Showing posts from April, 2018

The very interesting poetry of Mao

Mao was a fine enough poet that despite his legacy in China, his poetry probably would still be remembered today.    If a book on 20 th Century Chinese Poetry was written, he would have been mentioned.    I will not talk about Mao’s poetic presence in the greater sense of Chinese History.   I do not have that skillset.   Reading Mao’s poetry today in my view really brings out the man himself.    As he was China’s leader for so long, his poetry is a useful tool into how Mao believed his destiny would unfold.    This is a post I’ve been wanting to write for maybe 3 years now.    We keep checking off the boxes folks.    Let’s go: Some of Mao’s poetry is brutally……sensitive.   As China’s leader, his poetry is even more read of course.   Posters, movies, classrooms.   His poetry is China’s.    By that I mean it is a poetry that could only be written by a patriotic Chinese, during revolutionary times.     This is a Man that truly wanted a Better China.    His poetry reflects that.

Yada Yada Yada....

This country is no place for you.   Go home.   It’s crumbling roads.   It’s rusty subways, and long ribbons of headlight each and every morning heading into the city.    It’s Blacks, and Hispanics.   The Arabs and whoever else you want to call out.    People you never came across in your own country you now must deal with every day.   Does it unsettle you? The white men killing themselves in droves, stuck in a life with no rainbow in sight, working more from fear of losing ones’ health insurance than any joy or optimism for tomorrow. Why did you come here? You’ve made this place your adopted homeland yet you probably have no earthly idea who Bill Cosby is.   Or Seinfeld.    Or even Wolf Blitzer.   Few of you have cable TV.   Because you don’t watch American TV.   You are completely unassimilated and yet you have an American passport. Now how the hell did that happen? You maybe have heard of Martin Luther King, but I’m thinking most of you haven’t and you sure as  he


I remember this lady, not because she was the only married Chinese woman I had an affair with (she wasn’t), but because of her casual acceptance of her fate.   She didn’t seem sad.   And I guess that made me wonder how my life would wind up.   I just didn’t think I’d be the happy go lucky type.   I still don’t.    But this chick it was clear to me simply didn’t think in those terms.    She seemed content with her life.    She simply wasn’t getting laid enough.   And I took care of that right away. When she was over she was all smiles.    Never a frown.   Never a sour word.   We simply screwed, talked, screwed again, and then she left.   Sometimes though I simply couldn’t help her out more than once.   She would linger, get the point and go home.    Only to bother me the next night, or maybe the night after. Soon I began to simply ignore her texts.   Or just tell her something like, “Sorry, I’m still at the factory.” Then after a while believe it or not I began to