Poem: The Future

At bottom is a gulf between, each and every

soul bent apart, twisted pygmy, reading eyelids

inner night vision, grasping hopeless horror

overlong listing in slumber, bored building blocks

bastardize violence, besmirch baritone drawls

deeply resonant, like a tuning

fork in the throat, bleeding us empty, helpless

plaintiff stemming with chopsticks, humanity falls away

in modern times, naught to be done.

 

OR, the holy 2-letter bite size

spit bubble, opening trapdoor politics with a hammer

sickle and sinister thought, rising tides horizon

settling a score as old as time, versus confusion

fakery, swat the flies, kill the beasts, trample the protestors

on the capitol steps, as do what thou wilt

is the only law, if you can afford it, that is

factual forces farm, blood fertilizing the soil

with souls of sinners, we will dance, hopefully.

Poem: The Future

Movie Review: Oldboy (2003)

Oldboy (2003)

Director: Park Chan-wook

Writer: Garon Tsuchiya (story), Nobuaki Minegishi (comic), Park Chan-wook, Chun-hyeong Lim, Jo-yun Hwang (screenplay)

Actors: Choi Min-sik, Yoo Ji-tae, Hye-jeong Kang

Available now on Netflix

When I first saw it in 2005, Park Chan-wook’s seminal standout Oldboy knocked me on my ass, enrapturing me in a world of heretofore unrealized filmmaking potential.  It seemed so alive.  From the first scene of Oh Dae-su (Choi Min-sik) yelping in drunken rage from a bench in the police station, it was plainly evident that this film was the work of a master.  From the exquisitely crafted set pieces to the relentless movement of the action scenes, it is easy to see why this movie, which was not originally submitted for competition to the Cannes film festival, ended up winning the Grand Prix (unofficial second place).  Though at it’s heart, Oldboy is in many ways a horror movie, and the squeamish might do themselves a favor by staying away, for those with the stomach for it, there is scarcely a better movie-watching experience to be had.

At the beginning of the movie, Oh Dae-su (Choi Min-sik), a nondescript, drunken Korean office worker, is kidnapped and imprisoned in what seems like a shabby hotel room.  He is kept prisoner in this one room for fifteen years.  In these fifteen long years, while he trains himself obsessively, he also becomes increasingly unhinged.  When he is unexpectedly released inside of a suitcase on top of a high-rise, he has only one goal, to discover what happened to him.  This is a very compelling plot line, and though I believe it would have been engrossing enough to hold my interest whoever the performers were, Choi Min-sik does a superb job of making his character seem genuinely deranged.  When he is released on the skyscraper’s roof, he stops a man from committing suicide, only to break into a wide grin as the man finally does kill himself moments afterwards.

As the plot twists its way through various insane and unseemly revelations, Park Chan-wook fills the movie’s running time with unforgettable scenes and sequences, creating an entrancing head-trip of a movie.  One scene that is undoubtedly the movie’s feature attraction, a three-minute fight scene where the hero dispatches with a hallway full of faceless thugs using only a hammer, is only one of the notable scenes in Oldboy.  Choi Min-sik devouring a living octopus whole, as well as the villain (Yoo Ji-tae) clad in a gas mask and hazmat suit spooning a naked Oh Dae-su are two more examples of the enthralling artistry on display in this movie.

As the particularities of the plot reveal themselves and the story delivers a sickening denouement, the true intricacy of Oldboy reveals itself.  As the movie ends and each character’s path finds its own twisted conclusion, a message finally makes itself clear.  This is a movie about obsession, showing the way that vengeance, especially when taken to its greatest possible extremes, brings only evil into the world.  Through his use of ecstatically inventive filmmaking, Park Chan-wook has created an unflinching, deeply entertaining, and philosophically relevant work of art.

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Movie Review: Oldboy (2003)

Poem: Beacon

Hollow artifice, ironically surrendering, seriously

stationing paper doll houses, slinkily pointed snakebite

venom of eternity, puncturing the platitudinous

anchors chaining patriarchy, stone faces, mountain hollows

frakked for gold and frankincense, under the glower

cloudless blue forever, until it burns to see

what’s being done, that it is nothing until tomorrow

tornado sharks raining, spin one eighty

jesus christ it’s almost here, unstoppable endings.

 

Fear the fathomless hope, haunting dreams

whistling horror head holes, wicked banalities

whisper “never” sweetly, to be ignored

forever, fight with a smiling fist, into the mirror

frowning falsehoods, discover the dawn break

exterior startling, feelings dazzle the drunken

heart breakers, flash the bro faces blind

stumbling over footstools, existing as a hurricane

lighthouse unmoving, point the way to the soul.

Poem: Beacon

Poetry: Frustrations

Helpless shitting, that’s what we call it

when you spew your poison, out into the air

with its fascist leanings, but you can’t help yourself

can you, malcontent squabble

that will be your disintegration.

 

Narcissistic poisons elegantly costume kings, evil as they are

already, flamboyant extravagances dance

chained by the neck together, torturing a cripple

like me, convinced of a sleepover

simple Simon sad son, bating hate.

 

The way it is, this is as awful as ever

and ever on it seems, I can barely remember

yesterday anymore, but before I know it

things will be normalized, but I wonder

if sky will remain, blue like fresh clean water

Poetry: Frustrations

Poem: Contested Bloodbath

“Their skin is different and they’re coming!”

scream enflamed anuses, wearing masks and burning leaflets,

censored Wicker Man stuck in a Nicolas Cage,

“Rage is power” scream dire spokesmen, “Unleash and burn it all!”

stupid blades jag left and write, authoring wars of confused misdirection,

rope-a-dope movement, dump it in the fryer, sleep to the scream symphony,

“It’s my party and you’ll die if I want you to,”

delegates bound with twine, chewing cud and bullshit,

hanging from rafters and pissing on the electorate,

“”Plunge suffocation,” master says, “this man lost faith”

standing over onetime prophet, shoving his head in a bucket,

face force into sunlight, offstruck at the hinge,

“Not one of us will know rules but dangers are all around,”

read by the light of their glowing eyes, dream by the paranoid light,

the spies everywhere, false hearts in drunken frenzy,

“Look!” the hangman spouts, “to your left is a liar,”

bathe in kin blood, don’t look back, future reflective blindsight,

blodpile champion, leading down a darkened suicide,

“Hear the shouts and raise the blinds high, we finally come home,”

months after, the carnage was through,

the dead outnumber the living, and no one sings the old songs.

Poem: Contested Bloodbath