Saturday, 1 March 2014

[archived]: Sociopolitical Poems-1 by Changming Yuan ©


The Second Departing
            (after William Butler Yeats)

Going, going away in an ever retreating bay
The ebb starts below a quickened sun setting
People swarm here, watching, picking, fighting
Over the fishes, shrimps, crabs, shells, weeds
All left stranded, struggling for waters on the beach
They do not care if darkness stalks right behind
Their shadows, rolling like a tide upon their souls
They care only about the benefits they can gather
The sea produce they can trade with one another

Surely some ignorance is still in proper place
Surely the second departing is taking place
The Second Departing! The very idea stirs in the minds
A whole flock of crows beating their darkening wings
Flapping into the narrow skies of the prolonged history
It’s these crows, these very unidentifiable black birds
That are driving the light beyond the horizon, inner or outer
(Where they have found God as a redundant re-creation
When they believe they are the right gods for themselves)

Seeking Side by Side: A One-Act Play Poem

            -- While my mind tries to find a way out of the labyrinth walled with thick wishes, my body wanders around like a headless fly in the vast Gobi, another labyrinth, unwalled...

A [With a mask and an unopened bag for which she tries to find something.] Have you been here before?
B [With a mask.] Oh, no! This is the first and last time I am here.
A Many others have been trying to find it under the tree. Are you here looking for it too?
B Oh, no! What is it that they were looking for? Did they find it? [Tries to show love to A but is ignored.]
A Who knows?! [Puts off her mask and tries to find something.]
B You seem to be looking for something as well?
A [Puts on her mask again.] Oh, no! Sorry, I got to go now. [Puts off her mask and walks out of the tree shade.]
B [Takes off his mask and tries to find something under the tree shade.]
C Hi there! Nice day...are you looking for someone or something?
B [With his mask on again.] Oh, no! How do you know that I am looking for someone or something?
C How do you know that I do not know you are not looking for someone or something?
B I suppose not. [Exits and takes off his mask.]
C [Takes off his mask and tries desperately to find something.]
A [Enters with her mask on and tries to find something] What are you busying looking for?
C [Quickly put his mask back on.] Oh, n-- nothing. I am just trying to pretend to be looking for something.
A Why are you doing that?
C Why do you want to know why I want to do that?
B [Enters as he puts on his mask.] What are you two looking for?
A+C Nothing!
B Then, give me a break. [Dies looking for something but never finds it.]
A+C [Try side by side to find something under the tree shade as it becomes increasingly darker.]

Birdkeeping: Another One-Act Play Poem

scene i
A [in front of a detached house, trying to repair his fence while talking to himself]: Fucking hell, why does there have to be winds all the time? Without these wicked winds I would never have to worry about my fence, and the whole universe would have been much more peaceful.
B [passing by, with a bunch of empty birdcages behind his shoulder]: A nice day to do some repairing, eh? You know you’ve got a pretty solid house here.
A: Yeah, but it has cost me a lifetime, though, and I can never pay off my mortgage.
B: You know what I would do? I would hung a bird cage and keep it open. They say it will make you feel happy at least.
A: Really?! Wish to have one then.
B [giving one of his empty birdcages to A]: Here happens to be one for you. Happy or not happy, you will keep a bird.
A [taking over the cage and trying to hung it somewhere]: How come? But we’ll wait and see! [aside] Me to keep a fool bird in this cage? No way!

scene ii
A [receiving a guest in his living room]: So, how’s everything going, pal?
C [looking at the bird cage]: When did you begin to have a bird? What’s happened to your bird?
A: My bird? oh, I never keep a bird, but just …
C: ?

scene iii
A: [talking to himself before trying to answer a phone call]: Me to keep a bird? No way!
D: [at the other end of the phone]: I almost forget to say I am sorry for your late birdie, but didn’t you take good care of it? Perhaps you did not know how to keep a tender songster to begin with? I’ll lend you many really helpful books; perhaps I can give you some good tips right now?
A: Oh no! I never keep a bird except…
D: Come on, and cheer up! A bird is just a bird.

scene iv
A [in front of his house, trying to repair his fence again while talking to himself]: Dogfart, why does there have to be wicked winds so often? Without them I would never have to worry about my fence, and the whole universe could have been much more peaceful.
E [trying to sell a new product to A]: This time I remember bringing a beautiful bird as a little present to you. Here you go [putting a pink parrot into the cage].
A: Thanks very much, but…
E: Don’t mention it. This bird belongs just as much to your cage as your cage to this bird.

