Of  moving outside our comfort zones
Would you think to meet your echoes?
By hiding in the mountains there are choices:

To turn your back on what you have become,
A wander goat or a missionary bird?

To embrace the fear of knowing that you can go beyond,

To hold your breath, bring the mountain into routine being.

Don’t we all have our mountains to climb,
believe it or not
When we do, the view is amazing

Are those green hopes?
Can’t we all hear their whispers love?

Calling without sounds,
Dancing without moves

Palms and fingers touch with heartily sun-sprays.

Together, we all grow,
an emerged labour fun
Where commence to our very first earthly love touch.

Burning yellow courgettes,
wave and greet each other
with the wild green spinach.
Accompanied by light purple artichokes,
ruby red rhododendrons.
A gentle breeze embraces her naughty but proud smiles,
Will fragrant lavender keep their long lasting seduction to a dancing butterfly?
Sun and moon shining in our high heaven
Graceful thanks rising,
We thank you,
nature preciously given

Hush Hush...
the mushroom
an ascetic
gives no room
for the thoughts
to mushroom.
Shall we be quiet!
But to meditate together
alone
intensely
under it's
umbrella's shade,
Matsutake Soup
And Mushroom skew,
Hush Hush.  Together,
we reshaped and danced
after reformed flavours

Switch off the hall of candle light,
Have you seen those whispering genies?
Gabriel asks to Madeline,
‘In fact, I could understand their coded dialogues’
Madeline replies with pinky red face
‘Can you tell me what you hear?’
Gabriel blinked his eyes with curious wonders.
Which Clarinet concerto is your favourite pieces?

Count or stop to count
7, 6, 5… then silence.
Started from the one to countless

Fatally wounded, again inequitable ethnic
the trumpet sound of trauma
In a private car, but this was
not a public performance

7 bullets transmit the pride and prejudice
Police have millions of reasons to suspect,
but we criticize the moon—
tonight it’s dark as hell in a drawer.

Count or stop to count
5,6,7… then gun violence.
His truth is lazy
and infinite as broken glass.

You are in our prayers— we pray infinitely.
We would like to have
a brave trumpet show for ourselves—
Deep sorrow, tumultuous but informative.

——Allied, 2016 movie  

Prologue:

WWII setting, covert operations
in German-occupied Casablanca

"Love and Hunger rule the world."
Consequently to dominate the world,
man had to win a victory over hunger,
after paying a very high price.
～～～～～
Scenery I.  Casablanca
-----------
All are of one colour: yellow，
Parachuting into the Moroccan desert,
He swept dune seas, hypnotically,
Not a patch of shade, not a drop of water,
only an infinite sea of yellow sand. 
～～～～～
Action I. Max & Marianne meet

Max Vatan (M) took a wedding ring,
Looking, Searching and Wandering:
Order Code:
1. Your wife dressed in purple;
2. A scarf stitched with a wild yellow bird

(Party Hall,Marianne Beauséjour swirled around)
Slowly, she turned back to him,
Loudly, she shouted out in French,
C’est mon meilleur et le plus beau mari.

～～～～～
Scenery II.

Sunrise at Casablanca desert
And the entire desert is theirs.
As all the skies are the stars and the sun’s kingdom.
There are no doors; hearts are open,”
——Southern Moroccan Secrets.”

Featured Conversations:
--------------
Marianne lifted up her lips and asked Max:
“Le Québécois? What are our odds?
Of surviving? 60-40, against. Both of us, I don’t know.”

So, tell me about Medicine Hat, Marianne kept asking
Max Vatan: Pretty green. Rolling hills.
Clear water. Just a place I go when things get dark.
You? Do you have a place?
Marianne Beauséjour: When the war is over
it won’t matter where I am.

