Foot and Fire

         Disclaimer:  I am a self-confessed Park Bo-gum fan. I mean, he can be a believable Olympian boxer here, and also a silly pet puppy at the same time.  But that does not mean I watched the series solely on that ground. I watched his latest TV series Good Boy for another icing on top of the cake: a good story line. The central story of Good Boy is pursuing good to defeat the evil that is corruption. The former athletes, who were at one moment in time hailed heroes when they got their Olympic medals, joined the police force only to be discriminated against as "privileged," "no guts," "poster girl," "no good" and so on. And since, we are on this, let me say that the story line has some potential to be a classic but the comedy in an action K-series ruined that potential. But well, I'm not surprised. Disappointed? Yes, a bit because I love the reference to the poem of Yun Dongju.           The character of Pa...

Do not go gentle into that cave of billions, honest people should burn and rave  about “labor is honor” every pay day, and  rage, rage against the dying of the conscience. Good people, pinned against the wall,  know glitters are strong and blinding  for their honest words had forked no lightning,  and yet honorably, they again and again do not go gentle into that cave of billions. Good people, some of them wave by,  crying how the cave’s full of glitters, their frail resistance even rewarded them  with luxury cars with premium umbrellas. rage, rage against the dying of their conscience. Corrupt people, who were caught and now try hard  to declare that their cave is dull and empty, learn, albeit too late, they deserve to grieve  on their way to the pinnacle of shame. Told you:  do not go gentle into that cave of billions. Nepo babies, living like barbie dolls & movie stars, they’re such a blinding sight, shimmering stars...

Summons of Spring By Gerlie Uy 5.15.24 The fountain of spring awaits; for me is the sea of tulips  bursting with colors and shapes, an ocean of cherry blossoms in the coast of Brooklyn greeneries, a river of pinkish magnolias after flying with the soft wind. My Rilke summons me; to the creek of poetry I must quickly run to and swim. The fountain of spring awaits telling me            be here           be here on time           you're here just in time. To my Rilke, spring and poetry, I'll swim with you in many springs hereafter.