scene v
A [standing in the middle of his living room and yelling loudly at the parrot in the cage]: Me be a bird in cage? Oh no, me keep a bird in cage? N--
[the parrot mimicking]: mi-bi-bir-din-kei; mi-ki-pir-din-kei; mi-bi-bir-din-kei; mi-ki-pir-din-kei…

Grape Eaters: A Play Poem

scene i
A: Would like to try some of these grapes? I grew em!
B: Sure! [eating grapes slowly as if during a test] Were you saying you grew them?
A: Yep! How do you like em?
B: Very sweet and juicy. In fact, tastier than any other stuff I’ve eaten. Can we sign                                      something like a sole agency agreement. This way, I can sell them for you?
A: Oh, forget it. It is just an experiment in my own garden.

scene ii
A: Try some of these! You would probably like em.
C: Yummy! Not bad at all! You grew them?
A: Yeah. This is a new species I have just developed.
C: Really? How about mass growing your grapes? I will finance your expansion, I mean,     joint venture of some kind?
A: Gosh, I have never given a thought to that!

scene iii
A: Have some more of my grapes, Mr. Alderman!
D: Why not! It tastes terrific!
A: But you do not seem to like em as much as yesterday?
D: Did I? No, I remember saying I love your wonderful grapes. Is there anything I can do for you, to promote your grapes, for instance?
A: Come on! I did not offer em to you for that!

scene iv
A: Hi, you couple look kind of weird today. Is there anything wrong?
E+F: Your grapes!
A: My grapes?
E: Since my wife had a taste of your stuff the other day, she has been acting strange. She fights with me for nothing, she talks nonsense to herself, she….
A: What is wrong then? Is she ill, have you seen a doctor?
F: I love what you said to me when you offered us your grapes.
A: What did I say? How about my grapes?
E: Were you trying to seduce my wife, or did you put some chemicals into the grapes?
A: Aren’t you kidding me, Sir!

scene v
A: Help yourself with more of my grapes.
G: Thank God! They are so delicious!
A: If you really like em, take as many as you can!
G: Are you serious? You are giving a free lunch or something? Are you a philanthropist?
A: Not really. But do you or do you not like these grapes?
G [taking off his pants and trying to put as many grapes as possible into them]: …
A [aside]: I wonder if there is anyone who does like my poor grapes at all?!

Human Culture

when i wake up
      and open my eyes
i see all my dreams
      bounced back from the frames

when i take a shower
      and start to sing
i taste my song tart
      behind the blurring curtain

when i strive to step
      out of my humble house
i feel fences quarreling hard
      in the whole neighborhood

when i visit around and
      do some blind sightseeing
i smell blood stained
      along the castle foot

finally i flee from this world
      and hide myself far away
i still seem to hear
      the glaring cries from the great wall

delicately hung is this earth
            a bluish cage in the universe

In the Bog
As he tries to pull up
      His left foot
His right foot gets
      Bogged down deeper

Then he has to pull up
      His right foot
As his left foot gets
      Bogged down in turn

So he wades along
      As his twisted figure
Signs its shadow
      On the swamp of time

Human History

five eleven
one seventy
and six or seven
thirty four
twenty nine
and thirty five
approximately equals
three and
indefinitely more

(point six one eight?)

eden as the function
for the whole world

1435 mm: The Width of the World

    rather than god-ruled
    or science-decided
this cold distance       
between the bloody wheels
of an ancient roman chariot
        toppled down long ago
on a forgotten English road
    with its ruts still clearcut
is actually man-made
    to rift off the two rivaling rails
        laid now to measure every nation
as they tightly tie
        the whole human civilization
into an open cage

The Progress of Human Civilization

In a circle, a crowded cave
With a fire dancing
Wildly at the center
We used to gather together
Yelling, agitating or meditating
In one anothers warm shadow
Our bodies and souls naked alike
Although we were all strangers

Now at the center, my cool and cozy room
With a screen blinking coldly before me
I sit, being alone, a lonely being
Confused, confounded or impressed
By the struggling of shapes and sounds
Edited by an invisible hand
At the other end of the line
All packed and privatized
In a box of tubes and wires

