Saturday 20 April 2013

[archived]: Poems by Changming Yuan © - 1/2012

-Fragmented

In English syntax, they say
An incomplete sentence is unacceptable, often
Referred to as a fragment, which
May have a part of speech missing
Like the subject in particular
Or the predicate, even the main clause
But we always prefer
To omit the most important entity
Be it you or me
In Chinese utterances


-MoreSpeculation,Less Speed

how often have I tried
to find a short-cut to my destinations
but more often than not
I actually went astray
wandering, zigzagging
driving back and forth
detouring without knowing how much farther
I derailed myself, how much more time
I wasted in a wrong place
Until I finally returned
to the original crossroad
Where I should have taken the other path
Probably longer, but definitely
With more assurance


-OverthePacific:AChanPoem

Flying high enough means to
Traveling far enough
To a new realm, where
There is neither borderline
Between sea and sky
Between day and night
Nor distinction
Between yesterday and tomorrow
Where every shape is softly roundish
Every line is tenderly curvy
While all colors become fluffily white
Like dehydrated snow
You would find yourself sailing alone
To an outer Hyperborea
On a heavenly boat
With no more attachments to the earth
There and then, your entire selfhood
Shrinks into a tiny dot of light
One and the same with your soul, your spirit
Gliding, cruising
In perfect pacificity


-Urban-Portraits (1):-The-Pigeon-Feeder

No one knows
When the old man started to do this
But every evening he would prop up
From nowhere, coming
To the foot of a statue at the square
With a dusk-painted container
To feed the pigeons
Cooing and flapping around
Like wantons retuning home for supper

Each time he would take extra care
Making sure each bird got its fair share
Whether it was warm or chilly
Windy or rainy until one day
He finally failed to appear

Then another day, a third…

Later, he was found stone dead
On his lonely bed, in a rented room
Definitely bigger than a cage
But containing no other furniture
Even a desk, a chair
Except some bird food
Left on the window ledge
Two small paper boxes
Full of receipts from pawn shops
And a note To Whom It May Concern:
Please continue feeding the pigeons


-Butterflies-at-Night

Some prefer to perch on withered twigs
As if to add a little color to the dark tree

Some dwelling under the leaves of plants
Trying to hide from the chilly moonlight

Some attaching themselves to steep cliffs
Hoping to keep in line with summer stars

Others simply squatting on the bare ground
Fearing neither animal feet nor heavy mists

While many like to roost together
Most love to sleep or dream alone

During the day they all fly around like public figures
Yet at night they become as solitary as private thinkers


-Golden-Pheasant

Showiest, you most brilliant bird
Feathered with richest
Boldest whims and wishes
Though unable to fly higher than a tree
Or farther than an arrow’s range

Spending most of your time aground
You would rather run, stalking
In the heart of the forest
Roosting on treetops, never intending
To show off your glaring beauty
To any watching eye in the distance

With a metallic voice, you are simply too proud
To call attention from a different species


-The-Confession-of-a-Worker Bee

We make two kinds of trips
One to suck nectar from flowers
The other to obtain pollen
When we try to produce honey
We transfer our loads to each other
Mouth to mouth
In an endless process
To add enzymes to what eventually
Gives honey its ‘shelf life’

Yes, for the sake of honey’s shelf life
We are happy to live only a month to die


-Truth-about-Our-Firs-Cries

When we were born
We all cried glaringly
Above the tops of our own voices
To our hearts’ full
Whether we were meant
To be singers or soldiers

Yes, we did cry hard then
(Even still crying now and then)
Not because we were choked
With any pain or joy
But because our vocal cords
Could not really help
Vibrating violently
Against the very first breaths
We took from outside
Our moms’ wombs

That’s how we came to this wild world


-The-Difficult-Discourse

You eat animal meat with steel forks and knives
We eat plant leaves with bamboo or wooden sticks

How can herbivores and carnivores
Respect the same human rights?


