2019, 6, 24 Monday
Inner Gardening
Dig the bottom of
Your heart well, turn it
Into a flowerbed, &
You could grow plenty roses
Even for every passer-by, while keeping
Your front yard
Full of spring fragrance
Year round & round
Interphysical Insights: Air Conditioner
Dismantle all
The inner & outer
Air conditioners
In your residence, &
Your body (as well as your heart)
Will naturally become
More adaptable
To a much wider range of
Temperatures
Interphysical Insights: Subtracting
Better to remove the dirty
From your body (& heart)
Than to keep it free of
Foul odour by adding onto your skin
Patches of patches of perfume
Interphysical Insights (4): Power Spot
Close to the tall puti tree
Planted deep in my heart’s backyard
I kneel-sit still & strait, just to sunbathe
My entire protobeing, where
It becomes fully charged
Inside out, with most powerful light
Interphysical Insights (5): Cleaning the Feel
Rather than a trash can
To dump to
From time to time, why not
To have an incinaerator
To readily
Dispose any inner garbage you may have?
II (6): Self-Strengths
If only you could
Replace
Every ‘me and’
With ‘my’
You would become an ‘I’
Both much larger &
Stronger
II (7): On a Long Stormy Night
Keep hope burning, &
You will never lack
Warmth or light
In your whole inner space
II (8): Alternative Living
Far beyond the feel
Is always a little unknown flower
Blooming fully into my senses
π
let it
be the predetermined constant
in human algebra, or simply
happiness
(or wisdom?)
the ratio of a lifetime’s length L
to its spiritual growth S is then:
π = L/S
that is, if happiness is something fated, fixed
the more spiritual growth you attain
the longer you would live
Law of the Vital Few
40 percent of mundanity
plus
40 percent of hardships
makes 80 percent
Of life, which is
indeed composed of
One damned thing
after another, all
Vs
Only 20 percent happiness of
varying degrees
So, every tiny bit of joy
is worth
As much as
four times more
Suffering in one way
or another
Riddle
Deep in the heart
Of Lakoobama
Hides the dark spirit of an unknown bird
Like the leopard frozen in the snows
Of Kilimenjaro
Rather than the forged Voynich Manuscript
Whose text everyone understands
Yet none can decode the message
My Neighbour across the Street
She spends all her visible time
Being exquisite in a history with no disturbance
Living alone in a quite old bungalow, she has
Few visitors year round, except perhaps
Her unseen relatives. Her voice never heard
Her movements always leisurely, walking in &
Out, mowing her slightly slanting lawn, taking
Meticulous care of her heathers & other
Tender plants. Sometimes dressed in a color
Like a bloated blue bell, or a shrunk grizzly
Sometimes wearing a high hat reminiscent of
An antelope. Our only communication for
The past decade has been her old black fit
Parked occasionally on our side of the street
(& our red civic almost touching her front yard)
Observing from my high window, I often cannot
Help wondering if she is a metamorphosed mice
In some lab, or myself in a segregated zoo
I Give up a Strong Desire
Long long have I longed
To write (all my very superlatives
Into) a book, a masterpiece, hopefully
With every vivid descriptive detail, &
Sophisticated suspension, all designed
To work perfectly for a super sur-plot
In a unique inner-outer setting, both
As factual as fictional, as
Full of in-
Sights into the human nature as into
My own protobeing
But alas, after nearly one thousand attempts
I finally decide to stop, mainly because of
My fear about failure to find a close reader
Other than myself
Because I know my writing never appeals
To any editor even in my mother tongue
Because
Indeed, to live my story is, after all
More urgent than to story my life
Longevity Tree
In my backyard I planted two trees
One is, hopefully, an evergreen poem
The other my split soul
Both to outlive my blood & flesh
But neither ants nor squirrels seem to
Care about the metaphor leafed at the tip
Of every twig, or the message buried right
Under the root
Mutation of Mankind
It’s taken us hundreds of thousands of years
To evolve from primitive chimpanzees
To sapiens, but as we intake plastic particles
With other biochemical compounds, inhale
Polluted air, implant chips or install artificial
Body parts, even inscribe our genetic maps
We are changing
We have changed ourselves
In an infinitesimal fraction of history. Yes
We may still retain our human shape, but
Clothed inside, we are a new species
Much more (or less)
Than we used to be
The Fall & Rise of Man
Long after our fall from Eden
We are now, at last, rising again
From broken pieces
Of spirituality (through science
Or knowledge again)
To a secular species
An authentic animal kind
Living on our bodily desires only
0.618
Like the Confucian principle
Of the Golden Mean
The ideal (optimisation)
Times this magic number
Yields the best
& most practical solution
Just a bit above the average
You can enjoy the benefits
Of all the possible best
While avoiding their pitfalls
Happy deathday to you
2019, 5, 22 Wednesday
Spring Agitating
The sprouts are rising, rising from beneath
As all seeds wake from their lost dreams
Each growing slowly with its naked heart
& body amidst freezing darkness, as light shoot
From all the nightmares towards the morning glow
Everything is rising, including their hibernated hope
Just feel it around you: the air is full of green spirits
& yet there is nothing, nobody able to prevent all
This rising with infinite vitality of the season
Briefly Noted
Tale about Two Species
A.I. Robot (Cloud).
