feelings – Page 2 – Portrait of Em.

of-work-of-adulthood

for all the screams
and pains and tears
that leak out
from the secret hide-out

the silent scream
and the dark-out beam
and the melting ice-cream
of the childhood dream

say good-bye
and farewell
for that is what to be sacrificed
in a life in hell

Written on 24 September 2014

castle-in-the-air

image from Internet

The castle in the air
means more than you can bear:
If what you can do is what you declare
And what you can think is brighter than a flare…

The world is nothing but a nightmare.

Written on 15 September 2014.

when-love-is-true-it-waits

when love is true it waits,
when love is fake it waits,
when love is going on it waits,
when love is over he waits.

love spends its whole life waiting for the lover to love back
but when the lover has come there is no way to track.

love loves to love love,
love needs love to love,
love cannot help with love,
love loves what love loves.

Written on 5 September 2014.

life-in-hongkong

we are born
and grow
and go to school
where we learn to grow
into whom we are
whom we are wished and longed and hoped and prayed
to be;

we grow
into the person
the human-being who has no i:

forced to learn
a whole series of
sports and musiques and languages and arts
and trained to be an obedient quiet nice and kind little kid;

and when the day comes when we are forced to transform and turn
and grow and change into an adult-like being —

rubbish life
earning for life but not living
emptiness in memories of childhood
of fun and habits

and… it is always already too late.

Written on 1 August 2014.

portrait

what would you do, if i
ask you to draw a portrait of me?

i say,
“give me three minutes,”

right — three minutes has gone
and here, i am done.

miraculous artist am i!
marvelous, oh i am!

laugh, as you like,
and i know, for sure, i am right.

Written on 24 May 2014.
when a poet draws.

conversation

In response to Octavio Paz’s “A Tree within”.

no i cannot,
i think i cannot,
and i found i cannot.

blind eyes,
deaf ears,

for the world has long become ignorant and arrogant
and the fire of passion
is put off —
dim and dark
and the blood is stagnant
and cold and bold and dead

for the gap between us
is too far to be skipped

the tree within is a tree within,
without branches to touch and to stay in touch with
without being noticed

come closer, can you hear mine?

no you cannot.

Written on 24 Jul 2014.

to-the-pessimist

hi me, dear pessimist,

i know well, from the start of my life-as-a-poet,
that i am
born to be deprived.

for life is given
with presumptions:
as an investment tool,
as a tree of money and golds,
and the rights are given
on the basis of lies,
to calm you down, to incept, to brainwash, to renew, to build a self
in the world of craziness.

this is the paradise —
our city,
the post-colony,
the international hub of world’s economy,
the stepping stone,

to a greater world.

born to be deprived — this is our lives.

Written on 20 May 2014.

of-happiness

99407-miffy_seaside-large-1367336868

Red and white

Cherry tomatoes and ________ (cheese)
Here comes our salad

Red and white
Apple and Miffy
Sun-like bright
Cute and fluffy

Little Bunny ‘ x ‘

Written on 26 April 2014.
Co-poet: Cheron Tai

sight-of-spring

quiet leaves falling
like snowflakes
like raindrops
like feathers
unstrung, untangled, unrestricted.

lifeless living branch
stagnant moving trench
trough.

Written on 28 April 2014.

things

things come in clusters,
worse things in pairs,
at least:

friends, family, self,
confusion, emotions, tensions,
pressure, pleasure, measures —

the way of the world,
the rule of sequences.

clustered, crumbled, crushed, clashed.

Written on 16 April 2014.