Monday, March 31, 2014

When You Are Young

When You Are Young
Laijon Liu 20140330

When you are young and rosy and full of dreams
you should fill your camera with scenes of cities
fashion in springs, and winds above the peaks
a day of prime is more precious than gold

when you are young and healthy and full of pride
you should sail your own course, and pick your own country
do not settle for norm, do not surrender to fate
fortune awaits you for you stride brave and true

if you are young and still madly believe
then go, go places, go chase, go embrace, go big
time is always on your side, storms are always good
til you are old and gray and slumber, and Be- Merry.

I love William Butler Yeats’ great poem “When You Are Young”. I love his “Sail to Byzantium” too. Some years ago I read his poems, both English and Chinese, and I felt an urge of writing something similar, all good works inspire me, great poets and their poems inspire young poets, great paintings inspire latter painting masters, so artists, poets, pupils, soccer players... have seen the magical product and sick moves then we must copy, human nature, for me there are two purposes, 1) I learn from copying it, forging it, dismantling it, reassembling it, enjoy the process greatly and discover more depth of it. 2) to honor my idols, like a little boy practices all his soccer stars’ dribbling tricks, what my favorite poets done some good works that strike me and I must imitate, honorable not, like sex and dish, well, sorry, I see it and now I must try it... and my soccer friend Patti gave me a Yeats’ anthology, and I reread some poems this weekend, and dug some my notes I wrote about “When You Are Old” years ago, reviewed it and rewrote on the subway and eventually feel happy of my past desire done tonight, with a mirroring poem in the same frame, of course never dare to pair with the natural mastery, the flow of sense, and originality and authority of my idol poet, but since I am still a Chinese, famous of talents of forging a lot things nowadays, so I guess I am glad to show some talents on copying poem to honor my idol Yeats.

When You Are Old
William Butler Yeats

When you are old and gray and full of sleep
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true;
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead,
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.






Friday, March 28, 2014

Reflection on Wet Dream

Reflection on Wet Dream
Laijon Liu 20140328

Last night I had a wet dream.
(yeah, you go head grin and envy me)

I’ve googled its term online
it’s a spontaneous orgasm of a body
being sexually inactive for so long
and ends in a sudden spurt of essence.

Oh, that experience is wakening
like Snow White staring at red apple
Cinderella gliding on a dance floor
and my crotch, gushing out a roaring river.

wet dream is a good dream
a sweet dream, a beautiful dream
it only happens in teenage years
when our body vigorous
and mind optimistic.

like Sleeping Beauty we slumber and smile
envisioning a knight in shining armor
oh no, he must be a prince
he must be young and handsome
a rightful heir of a vast fertile kingdom.

He comes in search for true love
he awakes his love by a tender cliché kiss
he takes a knee and sings a high pitch love song:
“[You] out of my dream, into my life,
You are the one~You are the one~”

Yes, rosy fairytale story makes every girl wet
but I’m an old man seeing reality
my beer soaked body is too stiff
even a slap or punch won’t wake me
only a suffocating sensation
shove down to my throat would do the job

so this half-rotten corpse stands up
walking around office cubicles
getting grocery in supermarkets
and buying the lottery tickets
to try, to seize a glimpse of chance

that glimpse of chance is my kind of wet dream
a common’s dream, a boy’s daydream
a dream to rumba dance with Cinderella
to tattoo “Love” on Snow White’s butt
to kiss Sleeping Beauty in missionary position...
to party like prince and feast like kings.

No, I am not mad.
I am not a pervert or psychopath.
I just enjoy breaking the laws of fairy land
smashing all crystal balls
and practicing a dark magic
that will raze the castle walls.

A political poem.