Fancy yourself being a quantum.
What does a quantum do?
It entangles with another quantum in a parallel universe of course.
Why?
Who knows why.
It keeps entangling.
Until like a dying star it’s sucked into a black hole, &
All entanglements become de-tangled.
Since then, consciousness has formed one interstellar cloud after another.
Where you are the same entangling quantum entangled…
Sun Reality
Democritus says, nothing exists
Except atoms & the empty space
Everything else is opinion
But when this very opinion of his finally reaches us
Through the space of history, we will all have gone
With both atoms & the space
Except perhaps consciousness
Shimmering in a tiny corner of sky
Essence of Living
Wedged tightly
Between memory
(Of our pasts) &
Imagination
(About our futures)
We are living only
In this very present moment, when
All our cells & spirits are blooming in space
Raging against the Crow in the Park
Disguised as a pigeon, you’ve just had
Enough food
From my palm
(& heart); then, you flap high up
Beginning to circle above me, ready
To flee away only after
Shitting on my head
& heart (again)
Epigraphs to Be Edited
1/
Having returned to dust
I still have my shadow
Dragging long behind
2/
Within the infinities of
Time and space, my soul
Is another micro-cosmos
3/
A stranger here to observe
4/
Ready to rise
Between yin & yang
Between 0 & 1
Between memory & imagination
5/
To be more or even
Less than a sapien
In my next life
1. off line
2. tuned out
3. game over
4. id expired
5. a static statistic
6. too tired to toil for more fame and money
7. here I have found freedom, equality and fraternity
Driving Force behind the Football
More freedom in time
& space
Will insure a great success, for example
The railway allowing to travel
Farther, or the spotlight to see at night
Variations of the First Line in Anna Karenina
All handsome faces are alike; each
Ugly face is ugly in its own way
All winners of life are alike; each
Loser is lost in their own way
All human bodies are alike, each
Soul is intriguing in its own way
Personal Dilemma in 21st Century
With the most updated GPS
In my car, & a biggest tank overfilled with
Gas, I have no destination to go
Rebirth/Growth
I have been fighting against
All enemies in the first half
Of my life
Now is time to try to defeat my own
Self, my single last foe in the second
Meta-Trilogy of Man
Playing childhood at home
Growing in the wildness of the outer world, before
Retuning to innerself
Multimillionaire
Starting from illiteracy
I have accumulated more than
Plenty of words
To buy
To spend, &
To donate
As many as I wish
Indeed, whoever dies rich
In words unused, dies disgraced
Again, Come & Go
As a vacuum
at a corner
I work only about half an hour
It is an obscure role on the stage:
All the dust & bits of waste
Are eagerly swallowed up
From the floors
Except toys & fixtures
Yes, I could belly across
Every carpeted area, cobra up
Like a ballet dancer. I could
French-kiss the smallest mouth
& embrace the darkest corner
I could even sing at will &
At the top of my voice
But as a vacuum
I can only take in the unwanted
Sur Bamakoola
You forget space bloated outside you
& not the other way around
Many situations it has sucked in
Brownish wetland behind the mind
Or amid cries of a morning infant
Also, stalking behind a wolf, chasing…
But hold – how about stop for a while
As feelings flee from the feel?