-A-Simple-Wish

When there is a long and cold night
I want nothing but a little corner
Of time, or a brief moment
Of space, where I would
Occupy myself, sitting still
Trying to concentrate
As if in deep meditation
Watching for the first rays of sunlight
Dispersing the shadows in my mindscape
That’s my dream


-Urban-Portraits (2):-The-Bench-Lady

On each sunny Saturday afternoon
The elderly woman would be seen
All dressed up
From head to toe
Sitting all by herself
In her very best
On that same park bench

Both her face and clothing shinier
Than the daylight
She would gaze long
Beyond the bay
At the tall trees
On a distant mountain
Like a proud queen
Reviewing her guards of honor

Until at a cloudy moment, her head fell down
On her shrunk shoulder, once and for ever


-Teh

A finger neither deformed nor really fat
But it happened to hit the wrong key
At the right moment, or the right key
At the wrong moment, thus making
A handsome typo stand out
Among all normal-looking words

On a different keyboard
You would be a thrilling improvisation
A fresh note rather than a strange noise

Or, like a comet in the summer sky
You might strike the whole night bright

You are never meant to be, but you always are
The commonest nonsense making perfect sense
In every context, or are you not?


--Looking

Stop
Take a look
A really long and good look
Beyond, the buildings
Beyond, the trees
Beyond, the clouds
Beyond, the skyline
Beyond, the light, the figure
The name, the amount
The beauty, the power, the mindscape
And see what you seem
To be and look at, or see

When you close your strained eyes
What’s there to be and see?


-A-Brief-History-of-Calligraphy

The first words were written
With twigs on the ground
Like seagulls’ footprints on the beach
Later, they were written
With water on wooden surfaces
Like a solder’s blood in a stream
Then, more were written
With a brush on bamboo chips
Like pictures painted on poles
Others with colored ink on paper
Like symbols tattooed on the human skin

But now all words are hit
Against a hard keyboard rather than written
On a soft sheet of paper
Something one can touch
Fold, crumple up
With a hand
Or with the heart


-Snow-Beginning-to-Fall-Outside

While he tries to draw a mountain
With an ink-dripping brush
On a wide sheet of rice paper
It begins to snow outside
Paints the whole city with winter white
Dotting his work like a leopard, roaming
Looming along the borderline
Between the city and the season

His strokes getting blurry among falling flakes
All the trees become frozen, retreating to the horizon
Except a black bird still beating its wings
Against the mountain range in front of his eyes
Against the snowfall outside of his home


-At-the-Intersection

A huge cross paved hard with cement
They can never carry it away
From the heart of their city
Though all traffic lights remain green


-Last-Resort

Twisting sunlight
Between her palms
She made a thick rope
To tie her little canoe
To a warm season
But as she returns
To cross the river
She finds her boat
Has long drifted away


-Dualism

Your body can fly high in the blue sky
But only to find itself still caged
Behind the naked bars of your mind


-Human-Humor

We are all born to be birds
That can fly high in the outer sky
But since we came down for a rest
We have been caught on this huge web
Weaved with five-colored silk
Stickier and stronger
Than our will or wisdom
That is spewed by fame
Wealth, power, sex, habit
Thus beginning our lifelong struggle
Until our very last flapping


-The-Calendar/Yearbook: An Allegory of Antiself

January

Standing alone
At this coldest spot of the doorway
You pause, wondering which door to
Knock at, which to
Push or pull
So you can go inside
A warm room where you know
You cannot stay for the whole year
Nor would you come out of the same door
But which to enter:
The narrow door with a wide exit
Or the wide one with a narrow exit?

February

Rolling, flowing, dripping
From the palest memories of last year
The melting snow stops moving
But hung everywhere
Like crystals
Against the freezing fits of frantic winds

With the moon always broken
In this shortest month of the pearl
No love can be purified
No couple can enjoy a full honeymoon

March

At this true, truer outset of the year
When the world finally awakens
From its prolonged white hibernation
When we can march forward like soldiers
With the steadiest steps
Every life can now
Give a morning kiss
To earth, to the landscape
Without mask or cosmetics

April

All plants beginning to burgeon
Open their hands and hearts widely
To draw inspirations
From the season
To play with spring spirits
While the ghosts of those doomed to die
Within the year are stalking behind us
Some to the church
Some to the mind
Others to the corners of night

