Adrian Edlington, April 2012

I want to be your Shiva Man,
I’ll stand on top of mountains,
see as far as I can, oh.

Full 360 degree view,
Will bring me round the world,
till the day that I find you, oh

I want to be your Shiva man,
I’ll stand on top of mountains,
Doing all the best I can,
Full 360 degree view,
Will take me round the world,
Till the day that I find you…

Right now I’m stuck on level two,
Buildings surround on every side,
obscure my point of view.
Working daily for the man,
I need to make some money,
Get some status while I can.

…..

I want to be your Shiva,
You’ll be my rock Diva,
I want to be your shiva,
You’ll be my rock Diva,
I want to be your Shiva Man…

……

I am masculine,
And you are mine…
I’m here to claim you girl,
From now till the end of time…

Red Room Summary by Kevin Ke, April 2012

一位歐洲客戶來臺北拜訪時,問及在哪裡可以看到臺灣的文化。我當時馬上回答:故宮博物院。那時只想著:這是當然的,每個觀光客都會去那裡。但過了一會,卻有點後悔這樣子的回覆。一個博物館怎能代表臺灣的文化呢?應該有更好的回答才是。因為工作的訓練,我習慣在回答一個問題之前,先找出問題的定義。我找到了一個對於文化的定義,它說:文化是一種生活的模式,有一群人真實地相信它,並持續在他們的日常生活中實施。

依照這個定義以及個人觀點,臺灣有幾個獨特的文化。第一個是補習班文化。到台北火車站附近走走,尤其是南陽街,就可以發現高中學生是如何拚命地爭取好成績、大學以及他們的未來。數不盡的小吃、流行服裝、飾品配件、玩具及遊戲,也會讓你對夜市文化感到驚訝。此外,你很難不會去注意到臺北便利商店的密度。在一個小區塊裡,是很容易就發現兩、三間便利商店的。再者,臺灣寺廟的建築也是值得參觀的。即使是在其他亞洲國家也不容易找到如此生動、豐有色彩的、壯觀的屋簷裝飾,如:神明、龍、鳳、老虎、魚及其他雕像。

最後,有一個特別的臺灣文化,但也是很重要的── Red Room,一個聆聽的文化。因為它的確是一種生活模式,有著一群來自不同國家及背景的人們,在每個月,藉由分享他們的音樂、詩、感受、謎語或故事,來表達對這個生活模式的真實信仰。我真誠地向大家建議來參加Red Room,並且享受這個創新且愉悅的臺灣文化。

A client from Europe once visited Taipei and asked where to see the Taiwanese culture. My quick answer at that time was National Palace Museum. “Of course, it is. Every tourist goes here,” I thought at that moment but regretted it later. How could a museum represent the culture of Taiwan? There must be some better answers. Due to my job’s training, I am used to finding the definition of question before giving the answer. A definition of culture I found says, “Culture is a life style which a group of people truly believe in and conduct frequently in their daily life.”

In accordance with the definition and my personal opinion, there are some unique cultures in Taiwan. The first one is “cram school culture”. Take a trip to Taiwan Main Station area, especially Nanyang Street, and you will see how high school students struggle for better scores, university, and their future. Also, night market culture here will surprise you with its countless snacks, fashion clothes, accessories, toys and games. Besides, it is not difficult to notice the density of convenient stores in Taipei. People can easily find two or three of them in one block. Moreover, the architecture of Taiwanese temple is worth a visit. Even in other Asian countries, it is hard to find such vivid, colorful and spectacular decorations on the temple’s roof or eaves, such as Gods, dragons, phoenixes, tigers, cranes, fishes, and other statues.

Last but not least, another special culture in Taiwan—- the Red Room, a culture of listening. It is certainly a life style which a group of people from different countries and backgrounds truly believe in by sharing their music, a poem, feelings, riddle or  a story every month. I would sincerely suggest that visitors attend the Red Room to enjoy this innovative and delightful culture in Taiwan.