2019, 4, 25 Thursday
That
That that that that that-
Obsessed wordsmith uses
Repeatedly
Right in the first line is
In fact correct
Grammatically, but politically
Wrong
Let alone poetically
Broadway.com
If ever at all, if only once
If you were
To have such a chance
Just keep driving
Drive forward
With no need to take a shoulder check
Despite so many beside you
Despite so much ahead & behind –
Along this new highway, your car
(Like your body or thought)
Will adapt its shape like a stream
Of water running its own course
From past to future, amidst
Programmed sapiens, through
The flow of data
Until at the meeting point
Between yin & yang
Between 0 & 1
Between time & space
Sonnet for a White Crow
In the backyard
Of my heart
To the other side
Of the world, the bird is ready to fly
Above its own two wings feathered
With hope
In the other side
Of the world
To the backyard
Of my heart, the bird is flying
With its own two wings feathered
Above hope
From pre-positions, it has finally flown away
Along the snowline to my deepest inner space
Most Hateful (That Is)
Wind blowing everything up, bothering
Every peaceful object, bugging each of
My skin cells & nerves though I hate
To be moved. It’s blatantly against my
Free will & consciousness, stirring up
My senses inside out, as
It kidnaps my protobeing & throws me
Into a corner like yesterday’s newspaper
Where with all the headlines, I am forced to join
The waste of daily life, exactly when
I wish to stand aside still
Like a tree, just to observe how it blows
Ideogramic Compounds: Learning Chinese Characters
思: thought takes place
In the field of heart
闷: depressed when your heart is
Shut behind a door
臭: stinking if you are overly
Self-big
忍：tolerate with a knife
Right above your heart
At the Tip of the Human Tongue
Bonito
Kimchi
Bresaola
Greek cheese
Yunnan Tuotea
Moët & Chandon
Etc, the like, &….
[Not unlike Li Bo’s poetry
Beethoven’s music
Da Vinci’s painting
Shakespeare’s plays]
Each an hourglass
To keep time flowing, each is
A stored bottle of champagne
Regularly
Turned upside down
In an obscure corner of history, to thicken the flavor
Only You Understand It
I’ve just drafted a poem for you
Neither in English nor in Chinese
But in Greek (that no one under-
Stands except you)
Without going through a renaissance
Rendition, you will recognize a Platonic feeling
Well contained within a Homeric stanza, where
You are to fall in love with a Hellenic robot
As of this very first sight
Creative Matrix
Like water
Life flows
along
Fiction rendered into fact
Like steam
Consciousness evaporates
above
Evil turned into good
Like ice
Spirits crystallizes
beyond
Ugly made beautiful
Beyond the West Hill
Everywhere the thought is looking for you
Sometimes at comet’s speed, other times
Wandering around, like a lost ghost
Through bushy forests & barren fields
Until it pauses by a rugged riverbank
But will it reach you in wildness?
Will you receive it when it finally falls
Upon you, offering itself as a sacrifice
To one of your outburst emotions?
You Are the Shape of What You Feel
I keep burning my spirits
But the shape of fire remains
Unchanged to each watching eye
So quietly when it reaches out its light
As if to the blinking eye of night wolf
Silver, Spoon
All of them were born
With a silver spoon
In their mouths, but me
With a silver chop-
Stick while you
With a bronze spoon
So we both have much to complain: my single chopstick
Can hardly pick up anything, whereas your bronze spoon
Tastes only too awful
Denouement
Well, you murmured, all that has melted into air.
Or it will
Well, you whispered, all that has melted once for all.
& it will
With a universal avalanche of starry silence, all
Gods will disappear among other human stories
The earth itself will be sucked into a black hole
All visible remains & records are to vanish into void
Every female will have been programmed into 0, while
Every male into 1, far thinner than his bloated penis
Lost
Last month it was my cellphone
Last night, my back head, where was
Implanted a wrong chip. & last
Moment I found my mind missing
Going back along the way, I tried
To retrieve it from my rage against
A rude fellow driver. Then in a fit
Of joy about the first child I had.
Followed by a deep regret… until
I got confused between memory &
Imagination, the former stored in
The left chamber of my heart, the latter
In the right.
When it was over-
Whelmed with joy or bitterness, I
Cannot tell which is my true past
(Or my possible future) as it over-
Flows from memory to
Imagination; perhaps, with my protobeing
The two might be somewhat identical, or
Other (than) wise (?)
