young – 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.

the-encounter

Every encounter
Is a difficult and hard decision
Too tired to choose
To stay or to go.
Thousands of doors on the road

And there ought to be
Someone
To go first.

The impact, the impact
That caused by every encounter
Is too big
That nothing is going to be the same
As before.

Every encounter.

Written on 3 October 2015.

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

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

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.

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.