Read more

Anonymous, March 2012

Just over a year since Fukushima, the St. Patrick’s Day Red Room seemed a fitting time and place to offer some “green” commentary and poems (including limerick-ish verses) on Taiwan’s nuclear power and waste.

One of the factors that got the nuclear industry rolling was the Cold War:

Fissile material from reactors, they needed more,
To arm all those missiles – and they kept score…
Soldiers were sent, all over the map,
As weapon makers sold, and their accounts grew fat,
And as their puppets funneled taxes, and fears, towards war.

Taiwan’s first three nuclear plants were built before the country became a democracy. In 2012, after being re-elected, President Ma Ying-jeou committed to having Taiwan’s No. 4 nuclear facility (NPP4) online by 2016. NPP4, however, “is already rated as one of the world’s most dangerous plants by the World Nuclear Association” [1].

Fukushima showed us the ire,
Of a genie called nuclear fire,
But I wonder if the president, Ying-jeou
Really is, or isn’t, in the know,
Of an energy whose intelligence is much higher.

Northern Taiwan’s population is among the world’s most at risk if a nuclear incident were to occur [2]. Think of the bottlenecks in the evacuation routes. Two plants are within a 30 km radius of Taipei.

I see people, rushing through life, unaware,
Thinking these issues aren’t for them, to even care…
Well I hope they believe in heaven,
‘Cuz more and more cesium one-three-seven,
Lowers the chances for them, and their heirs.

Another concern “is the haphazard handling of radioactive waste for Taiwan’s existing nuclear power facilities” [3]. Storage of nuclear waste from Taiwan’s nuclear plants began on Orchid Island (also known as Lanyu, ancestral home of the Tao people) while Taiwan was still a dictatorship [4,5,6]. Today, cancer is the leading cause of death there [7].  Nuclear issues extend beyond Orchid Island to the whole of Taiwan. Although highly critical of past government actions, the following is offered in the spirit of making Taiwan a better place for ancestral home of the Tao people.

For centuries, the Tao lived, just fine,
singin’ ‘n’ fishin’.
When along came a dictatorship
that had no mission,
Except to do things that would make
the civilized shudder,
As they drove for power,
fuelled by the blood of others.
But wait, I neglected
to mention the fact
Of the ruling gang’s other purpose,
to turn life…into cash.
And so they said
to the Tao of Lanyu,
“If you wanna be rich, like us,
here’s something you can do!
Why canoe on the ocean,
so open and free,
When you can stay close to home,
and earn – a little money?”
Exactly what was in those barrels?
To the Tao this remained unsaid.
It really makes you wonder
if someone wants that culture dead.
And thus was shoved
onto the people of that land,
The eternal hazardous waste
from nuclear plants.

Today, new nuclear waste storage sites, their safety yet to be seen, are being considered near Nantian (南田), in the south of the main island. Alternatives?

Denmark aims to be powered 100% by renewables by 2050 [7]. Why can’t Taiwan – which prides itself on its technical know-how, and is immersed in solar, wind, ocean and geothermal energy sources – make a name for itself internationally, and commit to do the same, even sooner?

A sampling of sources:
1. Taiwan to forge ahead with nuclear power?
2. Reactors, Residents and Risk (Taiwan mentioned in 5th paragraph)
3. Taiwan: Nuclear Waste on Orchid Island
4. Orchid Island – Nuclear Waste and the Yami
5. Photos of waste storage on Orchid Island. For more information, contact the Green Citizens’ Action Alliance.
6. Denmark Commits to 100% Renewable Energy By 2050

(c) Copyright 2012 Red Room.  Material on this site is the property of contributing members of the Red Room Community. Please do not copy any part of  this publication. Thank you.

 

Mark Caltonhill, March 2012

Inspired by a fellow Red-Roomer who said she loves 7-Eleven–since not only can she buy every meal there, but also order pretty much anything else, right up to and including a vibrator–Mark Caltonhill (a.k.a.. Malarkey) sang his latest composition:
Heaven, I’m in Seven,
with its drink and groc’ry choices quite unique
and I seem to find the products that I seek,
in five thousand stores located cheek to cheek.