Mans Mutation
            (for George Lai Yuan and other e.generation youths)

dear god, i often wonder
in bitter sweetness
or sweet bitterness
whether i or my first home computer
is the real father of my son
who i well remember
was not conceived in a chip
but seemed to have been delivered
at the wrong website
breastfed at chat rooms
brought up in a silver cyber space
as he just refuses to grow
into a full human being
like myself, my father
or my father's father
i know he is not really a monster
but only a cold blooded hybrid
between my high mind and high tech
so forever lost in virtual reality
that no birth day celebrations
are loud enough to wake him up
from his quasi hibernation
on the little mouse pad

Glass Safe

There is a time
When engineers
Will make chips out of people’s spirits
As a hobby

Someone I used to know returns from then

I have seen her recently

But she knows me no more
Even after I told her who I am

“The spirits are installed onto various
Motherboards,” she explained

“They are all transparent
Kept in the same big glass safe.
But no one knows how to open it from within
Or whose spirits are whose.”                    

The Unborn

The unborn are wildly shuffling among us, I believe
As we try to catch a plane or prepare a lunch
They are jumping, hopping, tripping like wantons
While they remain invisible even to ghosts

If they had been born, they would have proved better
Making all the prize winners in the world feel shamed
If only they had a chance to grow in broad daylight
They could have regrouped us all between hell and heaven

All this time, they are demonstrating, protesting against us
Their crowds snowballing, their shouts never heard

On the Recycling Day

One neighbor took out a blue box
Full of cat skulls and dog legs
Rather than glass or plastic bottles

Another carries out a yellow bag
Containing human bones, mostly children’s
Instead of magazines or paper products

A third pushed out a green bin
Filled with failed evils and devils
Where there should be leaves and twigs

Behind every house in a neighboring back alley
The garbage truck is placing a big time bomb

The Peril of Watching Too Much TV News
            (for Adrian Mitchell)
If you watch too much tv about what is going on beyond your living room
You go quite mad
Thats what marco polo used to say every time he saw someone
Watching the big well-washed mouth yabaaing in front of a bigger camera
All their reporters and editors, none of them a true fly on the wall
With their freaky bias and nancy ways of looking at others
Selecting and shuffling words and pictures about evil soviets
Demon chinese, civilized lamas, angel-like looters
Humans biting dogs, johns caps on jills heads, and the deer called a horned horse
All of em juggled and tripping over one another in your little fragile brain box
Well, its a bit like unleashing a whole centurys illusions out of the corral
To stampede right over your ears and eyes
All those colored or uncolored lies
Whirling around inside your poor skull
Beating up storms of yellow dust
So overwhelming you cannot see or hear with your own senses
The real other world which is just the real other world
They claim to be the bars helping cage the most ferocious among us
Yet they are more ferocious than the crowned lion preying around in the jungle
Listen what I say is
If you believe everything bbc or cnn reports about their edited worlds
You go quite mad

The Statue at the City Square

In a powerful whirlwind of whims
All shapes and shadows are swept away

Together with blood-veined autumn leaves
Erasing each human foot print
Mirthfully as if in a childish game
You are the only one left here and now
Still upholding your marble-based ism

This Busy Life

what would our life be if, full of desire
we can from our own hearts all retire
stop counting every shining rusty coin we could make
or selling our dignity, freedom or something even fake
stop trying to have sex with someone ideal
or to kiss, and talk dirty with someone real
stop gathering fame like picking every fallen pine cone
or seeking the autograph from someone better known
stop pursuing the power to influence others
or building the authority belonging to fathers
stop looking for bigger houses, richer foods, and more fashionable clothing
or getting newer hardware or fancier cars even when there's nowhere going
stop pleading Jesus, Buddha, or Ala for a happier after life
or building heaven with earthly prayers said only to survive

Class 761, Shanghai

So you are the second one
From the middle in the first standing row
In a world of black and white

Is this the girl squatting in the front
Who you might have pursued hard
But your pride and prejudice prevented you

The tall and handsome guy from a high-class family
Who suspected your poverty had made you a thief
Before he lost and found his fancy watch in the dorm

And your make-do friend is the third one
From the left in the second standing row, the nice guy
Who had a really hard time passing every single test

Wait, there is more to it –
Who is the guy that has become the vice president of Citigroup
And who is the girl that died a miser-multimillionaire in Seattle last year

What’s happened to the character library building behind all of you
Did they really convert it into a brilliantly decorated hotel
To accommodate your travelling alumni, rich or famous?