May

Seeds of hope, seeds of love
Deeply planted since last winter
In the fertility of
Dreams, expectations
All come into blossom
In every heart beating against sunlight
On every face beaming with smile
At every twig reaching into the sky
Just when leaves grow fullest, freshest
Before they begin to fade, or fail

June

Come, come to the open fields
Let’s embrace most daylight
Of the whole year
In this northern hemisphere
Where we can stay young, younger
Enjoying our honeymoon
With the sun, with light
With warmth
Instead of cold darkness
That is dominating the other
Half of the world

July

Dogs are making human history (right)
When humans deal with dog days (right)
When the sullen, sultry sky witnesses:
Fraud, fervor, frenzy -- yes
It is our inner heat that has been
Warming the whole atmosphere
Like Julius’s inflated heart

August

With stone fruits
Like plums, apricots, preaches
Ripening rapidly
In this month of the sickle
It is high time to cut open
The secrets of sunlight
In their hardened hearts
Wrapped with the fleshiest
The juiciest season

September

In the open fields
Nothing is left
Except bare stems, deep holes, bald twigs
But behind each closed door
Is a cozy room
Rented or owned, full of
Colored fruit, plump seeds
And overflowing minds

October

Burning, blooming
Like spring flowers
All tree leaves
Giggle, guffawing
With the west wind
In their fierce defiance
Against the elegy of the land
Recited aloud
In blood-throated voices

November

Most monotonous month:
Each passing day is depressed
Into a crow, its wings
Its body and tails
Newly glazed in the mists
Of thick dusk
Though its heart still
Lingers in the memory of
Summer’s orange morning glows

December

As the sun sinks deeper every day
Into the other side of the world
The shadow is getting longer, darker
Making our lives slant more and more
Towards night, when nature
Tries to balance yin and yang
By covering each dark corner
With white snowflakes
Ever so softly, quietly

As each twig frowns hard at twilight
Why not give it smile and thus
Book a space in heaven?


-Yellow Joke: A Chronicle Poem
The first three years of age reveal all in a lifetime –Chinese Proverb

Age 1

Born to a heliocentric species
You have accomplished your very first
Revolution in the solar system, like the sunflower
Growing behind the fence
Of your father’s front yard

With no milk from my mother or a cow
I had to live entirely on flour soup
Not so nutritious to my legs and hands
But helpful with the growth of my heart
Though it is congenitally ischemic

Age 2

After numerous assisted trials
You start to walk alone, walk along
Constantly tumbling,
Hurting yourself hard,
But you have to stand up
On your own, since you can now
Cry, scream, speak, give orders, ask for help
Even though it’s just a 2 word sentence

Age 3

A time of temper tantrums
Imaginative fears, nightmares
When you begin to touch shadows
With your chubby hands
With the even chubbier fingers
Of your hypertrophic heart


-Witness-Wanted

On the fast lane, right here
Near the intersection between
Capitalism and communism
During the earliest hours
Around 21st century
A reddish China was rear-ended


-Kinship:-For-Yuan-Hongqi

Yes, we are father and son, but so often
Did I doubt this simple small biofact:
We could never say more than three short
Sentences to each other when we met, nor
Did we meet more than three times per year
Before I managed to flee a thousand miles
Away from you, and later ten thousand away
From your village on this world’s other side

Like other Chinese fathers, you never said
You loved me, gave me a hug, or touched me
Unless it was a cutting pinch in the arm
Or a heavy hit on the butt, (always in surprise)
While my peers kept bragging aloud
About their great fathers, grandfathers
I looked down upon you, not because of
Your slight stature, but because of your
Smaller personality, constantly calling you
A Buddha outside, a Devil at home’
(Of course behind your back), so I used to
Feel guilty, fearing I could never shed
Any teardrops when you die, just as every
True Confucian son is supposed to

Unlike me and my son, with a big store of
Co-memories ready to share, to cherish
We were born enemies, karma-determined
In our former lives, just as you had explained
To my mother, (who would be busy filling
In each new crack on our wall, with a big pail
Of muddy mixture every time we met)

Yet ever since your death at the dawn of 2012
I have been haunted by your image, kindly
Smiling, and even sobbed my heart out
While dreaming last night: are you there, Dad?

