Human’s Living Time 

Human’s Living Time 

man immerses himself in make-believe,
“time
is
money”.
he is always busy
spending most of his time to go after big profit.

his overbooked schedule is so full
no time left
for
a quick break
let alone any time
to spend billions of dollars that he has already made.

money in a bank
like sand
in
a desert
if unused or untouched
it would be actually useless.

man wastes most his time to make money
when he becomes too old
to have any time
left
for his living.
it’s too late for him to be aware of the cold fact
impossible to trade money back for time
even millions of dollars
for just only
one more
extra
day.

spending time to make a living sounds very odd;
wouldn’t man better spend his time to make a better life?

30-11-2017
Thao Chuong Tran Quoc Viet
www.papercollage.ca

Of Civilized Man and Pristine Nature 

Of Civilized Man and Pristine Nature

on the no-man land,
when sun is down.
bright light dies.
night falls.
darkness arrives.

the wild remains
pristine,
calm,
and tranquil.

time seems standing still.
echo
in
fresh air
soothing symphonies
o’ nocturnal animals’ and insects’.

on the civilized man’s land,
when sun is down.
bright light dies.
night falls.
darkness arrives.

man’s refuge remains
noisy,
chaotic,
also, polluted by artificial light and noises.

dark force takes over streets and alleys,
in downtown cores of big cities.
crimes rise;
sins are high.
man gets rid of his headache
by taking
sex,
drugs,
alcohols,…
for pleasure and relaxation.
time goes at its fastest speed.

sophisticated mankind is but the worst virus.
not only has he mercilessly destroyed nature,
but also has he poisoned himself,
at an alarming
rate.

29-11-2017

The Artist’s Creative Moment 

The Artist’s Creative Moment 

he had stumbled on a creative bock for many weeks
the huge canvas
in
front of him
looked very inviting but still blank
like an untouched
virgin.

his small art studio was very cluttered;
scattered on the laminate floor
here and there,
crayons,
colour tubes,
paint brushes,
drawing paper,
unfinished paintings,
other used art supplies.

the messy floor also was littered
with
different types of trash;
paper coffee cups,
styrofoam fast-food boxes,
empty beer cans and liquor bottles,
squeezed cigarette packs,
extinguished cigarette butts,
and dirty laundry, etc…

the filthy air was clogged with smoke;
he inhaled deeply after each puff
and quickly exhaled to clear his congested lungs.
from time to time, he bent down
to cough
hard and dry,
as if he would have had serious tuberculosis.

all of a sudden, his mind was vacant;
emotion ran wild;
he was in a trance.
he
unconsciously pulled
an overfilled astray on a stand nearby;
and put out his half-burned cigarette.

he squeezes different colour tubes on a palette,
mixed them by hand;
he started smearing pigments,
while he was spitting his sputum on the blank canvas.

somehow, the abstract painting
from this insanely
magic
moment
has made him a renowned contemporary artist.

28-11-2017
Thao Chuong Tran Quoc Viet

Of Nature’s Silent Poetry

Of Nature’s Silent Poetry

so
serene.
in the wild.
time was standing still.

without
chaos,
everything was so peaceful.

no need to be
in
a hurry;
I calmly strolled at a very slow pace.

losing his patience,
my walking partner started pulling me ahead,
in his best effort of forcing me
to speed
up.

all of a sudden,
in
front of us,
at a close distance,
a doe and a fawn approached.
they looked at awe
then
disappeared right away.
so soon as they heard a barking sound.

my walking partner took me out of this poetic moment of the wild
he immediately brought me back to the noisily taming world of mankind’s.

Thao Chuong
www.papercollage.ca

The Easy Life and Painless Death of a Never-married Man’s 

The Easy Life and Painless Death of a Never-married Man’s 

he had a very healthy lifestyle:
no gamble,
no drug,
no cigar,
no cigarette,
no marijuana,
he walked and did exercise on a regular basic.

neither a wife nor any kid,
he had zero pressure,
absolutely
no
stress.
he was a totally free man.
he could do whatever he loved to.
also he was too rich to worry about money.
he enjoyed good food, fine wine with sexy women.

at
sixty-seven
he was in a very good shape;
he had a good life that every guy would dream of.

I met him a couple weeks ago.
he
joked
no one could compete him.
he could easily reach one hundred without any problem.
moreover, God would leave him alone;
as he committed no sin,
except,
exotic
sex.

out
of
my expectation,
I‘ve just heard the bad news this morning
he died in a hotel room two days ago
because
of
a sudden heart attack
while having sex with a young prostitute.

He was so lucky
to
live
a life without much stress
and face a death at his most joyful moment.

Thao Chuong Tran Quoc Viet
www.papercollage.ca

Good Morning Vietnam 

Good Morning Vietnam 

you came from the country
of
freedom
and democracy.

