Vines crawling
on the old mottled wall
fog bypassing
the fence
enveloping the entire
chalet
the mystic sky over the castle
a lightning awakening
the gloomy valley
ghosts and goblins floating
around
extinguishing white candles
a witch with a broom
the silver haired wizard in a black hat
standing in the darkness of spells
the enchanted princess sleeping
in the black chalet
prince charming leading a team of
knights
sinister roses blooming quietly
spitting murky fog
tongues of flames light up the dark tunnel
the prince kills the bloodthirsty bats witches and
a clan of phantoms
the prince kisses to wake the princess who’s been asleep
for a millenium.

The castle in the smoke
sneaking
like a reptile foraging
in the city
tirelessly
the blue-colored flame
awaiting the servants
the colors of sounds
staining
all over shadiness
the scarecrow with a hat
stumbling through
the dark
the wand of a magician
melts away
the ancient bed
and the love
locked in the sarcophagus.

The girl i liked
she's the one with eyes starry
like the night sky
a mouth red and cherry-like
her smile
is the springtime rain
that gently awakens hundreds
of flowers
i don't know when exactly
i fell in love with her
the love germinated
perhaps concealed in the bashfulness
during high school
i knew it's love
when her head's on her desk
glasses on one side and sleepy-eyed
i couldn't help but take one more glance
my love for her
was hidden in a piece of eraser
in her little piece of bread
the feeling of liking her
is when i remember her smile
either with friends or alone
it is also after we parted ways
the feeling of missing her
couldn't forget and couldn't let go
she appears in my dream
running to me
the girl i liked
her name is so special
i still hope i can meet her
even if it's just one time
i will no longer hide
my love
i hope the thread of fate
pulls us together
love essentially
is the miracle of destiny
the girl i liked so much
her name contains neon and beverage
it's been inscribed here
since forever.

I heard the sakura has blossomed
i heard the moonlight has spilled
sakura in the moonlight
a taste of peace on this windowsill
moonlight embracing sakura
lovingly
it's their moment of intimacy
i should slip away quietly
and go to sleep.

The taste of happiness
still remains
in the streetcorner
the colored days
turning into a good song
time and distance
can never break
the gate valve
of friendship.

I'm like an overgrown child
in this world
who keeps bumping
and stumbling
I've tried to change too
its emotional intelligence they say
so i put on a mask
and learn to walk smooth
learn to speak in an confident way
but then my true personality
would be exposed soon
becuz the mask makes me breathless
i start to despise the pretense
so I'm back to square one again
and keep banging my head
the world is too big and tall
it's supposed to be able to accommodate all
kinds of people
the first thing you need to do
is grow up
but the only thing left is
i am standing still
i am not afraid anymore
of being alone
i just want to pursue
my own sun and moon.

Can't possibly forget
your red
flaming lips
from then on I was obsessed
with you
and i felt it deep
beautiful memories
heavenly like stars
you light up this light
in me
in the dark nighttime
can't possibly forget
the passionate kissing
i'm attached
stability of life you provide
through ordinary nights
you open a door for me
through the warm and cold times
you are the one
i gave my heart and soul to
i loved you so real i couldn't let go of you
we've known each other
cherished each other
you're the one i'm sure
that made me so freaking wonderful
and bold
and not worry about scars
or wounds
when we were friends.

The lake is little different
chlorella puts a green coat on her
when the wind comes
thick ripples appear
remnants of lotus and withered reeds
some pierce up the sky
some bow to the water
the branches of willow on the shore
still they keep the same demeanor
they like touching the tip of your nose
sometimes you bump into their arms
little surprises await in the cold
of wind and drizzle
you walk slowly on the periphery
in the fine rain of the morning
vivid knotweed guarding the mound
lettuce offers four-petal florets
radish flowers are not in full bloom yet
though the rain of last night
is still hanging around the corner of your eye
the lively vegetable farm by
the lake doesn't lie
little cabbages aren't afraid
when we lean forward we see
it is a fun-sized garden.

Meteor shunting,
in the sky,
with a bucket of dream,
she is a meteor,
in the city,
and the meteor is,
the broken dream,
of the sky.

