[archived]: Enlightenment Poems-2 by Changming Yuan ©

Noon Jogging

already
i am tired
so terribly tired
of running
running alone
along this less traveled path
quite rugged
rough and
seeming endless
but i have to
keep moving
past heavy shades
wild flowers
and some strangers
or i would never
be able to
catch up with
my own soul
rolling echolessly

Fragments

If I lend my dull-colored mind

To the other me in the mirror

Then I would become a human

Reflection of my authentic being

Long and abstract is this process

To relocate my lukewarm soul

In a world of engulfing glass

Its cold surface is all its bold depth

Let me be as careful as I can

Not to break this magic mirror

Or I would be cut to blood

By the sharp shreds of selfhood

Temporarily Floating

I am the little creature

He put on his hook

To be kissed or swallowed

By an unknown fish

Many trout are swimming around

I have no idea which one of them

He intends to take out of the stream

The only thing I hear is His laughter

Echoing along the tightened line

Day in Day out

each time the clock agitates

there are tens of thousands

that let out loud cries

about the boiling pain of being borne

just as so many others

who cannot help cold-sweating

with the fever and fret

of a commonly unknown disease

unlike you and me

each time the sun rises

there are tens of thousands

who will never get up

to greet the morning glow

just as so many others

who can no longer go to bed

to continue their rosy dreams

under the moon-painted roof

like you and me

each time the dew drops

there are tens of thousands

whose backs bend a bit more

pushed down by an invisible hand

just as so many others

whose countless troubles and traumas

make them tremble with chagrin

yearning for a sunny spell

you and me

Lifetime

Between the spring breeze

      Brushing its green signature

On my forehead

And the winter frost

      Putting its fluffy seal

            On my naked chest

Is thus painted my whole life

      On a single rough page

            No thicker than a maple leaf

Earthly Obsession

in my forelife i was a caterpillar

moiling, toiling deep in the soil

hoping to be reincarnated someday

holding my head high above the earth

but the more i try to live like my fellow creatures

the less i can stop being a chrysalis

caged in a tiny and compact cocoon

cobwebbed with a stubborn and endless thread

i don’t know if there will be an afterlife

now and here is all i am

without the sharpened knife of godly wisdom

can i hope to fly like a butterfly?

The Worn Worm

This is a transparent creature

      Gnawing at the tiny roots

Of my withering senses

Before it becomes a chrysalis

      Buried deep in my heart’s soil

Then it tries to climb out

      Sucking all the fresh dews

Held long in my staring eyes

Before it begins to beat

      Its blue wings against the frog

Then it will fly away

On a cloudless day

Sitting behind a Hotel Window

With winter-washed walls

In all directions

He sits alone

Under a spectral light

The heart of the night

As the surreal interface

Between his mind and dream

Becomes immensely vague

 Yes, this is the nest for his soul

It is neither too large nor too small

The bed is also the right size

Where he can think about nothing

And look through the window

Just to see a shower passing by

All on their journey

The Fence

Like a grandpa's teeth
Cannot bite the softest days
Passing by daily

At the Lantern Festival

Before the first lantern is lit and hung up

The darkness of this world represents all the light of the day

After every lantern is lit and hung up

The light of this world stands for all the darkness of the night

It has been like this since long:

During every festival only half of the lanterns are actually lit

In the Forest of Life

like an open cage

like a free hotel

my balcony has become a home

to many wild city birds

      pigeons philosophizing in private

      seagulls stalking with arrogance

      crows beaking at unseen seeds

      sparrows quarrelling non-stop

on the branched-out railings

behind the dusk dyed wall

      sometimes all alone

      more often in company

looking out of my wingless window

i find myself to be one of them

coming to perch here by chance

      but ready to flee by need

What do YOU see then?

