book – Portrait of Em.

on-career

A day of despair
Is not a day rare
Rules unclear
And nothing to bear

Written on 20 January 2015

story-of-romance

Release my soul,
While murder most foul;
My blood has spilled
on the wall, dark and dull:

“Yet each man kills the thing he loves”
My death is nothing but
But the motif of i am beloved.

Release my mind
and keep me blind,
Leave me alone in the paradise
dark and dull.

Written on 13 January 2015
on linkedin group “Poetry and Literature”: A Poetry game

the-sunset

the sunset at the college
always reminds me of the
happy carefree days

when we are all nineteen
and here we met
we play and craze
and skipped the lessons
we talk of the dreams
we think nonsense
we feel youth

the sunset
the sunset!

always perfectly warm and bright beam
disguising as an eternal moment.

Written on 25 November 2014
At HKBU, during the sunset

a-return

a return
from the hell of fire
from the heart of darkness
from the cave of silence
from the sea of despair

a place with hope and light
sometimes a heavy shower
or maybe a sip of breeze
or with the burning sun
and always twenty one

for decades or so
it is always twenty one
the mercy the play the craze the youth the fun

stupidity and innocence
where we believe we are old enough for choices and chances
shameless and fearless

a place of memory
a spot in the memory
a return

that can never ever return

Written on 25 November 2014
At HKBU — a place of memory after 3 years of studying

nightmare-on-and-on

every day and night
is hopelessly filled with flight
and nightmare silent air whitening hair dropping tears
contribute to the darkness in the room of despair that cannot bear

but who does care
for who is sewing every single thread
onto the cloth of bloody red
and what is not fair left unfair

Written on 28 October 2014

little-bunny-asleep

sweet sleep, long night, silent air —
a little bunny curled around the soft blanket
a tiny treat, dreaming sweet
nothing can compare with the warmth of the feet

good night, sweet dreams.

Written on 5 november 2014.

lovely little birds from the north
pick up the messy lines of nerves
in the woods inside the skull
the thicker one is picked by a gull
and the thinner ones by crows
all but one of the warblers stayed and the room is stuffed full

crumpled nerves make a nest in the head
scratching
stretch
aching
squeezing
evacuating

the last warbler go with the robin into the woods
here they fly
heretheyfly

to the edge of sanity
to the border in front of melancholy

and they stopped
and they stopped

on the fragile branch of a tree
emptied wholly.

Written on 28 October 2014.

cafe-life

breeze amid the stagnant air
blowing through the floating hair
lightly slip by the ringing ear

pop

for life is too soon to be captured
too fast to hold
and too heavy to bear

when the days and nights are filled with nothing
but sheer despair.

Written on 21 Oct 2014.

emotion-leakage

for all the screams and pains and tears
that are leaking out
from my secret hide-out:

the silent scream
the dark out beam
and the melted ice-cream
in the childhood dream

creeping from the still air
emerging from the iced wter

say good bye
and farewell
for those are what to be sacrificed
in a life in the hell

Written on 24 September 2014.

Save-us

To be or not to be
That is the question
All that we yell or request or want
Is but the dream to be free

Some are far too childish
And some are bit too coward
But we are not rubbish
For you to bully and push us forward

Our city is dead
And the news is to be spread
Democracy is dead
And the news is left unread

Save us
Save our city
Save our democracy
Save our Hong Kong

Which is killed and buried and sad

Written on 28 September
When history repeats itself
When Tiananmen massacre re-happens