～～～～～
Action II. Assassin

Fear not the weapon but the hand that wields it,

Beware the feelings of two agents allied,
they strike in the darkness

Fear not the weapon but the hand that wields it
Beware the shadows if you value your life
they strike in the darkness


20:31, 20:32… Counting down,
Trois, Deux, Un… 20:35
Allied couple, a possible mission  

Boom! Bang! Explosions screamed
into glass, into fire and smoke.
Is it our only chance of escape?

Before the Mission, Assassin comes 

Nothing to live for, nowhere is safe,

Stick to the light if you wish to escape.


～～～～～
Scenery III.
Along the corridor in the V section  
“they never say what they mean
and they never mean what they say,
and they never say anything on the phone”


Action  III: 72hours Blue-dye” procedure
～～～～～
1st 24 Hours:

Who really is Marianne?
That was a repeated question from Max
As no iron curtains made of steel

conniving happy family with things to steal

A pair of birds perched on a live wire
 
Only to set up a mission to conspire

2nd 24 Hours

Is this a game or a test?
Max thought he has understood it clearly

That love for a spy is only a game to play.
Have you heard his soundless scream
When the war was there, a game to share
With V-Section, life or death.
A test. A game.

The last hours: Ending letters

Je t'aime, Québécois, Marian said her last words to Max.
She shot herself.
blood and red coat, soaked into the rain  
Her voice swings to Medicine Hat
…
Where Pretty green. Rolling hills
Clear water…When the war is over,
it won’t matter where I am ..
A young girl, Anna read this letter with her father,
at Medicine Hat.

It’s been long since we’ve been in touch,
She knows that he is never far. A muse
Of wonders, where to commence a journey,
an atomic adventure.  The melody and brush are amusing
that stir her muse into atomic scale
She builds her realms from dreams,
where illusion seeps from imaginings.


It's been hard to stay in touch,
She knows that he was sat there. A muse.
Loving her. Trying to make plans together.
To have adventures together.

with their minds when the tongue is applied,
(metaphors are complex grammatical
vectors, nouns are simple grammatical
vectors, so to avoid confusion)

Together, they cross an empty sky-canvas
and shadows in acrylic sleep bleed stories;
awakening others’ spirits. A Muse
or mutually amuse? As for every rational secular noun
there's an irrational religious metaphor:
to join in a subconscious invocation of mind-flight.

Muse or amuse? Together
A journey to atomic adventure.

Would you agree with witty words from a dictionary?
And do those confusions all depend on mind play?
Who could help us more correctly:
Definition or detonation?
Lust or Love?

Who will promise to find the differences?
When we dig ourselves into dictionaries
or thesauruses 
Defining our commonality,

Refining our uniqueness, However
the death is the dictionary of unknown words,
Cant’t anyone edit and omit it, to none,
It’s soliloquy.

When wind passing his waves to us,
Sometimes gentle,
sometimes empowered

Shall we embrace you?
swing over the wind
spill over from distance,
whist landing at our hearts,

Sometimes gentle,
sometimes empowered
Swings over the wind.

His Shadow,

The fire flame,
Of magical illusion unconsciously plays.
With no trace, but discrete soul frame
Would these emotional contacts delay?
When hidden blinks end our days.
Cast in stone, in foundation of lies
Will all these shadows,
in searching of the hidden soul.

Her shadow
Covered in blood, sang aloud in sin
Who could tell where the sad little dove was?
Counting pale hearts, purple loves,
can anyone return her festering secrets safely?
If purity be poisoned, life to blame.
When there is an unwanted birth, 
dark Angel denies.
Her shadow, hidden soul
where the shape of magic academy, can you touch?

His pain

A sleepless night twitch
Whose illusions knew the game?
Faded smile fast frozen
Who will believe his heart would ever bleed?
A little broken lost child
has carried tons of stones, climbed up to endless hills.
Noting these issues,what we ought to feel?
Shadow of love,
magic academy, hidden soul.

Her pain
A set of painful memories, long times ago
Though, she knew, she must let it go
When dreams trigger upon the aching scars.
It burns within an injured heart.
Tearful moon shadow, in the wake of lies
What was missed?
magic academy, hidden soul.