-Egg*-Poems (1): -n-English-Sketch-of-Semi-Colonial-China

Wearing cheongsam
These poor coolies arrived here
On sampans
Always ready to kowtow
To a tycoon
Who lived in Shangri-La
Eating dim sum
Drinking oolong
Playing mahjong
Gambling in a casino every day
Though reluctant to give cumshaw

*A word (or person) with a Chinese origin living in the West is often called an ‘egg,’ which is white-skinned, but yellow-hearted.

Egg* Poems (2): An English Sketch of Mandarin China
Led by dao
A yin
Running dog
Wearing qipao
Is fighting against a yang
Paper tiger
With wushu
After getting brainwashed
Through maotai
Like a taikongnaut
At a fengshui spot
Dominated by qi

*A word (or person) with a Chinese origin living in the West is often called an ‘egg,’ which is white-skinned, but yellow-hearted.


Egg* Poems (3): An English Sketch of Ancient China
They used to drink tea
Wear silk
Eat from china
Think in terms of zen
And practice Confucianism

Only - is it true?

*A word (or person) with a Chinese origin living in the West is often called an ‘egg,’ which is white-skinned, but yellow-hearted.

Egg* Poems: An English Languacultural History of China
1/ Ancient China

They used to drink tea
Wear silk
Eat from china
Think in terms of zen
And practice Confucianism

Only - is it true?

2/ Semi-Colonial China

Wearing cheongsam
These poor coolies arrived here
On sampans
Always ready to kowtow
To a tycoon
Who lived in Shangri-La
Eating dim sum
Drinking oolong
Playing mahjong
Gambling in a casino every day
Though reluctant to give cumshaw

3/ Mandarin China

Led by dao
A yin
Running dog
Wearing qipao
Is fighting against a yang
Paper tiger
With wushu
After getting brainwashed
Through maotai
Like a taikongnaut
At a fengshui spot
Dominated by qi

*A word (or person) with a Chinese origin living in the West is often called an ‘egg,’ which is white-skinned, but yellow-hearted.

-Hallucination

As if straight from heaven
A young snowy seagull charges down
Trying to pick up the entire ocean
With its bold beak
Just when the tsunami raises
All its fierce fists
To protect against earth’s agitation
In foamy darkness
When no one seems to stand
On the beach, watching


-BirdvsSea

As if straight from heaven
A young snowy seagull charges down
Like a lightning strike
Trying to pick up the entire ocean
With its bold beak
As the tide raises
All its fierce fists
To protect against earth’s agitation
In foamy darkness

Far away, no one seems to stand
On the beach, watching


-Killing-Time

On a lazy Saturday afternoon
If you have nothing better to do
Why not try this:
Gather together
All the shadows
Of the past week
Fold them into cranes
And hang them high
In the house of your heart
As if to follow an ancient tradition
Or simply fly them afar
Into the enlightened space of history


-Tomb-Visiting:-For-Yuan-Hongqi

Last year, before burying your ashes
Right beside Grandma’s grave site
(To guard her Buddhaship, as you had
Wished), I opened your urn for a peek
And found your biggest bone chip
Glistening against the January wind
As pink as a piece of charcoal

Now, too far to attend your anniversary
Like every other good Confucian son
Burning joss sticks and fake money
Lighting a huge pile of firecrackers
Before your tombstone, on Big Wok Peak
But I did make three loud kowtows
Towards the east, and in so doing
I saw a little rosy cloud drifting around
Like an inflated bird beating its wings
Along the horizon, amid evening glows
And wondered whether that’s your spirit
Still lingering between earth and heaven

What was it tightly holding in its beak:
A heirloom, or simply our family name?


-Phonism

Even in the dead
Heart of night
I often hear
A short blunt saw
Working aloud
As if to fell down
The old tall oak tree
Standing high against the sky
On an unknown hilltop
Beyond the map
Of my mind

Are you listening to what you have heard
Or can you hear what you are listening to?