Thinking of her
is a happy and smiley thing
it's been a while since
I've felt this kind of gratification
I was once naive enough
to think that a few simple relationships
had made me lose the ability
to love
i can only say that i'd not met
the right person yet
the experience is always useful
no matter what kind
it makes you understand society
and human nature
smile permeates life
when the reliance on you becomes
a habit
it takes up the whole space
of nerve
hugs always
make me feel the most solid warmth
being together with you
becomes the only faith
the bond between you and me
slowly sublimes
this is what you bring to me
my love
when life gave me tears
you said "i'm here"
when time gave me pressure
you said "I'm here"
when distances gave me worries
you said "I'm here"
the past gave me a sense of loss
you said "I'm here"
the future gave me confusion
you said "I'm here"
when the words "I'm here"
sit in my mind
i began to believe
in your love
i began to sink deeper into it
one last promise, my love
be with me til forever and never
apart.

I went against the grain
by tightening the blinds
turning off the lights
the bedroom then became
a bottle of ink
filled with ink either black
or blue
lying in my bed
like an undissolved bit
the world is jet black
i close my eyes and mouth
so as not to choke on the darkness
at this point the yearning
becomes light and thin
pale and faint
and finally it faded
like daylight
the stranger I've come to be like.

I like a quiet night
like this one here
I can hear my own footsteps
clear
occasionally a small car
drives by
not too fast
not in a rush
the street lights on both sides
light up the width of the road
not for the long journey
but for the season of cold
stars are high and distant
moon has been asleep
traffic lights at the crossroads
languidly they alternate
green and red not matter what
shining on the thin layer of unbroken snow
the night would be suitable
for couples
asking each other for warmth
witnessing the crystalline
spell of winter.

I don't actually know
why do i often have trouble
sleeping
maybe it's because i love the night
more than I've ever loved the daytime
in my heart i always feel
the darkness seems to be directed
at my loneliness
you can see it standing by
my loneliness
without saying any word
it's not leaving
no need to light a lamp
it's often a wisp of moonlight
that shines through the window
far and near, the harmonious
sound of robins
at this time i want to see more
of the moon
at this time i seem to understand
it's insomnia that's completed
my loneliness
and made the darkness and me
the ones who keep watch
over each other.

The bracing raindrops
dripping
onto the wooden trellis
then hitting the stone table
i happened to have just woke up
when dusk is brewing quietly
outside the windowpanes
vestigial sleepiness dissipating
just as gradually
the fluorescent light that's turned on
stings my sense of taste for a second
and i hear the sounds of a busy kitchen
the summer heat is gone for now
i kept myself occupied all afternoon
checking and reading on my phone
if time could stand still
I'd actually like it to stay
like this
people are in a smooth
peaceful mood
it seems
like they were years ago
it also seems perhaps
it will happen again
like years from now.

A thousand ships
crawling over your back
lying on two oceans
connecting the north and south
a commotion after nap
startling
the billows of the Pacific Ocean
and the waves of the Atlantic Ocean
a life in meditation
the dam to
the raised river that flows
through history
through generations
through a stranger's dream
through civilization and sin
banners with distinct color tones
hanging all over every port
with the attitude of an owner
welcoming
all visitors
Panama
a ship that travels
a river that connects
the world.

When the moonlight
lowers
i see in the night
a tearful ghostly light
don't know where it came from
can't even get a whiff
but i know
the petunia is meditating
unperturbed
can't really read her heart
can't tell how strong
she actually is
though the frost and dew
have barged in
the angle of the fallen fence
is expanding
but this i know
when the morning comes
she'll be awake
she'll be something different
i know
it must be the sunrise
that is able to mulch and sprout
the most captivating smile.

It was raining
I stood at the intersection
poetry romps in my heart like a little digimon
the world seems outsize
the city disciplined
because of the rain
transparent umbrellas
in the lens of the live cam
misty skyscrapers
extendable streets
picture of the past
withered like a leaf on the bench
the rain falls from somber sky
and visits every part
it is the countless stitches of time
moving densely together
mending the scattered
cold and lonely
little hearts.

The sky is
a calendar
written with the clouds
the sun smiling
day after day
the sea is
a calendar
written with isles
waves and vessels
the propellers rotating
day after day
a calendar on the table
rusty shovel
and hammer singing
paint brush dancing
day after day.