Music background:  
Mendelssohn Violin Concerto no.2.
Figure: two beggar sisters
Background: autumn, double rainbow, butterfly, accordion, birds, horses, cattle, and sheep
Scene: a large meadow
___
Not far from the painter’s window
two beggar
sisters sitting in a large meadow
He whistles the birds’ melody,
the distant mountain,
he sees horses and cattle lowing,
after thunderstorm, autumn day
The painter silently watches the two sisters
Has she finished playing and dropping her little accordion without noticing?
Will her sister tell the blind girl double rainbows in the darkening sky?
Wind heavily blowing at the worn-clad pair
And he sees the red haired blind girl gently hold her sister
Can you tell me of these autumn colours?
The painter sees the  double rainbow across the eastern sky
He swiftly sketches through the window
He paints his heart  sympathic love
Will the blind girl feel joyous like yellow?
Perfumes dark green,
vibrant like red enrich their hope
Where the double rainbow appears in the eastern sky
The painter paints his inner calm,
butterfly tranquil mauve.

Would all men dreams for beauties?
It might be more like books
As wise as you cannot
judge by looks...
When you didn't want to finish reading
You put it down... no heart was bleeding

A book will never fuss or force.
It will stay with you
throughout the night...

It wasn’t crude. It wasn’t cheat
It won't keep shopping LV bags
à Avenue des Champs-Élysées

It does caring. It does charming
It will share the pressure with mysterious pleasures

It’s not always soft. It isn't warm without tentions
But it does' keep you
safe from harm.

When you set a preference book list
It has its charms
it may hold your soul in its arms.
Wouldn’t you think on it again...
... BOOKS should be
             more like Beauties

Would someone hear a whisper talking?
“Let’s count one moment of peace together,
only between us…”
He breathes into Lydia’s ear until her soul
passes on his fragrance.

He is her soul, she knew it.
And she wouldn't escape his magic spells,
But why would any soul in this world
want to escape from?
When the lunar night reaches to the sky
They fled to an ecstasy screen, together.

She asks him:
“Is everyone a shadow of the Beloved?
Yes, it is.”  He carved an ‘L’ shape on an old tree
Would our seeking be where our moon is seeking?
Could our words be lunar Lydia’ words?

Aren't there enough questions to end with a silence?
Where it leads to the core of our lives.

Isn't all your talk worthless?
Lydia whispered to him,  compare our whispers
to the Beloved.

It's a gentle gentle breeze
Which bothered the vineyard.
It’s a monk in the temple
Who asked me about death.
 
It’s children who crept into the garden,
They’re sneaking on heels behind me.
I could have turned around.
To look and not to notice.
 
To look into my heart’s desire,
To keep quiet  to the top of my bent.
Not to miss
My stolen childhood anymore.
 
It's a gentle gentle breeze
Which repeated beats from Bach cantata,
I caught up with myself thinking
That I have nothing to reply... to you

His face blue
He raises it through
Can you find a utopian loop
Where people’s grace grew?

Her face is red
A misplaced puzzle zoo
There is no wall to climb 
But into a wall of bricks

Will more people and more walls
Another sequel with another fall
She dreams a wall is ineffective.
Although he has built doors for a world at war.
The big brothers in, the heavier the doors 
She knows how Tu Fu escaped from a bamboo wall


Iambic Tetrameter

When stars appear in the sky,
under a dark late night,
Could you hear a dialog between Caterpillar and Butterfly?

Caterpillar: "Aren’t you too beautiful for me,
fly away and find someone as beauty as you.” 


Butterfly: "I will not leave you,
you are as beautiful as me."

Raised his voice, Butterfly looked into Caterpillar’s eyes:
“Why did I ever lose you?
Although they say everything has an end,
nothing will last,
Nothing is meaningful,
except think about the past....”