-Photism

Although born with a weak vision
I always enjoy watching the stars
Bluish or silver
Getting filtered
One after another
Out of the cosmos
And seeing them
Falling right
Into the boldest pages
Of history

Hallucination (2)

1/ Photism

Although born with a weak vision
I always enjoy watching the stars
Bluish or silver
Getting filtered
One after another
Out of the cosmos
And seeing them
Falling right
Into the boldest pages
Of history

2/ Phonism

Even in the dead
Heart of night
I often hear
A short blunt saw
Working aloud
As if to fell down
The old tall oak tree
Standing high against the sky
On an unknown hilltop
Beyond the map
Of my mind

Are you listening to what you have heard
Or can you hear what you are listening to?
-IllustrativeIllusions (1)

still hanging
on that twig
like a deflated crow
is the tree’s last leaf
the shadow of your soul
that refuses to fall
to the autumn ground
instead, it is getting ready to fly away
into another valley
where winter is delayed
or whitewashed

-IllustrativeIllusions (2):

Wedged deep
Between dawn and dusk
Is a hardened shadow
Like a chilly night
When long acupuncture needles
From the mid-autumn moon
Kept down-pouring
Onto my consciousness


Soon, winter will come
To cover my inner land
With blue snowflakes
As in the Arctic
Though no one has ever seen them


-IllustrativeIllusions

1/ Leaf

still hanging
on that twig
like a deflated crow
is the tree’s last leaf
the shadow of your soul
that refuses to fall
to the autumn ground
instead, it is getting ready to fly away
into another valley
where winter is delayed
or whitewashed

2/ Moonlight

Wedged deep
Between dawn and dusk
Is an autumn moon
That kept down-hurling
Its acupuncture needles
Onto my consciousness
Before winter comes
To cover my inner land
With blue snowflakes
As in the Arctic
Though no one has ever seen them


-WinterGame

With my son
I made a handsome snowman
Out of our boyhoods
Standing like a guard of honor
In front of our home, where a big crow
Tried to drive the wind
Out of winter, but both of us
Became naked inside out
As the snow starts to melt
From head to toe
From skin to heart
Bit by bit
Under a warm sun
Arising all too soon


-Replacing

Having squeezing out
Every blood-soaked syllable
Out of your callous throat
Out of your ischemic heart
You have become deflated, wishing
The starlight of the whole night
To be injected into your being

Like a fully-blown balloon
Rising to the borderline
Between day and night, where the sun
Will set you off into a blast
Exploding your entire selfhood
Into myriads of shreds, drifting along
The skyline, amid morning glows


-NaturalConfrontations (5):

1/ Grass

Inspired by spring’s spirit
You turn all your life
Into a pair of green swords

No matter how many times
Your head and heart
Are both trodden
You still hold them high
Against the entire sky

2/ Leaf

Like a wounded soldier
Firmly holding his position
You are the only one
Still hanging on there
To blockade the invasion
Of a whole cold season

3/ Firefly

Burst with courage
You try to use
Your little light
Like a sharp scissor tip
To rip off the curtain
Of all summer darkness


-NaturalConfrontations (6)

1/ Cloud

With a body so light
Soft, short, never
Even having a fixed shape
You resist the strongest summer sun
Trying to shield all its rays
Like arrows
Shot down
Towards the human world

2/ Octopus

To escape
From your predator
You eject a wet night
Into the seawater
As if to dye the whole ocean
Into darkness


-Recalling:FoYuanHongqi

Wait a while!’ Mother would shout, ‘they say
There might be more showers this afternoon.’
So I recalled, from time to time
How he would turn a deaf ear to her
And continue, dragging out quilts
Sheets, pillows, blankets, padded coats
One pile after another
Like moving forests
Hanging them on thick ropes
Tied to deformed poplars or lamp posts
Not again! This old man of mine just wouldn’t
Want to waste a single ray of sunlight.’
And remembered, for nearly half a century
My dad had tried each time to empty the whole house
And sun-wash everything, more like a grandma
Than like a father, even during the Cultural Revolution
Now realizing how I have been haunted
By his stark image, smiling, in blue, ever since
He nodded his head to Mother for the last time
About 5 pm on January 2 last year
I find myself choked again with gratitude:

It was my father who gave me so many a chance
To smell fresh sunlight in my boyish nightmares


-8NewNaturalConfrontations

Orchid

Deep in the valley
Alone on a shady spot
You bloom aloud, though
There are neither eyes
Nor ears open nearby
Paying the slightest attention
To your shape or melody
Be it ever so fragrant
So fulfilling