Seven, I’m in Heaven,
where the staff don’t care if I just take a leak,
browse the papers without paying for my peek
or buy coffee that’s too costly and too weak.

On Sundays I shop at Carrefour,
for prices beyond critique,
but I have to admit it’s Seven,
which sees me through the week.

Books, news and magazines,
I like what’s smart about you,
that elevating you,
like a staircase to…

Heaven, I’m in Seven,
with its drink and groc’ry choices quite unique,
but too much fat so my heart can hardly beat
and a whole year’s salt allowance in a week.

The politely-trained employees
don’t give me any cheek
when I order a vibrator, they
don’t treat me like a freak.

[Dietrich style] Bier, chips und cigarettes,
I like what’s bad about Du,
Darum liebe Ich Dich
Und Was kommt nach Sechs? …

Seven, I’m in [Seventh] Heaven,
with its fax and printing options quite unique
as I seem to find the services I seek,
In five thousand stores located
… a million stores located
… a gazillion stores located
cheek to cheek

(c) Copyright 2012 Red Room.  Material on this site is the property of contributing members of the Red Room Community. Please do not copy any part of  this publication. Thank you.

Peter Giordano, March 2012

A bubbling cacophony develops
Everywhere.
Far gone,
He is joking.
Kindness, love, maternal nurturing obliterate
Perfect quintessence.
Realizing some truth understood very well
Xerxes yearned zoologically.

(c) Copyright 2012 Red Room.  Material on this site is the property of contributing members of the Red Room Community. Please do not copy any part of  this publication. Thank you.

Jim Kay, March 2012

A One-Character Dialogue Situation

Bernie has chosen to exercise on a Schwinn Air-Dyne bike during his fitness class. He realizes the seat is too low because his knees remain too bent when his foot is at the bottom. Three adjustments to the seat seem to have made no difference. Clearly the machine hates him. Slowly, Bernie remembers that he owned a Schwinn Air-Dyne bike some years ago. His shoes slide forward, off the pedals and Bernie remembers that his old bike had toe clips. This bike has a warning tag stating that toe clips should not be used. “Why not?”, he wonders. “What’s the good of having my feet slide off?” Slowly, Bernie’s crotch becomes numb and he remembers why he got rid of that old Schwinn; this used to happen all the time. While trying to keep his weight back and over the main part of the seat, thereby affording blood circulation to his priceless crotch, Bernie looks around the room. Off to the right is a perfect example of female beauty. She appears Hispanic and is working out on an elliptical trainer. Bernie imagines her being featured in an advertisement for the machine. Bernie thinks he would consider buying one if he saw such an advertisement except Bernie already has one. Such a girl did not come with Bernie’s machine. Besides which, Bernie’s wife would never allow him to ‘keep her’ even if she did ‘follow him home.’ Bernie realizes she would not. Eventually the fifteen minutes of torture pass and Bernie records his exercise numbers and walks slowly over to the mat where the other students are gathering. Bernie imagines he is walking like an old-time western cowboy with his legs spread a bit too far apart. He is doing this, not because he is bow-legged, but because his crotch is on fire as the circulation slowly returns.

On the mat, the teacher is addressing some inane question to each student in turn. Bernie realizes the teacher is addressing each student by name and he learns that the ‘perfect specimen’ is named Stephanie. In high school, Bernie’s class had 325 students and about half were girls. He prided himself on knowing the name of each girl in his class on-sight. Despite his best effort to forget, Bernie remembers that over a period of four years, this skill had helped him to date exactly one girl and she dumped him right after taking him home to meet her mother. Bernie feels like a dog that chases cars but doesn’t know how to drive. Bernie cringes with the knowledge that he’s never known how to drive. Bernie notices the girl next to him on the mat. She also appears to be Hispanic, just like Miss perfect and has a lesser but only a little lesser profile. Why not admire the girl who is closer, he thinks. By this point, Bernie has missed the girl’s name.

