Tag Archives: poetry

Original poetry and translations of poetry by Warren M Tang ©.

sunday afternoon

slow but not
slow enough
is the sunday rest

tapping keyboards
before going to listen
to that strum and rap

all so uncanny
what technique is that
talking, talking

to lost acquaintances
before being bored
with the sunday afternoon

Multiplicity

not one, many
sometimes
we come together
but in the end
we come apart
into regression
a reverse infinite

nothing (no thing)
is missing
like a complete set
only to be added to
supplemented
to start all over again
never coming to a close

identities
by difference
& differance
only in differences
that things (yes, things!)
shall contain in it
imperfect meaning

nude

it isn’t being “naked”
they are different things
meaning is there from
our point of view
pet dogs see
nothing in our
flesh anymore
than we see
eros in theirs
in art the nude
is a symbol of
some deeper
misunderstanding
as man nothing more
rushes to our heads
than those very
curvatures and
as woman
lean strength
signals
security
that more
or less
guarantees
our future

(In response to Nude: Art from the Tate Collection exhibition currently showing at Yokohama Museum of Art.)

one, forty-two

everything real
has a positive
equal value
called existence

un-equivalence
is our choice
our preference
our bias
our privileging
of a thing
over others

be it god
the self
the soul
or whatnot

that
is the nature
of me
a human being

E=mc²

think about it –

energy
is matter
is space
is time

while god
maybe 0
the world
is an integer

and nietzsche
may have
proclaimed
“god is dead”

but to me
“god is ‘nothing’
& the world is
everything”

from the world
came god and gods,
not the other way
as we might believe

i like god

i like god but
only in the same way
that i like harry potter
or purple unicorns

if god makes someone
a better person, i am happy
but i am annoyed when god
tells me i have to believe in him

it seems easier for god
to tell me these things
through others, and never
to speak to me directly

i am not worthy (they say)
to hear god’s voice
or to be graced
with his presence

or is it just
his presence
is in the word,
and word alone

either way
i like god
and, yes, i “know”
he likes me

hospital ward

the smell of dying
and death overflows
into the hallways
fills the rooms

they wait seemingly
in silence resigned
to the inevitable
carers indifferent
to it all and
visitors numbed

but life
must make way
for new life
in its march
to the song
of evolution
to the harmony
of survival