Caterpillar replied to him with a melancholy tone:
“why is the world moving fast?
Shall we live in the moment like they say...
Live in the moment - it'll be best to stay.”


They are hugging and chanting on a giant leaf—
Whose images are kept in store?
By memory, we are all alone. 

And if rhyme is outmoded. 
Shall I transform it to you, 
re-grow.
Past is in the future 
where it converts to the present,
with you...

Hey, why can you hear and not see?
When the sun stopped by a locked window

If there was a choice in the way we could chant
To the way we strut on our feet.

If there were choices how we touch,
To beyond our dreams.

If there was a choice in the ways we meet,
And how we leave behind the people we greet.

She sees there is a choice in their actions,
intentionally, the way they react to 
over reactions.

There is a choice in the way we treat,
Important not to repeat in the 
Explosions which create disease and confusion

If there was a choice in how we raise our 
Voice,
To apologies and resent for the 
White noise that were not meant.

If there was a choice to be free,
To move away from ever going 
Tragedies.

We knew the choices where we can leave,
To create a life to breathe,
Out of moon, No shadows but shine.

As you knew her choice
Unreasonable demand, will
Not to be dictated forever by 
Demoralizing,
our secret happy path

Will all the world and love were young,
And truth in every Shakespearean’s tongue,
Are pretty pleasures might me transit
To live with thee and be thy fantasy dance,

When flowers fade, and wanton fields
To wayward winter reckoning yields;
Would honey tongue, melting a heart of gall?

Is fancy’s spring, but sorrow’s fall.
Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten
In folly ripe, in season rotten.

Can you see through, out there in the dark lunar light  
there was a petite owl, the voice of Baritone

with his solo soul and fading smiles,
He sits, sees and sings in a forest choir at night,
The bird of baritone was keen to read the note in silence

And his visible presence of an invisible absence.
Where we heard two sets of harmonic voices
in unison, the secret centre

Seasons changing whilst storms are back in the news,

He closed his left eye and looking for better reviews.
Poorly, we are all, it wouldn't be keen

He pushed his tummy and step to a sharp F key, 

Petite owl takes off from the tree with an encore applause
He closed one green eye and choired under moon light

When can we see the world?
For what it reality is? But please
Don't give in without a fight, and
Don't help those who bury the light.

When summer goes to depth,
Who will be there to harvest flowers and fruits?
With a senses of emotion,
Can you manage the cycle  of complexities?
Is she ready?
Wings up to the next early morning,
How could we predict
A set of co-movement with determined missions?
Lift up from one cloud to another
Which journey episode would you merge with her?  
Where the sunlight clasps the earth
When the moonbeams kiss the sea:
What is all this sweet and sour life work worth
Already missing a path to rear garden secrecy
And more home private cooking?

Tense laptop, delight lunch table,
they swings from time capsules.  


Of the depths, in the quiet, in the white of the winterland

When nothing made a sound,
Nothing!
 Not a mouse, nor an Elk


Not a deer, or a fox, or an owl
But a froster painting

Squeezed into my childhoods window.

The tea of the kitchen were rich with colour and the smell of fruit.
The leave roots broke under the wave of the flute,
which slowly rotted;
the crops withered in the fields.
When winter can’t resist a gourmet fruit fantasy
Are you ready to wait for me,
at the corner of a seasonal banquet?

Twisted complex feelings
swings to grandfather’s hometown canal, 
where the heated late summer sunlight burned off 
traditional peace and a quiet Canal Zone. 

Returning scholar
his granddaughter’s blood at his side,
imagine now the men who once amassed
the limestone locks to straddle the canal,
an obsolete image from 
an eldritch past.

Memories soar, those cheerful moments,
Soon turn to scars, they are all swords.

You experienced the talons of desire,
Who never is brave never comes of age,
Upon a windy breeze, a silk-road distance,
Day dreamers shift to day travellers.