Lotus
From foul, decayed silt
At the very bottom
Of a big lake of dirty murk
You shoot clean
Against the morning sun
Always pure
Crystal
Unpollutable

Corn

With a small body
Of teeth, you have bitten off
Every golden minute
From the warm day
Hoping to collect and store
All the sunlight
Of the passing season

Cuckoo

With a thin
Blood-throated voice
You call out aloud
Trying to wake up
Millions of millions
Of trees and rocks
All deeply lost in
Their cold dreams
Of last winter

Ant

Stretching its hair-like limbs
As far as it can
The ant embracing
The tallest Douglas tree
In the forest
Attempts to shake off
All its leaves
Branches, and even
To uproot it

Vortex

Turning, twirling
In ever smaller circles
A vortex in the stream
Seems to be sucking in
All the waters on earth
Like the black hole
Trying to swallow
The whole universe

Feather

A white fluffy plume
From an unknown bird
Happening to fly by
Drifts around, falling down
Slowly as if to wipe out
All the dust at dusk
With its invisible fingers

Squirrel

With a thin line of blood
Dripping along
From its new wound
A squirrel runs rapidly
Across the street
Wishing to melt, or warm up
The whole icy winter


-SpontaneousSpoonerism

Good ladies, evening and gentlemen
It is kistomary to cuss the bride now
Or give three cheers for the queer old dean
(Excuse me, but you are occupewing my pie)

Since the world was in a reep depression
We all have nurtured only a half-warmed fish
To make, even the most highly played payer
Cannot afford to drink a tup of kea every day

Why the bay, have you forgotten how to
Mount koney, say, with noman rumerals?

Anyway, if suffering from a stick neff
You’d better loop before you leak, or else
You would trip over the power flot, break
The black bloxes, or wit the hall with a big bam

Now, are you beeling fetter?


-January2: ForYuaHongqi

That was the day when my father died
Before finishing the longevity noodles
Mom’s trying to feed him below our feet
On the other face of the planet, where
He had persisted long enough to allow
Us to celebrate another new year’s day
In Jingzhou as well as in Vancouver
When my brother’s only son managed to
Travel all the way to Grandpa’s dying bed
To report how he was doing in New York

This was also the time when I and Hengxiang
Felt like making love again after another
Cold war, when Iran successfully testfired
Two long-range missiles in the Persian Gulf
To deter the invasion to be led by Uncle Sam
And his running dogs, when the very first
Plymouth Neon was made in 2000, when JFK
Became a senator in 1960, when a stamped
Took 66 human lives after a soccer game
At the Ibrox Park Stadium in Scotland
Even earlier, and when God was taking
A long overdue nap, since he knew
All was well with this wild wild world

On that day, I became the oldest male
In my entire family, ready to take my turn
To deal with death in a masculine manner


-Y

Youlove‘Y’, not because it’s the first letter
In your family name, but because it’s like
A horn, which the water buffalo in your
Native village uses to fight against injustice
Or, because it’s like a twig, where a crow
Can come down to perch, a cicada can sing
Towards the setting sun as loud as it wants to
More important, in Egyptian hieroglyphics
It stands for a real reed, something you can
Bend into a whistle or flute; in pronouncing it
You can get all the answers you need, besides
You can make it into a heart-felt catapult
And shoot at a snakehead or sparrow, as long
As it is within the range of your boyhood


你喜欢‘Y',并非因为它是你姓名的
第一个字母, 而是因为它像一只角
你故乡的水牛用以反抗一切不公平
或者,因为它像秋天的树枝
乌鸦可以在上面栖息, 蝉可以驻足
对着夕阳尽情地鸣唱,更重要的是
在古埃及的象形文字中,它代表一杆
真正的芦苇,你可以将其折成一只哨笛
而读出它的声音, 你可获得你所想要的
一切答案,此外, 你还可以把它做成一副
舒心的弹弓, 用它射击蛇头或家雀
只要它们处于淘气男孩的射程范围之内


