Resume Poem by Henry Tong

There isn't a
N A M E
to fill in the
void of personality.
Even thousands of
E X P E R I E N C E
each imprinted on
the hall of F A M E
won't add any
H O N O R on your
face.You have lost
the track of time by
squeezing your lengthy
T I T L E S to a
pathetic, rogue disguise.
Hardly you received
E D U C A T I O N-you
nearly graduated from the
U N I V E R S I T Y of
vanity and gestures,
selfishness and arrogance.
Haven't I V Ys taught you
compassion, empathy,
openness, and curiosity?
What would you say to
your high school buddies who
can't get a golden ticket
but work as hard, yet never
got a license to hand in their
Gilding Curved Names?
You even dispised the
editors of school journal,
because they write the T
R U T H (artistic)of you.
Luckily for you there's a
column for G P A to doc
a million nights of clinging
to the power of the lord over
vassals, the wolf of the jungle
that you predestinedly belong to.
And how unfortunate it is to
escape V O L U N T E E Rs: you
think they have wasted their time
on profiting the great humanity.
Oh, yes: you don't feel like a
part of it. The Amazon rainforest
won't kill your promotion, and the
Tibetian antelope doesn't dare to
kick your pension away. Ho, Ho.
Your life is a resume, summarized
on brief, thin, ink-sinking papers.
You earn everything but nothing
rest is there to be earned.
You miss the beauty of failure,
the laughter of adventure,
the relief of apology,
the profanity of writing poetry.


And often your life is
__thrown into the
trashbin.
Like the shooting star
above your head (you missed!)

H.R.doesn't care.
The universe doesn't care.
But You Should.

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