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#hongkong
silhouette of sails breezed through the twilight hour, the working man was long aroused from his sleep, long strips of inked paper billowed out into the dank alley, infused with the rotten aroma of yesterday. the paper-thin veil draped over the construction site, the working men had their silhouettes enslaved to the sheet, an arrow of shadow shot through the muted screen of the cinema, a line of laundry zigzagged the sky overhead, ********** pages of blue, the rickshaw man was crossing stairs, toeing winding train tracks, children nimbly dashed past danger a fisherman was dreaming of secret deluges, he would oar his way through the overflown streets, catching a dim sum box or two a seagull fixed its hungry gaze on you, chewing stick you leaned on the cart you have been pushing, facing habour
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Jul 27, 2022
Jul 27, 2022 at 2:22 PM UTC
Old Hong Kong
1 Navigating through liquid crowds in this city map of rooting veins. With only a single eye, left, open, capture every drop as it remains seeping into pedestrian subways. Neon flyers flutter for today. There is a hint of salt in the air. Faceless individuals, they never ask but somehow they always know. 2 Silent assemblies at school when we refused to sing; on the streets we learn to breathe through toxic chemical overkill and politics and chemistry and physics and geography. And humanities. We held green tickets for the first time, not for conventional reasons, but as an unspoken goodbye. 3 Find comfort in being overshadowed by trees, by skyscrapers, by people, yet we speak when need be to whom must listen when we discard our reserved nature within or against the same brick walls at home or across the oceans. They ask you about your hometown They ask you what this poem is about Say “it’s complicated”, * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
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Jun 17, 2022
Jun 17, 2022 at 9:46 AM UTC
Home Kong
Hong Kong China crunch clash of ideologies— iron mixed with clay
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Dec 4, 2019
Dec 4, 2019 at 4:32 PM UTC
Who Blinks First?
The city is melting in the screams In the dead of night, From thick skins to thin skins,  So accustomed to fearful, bloodied scenes  As you walk through or past  blinking in the putrid smokes rising up like an atom explosion   compelling you to gouge your eyes out  or rip the flesh off your bones  You're knocked out in a floundering hill of carcass  I was there  I was scared  Unidentifiable in the crowd adorned with courage As my people should be  They targeted me anyway Emptying the barrel of a dozen revolvers Hundreds of black-clad Darth Vaders  besieged my space once taken to be safe  Gone are those days entrusting 'law and order' unmasking itself as a little less human  cutting innocent lives shorter and shorter  learning that it's after all a shape-shifting demon  "When I grow up I want to serve in the plice Fools, you see what they want you to see  A provocation or condemnation  And they give you a taste of merciless damnation  My people play no part in the conflict  And yet. The demons in blue and green  orchestrate and construct minefields to ****  And yet. We don't plan to forfeit  I say 'We' on behalf of journalists  I say 'people' on behalf of journalists  also happen to be People with Emotions  Finding middle ground when the earth under your feet  crumbles. Living in Commotion Power-hungry bodies are dark voids during a war  because money buys protection  because status breeds greed  Empowered bodies are overcome during a war  because all they feel is pain and fury  of measures shaking them to the burning core  They fired shots after shots  manhandling our right to exist  Our weapon of choice is the pen we'll show them tyranny is so close to its end
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Nov 14, 2019
Nov 14, 2019 at 12:04 PM UTC
police br*tality
The city is melting in the screams In the dead of night, From thick skins to thin skins,  So accustomed to fearful, bloodied scenes  As you walk through or past  blinking in the putrid smokes rising up like an atom explosion   compelling you to gouge your eyes out  or rip the flesh off your bones  You're knocked out in a floundering hill of carcass  I was there  I was scared  Unidentifiable in the crowd adorned with courage As my people should be  They targeted me anyway Emptying the barrel of a dozen revolvers Hundreds of black-clad Darth Vaders  besieged my space once taken to be safe  Gone are those days entrusting 'law and order' unmasking itself as a little less human  cutting innocent lives shorter and shorter  learning that it's after all a shape-shifting demon  "When I grow up I want to serve in the plice Fools, you see what they want you to see  A provocation or condemnation  And they give you a taste of merciless damnation  My people play no part in the conflict  And yet. The demons in blue and green  orchestrate and construct minefields to ****  And yet. We don't plan to forfeit  I say 'We' on behalf of journalists  I say 'people' on behalf of journalists  also happen to be People with Emotions  Finding middle ground when the earth under your feet  crumbles. Living in Commotion Power-hungry bodies are dark voids during a war  because money buys protection  because status breeds greed  Empowered bodies are overcome during a war  because all they feel is pain and fury  of measures shaking them to the burning core  They fired shots after shots  manhandling our right to exist  Our weapon of choice is the pen we'll show them tyranny is so close to its end
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Is it discriminatory to hate the fungus that can spread in the bodies of ants. Creeping through the nerves infecting until it scrapes through the cerebral nerve driving them mad climbing the heights of rainforest giants which they can’t get back down from. When it takes their mind, Are they now the same? Is it discrimination, If I **** the select black pages of a book that tumble along the desert winds, their words cursing those under the God. For those in letterboxes, I have a message: do you want to be defined by your value as a possession? Is it discrimination, To wish us rid of those who will condemn our humour and joy, for it is a sign of humanity. On online forums that do not have to except a human flood and a culture crushed to single metal pieces, Will not except a yellow glutton carnivore as president, Will not except the red and blue beams from the sun being darkened by a night-black swarm of red and yellow striped wasps, the vibrant joy of star fruit now as constructing as imperial gold. Speak, Rid your bike, Shine your light For Tiananmen is abroad. Location decided not by a treaty, But by those who cling to a rising sun, Not shineless stars.
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Aug 10, 2018
Aug 10, 2018 at 9:12 AM UTC
Winnie the Pooh is president.
It's not like the movies, or shows the books and the novels. hollywood's way of cheesy gimmicks. It's not like the Hunger Games! Where people are injected with sweet venom of credulous lies. Where 2 tributes disappears. Every year. Because, right now, right here, we have more. It is 2053. Promises long gone. Contracts expired and conspiracy failed. Betrayed. Lied to. Indoctrinated. Abandoned. Hands over heads. We, at the mercy of the Red Dragon. His highness roams. We, losing our grasps, collapsing. I dreamed a home of peace, safe, with freedom. But it crumpled into a million pieces. No more teases. When they had won. Some people fled. Unbearable of the roads, tainted red. They got lucky. But I'm just a fuming middle aged worthless powerless whatshername. Talk about pity. "I'm young!" But you'll grow old. And I tell you of this. I warn you of this! Because I see it so clearly, so vividly, in your eyes. I see no future of us. Just our minds twisted. Blood and gore mixed with all that we witnessed. Just healthy looking robots. Patriotic robots. Who has forgotten everything.
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Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 4:32 PM UTC
This is about Politics, Freedom and Struggle