-Arborealesthetics

1/ Every tree is unique not only in shape but also in spirit.
2/ No tree tries to appear different, but it naturally grows to be so.
3/ Trees are much more beautiful than humans, in general as well as in particular.
4/ Each tree leaf facing towards the sun is clearer, sleeker and brighter.
5/ All leaves are strictly symmetrical, but no two twigs or trunks are exactly identical.
6/ A crow or human may not be distinguished from its like, but a tree always can.
7/ Young or old, plump or skinny, living or dead, each tree is handsome its own way.
8/ Never tired of standing, trees have feelings, impulses, attitudes, thoughts and dialects.
9/ Every tree ring keeps a growing secret at heart.
10/ Trees may look more graceful as they dance in the wind, but they actually prefer rain.
11/ Whoever appreciates the beauty of a tree is rich, wise and healthy.
12/ A tree always keeps its head, heart and hands wildly open.
13/ The beauty of a twig, a trunk, or the whole tree is deeper than its heart.
14/ Every tree is a great artwork of line, shape and color.
15/ Two trees may grow together, but they never lose their independent individuality.
16/ Trees may bend or break in a storm, but they never budge from their position in life.
17/ Obscure or outstanding, no tree pays serious attention to the comments of the wind.


-WashroomWisdom:AGraffitiPoemFoundOnline

  1. Since writing on toilet walls is done neither for critical acclaim nor for financial rewards, it is the purest form of art – Discuss
  2. If you don’t imagine, nothing happens at all
  3. Be aware that you’re lying to yourself
  4. Fighting for peace is like fucking for virginity
  5. Ladies, I pee’d in your restroom, I’m sorry but mine was locked
  6. If we were more aware of our mortality, would we become kinder to each other?
  7. Language is a virus
  8. Men are like panty hose; they either run cling or don’t fit right in the crotch
  9. It is the height of arrogance and the height of control for those that created God in their own image
  10. The toilet was so high that I felt like a queen
  11. Life is about the journey; don’t forget
  12. Think more about working less
  13. Immigrants: you are in Canada, speak English
  14. I feel like this is the only real mark I’ll ever make in this world
  15. Please do not graffiti in the restroom

-ComputerCouplets

Loading
Please wait [for Godot?

Temporarily disconnected
Now connected [to the Peach Blossom Garden!


-PostmodernisminaWashroom

Dear Music,
Why can’t we just get along?
Sincerely,
Art.

Dear Art,
It’s because we is so much more intellectual than you are.
Duh


-OntheRoad: FreeVerseFoundOnline

1. To get your vehicle out of a skid, you should first:
a. Steer straight ahead.
b. Steer in the opposite direction of the skid.
c. Steer in the direction you want to go.
d. Apply brakes hard.

2. When may you lend your driver's licence?
a. In emergencies.
b. To a person learning to drive.
c. It is not permitted.
d. For identification purposes.

3. What must a driver do before entering a highway from a private road or driveway?
a. Enter or cross the highway as quickly as possible.
b. Yield right-of-way to all vehicles approaching on the highway.
c. Sound horn and proceed with caution.
d. Give hand signal then take right-of-way.

4. Never change lanes in traffic without:
a. Looking in the rear view mirror only.
b. Giving proper signal and looking to make sure the move can be made safely.
c. Blowing your horn and looking to the rear.
d. Decreasing speed and giving correct signal.

5. When the driver of another vehicle is about to overtake and pass your vehicle, you must:
a. Speed up so that passing is not necessary.
b. Move to the left to prevent passing.
c. Signal to the other driver not to pass.
d. Move to the right and allow such vehicle to pass.

6. When you are deciding whether or not to make a U-turn, your first consideration should be to check:
a. Traffic regulations.
b. Presence of trees, fire hydrants or poles near the curb.
c. Turning radius of your car.
d. Height of curb.

7. It is more dangerous to drive at the maximum speed limit at night than during daytime as:
a. Your reaction time is slower at night.
b. You cannot see as far ahead at night.
c. Some drivers unlawfully drive with parking lights only.
d. The roadways are more apt to be slippery at night.

8. You should under all conditions drive at a speed which will allow you to:
a. Stop within 150 metres (500 feet).
b. Stop within 90 metres (300 feet).
c. Stop within 60 metres (200 feet).
d. Stop within a safe distance.