Catch 21: A Canadian Sonnet
Were this inspired by luck per se
It could appear in an anniversary edition of TRM (or Fiddle-End)
Won the prize for the short poem of the year, &
As I continue to add more syllables, this
Poem might well be included in a best of the best anthology
Or would even win a first CBC or GG prize, but alas
I am neither a politically correct enough author
Nor does this piece really meet the strict requirements of
Perfect mediocreness. Rather, a victim of Canadian
Conspiracy, I know this art(less)work is fated to fade
Into an invisible pile of ellipses in front of a nice editor
That are actually words written in bold, lines connectable
For example, to a blinking screen of dataism, or an icy page of
History, where the English cannon has long since been melting
The Unhappy Minority
…before I joined the great and, I believe, the happy majority. – P. T. Barnum
After leaving the unhappy minority
You have come to
Settle your protobeing down newly
At Sphinx’s nose tip
Between yin & yang
Among bloated sea foams…
Speciation
O yeah! There are still sapiens on Earth. Often do we remember & feel more than proud that only we Superors exist, we the most sophisticated & most exquisite human-robot compounds. It is true that from time to time we cannot help recalling one or two of them, like Shakespeare & Einstein, but that’s when they pop up unexpectedly from the back of a chip as a couple of forgotten algorithms. Their story tells them they are much more developed physically & intellectually than chimpanzees, while in the heart of history the latter is at least spiritually far more respectable. Since sapiens have proven good for nobody, nothing but a sub species of waste wasting endless earthly resources, how can we rid Our planet of them in such gargantuan crowds? -- To genocide them once & for all, or just to wait for their total self-destruction?
Story Exists Because…
Nothing else connects us who connect ourselves
Only through stories. Each of us is a story from
A different teller. Told at dawn or dusk.
Believe. Buy. Change. Or share. It is
The network full of spiritual nexuses. Such as
Gods. Empire. Democracy. Equality. Datatism.
Yes, it is story being constantly recreated. Told &
Retold as it attracts both the human heart & body to
Kill a big elephant, or hunt down a Frankenstein
2019, 3, 22 Friday
Isn’t It
An ill wind
That blows
Every body good? Isn’t it
An ill blow
That hits
Every body’s heart? Isn’t it
An ill heart
That betrays
The truth about every body? Isn’t it
An ill body
That just consumes
Every kind of earthly resource? & isn’t it
An ill earth
That provides resources
To the human body only? Is it?
Coinage
For nearly half a century I have been searching
Searching everywhere
For a single word
Omnipotent as God himself
That can be used
Simultaneously as a beautiful noun
Signifying the greater cosmos
As well as my personal paradise
A powerful verb, both transitive & intransitive
Referring to the performance of my protobeing
In any way I want to put it up
& a modifier
Describing the mood of air constantly changing
Within an unrhymed stanza
Alas, I just cannot find such
A word, into which I can compress all my
Feelings & spirits like a chip
So, I have invented this one for myself (& you?):
Bamakoola
House Advisory
Roof: Always stand high & look afar beyond!
Attic: Fix the leak first!
Ceiling: Never hit the ceiling with megalomaniac!
Wall: Turn around before getting a nasty bump on your head!
Balcony: Stand aside to take a bird’s view of the situation!
Window: let some light enter your life!
Floor: Set your feet firmly in reality!
Stairs: [Watch your step! Or] Take one step at
a time!
A few more from fixtures:
Air conditioner: Keep cool & calm!
Bed: Dare to dream!
Clock: Treasure every minute!
Calendar: Go along with the times!
Mirror: It’s necessary to examine your life from time to time!
Table lamp: Live to illuminate others!
Toilet: [Most important,] just
let
it
go
!!
There Is Never
A ruler so powerful as to rule out the rules, nor
A historian knowing so much about the past
As to see the ultimate truth, nor
A philosopher so wise as to stay insightful in love, nor
An artist so talented
As to express her innermost vision, nor
A star so lucky
As to win a prize without putting up a show, nor
A tree so straight
As to hold all its twigs vertically, nor
A dog so humble as not to wave its tail, nor
A watercourse so long
As not to join the flow of data, nor
A mountain so tall as to hear the whispers of gods, nor
A robot so smart
As to interpret subconsciousness, nor
A chip so large as to store the complete file about your protobeing; indeed
There is never a thing or human so much so as
To be, or not to be
a human or thing
at all
We Need
Nature, [which, alas, never
Needs us.] We need
God, [who, alas, never
Needs us either.] We need
Data, [which, alas, will never
Need us?] We need
IT, [which, alas, will find us most
Sapiens useless or redundant too?]