Towards a Broader Highway

Is it an old bumpkin again
Driving a jalopy ford pick up
Unable to speed up on a highway
Or some mrs billionaire sitting behind the wheel
Of a s8000 mecedez
Too careful with her fancy life
Somewhere in the front?

Surely there is no accident
No police patrol or even a red light
You fuck, you dumb shit, why do you
Have to drive so stupid slow
On such a grey Saturday evening?

You dumb shit, you shouldnt do this, people
eager to press horns on you, to zigzag, to
Switch on and off their highbeams to protest
Against you originating such snail traffic

All of us have to drive at this speed you set
Even tho a red toyota cannot wait to make love tonight
A blue mac to have a good beer all by himself
And a white shadow to meet her death by the weekend

You fuck, blocking this long single-laned traffic
If only I were driving a crazy tank or a frenzy bulldozer
So I can crash your stupid soul, crush your snail car
And clear the way to my destiny in the twilight

Worldly Affairs (1): Today’s Special

North Korean pickle soup
Iranian hard nuts
Venezuelan sour coffee

Main Courses:
American democracy steamed with socialism
Chinese communism fried with free market

Sushi with Oettinger
Curry with Brigadeiros 

Fortune Cookie Slip Reads: Libya

Naming a Nation

At birth, we were given pet names
In school, we begin to have formal names
For some fame, we choose our own style names
Among friends and relatives, we are known by our nicknames
In the literate world, we use our hao or pen names
While we try naming ourselves with all glory and dignity
Foreign barbarians give us unnamed names:
Mangis, Chinks, Chinamen, Chinkies
Chinoiseries, Nuocs, Shina, Chinees
Ching Chong, Coolies
Even blue and grey ants
And so they call us names
In open defiance against Confucius
Our master teacher, our saint, our saga, our literary god
(O poor guy!) ever so obsessed with the Chinese idea: 
A proper name for a proper personality   

Worldly Affairs (2): A Chinese Portrait

Freedom or no freedom
Democracy or no democracy
Human rights or no human rights
That’s never the question
But give me face
Big face, full face, thick face
In front of all others


Behind their backs

Worldly Affairs (3): The Canadian Comedy

in London we speak like Yankees
in New York, we sound like Cockneys  

we try to have American economy
British politics, French culture
yet we are somehow lost in British economy
French politics, and American culture

one reason is we only look skookum
another is too proud of our face off
our blue line, and especially our puck

more important perhaps, we pronounce z as zed
rather than zee, eh?

In Defense of Canadian Mediocrity
            Just as a tree will be cut down once it tops over all others, so will a hog be slaughtered when it becomes the fattest in the pen.                - Chinese Proverb

The tallest, the fattest
The most thickly-feathered
Have all migrated
To a much greener pasture
Or a warmer climate
Where they would
Never frozen to death
Like an arctic rock

By following the rule
Of the golden mean
We retain our Canadian-ness
In a small mosaic
Where each line looks
Visible though it may
Lead to nowhere
Rather than in a big melting pot
Where all bubbles are bound to burst

Worldly Affairs (4): The Girl Who Danced with Democracy* - A French Episode
            (for Arian Mitchell)

It was the same old story
Story of one meets many
Yes the same old story
Story of one meets many
The one is disabled
While the many enjoyed all the powers and freedoms

Like a sampan
Riding on a stormy sea
Against foams of prejudiced justice
Foams of jealous pride
Foams of fearful composure
Foams of hateful fraternity
Foams of selfish altruism
And foams of foams of ignorant knowledge
She was edging forward
Inch by inch
On a little wheelchair
Under breaking waves of quasi-lamas or lama supporters
Waves of frenzy political correctors
Waves of ill-focused professional cameras
And waves of waves of impulsive pinchers and grabbers

You remember how we watched her
Struggling like a strong coral tree
And we knew for that moment
She was more noble-minded than ever we would be
A Chinese girl carried the Olympic flame in Paris
The cradle and capital of our most advanced civilization
Where she danced with democracy

*As the 3rd torch bearer for the Beijing 2008 Summer Olympics, Jin Jing was physically assaulted during the relay in France on 7 April although escorted heavily by the Police.