Happiness is like,

grandpa's smoking pipe,

breathing tranquil frequencies,

like grandma's needlework,

knitting sweaters with embroideries,

like a radio,

antenna of thanksgiving,

the harvest of beautiful melodies.

Moonlight in the water,
the pond so sensational,
fireflies come and go,
a lilac-woven psalm,
a charming dream,
purple ocean and the mighty prairie,
stars flickering like a fairytale,
the clank of vows,
just a curtain of dream,
wind rises like love,
from the heart.

Tonight
there's a
jasper in the sky
the dews rinsing
the dust
the breeze conveying
the sounds of nature
the weary footsteps of birds
like the clock on the wall
and busyness reverted
to tranquility
and tonight
there's a jasper
in the sky.

Love is not peace
or happiness
love is the passion
of poppies that bleed
profusely
love is the emptiness
of a poisonous thorn
that ****** the heart
love is the kiss of a rose
that doesn't know what to do
love is a dangerous game
people either die without regret
or live with pain in their necks
love is the white spaces of the years
left to our imagination
sometimes it's like sand in our hands
the tighter we hold it
the faster it fades
fortunately when it does
our soul can regain some peace.

After all these years
when i step into
the land of rye
i can still hear summer
its most authentic heartbeat
roar of the machine takes over
from the rasping scythe
cutting through stalks
when the grains are harvested to the barn
they'll be no more painful stubble at the feet
after many years
the summer is still so **** hot
i like it just as before
the season of mellow mango scent
and pleasant earthly aroma of barley
though all beings are a little deflated
no one wishes to light the flame
at the moment i miss the dense woods in the distance
because that's where cool breezes are born
i appreciate the hospitality of the cotton and corn
they keep bringing the joy of maturity
flowers are exceptionally generous
they keep painting the landscape
standing on the fresh verdant ground
let the rainstorm clean my dusty soul
summer is the season of zeal
i will extract the poetic fragrance
on every lush green plant
so that folks longing for a peaceful mind
can get a peaceful lyrical feeling
across this summer
i especially like the other side of the water
where i can dance with the shy lotus
this summer i've gathered
a bowlful of poems to read
with you.

The wind rises
in the courtyard
baring extraordinary
imaginings
faithful oscillations
of space time
evanescence of
life and death
always mutedly
move side to side
the wind rises
the whole range of experiences
of a flower-like butterfly
venturing through
the damp and dusty
it makes the bronze in the night
cry in its reply
a rustling sound woke me up
its the sycamore castle outside
that carries the burden of dawn
the tree is just like a book opened
birds, insects etc are inserted in the pages
i walk into the bones
to eavesdrop on the breath of this minute
to learn its calmness
and indifference
towards the coming and going
of multifarious clouds.

I always feel
where there are many people
love can easily happen
every meeting of eyes
will touch the soul
it makes you tremble
on the day of Valentine's day
the city is ecstatic and
in a kind of turmoil
the bars are full
coffee shops are out of seats
cheesy hotels are out of beds
the night is charged with sensuality
lovers embracing on a street corner
moist lips inhaling cheap love
the draft of it is
bouquets of fake roses
love codes sent out by cell phones
illusory lovers on the network
obsessively typing those exciting words
tapping and clicking and fiddling with
incredible flirtation
love was initially innocent and lovely
but then came the flowers
the chocolates
the money and power
fairy tales and fables
even a wolf can fall for a sheep
love has changed its tone
soul has changed its note
lips have changed colors
before the gold of the player
the voice of some crooner
is floating in the sound store
the same cry is heard
from thousands of hearts
"Baby please come back to me"
every minute and every second
becomes a burning thirst
middle aged lady on the last train
carefully holding her gift
holding with a certain devotion
smile on the corner of her mouth
seems to be telling a story of
romance that has not grown old
yet.

Walking alone,
at the seaside,
relishing,
mountains,
trees and flowers,
watching,
escarpment,
cliff and clear water,
at the foot,
the sea and clouds,
united,
on the horizon,
the sky further,
further away,
the sea,
wider still,
and wider.

