and some documentary film image

Secure the American Dream
- Mr. Bill Moyers' Frontline film on PBS

I am glad I also have 3 political poems, I kind of feel it's my mission to use my poetry talent to help poor common people and society, I'm not little David can beat down giant Goliath, at least I have tried to throw a few rocks at the bad system, who knows it's already crumbling within.

Secure the American Dream

Secure the American Dream
Laijon Liu 20130711

The meaning of security in dictionary:
The state of being free from danger or threat

To me security means:
The state of being free from hunger or unemployment
so people can enjoy their life, exercise liberty and pursuit of happiness.

Men in uniform with gun do not make people feel safe,
Nor an elegant speech does bring security to the common.

On our borders we build fence and walls, thru history
men routined to do that, beyond the wall there are barbarians
within the wall there are hopeless laboring slaves
on both side people cut off by the wall are secured.

I learned to compose a speech
to secure me a political position;
I learned to serve the special interest
so the majority will be saved;
I learned to protect the cracked system
and hope one day it somehow fixes itself.

NSA scan email and phone calls
they make sure America is secured;
soldiers collapse in far deserts
for the safety of their homeland;
young grads pop beer in their parents basement
a jobless shelter is temporarily secured.

I’ve never had feeling the world is safe
I am never afraid of war or terrorist extreme act
I’m in America, I trust US soldiers, cops and firefighters
but I am afraid of hunger, disease and unemployment
the tuition can shatter parents’ saving and kids’ career
the surgery cost rings like a bomb demolishes a house
as many hopeless jobless Americans I search on Craiglist
there’re some employers wouldn’t bother to post a pay rate!

Thanks to the beloved Senators and administrations
big and small corps can hire knock off oversea labors
cheap crap surge like tsunami, rise from the raped yellow earth
washing every continents and seaports
winners take all, this global market economy is secured.

I understand politicians must work for their donors first
like hounds chasing rabbits afront their riding masters
so their political career is secured,
their job creators’ pocket is secured,
the rest and middle class will hear the secure plan every 4 year
and wonder what is American Dream?

it’s American custom to watch documentary on 3rd week of Jan
together people stretch their voice repeatedly call out:
“I Have A Dream! I Have A Dream! I Have A Dream!”
til their American Dream Is miraculously Secured.

This poem is inspired by Mr. Bill Moyers' Frontline documentary film on PBS.

Thursday, July 11, 2013

Nana Mouskouri’s cd album [I’ll remember you]

My Friends,

Through my songs I have learned that life was never meant to be just a path
to a final destination but a wonderful journey into music, with Love, Honesty, and Truth.
People helped me to see and feel the loyalty and humanity around me.

Songs took me through pathways, streets and boulevards, across roads and highways,
showed me rivers and streams, open seas and oceans, hills and fields, mountains,
storms and rough waters, only to show me that if you believe all the way, at the end
there are rainbows, sunshine, hopes, blue skies, moonlight and starry nights,
and that dreams can come true. It does not really matter what you do.
The most important is the why and how you do it.

It takes most of all the energy of Love, Curiosity to listen, Enthusiasm, Dignity
and Respect. Somehow I was always instinctively, destined to be a singer and singing
has become my way of living for all these years. There were encounters friends and emotions
that brought to listen and then learn, and I am still learning.


This is extract from Nana Mouskouri’s cd album [I’ll remember you], written by Nana, beautiful prose.

Saturday, July 6, 2013

Mud Wrestling

Mud Wrestling
Laijon Liu 20130706

Cursed is the ground for your sake;
In toil you shall eat of it
All the days of your life.
Both thorns and thistles it shall bring forth for you,
And you shall eat the herb of the field.
In the sweat of your face you shall eat bread
Till you return to the ground,
For out of it you were taken;
For dust you are,
And to dust you shall return.”                                             - Genesis 3:17-19

dark soil, brown dirt, yellow sand, red clay...
this is what Earth made of,
in it life born, nurtured and dies.

God Yahweh, and, goddess Nuwa also used it
for the mastery of their life achievement creation
mineral, nutrients, roots, gold, and diamond hide in it
dinosaur skeleton and dump scientists sample it
scattered buried bones and skulls for archeologists to find
even climate catastrophe and falling stars are registered in it

Mud represents a label:
filth, low status and failure
anyone slippery fall in it, is a tragedy
surely that becomes bystander’s laughing stock

men are but muddy human figures struggling in dirt field
in its color we lose our identity and nationality
politicians and businessmen all in a dirty game
title, suit, leather shoes, big desk and golf course
all covered in a true brown color
ideal, dream, principal and law are mixed in a giant pot
our globe rotates like a cement mixer
we are the mud, become concrete, become architecture art
we are built, and we are torn down

market capital concept is developed after industrial revolution
miners, factory workers and farmers are created by dirt and mud
before 18th century people pant in it
after, people blow it into the sky
machinery replaces labors, earth produces more
every invention draws a wrestle of investment

millions WWII soldiers, crawling on black and white screen
Nazi, Red Army, American, Europeans, Japanese, Chinese....
they twisted and moved like earthworm
struggled in a same muddy dirt uniform
their field was a huge swamp, in it they rolled
till they became the mud, became the swamp

in Africa millions children crying in bony shapes
their big hunger filled eyes, staring at camera and world
to me they all look the same
to their parents they are all the same
in poverty and dark shelter they are born
on dirt road they bared foot walk and run

thousands young men running in Mideast desert
their anger burns like scorching sand
it seems their desert absorbs too much sunlight
too much heat, too much thirst
their faith is burning, their mind is burning
and they suddenly explode, scattered in hot sand

little pupils bearing their school bags
their text books weight like stones
billions of them, ready to memorize every book
they are born to compete, disciplined to achieve
“no pain no gain” is their slogan, endure bitterness is their fate
they strive to grow up, to sell off their rare earth
so they won’t dig the coal dirt

Mud is filth, mud is holy
it contains memory and desires
joy, grief, and thrill
sweat, blood, and greed

it blinds us,
it enlightens us with God’s spit and tears.