Worldly Affairs (5): A Japanese Sketch

An adored, doomed snake
Not only wants to swallow the elephant
But also tries to bite
At the eagle flying high in the sky
The bear swimming far in the northern sea
And the dragon dreaming deep in its sleep

Worldly Affairs (6): A Zeugma Sketch of Uncle Sam

Every time you stage a play or an election in your own yard
You cannot wait to shake hands with your audiences and their wealth
No matter whether it is the passage of a new bill or an old dilemma
You excel particularly at manipulating public will and private property

With your weeping eyes and hands
You keep waging war and peace far beyond your boundaries
While you kill non-Americans and their hope together
To turn all others and othernesses into biblical dust

More often than not, you selfish intentions prove
Much more destructive than your smart bombs
You invisible fighter jets strike far farther
Than your visible arms of peace effort

You are simply too great for a small criticism
Too super-powerful for a weak opposition
Too democratic for a totalitarian competition
And too single-minded for a double standard

One More Difference

Sh - listen, the TV guys are now
Talking about Iranians
North Koreans
Russians, even Chinese
As if they were not barbarians
As if they were not demons

So don’t say again
There is no progress in our American civilization

Warning America
            This is the 2nd battlefield rule for American GIs: “Don’t fuck with the local, or you’ll be fucked”

You used to be the hope of the human kind
You used to lead our modern civilization
You used to be seen as a Christ-like hero
You used to stand for freedom, democracy, justice and equality
But ever since you dropped that big boy of yours
Over Hiroshima and beyond the iron curtain
Thus having had your fullest taste of sweet blood and bitter victory
You have been fucking around

Yes, you have been fucking around all the time 
Across the table and the globe alike
Treating all others and othernesses as Hyenas 
Tricking the strong
Bullying the weak
Setting fire in every yard you can find
Playing the big boss in front of your friends, neighbors, followers, admirers
And behaving like a wicked villain behind your rivals and the unsubjugated

Wherever you have been
You leave it in a filthy mess
Like a startled rapist
Forgetting even to pull up
Your own pants 

As you keep fucking around, America
And enjoying all the thrills of
Being the only superman for the moment
Your friends’ grudges are growing behind your back
Your victims are grinding their teeth at night
You admirers are getting half-hearted on a daily basis
Until the weak become strong
Until the east wind depresses the west wind
Until the road finally turns around the mountain if not otherwise
You will then have to pay all the debts
To those you have been borrowing from
With insults and injuries
Even though you have no such intention

If you keep fucking around like this, America
You’ll be fucked by the whole world one day
Sooner or later

Fuck Off, You America

You believe you are the savior of the human world
While you are the destroyer of most living civilizations

You say you represent the biggest peace-keeping force on earth
While you are the most shameful and shameless trouble-maker

You act as if you are a highly respectable cop
While you behave like a despiteful criminal

You stand out among all nations
While you try to keep everyone else down

You claim to uphold freedom, democracy and human rights
While you treat all other fellow beings worse than animals

You feel proud of the way you have been able to live
While you forget your lifestyle is based on the suffering of all others

You enjoy setting fire in everyone else’s yard in broad daylight
While you prohibit all others from lighting a lamp at midnight

You encourage your own people to be unique or different
While you force all others to convert to your tastes

You never stop throwing stones at others’ windows
While you yourself live in a big glass house

You seldom hesitate to strike against anyone you dislike
While you are always ready to duck down before the valiant

You call yourself the greatest leader of humanity
While you are nothing but just a new member of our community

You allege your economy and high tech have made the world more livable
While the world might well have been a more peaceful planet without you

Fuck off, you America


Eat MacDonald’s or Kentucky Chicken
Drink Coca Cola or Pepsi
Listen to Jazz or Rock n’ Roll
Smoke Kent or Marlboro
Watch CNN or Hollywood movies
Wear blue jeans or polos
Drive a GM or Ford
Invest in derivatives rather than in properties
Go online with an IBM or Apple
Read New York Times or Great Gatsby
Play football or baseball
Microsoft all your Intel hardware
Talk aloud about freedom, democracy, human rights
Support the strike against devilish Iranians
Evil North Koreans, demon Mainland Chinese
Most important: vote while you google, google while you vote
And you will become an American
A political correct member of the truly civilized world

