I Am Content in This Fight

I Am Content in This Fight
By Laijon Liu 20090929

I am content in this fight
That I’ve forever striven
With my strength n cries
I dance like I’m in a ball
So the result I fear not
Whether victory or defeat

I’m settled wherever I be
Coz I always stand tall
No matter how often I fall
And how far I’ve crawled
I am prepared to face all
Whether heaven or hell

I am ready to face this moment
Whether sunshine or rainstorm
Coz my past hunts me no more
And future I don’t worry at all
So I walk on with a smile
Whether life or death

I care not what they call me
Whether lunatic or a loser
Let them jest and ignore
Like they hold joystick of Tao
I just proceed what I believe
Whether foolish or wise

Note:
This is my poem that says some characters about me.
It’s a self-portrait.

Wuling Spring By Li Qingzhao

Wuling Spring
By Li Qingzhao (1084－1151)
Translated Laijon Liu 20090929

Wind stopped, incense bunt to dust,
And flowers shed their petal over my desk,
Day is getting dark; I am weary to do up my hair.
All his things are still here, but he is gone,
It feels like everything is stopped,
Before my word comes out,
My tears already streamed out.

I heard about the beautiful spring scene
At the Couple Streams,
I want to row my boat there to see if it’s true,
But I am so afraid that my boat is too small,
And she can’t carry too much sorrow.


武陵春
【宋】李清照
风住尘香花已尽， 日晚倦梳头。
物是人非事事休，欲语泪先流。
闻说双溪春尚好，也拟泛轻舟。
只恐双溪舴艋舟，载不动许多愁。

Two Photos

One is the happiest goddess on earth, another a great thinker.
I must learn from these two, they hold wisdom of happiness.
The photos are from Picture People magazine that mailed to me.

This Is Not About Healthcare

This Is Not About Healthcare
By Laijon Liu 20090922

This is not about healthcare,
This is about money!
That billion dollar industries
Fighting to hold American money.

The problem is not that our moms
Who are waiting for cancer treatment,
Neither about our kids who’re dying
From Leukemia and other disease

This is about those senators
Who desperately cry out “Nay!”
To protect their contributors
And their richly donated fund!

This is not about saving life,
This is about expense!
That such budget system is controlled
By the big Corps and their barking dogs.

The stake is to double the income
From their customers and Uncle Sam
So this way they can insure
All their well-beings and their pockets

Breasts cancer, cut them off;
Bone disease, walk it off;
They insure their dogs are fully covered,
The rest, sell your house or pray to God:)

Note:
To avoid unnecessary complaints and opinions and threat email, I must state this poem is just personal opinion after one pack of beer. I try to avoid all political poems, or a poem that involved politics, but I cannot just watch the sick people are dying and professionals just watching and say sorry you are not covered for treatment, would they say that to their mom? Or kids? If they all got dying disease?... I guess this battle looks like how should a big chunk of money be spent, but I know one thing might take most people to decide if their family members get dying disease, they probably sell their house and jewelries to race against time to save their love ones, they probably wouldn’t do many weekly or monthly joint-meeting to discuss a better way (money-wise-plan) to save their ma or sweet baby or their one-to-be-with wife. I just want to jot down this first thought poem for those who are rushing to be cured or waiting to die, while a few who playing this like an usual game. Averagely 45000 American die of lack of healthcare each year, wow, those poor people who cannot make a living, and die not of disease, but lack of healthcare. Oh, they are the casualties of war, a business and political war.

Mirror, Mirror, On The Wall

Mirror, Mirror, On The Wall
By Laijon Liu 20090911

Mirror, mirror, on the wall
Who is the fairest in the world?
My soft cream skin white as snow
And dark long hair like ebony wood
The bodice laces of silk I fashioned
To tie you up and cut off your breath
The glistening comb I carved it to sell
To brush off your thoughts and all your hair
And the green apple, the work of my art
Holds a red cheek of sweetest death
Your glass coffin and seven candles illume
There your beauty sleeps and never resurrect
Mirror, mirror, on the wall
Who is the greatest among all?