Live your life
though it's not an easy thing to do
especially for those who are not born with inheritances
every step of the way is rampant with imbalances
it's also because the world is riddled with contrived rules
everywhere it's still primeval law of the jungle
sometimes we're not strong enough
but at all times we need to think for ourselves
protecting ourselves is the only way
making it possible for us
to live a life
many choose to conform to the practices of the society
some choose to stay true to their humanity
the two choices often find themselves in conflict
not saying there's no reconciliations
staying true to yourself
is not preordained to be a confrontation to the world
sometimes it can be more of an integration
because when you know yourself
you become tolerant of the world
because the more you love yourself
you have to learn to love the world
and slowly you'll be able to live out
your own life
the process is never easy
but it's the only way to understanding life
to loving it most of the time.

The fog spreading
the sunlight trapped
in the cage of the mountains
the village respiting
trees sleeping
soil meandering
the road
screaming.

Sleeping in the palm of unformed,
time,
reading the almanac,
of the coldness of,
moon,
the first section is,
an achromatic afternoon,
the setting sun,
arranged the gloaming,
in the last line of,
a familiar paragraph,
the footprints,
awake at the end of,
the avenue,
the page turned,
stamped with deep,
soliloquy,
and it’s said that,
the illustrations on the cover,
are the unfinished snow of,
last year.

Little dog running hard
toward the parked cars
looking and sniffing
then rushes to the next one
panting
eyes filled with anxiety
seeking the owner who abandoned it
big round eyes all teary
it must be thinking sadly
"if i get to become a human in the next life
i will do anything to be kind
adopt a cute puppy
and stay with it
until the end of time."

In quiet times,

listening to music,

lightness,

a little sadness,

like the whisper of spring,

quietness,

in times of loneliness,

the music,

gently,

the resonance,

like thoughts humming,

untidy,

the lyrics,

**** i forgot,

the melody,

eyes closed,

let the time dance,

simplicity is,

good,

vague,

inexplicable teardrops,

strange,

nameless heartbeat,

this night,

this jacket,

laying down on this sofa,

surrounded by this music,

in the warmth,

i found myself.

The sound of
a flute
the whistle of the wind
an old-century bel canto
more ambrosial than
the allayed gale on the book
a siccative for the soul
beautiful and fibrous
warmer than the divinity
with a broken arm
outdoor on the walkway
the sound of flute
the wording of beauty
like being faced with the spring
and the cliffs
the first tone erodes
the stones
the second tone ******
the bones
the thrid tone captured
the thrills at the ends
of the neurons
like waking up
on a divan
in a morning.

In my childhood
the other side of the ocean
entrusted with wishes
wishes wandering in the sea
growing up
the other side of the ocean
entrusted with an ideal
running on the surface
then flying
soaring.

It's raining

cold water hogged the streets

people rain watching

watching the same script

rain washing the frontage

revealing long-lost clarity

dazzling colors of the wall

rise from the ground.

Sunset covered faces,
hearts dissolved into the color orange,
outside the window,
an eyeful of violet haze,
the gentian blue leaves crawling,
up the rhombic wind,
The evening sky was a book,
the clouds were the contents,
the wind a flowing annotation,
and the flying birds,
were mobile illustrations.

Why are the houses languishing
well, there's no one inside that's full of life
insects and reptiles
eat away at the decaying
little sounds
dust of obsolescence
piled up as wind cuts across
the parts have become so dull
from lacking a mind and soul
within
beauty of humanity deadened
by decadence
a void
corrupts the ignorant whole
I tried
to open the closed door
but i'm afraid
the locks on it
too rusted and corroded
if any life were to be breathed into the house
all doors have to be broken down
i have tried
to unlock the stone of wisdom
with the key of my thought
but i fear the medicated brain
is too rigid and tight
if the flotsam
is willing to be reborn
i will
pour some enlightened spirit
into the sensible nerves
the sun in the sky is celebrated
because the shine of it gives forth
life
the flower on the ground is too
because it's manifest
there's always a readiness
to absorb
that source.

From A to Z
we need
to learn to return
to zero
when we come to a new place
we need to learn to pack up the past
put it away
start over
like a child
getting to know the world
like a sponge
absorbing water of the ocean
like opening your eyes
after darkness has gone
going back to zero
is the sterilization of the past
the emergence of new
future.

