collapse – Portrait of Em.

Ashes

A miserable night,
Tears amid solitude,

Silence of the heart,
Unheard scream stuck at the bottom of the throat,

Broken dreams
Too fragile kept,

Fragments too sharp to be collected
Left ignored
Reduced to ashes…

Written on 12 September 2017.

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

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

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

in-side

my throat is burning,
my soul is screaming,
Tell me —
what am i doing?

and somehow
i feel like i’m floating,
i walked
as if i am flying

not in the sky,
not on the ground,
neither the heaven nor the hell
purgatory perhaps.

Tell me —
what am i doing.

i talked to no-one,
and no one does care;
i smiled to some-one,
some-one who has vanished.

Tell me —
what am i doing.

there are something to do,
i know, for sure.
i want to do it,
but i could not make it.

the woodpecker inside me,
the devil inside me,
the soul —
i am not sick,
i am not sick,

not at all.

what am i, then, doing now?
no one could tell
no one would tell,
and no one should.

my throat is burning,
my soul is screaming,
Tell me —
what am i doing.

just perhaps,

eyes wide open,
yet i see nothing.

Written on 13 October 2013,
In Lei Yue Mun, Hong Kong,
When I have just started working on my dissertation on “Deadly Sins in Fairytales”.

Something is changing inside me.
Something is collapsing.
But I love the feeling.

maso-chist

over the years i have put all my anger
my sadness my tears my feelings
inside me trapping them keeping them
remembering them n now it’s critical its
the time it’s the time which it gonna
explode i know there’s something
wrong with me i know i know me but
what actually is it i do not know i’m a
masochist i am i know i am masochist
maso-chist i’m destroying me why am i
like this i do not know maybe may-be
may-it-be but i think i like it i’m i am for
i am a poet and nothing more right i am
nothing but a poet

Written on 29 November 2013
I think something is broken inside me,
I do not know what is it,
I think I am collapsing.

But I love the feeling of collapse.