“good morning Viet Nam”
it sound odd from Americans’ mouths
but, you said it right;
as, you were
at
the wrong time
and the wrong place.

you landed on the Red Beach in Da Nang
on March, eight, two-thousand sixty five.
you found yourselves on a strangers’ land
of
heat,
humidity,
soggy rain,
blazing sun,
flies and bugs…

good morning Vietnam
you said
it
right.
unfortunately, it was deadly misguided.
you were thrown into a labyrinth of propaganda
which made
you
believe
you were fighting to serve your nation.

this war was but a chess game
which
served
huge benefits
of the élites’ from the both sides
those top communists in Red Russia and Red China
and fat bankers and capitalists in the West, especially in USA.

good morning Vietnam.
you said it right.
it was a nightmare of life
and a hell of war
for
ordinary people
like you – the Yankees
and us– the locals born in Vietnam.

we had no choice
but
took
the shit of it.
our blood was spilled;
our flesh was rotten;
our bones were crushed;
our corpses were decayed.

goodbye Vietnam
it was the only time
you said
it
right
we were all sore losers.
only big winners were powerful elites from both the left and the right .

in memory of those Americans and Vietnamese
who
lost their lives
in that nonsense war,
we licked our wounds and
kept our heads
down
in silence.

LEST WE FORGET.

09-11-2017
Thao Chuong Tran Quoc Viet

How Could It Be? Who Would Believe It?

How Could It Be? Who Would Believe It?

they did not go to a brothel
to buy
erotic sex 
from prostitutes.
they didn’t gamble in a Casino to spend
the last cent
from the money
for their kids’ food.
they were not in a pub to drink hard liquor;
therefore,
they could get so drunk
to kill someone in a car accident.
they was not involved in drug trades
so that they would die in a gang-related shooting.

in another word, they were not hardcore people
who risked their lives
by
playing
Russian roulette.

they were regular innocent people
who
would not dare
commit a sin
or a misdemeanor.

those believers
and their families
gathered at the House of Lord
for the Sunday’s service
to worship
Him
and pray for their own well-being and safety.

they trusted so much in God’s full protection
to put
their own fates
in His almighty hands.

how could it be?
who would believe it?

they were hunted and shot;
right
inside their God’s own home;
and in front of his naked eyes.

twenty six deaths in the age range
from
10 months
to seventy seven years old;
about half of them were children.
twenty others were injured.

it absolutely made
no sense
at all.

by the time
of that horrible crime,
where would the Almighty God be?

08-18-2017
Thao Chuong Tran Quoc Viet

The Mass-Murder but Not an Act of Terrorism

The Mass-Murder but Not an Act of Terrorism

On Sunday morning, the fifth of November, two thousand seventeen;
just
five days 
after the Halloween;
all chaos were over.
everything was back to its normal rhythm;
as all the dead had already gone back to their own graves.
not much left for him;
to do
Satan was happily taking a nap.

All of a sudden, his cell phone was ringing;
he was very upset at news of the shooting,
because, it created a serious headache for him.
his hell had already been
fully sardine-packed;
utterly,
no
room left
for another sinner’s soul.

Furthermore, the shooter was a mass murderer,
not
legally
and politically
classified as a terrorist;
simply because, he was an American citizen made-in-USA.

To collect
this person’s soul
Satan must respect the basic legal requirement
“the shooter must be considered
innocent
before
legally proven
guilty in an USA’s court of laws”.

Satan knew his soul collection would be much easier,
if
this senseless,
coward mass-shooting were done
by an American citizen
who was born
in USA,
but
had a Muslim culture
or a Muslim religious background .

07-11-2017
Thao chuong Tran Quoc Viet

My Sundry Thought about Daylight Saving Time

My Sundry Thought about Daylight Saving Time

excuse me!
wait for a minute
I wanna clarify 
whether I heard you right
or it was just my wild imagination.

let me have a couple minutes to think
over
about
what you’ve jut said.

“daylight saving time?”
I still don’t get it
are you sure you know what you were talking about?
I am afraid
to say
that
either would you be insane
or would you be kidding me.

how could it be possible for us?
how
would
any mortal being
save his living time
which is continuously zipping by like a rocket?

certainly, you can physically set back an hour or so
on your a fancy modern wristwatch,
on your expensively antique grandfather clock,
or
on any device,
that you use to measure time.
regardless whatever you desperately do, you make no difference for your day.

ain’t it ironic?
modern man always let his life depend too much on
an abstract concept
the so-called
time .

05-11-2017
Thao Chuong Tran Quoc Viet

Do Not Worry

Do Not Worry

After, I die 
I’d be gone for good
I wouldn’t mind whether my enemies happily laugh at,
or my loved ones hysterically cry for, my death.

Go ahead;
do whatever you prefer about my grave,
I
really
don’t care
even you pee at,
or deface, my tombstone.

However, I am afraid
you would be disappointed
to find
no grave of mine
as, I don’t want to have my remains buried,
then gradually
rotten,
and become food
for worms and micro-organisms.

Furthermore, I might die in a plane crash
or in a natural disaster
in
which
my remains would be
perished and never found.

Also, I am thinking
of
other
possibilities;
either would I donate the corpse for medical purposes
or would I have it cremated and spread anywhere

So,
no point
to worry about my own death
while I am still kicking alive.

When I get out of here,
someone else will take care
of
all problems
which are left behind by ME.

I’ll rest in peace
with
absolutely
no worry at all.

05-11-2017
Thao Chuong Tran Quoc Viet