Sharpness
of a grain of sand
touches
the nostalgia in
the eye
chrystalizes
the escaping snow
an oil paper umbrella
hurt by
the winter
that took french leave
the fragrance of plum
torn and incomplete
between the dark and damp
narrow tunnel
the pearl of ideas
polished
the wind that
can't be caged
is searching
youthful days
the hasty footsteps
the tethered ideals
in a pond
in a city
caressing
old porcelain
a pool of water
aiming at
the color of willow
on the other
side of the dreamscape.

So many doors
tightly closed
the need for more clothing and food
can't be kept out
it's a small hamlet
by the river
when a man stamps his foot
the whole village wobbles
a slap from a woman
and the whole village is flooded with tears
a cough in the dark
reveals bricks of secrets
two old stone mills
like an old couple who
have worn out their lives
wind leaks through four walls
a candle light dim and faint
not a synonym for romance and cozy
but luxury
when they can't afford kerosene
they eat, wash, get in the blankets
before the candlelight goes out
remainder of the light is only
for the maternal needlework
a curve creek
clear and lucid
when catching fish and mud-skippers
they become as happy as the water
joyful shrieks waft
in the smoke from the cooking stove
these scenes which can only be
returned to if time regressed are
very much alive in memory
they just didn't grow with me
many years later the warren
became a rustic retreat
days of the dirt and soil
became a wandering cloud
the stubborn local sounds
suddenly emerge from baseless thoughts
the mushed corn
the yam gruel
carrots and cabbage
feeding the dream
the mountains, the water, the people
the kindly kampung
the birthmark
of that era.

Lost
in the thick green forest
stuck
and can't get through it
to get out
i don't know where i am
don't know what time it is
don't even know who i am
anymore
can't dial the right numbers
can't get through to anyone
finally when i did get through
the person on the other end
would be a family or friend
who sees me as an unknown  
stranger
i think this is a conspiracy
i might have been deleted from the regime
of the human society.

Every morning the first thing
is do the subtraction
washing the body
from head to toe
drain all the crud
excretion
combing to get rid of some fallen hair
then do the addition
shove one capsule after another
down the stomach
when it's getting chilly
and there's no color green in front of you
take some vitamin C
to allow some green herbage
grow in your system
when it's dawn
and the sun keeps bouncing up and down
take some Prozac to reduce
the bumpiness of the road
when i was little
i was like a pill
trying to get into the tummy
the tummy was big and strong
and i was thrown all over the place
now the pill found that i was its rival
and had to tame my raging waves
i began to obey
the pill releases tenderness
and soothes me with a sanguine
emoji
it conducts the music
of the forest glade
inviting the swans
with its verdant melody
and my fingers no longer want
to reach the sky
my eyes choose the tranquility
of a placid lake
i even started liking the sound
of putrefaction that is not of impulse
but of delight in transiency
now i submit to this tiny ruler
mysterious yet earnest
that resides in the horizon
i like the freedom
i don't object to its amiability
nor its autocracy.

Standing on the overpass
i stop to look away
the endless stream of cars
sprinting from under my feet
dusky yellowish lights
start to illuminate the night
the city is beautiful at this time
yes it sure is
as the autumn winds blow
coolness grows
the heart feels barren
for no reason though
stars in the sky
twinkle once in a while
each one is an unknown dream
each one is too far away
a drop of rain fell from thereabouts
i saw it so i reach out
it touches my cheek
slips out of the corner of my eye
then in a trice
It floods the cityscape.

The swallows return
unveiling the garment of spring
it's a season of greenery
walking in the field
a beautiful painting is in front of you
butterflies will show you the way
light wind will dance
climbing to the top of the hill
the brook will sing for you
run with you
hot sun in the blue sky
will make your body shine
in this sweet season
I'd like to walk with you
and walk into the depths
of the flowery splendor.

The stars
look at me
they no longer blink
some thoughts
drowned by the night
half a moon peeks out
from behind the clouds
to adorn a little bit of
my dream
the shooting starry trajectory
such a beautiful poetic scenery
some people wake up at night
some go to sleep
staying up with you
day after day
dream after dream
when the sky is full of stars
that hide our mutual dream
holding your hand and walking with you
into the distant horizon
would have made me
the happiest person
beneath the heaven.