It is your golden-rimmed lenses

Rather than your naked eyes

Or it is your naked eyes

Rather than your virgin mind

That look at yet without seeing

            the morning glow

            The shadows of maple trees

            And the pecking crows

Outside of your rooms

                        All rented

When You Think, You Are

The red red rose is not my luv

So I first cut the rotten roots

Then the sick thorns and stems

Then the infected leaves

And then the fading petals

Until finally I can only keep your head

Deep in the pot of my soiled heart

Where you may remain eternally alive

As sheer consciousness

Growing Solitude

Up above

    on a hilltop

       stands a lonely being

Being alone

Circle within Circle

Year in, year out

He kept drawing circles

One after another

In an open circle

As if to seek the focal point

That is right there

Within his own hand

Battle of life: A Cartoon Poem

A glass bottle with a big belly but a narrow neck

Full of bow-colored and manna-like food     

A hairy scary monkey hand grasping more than it could

Tightly stuck close to the bottleneck    

Shreds of My Shadow

Soon after the summer sun

Pushed my yellow shadow

Beyond the boundary of land

And threw it onto the blue see

A wild wind blew it into shreds

Across the foamy fields

Let them swim like salmons

Or grow like seeds in spring

Bygones Is All Becoming

The scraping pain from the tenderest part of your heart bone

The prolonged echo of the nightingale’s calls from heaven

The morning glow between flirtatious mountain peaks

The very richest cuisine for a hungry Chinese mouth

The stifling smell of garbage during an endless strike

As well as the rapidly increasing or decreasing numbers of dollars

                        Blinking joyously on your pc screen

      The spreading of your name from tongue to tongue

                        Within the boundaries of the human world

            And of course the orgasm at the ejaculation

                        On an ecstasy bed of midsummer’s night

Indeed, all is becoming bygones

Uncertainty

           

Just as the shadow beyond the light

Is fictional, and fictional is

The word on the paper or screen

So is this hand also fictional

That writes from the heart of the night?

All the feelings swarmed together

What I meditated, flows

I wonder if this life of mine

Is posthumous before the birth

Of a refracted metaphor?

Light vs Shadow

Was it the shadow?

Was it the shadow beyond?

Was it the shadow beyond the shadow?

Still fell the thick night,

When the heart blocked the light.

Yes, it is light!

It is light within!

It is light within light!

Loud sweeps the morning glow,

Where the mind has no shadow.

Secret Spirit

for years I sought light in darkness
with my eyes open wide as my mouth
I called, I sang, I prayed, I pleaded
for rays that might come down from above

now I seek darkness in light instead
with my ears closed tight as my eyes
yet I cannot find a shred of my soul's

shadow, even in a midmidnight dream

To Seek Bright Light I Close My Eyes Tight

            (for Dylan Thomas)

Looking around, I only see darkness in sight

All is thick shadow beyond thick shadow

To seek bright light I close my eyes tight

In each dream I have dreamed at midnight

I follow my heart, and closely my heart I follow

The darkest nightmare contains rays of light

Striving, I strive forward with all my might

Against the high flow, the flow that I well know

Looking around, I only see darkness in sight

Right at this site where the time is right

I let go my dream drifting away like a morning glow

Looking around, I only see darkness in sight

Inside, more inside is a door shining bright

I fumble my way slow as if a rough raft to row

To seek bright light I close my eyes tight

Men and women, come down from heated height

Don’t you hear the song from soul to soul echo

Looking around, I only see darkness in sight

To seek bright light I close my eyes tight             

In This Open Bottle

Every bee dies

While charging towards light

All flies survive and thrive

By fleeing into darkness

What, what if the empty bottle rotates?

Serenade

Tonight, in the heart

      Of ?________                                                                              

            A: darkness

            B: fret

            C: frenzy

D: twilight

E: …?

I move the _______

                A: lamp

    B: book

                C: picture

    D: torch

    E: …?

