need life advice

This isn't a poem.
Though maybe
I could write it like
one.

I'm interviewing for a position
in South Korea next month.
And then maybe I'll move there
in June.

That's all.

What do you think?

Two Attempts

Ok, so first off, these are both a little cornball, I know, but for some reason, form poetry just seems to bring out the cheese in me. I don't know why, maybe Billy Joel can explain it to me. And secondly, they're both theistically themed, so to type. That's just where I'm at these days. I tried to make the Shakespearean one a little more philosophical, but it just came out as devotional love mysticism-type stuff. So here you go:

(oh, and grey, by the way, I think any type of form poetry will suffice at this point !-) )

#1

Hindu and Hasid praise Your name,
Each one coming, a tongue of flame,
To preach and unite, to burn and reclaim.

Christian and Taoist are one in this,
Prefering You to all earthly bliss
Turning away from all eathly gifts.

Moslem and Buddhist on this can agree,
That You are present in all that we see
That You are the truth that sets us free.

And what are You but my own true I,
The I of everything under the sky,
And above it too, where planets fly.


#2


My love is shaped like river bends,
Her breasts, like hills, do rise and sway,
Her hair's like seaweed and cattail ends
That shake and quiver around the bay.
Her eyes are sapphire, black and gold,
Her lips a whisper of forgotten dreams,
Hands butterfly-soft and crystal cold,
And upon her vestment no marring seams.
Sometimes she laughs when I call her name,
Sometimes a sigh and she turns away,
Sometimes she responds, and with joyous refrain
Forgetting ourselves, like children we play.

My Love, never aging, never dying, complete
My Life and my Soul I lay down at your feet.

[whir] [blip] and tape slides past the magnet’s face
and data numbered zero one creates

The World, these Feet, Identity, this Space
a Map of Self, of Moons, Tectonic Plates.
What wonder’d Feats shall I perform for Thee?
To tear through Mounts of Rock or Flesh; perhaps
a Computation of untold Degree?

One zero fires: a synapse [pops] and [snaps].
A program seethes amongst its spools of tape.

This dust atop my Skin grows thick. Neglect
by Silence. I see Focus shift, reshape
towards Endeavors I cannot dissect.
I’ve counted Time on Teeth and Cogs –I know
Our Chemistries are borne of diff’rent Ores.