Century of Super Stories
Though never written or told
They have been constantly unfolding
Both in & outside the human mind as liberalism
Against imperialism, & communism
Besides all their variations
Until now not a single ism or story
Has really survived
Among data dictating all audiences
Salmon vs Trout: a Sexual Metametaphor
Upon his regular return
To his native river
After myriad oceanic hardships
He just misses the trout
As she happens
To leave her home lake once & forever
For an ever newer wave in the sea
Languacultural Poems (9): Verbal Conjugations
As many as 78
Different conjugations
Of a single regular verb in Spanish
Multiplied by three basic forms
Vs
One & the same verb in Chinese
Pinpointing
All alphabetic languages & Euro-American culture
As a time-sensitive civilization
Juxtaposed with
The space-sensitive languaculture
Within the roughly square-shaped Chinese character
Storying
If, amidst all the earlier stories
Including the Pyramid
The Sumerian Code of Ur-Nammu
Bhagavadgita, & Zhuolu Battle, God is
The most told of yesterday
Communism the largest of
Last century. USA the most powerful
Of today, & dataism supposedly, hopefully
Unimaginably quickly
The rosiest of
Tomorrow or, rather, the day after
Similarly
Every human being is as much of a story in its own right
As every word, every poem, every picture, every book
Every library, every city, every province, every country
Or government, even every civilization, each being well
Set in a desert of time & space
Constantly changing its boundaries
As the wind of history keeps blowing
From everywhere, from nowhere
Until now
the biggest
story
is yet
To be
told, retold
&
de-told
About
there being
no
story
at
all
To
begin
with,
again
Obscurity
Obscurely
You came
naked
Among nothing but a few cries
From a struggling young woman until
You live to die
fully clothed
With nothing more than a few cries
From one or two relatives (if any)
Between these two suffering cries are
A short dash on a stone, the only object
Related to you that remains standing
Against oblivion
A stony silence
A flash fiction about
How much waste you have incurred as
You leave
as naked
Obscurely
Mega Interim
For the first time in the human history
All meta & mega stories have been
Created, told, retold, de-told, un-told
Until now there is no new story
Just as tellable yet
Except perhaps
The human & manmade consciousness
Story of Infinity
Set in time & space
In light vs dark
Imagination keeps
Acting & reacting endlessly, dramatically
As each civilisation supports the main plot
In numerous numbers
That’s how the only two human infinities
Are set a part in
So many non-human infinities
Packaging
Just as everyone
Is masked, clad or costumed
Everything is
Packaged
For presentation
Outside one’s inner self
Even the skin is
Tattooed for show, where
The truth is never skin deep
Hocus Pocus
This [bread] is no other than
Jesus’ flesh
This [horse’s open mouth] is
Vaisvanara
This [word] has
A magic power
This [fish head] brings
Courage & posterity
This [fluid] cures
All diseases
This [sequence of syllables] drives away
All evils & devils
This [ritual] ensures
Good weather & good harvest
This [hat/hood] guarantees
Purity, loyalty
This [flag] leads right
To paradise
This [man] is
A living god
This [statue, foiled or not] is
Omnipotent
This [chip] will transform us
Into superbeings
So long as man is in his story,
All is well that believes well
All
That Is Solid Melts into Air
All that is liquid
flows
into data. All
That is conceptual evaporates into cybospace.
All that
Is genetic/ scientific
condenses into
an algorithm
All that is artistic
/spiritual/cultural disperses into
Digital
being. All that is
human evolves into story
Fear, Jealousy, Hatred, Anger, or Shame
Hidden deep in a dark corner of his heart
Like a fly in the ear of a bull
When it can no longer
Stand the irritation
The bull begins to
Run, running amuck
In the china shop of his entire life
Where it can break every exhibit
Into sharp pieces
Oriental Philosophy
Leading to Laozian Dao
Or Dharma in Bhagavadgita
Is
the balance
Between yin & yang, or
Among the three doshas
Authority
Then from God to Man
Now from Man to Algorithm
We upload ourselves
Onto the file of the cosmos
Stored like an olive fruit
At one end is !Kungs
The other Superbeings
In the middle all of us, useless
But when the tree falls
The fruit will not fall; rather
It will suspend itself in the air
Rotten
Human Chip
As AlphaZen beat Stockfish 8
I finally came to see
Who am I ?
