cardstock heroes

Walking through the arid spaces of a shadowed alleyway,
The same filmed scene replays itself again,
Nearby an elderly woman is searching through rubbish bins,
While a bearded man on cardboard planks lets out a silent cough,
This is the life that perpetuates itself,
There is no escape as the dilapidated walls close in,
As the decrepit ladders rise further out of reach,
Unless, unless…

Born with the capability of sight, thought, and speech,
One has the ability to see how the system oppresses us so.

Though societal complacency may be the cause,
Or binding contracts which keep us down,
Or perhaps even without realizing what is,
We can work the system to our collective gain,
To create a different sort of eminent change,
To benefit our common humanity and dissolve its ignorance,
By thinking, speaking, acting anew.

Cardstock heroes and felt-tip marker.
Scratch the ground with your shoe.

nocturne

It is late at night
And the North Star is shining.
The mist covers the rice-fields
And the bamboos
Are whispering full of crickets.
The watch beats on the iron-wood gong,
And priests are ringing the pagoda bells.
We hear the far-away games of peasants
And distant singing in the cottages.

It is late at night.
As we talk gently,
Sitting by one another,
Life is as beautiful as night.
The red moon is rising
On the mountain side
Like a fire started among the trees.

There is the North Star
Shining like a paper lantern.
The light air brings dew to our faces
And the sound of tamtams beaten far away.
Let us sit like this all night.

(Song of Annam, "Nocturne," p. 34-35)