They cut with blade and wait not to see the pain in their foe’s eyes
They are cut and do not hesitate to examine their own wounds
To process the mortality of their shallow beliefs
They, nay, WE - slash and bait and smash

Hatred is reserved for those who do not agree with us
And we are ready to defy the second greatest law
Over intellectual property which has been declared worthless
For the fools know it all, and the wise know nothing at all

In other words, we are fools when we grasp for the recognition of our prowess
We are fools when we boast that we understand
Our understanding is merely a drop in the ocean
Our understanding is a piss-covered mirror

And we stare lovingly at ourselves between the amber cracks
We stare lovingly at ourselves between the amber cracks

The air is thick on a night like tonight
And the nation celebrates its independence
By parking far, and walking down sidewalks
To get a good view of lights in the air
Sparks
Explosions in the sky that are more dramatic
Than anything in our minds
We seek outbursts, we seek outburst

I seek independence
We all search far and wide for freedom
From each other
For each other
But the truth is we are tied forever
To each other
Our dreams are the same
And on a slow burn as the world turns

A night out painting the town red
The color of blood, the color of the heart
Cranberry juice mixed with soda, is it true?
It’s not every night that I paint nowadays

But to see the whoopin’ and hollerin’
Brings memories of when I felt that thrill
To be surrounded by humanity
Short and tall
Fat and skinny

Although I’m not sure those words are politically correct
I know a night out is just an excuse to mix with that humanity
To talk to brothers in A.A., thirty days
Who came out to L.A. to pursue a dream

But instead many find nightmares
And find out that decisions can be called mistakes
That your weaknesses can really kill you
And sometimes the only way out, is to…

…Admit that you’ve made mistakes
…And believe that you can change
…To understand that you have to take control
…And that destiny’s just the sum of your decisions

But what are you adding to the mix?
Some of us see the fame and the glamour
Some of us see the sleaze and the crime
That humanity brings upon humanity

Let me just ask, are you adding or subtracting?

I asked mother about her father, and at first the information came slowly. She didn’t have a lot to say about him. He was in business. Or rather, he was a business owner. The whole story I got from her is typed out in a separate document. I noted that as I concluded the interview and said I probably had enough information for this assignment, she asked, “You don’t need any information about mother?” Apparently, she was closer to her mother than her father.

Having received all this information about her side of the family, I’m filled with emotion right now. It’s inside, right at my heart. I don’t know what it is. I think part of it is a sadness at knowing more about some of the tragedy of my mom’s life. Her brothers and sisters are spread across the world. The time of her marriage to dad, and even my birth, were times of strife, with the Communists taking over South Vietnam. She went from a state of relative wealth in Vietnam to poverty here in the US. But perhaps more traumatic for her, moving from a place where family surrounded her to being here in the US, relatively “alone” with dad, and us. At this moment, I realize that this is very cathartic for me. I hope to ask my dad about his family next. The assignment says, “You may find that the story you are seeking has always been at your fingertips.”

It feels so true.

I am getting a sense lately that I am less interested now in fantasy and science fiction, and more interested in matters of the heart. My heart, and the hearts of my potential readers. If I have been given the ability to tap into both with my writing, I should explore that. So does this mean I am more concerned now with touching the heart than with touching the mind?

A Poem Written Later

I have come to the edge of the river of history
To hear my mother’s voice tell me about things previously unknown
To me
I had come on a fact-finding mission
A sterile documentation of things pertaining to fathers and mothers,
And brothers and sisters
And nephews and cousins
And, in extension, me
I have come to the edge of the river of history
The water refreshed me on a hot day
My mother’s voice, initially hesitant
But eventually nostalgic
Came from the waters
My mother’s voice informed me about things previously unknown
Until now
I only came to take notes
To gather information
But I left with the story of my mother’s family
The story of fathers and mothers
And brothers and sisters
And nephews and cousins
And me
My mother’s father, his name was Tu
Came from turbulent times in China
In the 1920’s
To find relative success in Vietnam
He bought a hand rice grinder
Which turned rice into powder into cash
He found a wife, her name was Nguyet
Eight children they reared
Four men and four women, my mother being the youngest
A strict disciplinarian grandfather Tu was
He who punished the daughters for staying out late
He who forbid the Vietnamese language to be spoken in the house
You must speak your native tongue, Chinese
He who disallowed growing your hair long, like the Vietnamese do
While others gambled and partied at the New Year
The sons and daughters hid when grandfather Tu came home
So work they did
A wholesale rice store they built
Also a general store
Shoes, toothpaste, fishing nets they sold
The children married
But from the North came a threat
Communists pushed to take over
Eventually, they did
The day I was born
Soldiers took over our family home
Staying for three days
My mother in the hospital
Cried so much her eyes are bad to this day
When the Communists said that the Chinese can leave the country
We left
Grandfather Tu had died of stomach cancer
My mother and her seven siblings were scattered across the globe
Canada, Belgium, Germany, China, Holland, the United States
Our ship out of Vietnam was boarded and robbed by pirates
We are lucky to be alive