Quasi Americans, welcome aboard

We Are All Being Watched

Hanging above the horizon
Or rather, below the thin borderline
Between light and darkness
Are billions of human skulls
Like so many lanterns, stars
Simply too far to be noticed 

Each emitting no more light
Nor any more darkness
Nor any vision held there
But each is full of holes
Like so many eyes, minds
That used to contain thought  

They are all looking down upon us
Speechless, as if observing


Flying between sea and sky
Between day and night
Amid heavenly or oceanic blue
I lost all my references
To any timed space
Or a localized time
Except the non-stop snorting
Of a stranger neighbor

Then, beyond the snorts rising here
And more glooming there
I see tigers, lions, leopards
And other kinds of hanger-throated predators
Darting out of every passenger’s heart
Running amuck around us
As if released from a huge cage
As if in a dreamland

Upgraded Groupings of Animals

A pod of turtles
A goggle of swans
A flock of tigers
A bevy of ducks
A clutter of mice
A cast of snakes
A murder of peacocks
And a pride of humans

Steeper See-Saw
            (for John Hollander)

The higher the income, the lower the morals
The taller the building, the shorter the attention span
The bigger the house, the smaller the family

The more wealth, the less joy
The more conveniences, the less leisure
The more knowledge, the less judgment

The more medicine, the less health
The more protection, the less security
The faster the transportation, the slower the communication

The closer the network, the looser the relationships
The cleaner the environment, the dirtier the mind
The wider the highway, the narrower the perspective


The man chops off his own head
And tries to barbecue it with human hair
In the slaughtering square

The woman cuts open her own chest
Takes out her heart and uses it
Like a gas pump
To add all her blood to the fire

While the volcano is vomiting violently
Its lava smashing onto every creature
Running around wildly

At Fraser River Park: Off-Leash Dogs Welcome

One dog is chasing a crazy vampire
Another jumping high to catch a flying heart
A third licking at the wound of a deformed cat
While two are dancing with ghosts as if in a quartet
Three biting at their owner’s shoulders
Four howling loudly towards the bleeding sun
Five sniffing around baby limbs scattered along a ditch
Six listening attentively to the roars of an unseen volcano
Seven shaking a dragon’s saliva violently off their bodies

As more are driving humans and hyenas alike
Into the river, a river full of dog shit

The Tree Spirits

No doubt, they never knew when, how
Or why they were doomed
The previous generation of earthlings
Have long disappeared, tracelessly
Except for some thinning memories
Hidden in earth’s heart, or drifting
In a corner of an unknown world

But we are different: we make
Metals and plastics besides books
To survive the judgment day
Land collapses, ice ages, nuclear wars
Or alien strikes, although they may eventually
Weather away with the sun

Then will come a monstrous ant
Followed by swarms of tree spirits
On the second day, the ant gives them all shapes
On the third, the spirits begin their earthy lives
On the forth, the ant flies into the outer space
To prevent evil from returning to earth

On the land used to be tree stumps
Debris of all man-made products
There are now only trees growing
Growing silently in the moonlight
Above deeply buried human souls

Tall Tale Newly Told

As peach flowers fell like a brilliant snow
From the back lane to the wood did I go

Listening to the stream sing without a mouth
I forgot to return where is my monster house

The water flew from the mountain to the sea
As if it had nothing whatsoever to say to me

But its song always held my heart tight
Thus the night would give me no fright

I sang with the stream, whose song let me go
I am home again, and find every soul so low


All creatures are naked
Except humans
And humans only

Wearing glass fiber
If not polyester

If not flax

If not fig leaves

Themselves always clad
By shade, by shame

The clothing species
Never showing their naked selfhoods
Ever since that first bite at an unripe apple

The Only Difference

In hell, the food is the same
Exactly the same ladle, with a meter-long handle
Each trying to use it to feed himself
Yet each suffering from more hunger

In heaven, the food is the same
Exactly the same ladle, with a meter-long handle
Each trying to use it to feed another
So each getting everything he wants


You may well hate him
But you cannot help feeling envious-
That business of carrying the diseased
Across the River Styx is ever so prosperous
The only monopoly in the entire universe
That has a market share
Larger than the market itself

Daydreaming, on this side
Of the river, how you might wish
To be an entrepreneur like Charon
A success American dreamer

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