A Trip Back to Korea
"Out of the sighs the little comes"
A deep moan of pity
Cascading over a conquered people
Their demise was not at the hands of militancy
The slow trickle of pained dull eyes comes from
Speakers, screens, denim, and glittery paper
They'll never suck the true killers breast
Never reap her loins on their own
They can only sit blindly as pretty packages
Pour down a conveyer belt into their homes and hearts
As they sway and bob to what they are fed
They only sense the lost causes
Of ancestors, old eyes, sagging backs
And traditions that seem so meaningless
In the face of a smile
The few serfs from the evil land arrive
All dressed in pretty satin
To rape withered fruit and drink sugared water
Just as lost
How dare they leave their homes
For the retarded glance, second balcony, third tier arena
How dare they come here reborn
How dare they not feel pity on this place
Imitation is two fold
This is communism
Blind and numb dictatorship through consumerism
The weak exchange their histories gold
For shiny baubles of sex and freedom
Plymouth rock has landed here
The pilgrims are more cowardly
Less present and more sinister
The wool is pulled down over these sparkling eyes
The vote has been caste for ease and release
The victors are not present to receive nomination
And the mystique has even confused the maestro
For he conducts the orchestra of false
Under the pretense of his own ego and fame
And these people play their horns and dance their steps
To the devil's tune
To the chosen tune
As I sit in the third balcony or side bar
Embarrassed and sadly proud of the demolition
But guilty am I
And in the same pitied place I sit
To wear the burden of my own accusations
Blowing my horn and dancing to the music