I was born in the middle of strife, separation and pain
I was brought into the new world with nothing
The river of history told me so
In my mother’s voice I heard
The facts and informative statements
Which I stored in the proper sectors of my brain
But a funny thing happened at the river’s edge
I cried
And cried and cried and cried
Because this was the story of fathers and mothers
And brothers and sisters
And nephews and cousins
And me
Of our lives, and struggles, and hopes, and fears
And of my mother crying on the day I was born
Until her eyes became bad
My mother cried on the day I was born
In fear and anguish
Her family held hostage
In their very home
I lay in bed and the river of history poured out of my eyes
It came washing over my heart
And I felt the burden of a family’s history
That has led from China to Vietnam to the United States
And here I am
A lazy American
A selfish man
An inadequate son
Unlike the other sons of history
Who ground rice by hand
Who toiled and built
Who fought wars
Who hoped and dreamed before me
And here I am
Crying on the river’s edge
So lonely in this moment
And yet in such good company

But today I opened up a chocolate-covered fortune cookie
(it was white chocolate by the way)
And it was empty and hollow
My lunchmates received fortunes
It was I who was missing out
“It figures” I said
And my lovely lunchmate said
“Don’t say that”
“I was joking”
“No you meant it”

So today I opened up a chocolate-covered fortune cookie
But it didn’t have anything to say
I guess I should be looking elsewhere
For that kind of thing anyway
The kind of thing that helps you
Make decisions
Who makes decisions based on fortune cookies?
My other lunchmate said
“So-and-so is a gemini, if you believe in that sort of thing”

Although I did open up a chocolate-covered fortune cookie
And I did expect something
Even if it’s just for fun
But is it fun to look for humor
In a hollow cookie shell
With a white piece of paper
With little ink lines that spell
Your random fortune?
Yes

Of course I opened up a chocolate-covered fortune cookie
Today at lunch
It’s free you know
And I didn’t have my Holy Book with me
At that moment
So I bit into the chocolate-covered fortune cookie
I do like white chocolate by the way
And I enjoyed the cookie
But inside it was empty and hollow

it’s a graveyard of memories, steep in images
still pictures, camera flashes, a slideshow that loops
my soul’s a chameleon that adjusts to the light
people’s faces, her face, many places bully me in groups

10am meeting’s got me worried about the hour
while 10 thousand things got me buried in the rubble
i’d give my brain if it’ll just shut the hell up
i’d give my heart and my eyes to save God the trouble

yes, look into my scrapbook, and drop me your two pennies
examine the resolution, adjust the color, and come to your conclusion
crack open my journal, and do your impersonation
the ink’s still wet, maybe you can rewrite my words
2 pennies, 2 cents, i’d give you a hundred
if you can rewind the time, and put me to rest

Complexity has no place within this communication
I say yes, when I mean yes, you say no, when you mean no
No tricks, no tests, no fog of war to hide true intentions
Simplicity has a place within this examination

Clear mind, clear soul, clear thoughts in a polluted world
Clear aim, clear purpose, clear action placed in constant exchange
Don’t misguide me or silence me or shut me down
Simple words and simple acts to save me from your crushing hold

Let me collect the two hundred as I pass the green
And let me say yes, this is my weakness exposed
My point is simple, poetic I don’t need to be
Simple words and simple acts, be straightforward, I mean

They say a lot happens in this town
That it entices you with the possibilities
Follow the trails of green paperback and you will find
What you look for
Exotic curries, glittering martinis, short skirts and silk shirts
Lining the Boulevard
But in a city of millions, a lonely soul calls out into cyberspace,
“It’s 9:30, going out for drinks at 10:30, anyone want to join me!?”
An exclamation and a question at the same time

Heartbreak in a four-sided room
With a small window in which to listen to the world
And sometimes peek through
In a city of millions, I wonder who to call tonight
And yet ignore the calls that come in
In a city of millions, I wonder who to meet tomorrow
Because the air in here grows stale
In the City of Angels, a believer of God
Can get lost too, amidst all the work that must be done