Ephemeral

you said
love is ephemeral
all the past love you had
all the shes you loved
they evaporated before
you caught breath
like silken streams
sifted through
your every dream
left impressions of
pinscreen needles
monetarily disposed

Don’t be

You said
you were sadden by my poems.
I said ‘Don’t be!’

Poets write about life
like scenery from the window
of a passing train,
a glimpse
a speck
of
fleeting moments.

If you just hold your breath
for a bit,
the pain and sadness,
the joy and happiness,
all will be gone
before
your next breath.

Love is…

Sitting in an a cappella concert
listening to love songs sung from
heartache to joy
despair to victory
hopelessness to strength

I realised love is
such an extreme emotion
that makes us
shiver, quiver
flutter, shudder
like
groosebumps on our skin
earthquake under our feet

No wonder
it takes
eruption of volcanoes
explosion of fireworks
to express
the sensation of love
in climax

Why

she fell in love with
the same type of men
whom
over promised
and
under delivered

they promised forever
but half way
they gave in to
loneliness
temptation
and
greed

she fell in love with
the same type of men
not once
not twice
but trice

she can’t help to think
what is wrong with her
is she
so blind
so dull
so inconceivable

chose to see
the good in people
is not a ticket
for abuse
pursuit
the simple things
in life
surely is not
foolish

Dead man walking

he is in so much pain
that his world
is under general anaesthetic

every morning
the bitter and stale black coffee
barely jumpstarts his heartbeat

every commute to work
is like driving in
a sound proof booth
traffic moves like tropical fish
in a tank

every human interaction he has
resembles Pecking opera
too loud
too strenuous
too much makeup plastered on

he is so exhausted
that the night
becomes the tomb
where he finally
lays to rest

The light

Yesterday and further away
I heard the blame
I grew anxious

Today I hear the accusation
I grow angry

Maybe today
I am no longer the she
who was in denial of
being treated disrespectfully
and
accused with contempt

Maybe today
The veil falls off
and
I see the truth
for the first time
so
the righteous anger
rises in me
and
I am no longer afraid

Chicken or Egg, Love or Sex

chicken or egg first?
love or sex first?

chicken gives birth to an egg
love gives birth to sex

the birth of an egg is like a flash
comparing the coming of a chicken
the moment of sex is temporal
while love is infinite

it’s tragic if a chicken bears no egg
so is love barren in the absence of sex

Fear

I have enroled in an online creative writing course. The first thing I have done for myself in 13 years.

I have just read through the intro of my coursemates. I have found myself to be deflated for the simple fact that others are better writers than I. They have done some serious writings from journalism, academic research articles, professional journals and book reviews. Here I am, struggling to get English spelling and grammar in check. And this is only a basic writing course. WTH?!?

Being Chinese, I grew up in a highly competitive academic culture. I was one of those students who failed in prepared exams while topped the class in spontaneous assessments. I failed to perform in high school entry exam and university entry exam. I struggled almost all subjects except chinese literature, English language and physical education. Jokes aside, I am truely one of the rare chinese who fails in mathematics.

My performance anxiety has been carried throughout adulthood although I have been mostly managing and coping relative well. It is in times like this I feel myself starting to buckle under pressure.

My brain is having a debate when I am writing this. It is not noisy, instead, rather frustrating.

I want to quit before the first assignment so nobody gets to read my dodgy writing.

Don’t quit! Readers’ comments help you to be a better writer. That’s the whole point for coursemate interaction.

How do you deal with the lukewarm comments? You know those too polite to tell you that your writing sucks? Or the perfectionists keep picking on your poorly constructed sentences? Or just heartless ‘good effort’ ones?

You are completely overthinking and freaking yourself out. Remember how to deal with overthinking?

I know! I know it may not happen (and as if it really gonna happen and people actually will be that mean) and I should dismiss the thought and not let it consume my energy. I may have great characters and plot to write. But I know they are just better writers who write stuff that makes sense to the reader.

Fear is a fucking liar and you are making no sense whatsoever…

Did you just stomp off on me? Hey….hey… I am all alone now to do this hefty thinking. I need my Pup…😔

Shining bright

There is nothing more rewarding than to see a constantly failing person succeed.

The first time we met, I still remember clearly how she came wearing defeat.

I asked an open ended question ‘What can you tell me about yourself?’
She told me she was an academic failure, extremely anxious and a snail learner.
Then I asked her ‘Who are you deep down?’
She had a long awkward pause, then…’I am a kind person always willing to help.’
I saw a sparkle in her blue eyes framed by an alabaster heart shaped face.
I probed ‘What do you think it’s standing between you and your success?’
The words fell out before she could even catch them. ‘Only if people see me instead of my disabilities.’

I shared with her my observation.
We all came with gifts and talents.
One’s disability in a different environment is a unique ability.
We are mostly ignorant to things which we don’t quite understand.
Therefore when people don’t know how to cater for your unique abilities,
they tend to reject you.
The key is to search for an environment where your gifts and talents are valued,
your ability will be seen and you will be a star.

Today I received an email from her.
She told me she has been busy using her gifts and talents
in a place everyone sees her ability to be kind and helpful.
I opened the attachment. It’s her selfie. Her blue eyes are shining bright like twinkling stars.

Eclipse

the world is never in darkness
except the brief moment of an eclipse

light never sleeps
except the brief moment of intermission

we are soaked in so much of its glory
we are actually in awe of its disappearance

we overlook so many blessings
to focus on the specks of trouble
like we speculate the blood moon