As soon as everyone has provided their answer to the teacher’s question, they are directed to a nearby exercise machine for a demonstration. Bernie hates these demonstrations. He’s been a member of two or three clubs over the years and knows how to operate all of the common equipment. As Bernie gets up, he sees a cell phone on the mat next to him. It obviously belongs to the ‘almost as good’ Hispanic girl. He grabs the phone before anyone else could have a chance, and trots after the girl. Perhaps ‘trot’ is giving Bernie a little too much credit. He has long legs and can walk very rapidly but trotting is faster than Bernie has ever cared to move his body. He thinks carefully over his mental image of the girl so he can be sure to approach the right one. He spots her and moves in close. She gives him a nervous and puzzled look, probably surprised that he is so obviously heading right for her. Bernie holds out the phone which she immediately recognizes with a start. She takes the phone, thanks Bernie and looks back at the place she had been sitting on the mat. Then she turns to the teacher and Bernie’s opening is gone. He couldn’t think of anything to say, not even ‘You’re Welcome.’ Bernie cringes inside.

Bodacious Moon               

He’d studied optics and even understood the relativistic effect
But none of that prepared him for the experience.
“Sure I know why the moon looks larger on the horizon.”
Wow! He thought. That moon is REALLY big down on the horizon.
He heard himself puzzling what he thought he already knew.
But now he was captivated in a way that text books never had.
Why didn’t someone tell me big really was BIG?
He felt something awakening with this girl standing close beside him.
Not just A girl but THIS girl. The tingling in his chest resembled fear.
The strength of his pounding heart brought him dismay.
The tingling was drifting lower, stomach, abdomen, lower.
It came in for a landing and he sensed his stirring erection.
“Well aren’t you going to tell me?” The question was terrifying.
Tell you what, he stammered. “I just asked you about the moon.”
Oh. Thank God, she didn’t know.
The atmosphere curves the light and acts like a lens to make it so.
“Sometimes I like it better when I don’t know too much.”
YES! He almost shouted it. He didn’t want her to know about IT.
Do you think we should go back inside now? He asked.
“Don’t you want to wait until that settles down a little more?”

(c) Copyright 2012 Red Room.  Material on this site is the property of contributing members of the Red Room Community. Please do not copy any part of  this publication. Thank you.

Amanda Hsiao, March 2012

A poem I wrote for someone special I lost last year.  Our time together was short, but changed my life nonetheless.

The Promise of Moonbeams

I kiss my fingers and blow
gently, up towards the sky
and you will catch it, I know
you, are the moon in this dark sky
far beyond my mortal reach,
unless I learn to fly
Still, I raise my hands and reach,
grasping moonbeams and starlight
filling the emptiness with each
Weight disappears, my body now light,
as if gravity has loosened its hold,
giving ground in our earthly flight
I breathe in deeply and hold;
a rare smile warms my face
chasing away the bite of cold
No longer sharing time and space
That knowledge was once so difficult to face
But now the moon caresses me with a promising glow
Someday, you’ll teach me to fly and away with you, I’ll go.

(c) Copyright 2012 Red Room.  Material on this site is the property of contributing members of the Red Room Community. Please do not copy any part of  this publication. Thank you.

Jim Kay, February 2012

June in September

In September, we men sense the onset of winter.
There’s a chill in the air.
Is this, we ask, the end of summer?
There’s a chill in our bones.
Is this woman to be the last one we know?
There’s a chill in our hearts.
We see summer all around us and some reach out.
There’s a chill in our fingers.
September sees only June and desires but June sees only September and desires not.
There’s a chill in our image.
Winter will not be stopped and spring will not come again.
There’s a chill in our folly.
Seek you September men your summer daughter; if you are fortunate enough to have one.
There’s a chill in her absence.
There’s life-long warmth in her presence.

Read more

Mark Caltonhill, February 2012

世界雙關語遊行日

Short of poetic inspiration lately, Mark Caltonhill apologized for only having “light verse” to offer this month.
He read his most recent composition, “The Day My Legs Turned to Lettuce,” based on a dream in which he was chased down the street by a flock of sheep; followed by two earlier Chinese-language humorous poems: “你很像我的狗” (You Remind Me of My Dog) and “阿兜仔都住天母” (ALL foreigners live in Tianmu).

