Daily, a Poem

The temperature is still, RISING up here, translated…

With the Steps Light

I’d, Walked on Those Memories Which Were Speeding Up

In a Dumb Daze, I’d Walked, Parallel to the Bicycle, Across that Street

Turned, into that Brick-Cornered, World, Filled with

The Blooming Flowers, and the Shady Trees

it’s, a global thing, not my photo…

Rousing Up the Borderline of Reality & Make-Believe

The Aromatic Coffee Took You to that Slow Intoxication

The Sugar, the Temperatures, and the Lights, Just Right

Providing that Sense of Safety

In the Cracks

The Current Life is always, Slowly, Eating Away, Sinking Down

this used to do the trick, but NOT naymore…not my photo…

When You’re, Most Unaware

You’d Already Predicted

The Moment You Would, Lose Your Foothold

Everything Fell

Light as Feathers, Yet, So Heavy Like Lead

The Weightiness Rubbed and Ate Away at Your Skin

The Blood Started Flowing Out, Scabbing

still heating UP!  Not my phoot…

What’s Lost, Will Always, be Returned, Back to the Origins

Like that, Never Ending, Karmic Cycle

Every Morning, with that, Sensitive, Dried, Clean Body

So, this, is after you’d slept, through a heated night, the night got hotter and hotter, and, you can’t have the air-conditioning on, because it’s going to cost you a LOT, as the price of electricity too, is on the rise, and so, you’d set the timer for a few hours, then, after the air-conditioning stopped running, you’re left, with this, extreme heat, and high humidity (b/c that is how the weather is here???), and you’d, waken up, covered in sweat, and, the day began, again…

 

Thoughts on Poetry

How poems had lost their meanings, due to the developments, the invention of, the INTERNET, translated…

It’d never crossed my mind, to NOT post out the poems I’d written.

I’d instinctively believed, that for a poem to become finished, I’d needed to, post it.

Why?  I’d thought about it, it’s related to the nature and belief of poetry.  Although, as I’d written the poems, I’d not had specific readers in mind, but, the poet and his collective unconscious became as one, closely related.  The hearts of the poems, and this collective connectedness pathway, was “poetry”, from the pens and paper.  Where the poems came from, will be where they will end up, the poets were merely, a medium, in this cycle, like a shaman.

And so, like how Kafka told in his final will, to BURN everything he’d written, I can’t imagine this.  After Emily Dickinson died, her poetry became known, but, as she was still alive, she’d submitted the poems in, but not received any recognitions for them, and, she’d stopped focusing on getting her poetry published.

And, in the modern day online world, there were an assortment of means of how the poems can get published, and, everybody is performing one’s own Narcisstic songs, without the mind or the heart, to listen to what was being stated.

The poet, Rumi stated, “Every poem is finding its way home”

And the modern day poems are still lost, tramping, not yet home.

So, this, is the problems, caused by the internet, as everybody publishes her/his opinions online, without ANY facts, to back up the claims, and although the internet had made life more convenient, we’re able to connect to people who are not in the same geographic region as we are, etc., etc., etc., there’s, that lacking of truth in the things posted online.

The poet Rumi said, every poem is finding its way back home again.

Released, a Poem

This is, sort of, zen-ish, based off of Buddhist beliefs, translated…

As I’d Heard: He’d, Released Himself in the Big City

Someplace Public, the Metro, the MRT, the Restaurants, the 24-7 Marts, Schools

Anyplace Which He Can Get Lost in

what it’d looked like from before…photo from online…fish swimming in the river 的圖片結果

With Ample Supplies of Food and Water

(He Swam Off, Quickly Enough)

But, One Thing He’d Been Uncertain of

Can He Truly, Survive

Like Those Fishes without the Water at the Marketplaces

And, Even If He Did Manage to Enter into the Vast Oceans

Can He Truly, Swim Free

Like the Fishes

Or, is His Destiny, Limited to

Getting Taken into Someone’s Kitchens

And Lain Down to Sleep, Inside the Frying Pans

—————

He Dreamed that He’d Smelled Aromatic

Someone Puts Her/His Hands Together in a Prayer;

This is the Best Sort of Sandalwood

Offered to Buddha

what it’d looked like at the end, of the fish’s life, as F-O-O-D!  Photo from online…

Someone Raised Up the Chopsticks, with Saliva in Her/His Mouth

Such, a Tasty, Fresh Fish………

So, you went from, swimming wild inside the oceans, and, into swimming, in that HEATED wok worth of frying oil, to ending up in someone’s plate as an entrée, and, this individual is, either having an outerbody experience, or that he’s just, going through his metamorphosis of the mind, like Gregor Samsa of Kafka’s Metamorphosis.

Jack-O-Lantern, a Poem

Reflections of loneliness, translated…

Your Too Lonely, My Dear Jack

The World is So Vast, Yet, You’re, without a Place to Rest

Being Selfish, Getting Drunk, Playing Pranks: What Huge Errors Did You Make?

