heart – 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.

throw-back

I am not sure if I am remembering things in the right way:
The sequence,
The consequence,
The happenings,
The said and the unsaid,
The remembered and the forgotten,
The notice and the unnoticed.

“Remembrance of things past is not necessarily the remembrance of things as they were.”

I remember the day,
Where the dark and the bright places were inverted, inside-out;
The sun was setting
Inside my heart of darkness,
Over the hills and far away,
Where the lie lies

The elongated shadow on the wooden floor,
A vanished mom,
A lonely kid and a helpless maid,
A red phone,
Reaching out to no one.

The scream, the cry and the tears
Inside the heart of darkness
Has never been revealed.
For seventeen years it has been hidden,
Leaving unsaid and unnoticed.

A silent sunset,
An unanswered prayer,
An unheard scream
Inside the heart of darkness.

And will stay forever.

Written on 10 July 2017.
A throwback, a flashback, a reminder, an alert.

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

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.

tears-and-tear-gas

Tears from the sky
Tears of the spies
Tears of the poisonous gas come amid the crowd of pride

Who can differentiate white from black and
Tell of what is right from wrong and
what is Correct and what is not

Be drunk
Be drunk with tears
Be drunk with anger
Be drunk with fear and terror and the shallow warrior

So now the game is over
Turn your back to the withered clover.

Written on 9 October 2014
Inspirations from the Umbrella Revolution in Hong Kong: What is democracy?