[Answer Key: 1-c, 2-c, 3-b, 4-b, 5-d, 6-a, 7-b, 8-d]


-ScienceStory: AParallelPoem

I kayaked out of the bay on a Saturday evening
And was sucked there into a blue twirling ring

When I was nailed firm at the centre of a light stream
A pink snow falls though I wish to rise like the steam

My consciousness dissolves into heavenly waters
And I become present everywhere in the universe

I travelled afar to collect all my selves and assemble them together
And here I return to this moment, finding my old self a total stranger


-Marriage Report: Free Verse Found Online

Well, for those of you who went out today, I don't have to tell you it was clear, but muggy for most of the state, with the high temperatures in the low to mid 90s. The had the high for the day of 97 degrees. And that's hot. I'm glad I'm working indoors today!
For those of you planning outdoor activities tomorrow, you can expect fair skies for most of Saturday with temperatures in the high 90's. However, things might change by Saturday evening with a storm front moving in. We can expect light scattered showers over the northern part of the state bringing slightly cooler temperatures in the eighties, but this rain should taper off by mid Sunday morning. It will be partly cloudy for most of the morning, but these clouds should move out by mid-afternoon.
Skies should be clear Sunday night for those wanting to catch a glimpse of the partial lunar eclipse. It should start at 10:47 pm. And that's all for today's weather.


-InCarnations: ForLiuYu

Like broken pieces
Of charcoal, glistening
Against spring cold
These pink petals
Are not tears you
Shed over my death
Rather, they are
Incarnations of
God and Devil
Blooming in blood
Out of my heart
But do not feel sad, Mother


-13May2012: ForLiuYu

This is the very first and last time
We celebrate a non-Chinese holiday
Here in a chosen country
At a chosen time: Today, I have had
A chance to treat my mom (visiting us
From the other side of the world
After my dad’s death) to a dinner
At Southsea Fish Village, where she tasted
Dishes like abalone and shark fin soup
Finally affordable, all freshly served
Out of my poetry, before my poet son
Cut my wife a single lilac flower
From the front yard of his teenager heart


-English Vowels: A Python Poem

I feel either abstemious
Or facetious whenever you
Use buoyancies to
E.raise the conceptuality
As well as its uncopyrightable traces


-MoreMaxims/Monolets

1/ Whatever is ultimately desirable, be it true happiness, true peace, or true well-being, can be attained only through within.
2/ The worth of a life is best measured by the change it has introduced to the world.
3/ Whoever can find joy and beauty in a plain tree is rich, wise and healthy.
4/ If put aside for too long, the most wind-resistant match will fail to strike a fire.
5/ All the mysteries in the human world can be decoded by this simple fact: we are not the only intellectual beings on earth.
6/ Schooling has become not only an interruption of education, but also an interference of the intellectual.
7/ Every fashion is fabricated for the most foolish to follow.
8/ While the respectable are always respectful, the adoring are seldom adorable.
9/ The wealthy or the well-known are definitely among the lucky ones, but the lucky ones are not always truly rich or famous.


-MyCrow: ARecursivePoem

Spotting a shadow
Above the horizon
In my inner ocean
The snowy crow
Mistook it for the land
And has never returned
To my little ark
Still struggling
Against sweeping waves


-D8: A MSG TXT Or a Cell Poem

WUD? R U OK?
PPL WANT C U
Y? –COZ U R GR8
I 4 1, I WAN2 C U 2
Y? – I LV U
OIC. U R XLNT2
I WAN2 C U 2
TTYL
C U 2MORO NITE
LOL


-Again, On the Road

With great power and
Full control of a vehicle
You may well enjoy driving
But only theoretically

In reality, you have to travel
On a road, always pre-set
Even if it’s supposed to be a‘freeway’
Not to mention moving in the traffic
Where the front car never allows you
To pass, or bothers to give you a signal
When making a turn, where the one
Right behind you tries to kiss your ass
Zigzagging or high-beaming in protest
While a police patrol hides in a corner
Ready to find fault with you, while you
Have to stop at every intersection
For the red light, that most hateful
Most tyrannical color in life

Until you go mad among human hostilities
Here in Vancouver, full of one-way streets




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