      from the outer world

      to my inner landscape

just like a train looming

swiftly and surely

out of a long tunnel

All in This Old Tree

Every one of us

Is a pet bird of His

Caged behind the bars

Of our own minds

Hung in this huge oak tree

Through its thick leaves

We can never clearly

See each other’s bills or wings

Except a few feathers of hope

Falling down reluctantly

As we try to make calls

Echoless during the storm

Dandelion

as the wind rises

again

we begin to wander

once more

with all our white

and fluffy wishes

across an unwelcoming land

with no definite direction

no hope of settling down

except the wilful wind

until we collapse

into soundless seeds

when suddenly caught

by a bone of grass

Even A Soul Has A Shadow

You can

Never

Get rid of

Your own

Shadow

Unless

You are

Part of

Light itself

Or

There is

No light

To begin with

Light vs Shadow: A Recursive Poem

1. Do not be carried away with so much sunshine

since shadow is right behind your feet

2. Do not be afraid of shadow in front of you

for the sun is arising just behind your back

3. Stand still for a moment or two

and you can tell shadow from light or vice versa

4. Keep walking in your chosen direction

and you will find your way out of the shadows

Light vs Shadow: Another Recursive Poem

if only there were still 10 suns hanging in the sky

as in the ancient chinese mythological universe

if only all stars were close, close enough to us

like millions of broken mirrors

put back together around us

if, if only every light on earth were much brighter

or, simply if our eyes were just a bit more insightful

there would be no shadows

moving before or behind us

there would be no darkness

within or without our minds 

Seeing a Shadow

In the dark

No one is moving

A figurative form

Surely an alien

Is standing still

Surely

Never will we

Astrology of Shadows

The higher the sun

The shorter the shadow

The lower the sun

The longer the shadow

The fuller the moon

The thicker the shadow

The brighter the stars

The darker the shadow

Shadowed, Shadowing

Shadows are shimmering behind the sheds

Shadows are shrinking towards the sea shore

Shadows are shuttling between the shameless and the shameful

Shadows are shifted and shattered with shades

Shadows are sharpened, shredded, shaved, shackled

Shoved, shoveled, shortened, shut, sheltered

Shrouded, shouldered, shelved, shipped

Shadows are shaped

And shaping

Sh-

Relief and Belief

When one leaf begins to tremble

The whole willow may remain still;

When one poplar tries to shake

The whole forest will stay calm;

When one forest cannot help agitating

There must be something arising, like a storm

Tall Tale Newly Told

As peach flowers fell like a brilliant snow

From the back lane to the wood did I go

Listening to the stream sing without a mouth

I forgot to return where is my monster house

The water flew from the mountain to the sea

As if it had nothing whatsoever to say to me

But its song always held my heart tight

Thus the night would give me no fright

I sang with the stream, whose song let me go

I am home again, and find every soul so low

After The Bulb Burned Out

Through the dark tunnel of the hallway

I fumbled my way humbly to the door

Back home again

I found everything

Just so much brighter

Even my old shoes

Dusted with thick shadows

At the closet of my heart

Another Dilemma

(for David Budbill)

I long for tons of

            money

so I can be a

            honey

with all this

            money

What good is my

            generosity

when I get

            bogged

in such

            poverty?

The Clothes from Heaven

Clad with the heavens’ brilliant cloth

Weaved with golden and silver light

The blue and the dim and the dark embroidery

Of heart and soul and the half-heart,

My dreams hang there with the morning glows

While my soul remains stark naked

In the shadow of last night here on earth:

I am standing right in front of you;

Do not stare because your eyes might hurt.

Last But Not Least

All my life is a preparation for this moment

So, please remove all these pipes and needles

      (Meant to nail and chain me in this earthy cell)

Feed me with no more food, drink or fluid

      (They are nothing less the poison to my mind)

Stop quilting me with any blankets or bed sheets

      (For my spirit is warm enough to rise like a balloon)

More important, keep talking or playing a yani to my ears

      (They are my final exit from this crowded room)

Ok, now, let it be right against light

Let me use my might to think bright

Shrinking all my shaded consciousness

Into a tiny transparent dot, and remind me

To become a god rather than a ghost

Not My Ashes

No, please do not keep my ashes in that suffocating urn

Where my spirits can neither fly nor to the ground return

But throw me high, higher against a wild west wind

Let me travel along with this season’s sigh thinned

Like the seeds from an unseen hand

Spread finely across a far virgin land

Requiem

Under a narrow and starless sky

Dig me no grave but let my fly

Loud did I sing and loudly sigh

      Please throw me against a high wind

This be the spirits you scatter around:

Here he starts from and falls on the ground

Here is the cuckoo, home from the sound

      And his ashes fall upon a wild flower

I Love You, Dear Death

ever since pangu

    separating the sky from the earth

all my poor fellow humans

            have been hating

            hiding from, or

            fighting face to face with you

                        although in vain

but i love you, dear death

    not because you are the more fair, and sincere

            than any lover willing to declare

    nor because you are the ultimate home

            to any wandering soul seeking a dome

    nor because you could even give one's name

            a guaranteed immortal fame

i do not know how to count

    the countless ways i love you

yet i have flirted with your shadow

    hundreds of times in private

            when i found it unbearable

                every cutting pain in my body

            when i was simply sick of the fact

                life is full of the foul, or

            when i lost the meaning and direction

                of my dull and humble life

i love you, dear death

    because only you can liberate my soul

            from the stuffy prisonhouse and give me

    the fresh air in the outside world

           

To My Little Allen

feel happy for me
when i die, son
i will have finally waked
from a long and heavy dream
beginning to travel
with all leisure and pleasure
in a far lighter and brighter place
like a shapeless shadow on this earth
to guide and safeguard you
my ever truer self

Bury Me Online, Allen

After I die, Son

Wrap my body with my poems

Put all my remains

In an e/cask, and send it

To a site that will

Never be on hiatus

By burying me online

You can readily

Trace my soul travelling

From one living screen

To another

As long as you have access

To the virtual space