Hey, our ancestors,
Don't we preserve the same genes?
Scars from swords. Wars, wars and wars,
They all soaked into a blood
ancient book.
 
Hey, our childhood mates,
Haven’t you healed that patch of rotten wound?
The time has sealed its luminous web,
The remnants remain still.

You who stand firm

like a hidden door receding into eternity!

Your feet are bleeding thresholds,
We find comfort in sorrow,

fulfilment in what’s hollow.
Our aimless time travel continues
and we follow.

A very first but
Not a very Good Easter Saturday at East China Sea

No, it's not a good Easter Saturday
Lead Grey sky
Wet, miserable
And to make matters worse

Although the realization that Christ was crucified last night
and is dead and buried and won't rise until tomorrow

Would the disciples have no idea that he will indeed rise?
But rain rises first, everywhere.

Haiku  ( choral tunes )

Sun sings in morning  .  .  .
Music of light starts each day,
  .  .  .  Rainbow horse joining in.

Haiku  ( raiments )

Sun-shower dressed tree,
Rain left bright silver jewels,
  .  .  .  Beads on evergreen.


Haiku  (Invisible Poo)

Wild horse yawing  .  .  .
Fine art pieces we all see,
  .  .  .  No poo but winds with green.

Haiku (Puzzles)

Sedimentary
Mineral, igneous, shale
Solitary movement.

#AngelXJ

Yes Gabriel,
I heard the songs and dialogues of genies  whispering,
Madeline murmurs with her choral voice,
And she asks with a mysterious smile,
‘Any prize and pleasure could you award me?
Only if there is a hint of faith —
Where do we entry to our happy destiny?
Gabriel replies in a rush but with determined tones,
‘what if I can’t swim,
And I know you are not able to fly neither’,
Madeline talks to her uncertain mind,
‘What if you would like to hide in my pair of wings
They may not look fancy,
‘At least, I will keep the drama of storms away’
Proudly he spoke
to Madeline.

Sky, trees are
grey green but light
Still lakes, move sorrow motionless
Rotten leaves below –and above.
Rain water, deep

Who with who?
Where is where?
When is when?

DingDang TingDang Dinng
Will our party come up soon?
Fantasy dances but will reality confuses
Feelings are out of blue,
Suddenly breathing air;
(moonlight leaves shadows).

DingDang TingDang Dinng
Shall we open box of candy canes
Fantasy sight to see prettiest holly that will be
silver lanes aglow 
There silent images shimmer now
and - air breathing suddenly - break.


His and her stories world-over,
that your personal poet is
warming to record.
It doesn't  matter about rain or snow
But isn’t’ it beginning to look like in a
(Christmas Fantasy land now)

Is it that light?
fantastic auroral – which I
believed in one fleeting moment
-within a second or
half an hour.
You were my signal
of other things which
my heart desired.
You were the author
of great aspirations.
You guided my melancholy love,
as you dashed along the paths.
The heaths were strewn
with colourful blossoms
of life – they were
the greatest thing I had known
- as I didn’t touch
a single one because of you.
You are the most supreme
of all there is –
everything else is great
because of you.

Gushing from the mouths of moon lady
To ease her hair across the stars
She heard he was whispering under the sky
The only way to not be afraid black truth
Is to learn to face your white fears,

You're not afraid of the dark
You're only afraid of a lack of light,
Whenever it's a fear of falling,
When you say, you're scared of heights,

In the universe, full of illuminated particles
In the world, full of colours
In the room, full of lunar emotion

She still wanted to be dance with you,
With his fingers on the black and white piano keys
Leaping and deep, cool murmur moon

The search for new element lead to golden age of chemistry,
The search for new particles lead to golden age of particles physics,
Complex states of matter from the simplicity of building blocks.
In classical world we have solid,liquid and gas,
And who am I?
Humans, Angel, Devils or **** Deus?
In search of Angel particles, with you
-learning and reflections, an empirical study from physics model to fi