-
A biochemical algorithm
Where did I originate?
-
From a bunch of material elements
Where am I going?
-
Into a virtual world
Nowadays, There Is No Train like a Poem
That can take you with so few other
Passengers right through storms to
A realm far beyond the season
There is no car like a rhymed stanza
Of a literary ballad, where you can
Travel along with all your luggage
There is no seat like a line of blank verse
That from time to time throws you
Into a dream before arriving at your destiny
There is no space or time like a single
Word into which you can compress all
Your inner being to achieve immortality
Busy – fragmented life
Whose is this life as, between wake and dream
We spend every other minute looking at a screen?
Every other minute checking a message from
A friend, relative, total stranger or machine
Every other minute responding to a hail
Which turns out nothing but a junk mail
Every other minute continuing to search for info
Just to find the website stopped operation long ago
Every other minute trying to finish a game
Before the battery is finally running out
Every other minute watching the video
As real drama is unfolding around us
Every other minute returning to an article
Written & uploaded by a misbehaving robot
Not our whole life this as, between wake and dream
We spend every other minute looking at a screen!
Hope Has No Feathers
But like a kite it may fly high
Above the season in the sky
Whose string is
Held tight
In the hand of a running soul
Triolet – 8 syllables+lines : abaaabab
Of all that’s really worth a wish
Including words like wordsworth
I wish to wish, I wish to swish
A worthier word like Wordsworth
Dish, fish, swish, whish
Deep Dream
You will never be there
Even during sleep
Though both how and why
You may well know. What you don’t
Understand is the diction
Behind the words
The images juxtaposed, or
The feeling evoked
As the AI author ends the poem
With the way I lost
My way in a paradise
Every Tree
Is livelier & lovelier than
An artwork like poetry or painting
An artwork that is unique, graceful, whose
Twigs embrace sunlight and moonshine alike
An artwork that roots deep in reality
With each of its leaves smiling at the sky
An artwork that stands firm in time & space
Against the earth’s most violent storms
An artwork is a deformed child like this poem
But a tree grows out of the essence of universe
Universe / Nature
Looking up, I know
Even IC 1101 will be disappearing
Sooner or later, together
With Shakespeare’s plays, Einstein’s thought
& American fleets into total void; & down
Even the red red rose will wither
Sooner than later, out there
In the imperial garden
So, to attain immortality (or eternal beauty?)
I have finally come to see, is
To believe my own story
Unfolding right in this moment, where & when
The very idea of infinity can be eternalized
No Internet, No Life: a skinny poem
Come off the line, & the fish
Would
Die
Of
Hunger
Would
Gnaw
Deep
Inwards
Would
Come off the line, & the fish
2019, 2, 20 Wednesday
Deep Feel
I love my native country
Vehemently
As I detest its culture
I love my father
Much
As I dislike his personality
I love my son
Greatly
As I deplore his lifestyle
I love my selfhood
Dearly as the whole human race
As I despise its animalness
Evolution (from Sapiens)
In the melting shadows
Of last mammoths & dinosaurs
Have been eliminated gods, saints
One by one, followed by
Heroes & even gentlerens until
Our entire human world is now packed
With survivors among villains, clowns
Hypocrites, money-bags, &
Super subhumans (after another ice age)
Catching
Given a mood of air
(Even if without mindfulness)
I could readily tell
A human soul from a speck of dust, or
Otherwise, &
Given a flash of enlightenment, or
A flash fiction
I could catch the soul
Flying by
Like an entangled quantum (of light?)
Personal Quest
From east to west
Among worst & best
In the world real &/or virtual
I have been trying
Trying hard to
Find a fellow human
As high-minded as high-mannered
But alas, no one is living
As a true gentleren
As I so strongly wish to see
As we all should live to be
Immortality
Worth may be rare
Work can be bare
But words will live forever
As a digital being to declare
Simplest
Way to give your life
A meaning
Is to come up
With an answer to
Every why
About whatever you do, or
Wherever you are
With a statement
Beginning with
Be [the] cause…
Tug of War
Constantly set
At a tug of war
Is our mind
(& heart as well?)