That There’s No Place for You in This World

despite how the light glowed on the inside, there’s, still that “hint” of loneliness…not my photo

You’re Too Lonely, Let Me Accompany You———

You’re Too Lonely, Allow Me to Accompany You———

Cut Open My Skull, Take Out My Flesh

Pierce Through My Skin, Allow the Light to Glow from Within

If You Don’t Mind, Allow Me to Accompany You

Allow Me, to be that Shimmering Light for You, in the Midst of Chaos

You Will Forever Be Young, While I Die Slowly

The Bugs Will Take Over, I Will Slowly, Rot Away………

If You Wear that Look of Disgust, I Won’t Blame You

jack-o-lantern animation 的圖片結果look how the light glowed from within…not my photo…

After All, I’m Not Even, as Worth as an Old Pair of Shoes, Can’t

Help You Travel Down this Hard Road Easier

You Didn’t Do Anything Wrong, Dearest Jack

Loneliness, is Your Regret that’s, Closest to Any Form of Errors

It’s Okay, No Need to Look Back

Even as, this Desolate Plain Was So Filled by Loneliness

Without Even a Smallest Weed, You Still Have Me

Grinning Ear to Ear

Seeing You Off

There’s, that hint of loneliness in this one, and, the jack-o-lantern might be a persona of the poet, how he’d, felt at times in her/his life, when everybody misunderstands her/him, and, it hurts, to feel, all alone in the world, but the poet refused to desert Jack, which was a form of her/himself.

What Kind of a World is Worth it, a Poem

Questions of why we’re here, an existentialist, “crisis” if you want to call it that, translated…

The Alarm Sounded

Outside the Windows

There are Still Those

White and Fluffy Clouds

Chased Off by the Wind

I Too, Was, Hurried Along by the

Assortments, of Doubts

Why, is the Value of Chicken and Pork

Nothing More than Food

The Udders of the Cows

who, is reflected, by the mirrors?  Not my artwork

Don’t Belong to Their Calves

Why is it

That the Existence of Humans

Is Merely, Creating Trash

Destroying the Natural Habitats of Other Living Organisms

Increasing the Speed to Which, the World Self-Destructs

We’d Put Up with

The Insults and Sickness

the self 的圖片結果the true self, hiding within, ALL those layers, NOT my photo…

Preventing Ourselves from Thinking Too Much

Over Those Rising Doubts

Using Our Smiles and Order

To Keep This World that’s

On the Verge of Collapsing, Together

What sort a World Deserved, to Sound Off the Clocks?

a portrait of the self, NOT my art…

If There isn’t, a Pair of Bright Eyes

Staring at You

If the Sunlight from Between the Leaves

Can No Longer, Stop You in Your Tracks and Leave You in Awe

If the Scenes Up Ahead Had

Already, Been Viewed

What Versions of My Self are

Deserving of This World?

A Small Weed that Grew Out of the Cracks of the Walls

A Pair of Crows that, Nested Atop the Stop Lights

Wouldn’t Ask These Stupid Questions

Building Over the Sand

Erect, Over the Garbage

Built Upon, the Unworthy of All Conclusions

A Flower Can Finally, Bloomthe components of the self, chart from online…

Although, it Was, a Deformed and Pale Flower

Although, it Was, only, a Wave of Patterns

And, Amidst That Bubble that’s, about to Burst

There was Also, a Colorful & Eye-catching World

A Rainbow that Slowly, Ascends

Also, a Me

Ranting Incessantly

Voicing Out

All My Doubts in that Certain Space

So, you are still the problem, in this philosophical search for your own purpose of existence, and, although, you may run into walls and dead ends, with this sort of inquiries on your selves, you will, eventually, arrive at the RIGHT conclusions, and carry forth, with that added wisdom you’d gained, from your own life experiences.

Thoughts on Poetry

The criteria of deciding if something looked and felt right to us or not, translated…

standing close to the pieces, to see the brush strokes, one way of understanding the aesthetics…photo from online…

For a lot of people, “being unnatural” may be something that’s easily realized, or something that can be analyzed over.  But, what constitutes as “natural”?  We can’t seem to find the right descriptions for.

More often than not, I’d decided by one look, if a poem is bad; but, as I thumbed across a great poem, I can only just, recite it again, and again, and I can’t really tell you, why or how it’s, such a great poem.

discussing the pieces that we see, helps us define waht is beautiful to us…not my photo…

So, this is the differences in deciding what’s good and bad, because we are often very judgmental toward things we don’t like, that, is why we can pick out why something looks or feels awful to us, and because we’re used to things that makes us feel well, it’d become, harder, for us to state the reasons of why or how something is very good.

The Passages in the Skies for Poetry

The crowd mentality here, translated…

I Feared, Falling into the Cliff of Poetry

a place such as this, overpopulated by the crowd, and hte nature, destroyed, as people would leave behind their TRASH, photo from online…

So, I’d Gotten on that Hot-Air Balloon, and Read Them through the Aerial Cameras

Looking Down on the Farm-Raised Poetry Like They Were Clams

In the Populated Poems, I’m Simply, a Tourist Who Bought a Ticket for Entrance

So, this still showed, the people’s mentality, how we’re all, prone to head to a place that the news stations reported on all at once, because it’s hot and new, with a total disregard, of how our presences all at once, might damage the wildlife or the things, the living organisms that lived there.  The selfishness of M-A-N!

before the crowd had arrived, now, picture this place, with the fishes going belly up, and trash all over the places!!!  Photo from online…