“…my apologies for the rhymes; if i had chosen the topic, my legs could have been some nice rhymable thing like beans or leeks or … but lettuces they were

also, apparently “peckish” means something completely different in US English; in British English it means “slightly hungry”

enough! here’s the poem:

The Day My Legs Turned to Lettuce

One day, I woke to find my legs had turned to lettuce,
completely green, from my toes up to my … belt-ish,
well, that was no problem as I was feeling peckish,
so I simply showered in vinaigrette and ate green salad for my breakfast.

I opened a self-grown self-serve vegan restaurant,
serving hippies from Lisboa to Sebastapol,
and I also raised packs of long-haired rabbits,
from which I took wool and made alpaca jackets.

I had to take care, though, when going out of doors,
or I’d be chased by herds of herbivores,
by cows and sheep and other animals,
as well, of course, by those damned hippy cannibals.

[CHORUS] One day, I woke to find my legs had turned to lettuce
well, there was no problem when I was feeling peckish,
so long as I did not succumb to that habitual menace,
of ending up as food in caterpillars’ bellies.

A polite Polish policeman once doffed his hat,
as a leder-hosened German enquired “Kaufs du kopfsalat?”,
meanwhile a salad-mad French artist named Toulouse,
screamed at me “Je voudrais manger your bloody let-ouse.”

[Chorus] One day, I woke to find my legs had turned to lettuce,
well, there was no problem when friends were feeling peckish,
of course, come winter, things could get quite hellish,
as only Russians still eat salad when the weather’s wettish.

With my lettuce ankles and lettuce knees,
I needed to hide my legs from ravenous Cantonese,
from chopstick-wielding Japanese politely saying “itadakimasu”,
and cabbage-missing Koreans hoping to make their kimchi at last.

[Chorus] One day, I woke to find my legs had turned to lettuce,
well, there was no problem if I was feeling peckish,
and some day, I know I’ll find true love, perhaps in Venice
from a dirty-minded Italian with a green-foot fetish.

Maybe I should look for love within my kingdom,
for someone with baby-corn fingers with no ring on,
or whose own legs are slender asparagus spears,
but preferably who does not have cauliflower ears.

Sometimes I hide my legs when I go on a date,
elsetimes, I just lean back and spread them on a plate,
nonchalantly saying to my sweetie,
“Darlin’, if you’re hungry, you go ahead and eat me.”

[Chorus] Well, that’s all to tell about when my legs turned to lettuce
completely green, from my toes up to my … belt-ish,
my story’s done, there’s no more to embellish,
unless, of course, it’s you who now feels peckish.
Read more

Peter Giordano, February 2012

Almost thirty years ago I figured that I was one of the highest paid poets in the US for one year. The way I figured it was that I won a prize for a poem that began with the lines “My baby’s raised by Sigmund Freud. /I get annoyed by the questions.” I divided the number of lines in my poem with the amount on the check and it was way more than what the New Yorker Magazine was paying for poetry that year. In the meantime, I completely forgot about the poem and, in fact, almost completely forgot it. So for Red Room I tried to reconstruct it but of course, thirty years does a lot to memory and experience. So here’s the formerly prize-winning poem as remembered:

My baby’s raised by Sigmund Freud.
I get annoyed by the questions.
In the deepest shadows of 2AM
A father’s doubts are chilling.
Was that a footfall in the night
Or a baby turning in his crib?
This night is dark and deep and holy
But so was last night and the night before and so will be all the nights to come.
Freud had ideas and I don’t trust them but Jung could arm wrestle the bastard
While all I can do is stay up and worry.
Holy fuck. Fuck that’s how I got here.
Freud is fucking with my baby’s head
And a father’s work is never done.

(c) Copyright 2012 Red Room.  Material on this site is the property of contributing members of the Red Room Community. Please do not copy any part of  this publication. Thank you.