Note:
I wanted to write about pride and envy for sometime, and I feel that pride always goes with envy, usually shows on someone holds great talents like artists, writers, musicians… those very creative people. After some weeks of finding, I revisited the beloved story of Snow White that I read when I was a kid. And immediately the urges of being in the character of the envy Queen (Snow White’s step mother) came upon my mind. She must be an artist in business, or a poet or writer who wanted to outshine all others, or someone held great talents but was fatal with her pride and envy (she’s fashion designer, she made colorful silk bodice laces that can cut off your breath; she’s good sculptor, she made the glistening comb that with magic of death, and she’s bio-chemist that only the red skin part of her apple kills you, you think Jan Davidszoon painted the fruit that you want a bite, but the envy Queen produced real poison apples), so all her beauty and feature, and talents she worked to beat down her ‘competitors’, too sad, she never realized that for beauty there is no judging, there is no first nor second nor third, every artist is unique, every poet speaks distinctive voice, yet they all have their weakness and strength. Snow White was pure and naïve, she was tempted by the beautiful laces, the glistening comb, and the artful apple;( she couldn’t help it, for she was a pure lover of art) she died three times, yet revived. And I feel her character is more beautiful than her appearance, I guess that might be the original purpose of this story, what’s more beautiful than purity? Even her corpus does not rot but fresh, so her beauty remains, like she never dies…. There is also another metaphor for aesthetic view of inspiration for artists, the biological mother of Snow White who sits by her window and sews, her aesthetic inspiration is from outside her window, she is humble and always recognizes the beauty of her outside world (the snow, the blood, the ebony), so her wish and faith begets her fruit (Snow White); but the envy Queen (Snow White’s step mother) can only look into her mirror(self-adored but not-narcissism), she realizes her weakness, yet she cannot learn better, coz she can only get her inspiration from herself, the mirror. Two queens and Snow White are artists, three different views and attitudes toward beauty of art. I think every artist should see two persons in her mirror, Snow White and her step mom hauling and pulling each other’s hair and cat-scratch fighting against each other, sometime Snow White on top, often the envy Queen beats the crap out of Snow White:)
2016.09.16
Some new understanding about Snow White.
There are three aesthetic states one must go thru:
1) Staring at the mirror: Self-reflection of Narcissistic view or Self-loathing that draws envy.
National Pride, Race Pride, Culture and Ethnic Pride, or the opposite
2) Looking outside thru window: Seeing the wide world that improves aesthetic standard.
Observation and analysis, to imitate the good and eliminate flaws
3) Seeing the beauty thru each object: Snow White none judging, falls for something beautiful every time, even we readers see the dark magic in a beautiful disguise, the ribbon, the apple, the product of the witch...  her naive attitude toward person and things is truly admirable for a artist and poet or anyone to learn see the goodness in everybody and everything.
People must go thru these 3 stage to be beautiful.

Choosing Fruit

Choosing Fruit
By Laijon Liu 20090902

Fruit, all shapes and sizes
Red, yellow and green…
In every land and corner
They grow to fill our space

And we, human beings
Live upon this food source
So we plant them in our garden
And bargain for them in market

When I was a little kid
My mom taught me a skill
That every child must learn
How to pick a good fruit

Each their kinds are different
According to their nutrients
And their skin and sizes
Do tell their story and state

So now I am an expert
A specialist on choosing fruit
I read their color, feel their body
Smell their scent to judge them

And daily I go to the market
Stand by the piled up tables
Examine each of them
Like some sort of ritual

They should be natural
No chemical or biocide
They must not be hard
And should be fully grown

But sometime I do wonder
If we pick all the good ones
Then where the rest should go?
Those ones aren’t so perfect

Those ones that ripe early
That we didn’t catch up to gather
And the ones were not ready
But we plucked them off anyway

And poor ones never met good soil
Been sprayed every damn week
And not to mention the ones were taken
Tossed into our truck for a bumpy road

What would happen to them?
Those should be nurtured by nature
And each of them ought to be perfect
But tragically failed by our cause

Should they just pile up on our stands?
Laying miserably for a clearance price?
And still be abandoned again and again?
Then waiting their sad life to rot away?

For all the years I picked the best ones
To follow this concept of living
But recently I’ve just realized
That we are all piled up on the stand!