Between yin & yang
Then
Between white & black
& now
Between 0 & 1
Sniffing Tiger Re-Viewed
The tiger in me
Sniffed every rose
On its way
The tiger has trampled down
Every rose in me
On my way
The tiger will miss
Every rose
On its way in me
To prey upon the antelope
So Full
Is my heart
Like the moon
Now is
High time
To celebrate
(Or meditate)
The roundness of life
The joy about the mid-autumn festival
Human Evolution
Forward, or
Backward
Being more civilised
Is
To be less
Of a human animal
In one way or another
Landscaping
Whoever stands
On the mountain
Is its very peak, while the shore
Is the sky right
At the end of every sea
Mirror vs Glass
Without a reflective film
Coated on the surface of the glass
We can clearly see through it
The whole outer world
Except our own face
Let alone our mind
2019, 1, 24 [Thursday]
Red Nos as Sonder Reversed
Open Sesame --
If only you were willing
To take a look at this little door &
Even decide to
Step in, there you would
Readily find your whole protobeing
Lost in just another parallel wonderland
Another Limbo
Hypnagogic, or
Hypnopompic
My protobeing lost itself entirely
In the moment of
Creation when the word begins
To loom on the horizon, where
Yin keeps agitating
Within the feel of last night
As yang rises against the morning glow
Soft Power
Readily shapable
(as water)
Warm, salty
(as blood), &
Clear enough to lubricate
Eyeballs
(As well as hearts)
This artificial teardrop could move
The whole world into action
If only, no, only if
You could inject into it a feeling
Of love, or of tolerance
Pigeons vs Wolves
Their shit falling on every square &
Statue in the city, too many pigeons have ruined
The land- & mindscapes, while wolves are driven
Farther & farther into wildness, breaking
The food chain & even the whole ecosystem
Go away, Pigeons! We have had enough symbolic
Peace (& real war), but welcome back, Wolves!
Together with you might there be fewer elks
Coyotes, but more foxes, more rabbits, while
More trees like poplars & willows can return
Three Minutes before Suicide
Did he see a stranger’s face
Smiling to him? Did she hear
A friendly greeting? Did it
Have a traditional meal?
Did the poor boy get a fatherly pat
On his shoulder? Did the old woman
Receive a sincere call? Did the bear
See a helpful hand or claw?
Did his wife give the investor a kiss?
Was the new therapy mentioned to
The patient? Did someone happen
To chat with the lonely senior?
Did you
Or myself?
At the Depth of Darkness
Together with yesteryear
Yesterday has
Shrunk, shrinking into
A thinning line in the mind
As tomorrow looms larger & larger
Until it overwhelms the whole
Day today in this very moment
Now it’s too early for many people
Too early for so many people; the sun is still
Floundering on the other side of the ocean
Play Word
If you could
Which English word
Would you become? Which?
I would as lief
Be ‘life’:
I may well turn out a ‘lie’
Without f--, but possessed in this word
My spelling contains many an ‘if’
Yes, to live a life is to
Go through as many an if
As you might wish to wish
Another Prayer
Jesus my dear Lord!
Were I
Really to have an afterlife
I hope to become a wolf, or
A fir, for instance
Just to be a bit more, or even less
Than a human being
As I Walk in Autumn
A leaf dropped right
Onto my shadow
I thought it was an angel
Of the season
Trying for a tryst
With my protobeing
Lingering long behind
This Grass
You must see someday:
(It’s always harder than in
The case of a flower)
After it was
Burned as many as ten times by the climate
Trodden twenty times by the foot
Broken thirty times by the wind last year
Yet this tiny & humble grass
Is standing straight up again
With no less pride & dignity
Returning green with the whole season
The Noise
This noise that from time to time
Wedges itself between us
Will pacify my protobeing
What it believes is
There is no muted assonant silence
Be/Longing
Every body/thing
Be/longs some one/where
Some time
Even the human mind
(Let alone the heart)
Is embedded
Within a frame of feel/words
Progressing
Higher & Higher
Into the high space
Flies the robot’s spirit
Yet lower & lower
Down to hell
Falls the human mind
As a result of gravity?
