Walking in the garden with Qu Yuan

7th Jun 20197th Jun 2019 / Rugby Lion / Leave a comment

WeChat Image_20190607211452

My drawing: Today is Dragon Boat Festival in China: The Dragon Boat Festival (Duanwu Festival, Duānwǔ Jié, Double Fifth, Tuen Ng Jit) is a traditional holiday that commemorates the life and death of the famous Chinese scholar Qu Yuan (Chu Yuan).The festival occurs on the fifth day of the fifth month on the Chinese lunisolar calendar. So…I sketched this drawing of Qu Yuan (a poet and politician)

I did not know you last night,

then the doctors and nurses

….. the souls of China….

told me about your mountain spirit

and banners of cassia.

So I thought of bamboo groves,

and sky still unseen.

And how the thunder rumbles

and rain darkens

after all these years.

daydream

6th Jun 20196th Jun 2019 / Rugby Lion / Leave a comment

My picture

a very, weary day flies

sailing in concrete seas

with deep sleep a faint howl

cherished dreams take flight

Secret laughter

5th Jun 20195th Jun 2019 / Rugby Lion / Leave a comment

hdrpl

My Picture of John Coltrane

Wondering here,
while in the other room
most do not.
I listen to John Coltrane,
and raise a speculative eyebrow
that few will notice.

“Now watch me” I say
but they never look…. and
much goes on the same way.
Like belief in great jazz.

A void speaks

3rd Jun 20193rd Jun 2019 / Rugby Lion / Leave a comment

My Picture: Taken in Harbin.

A touch of empty

descends into the evening.

I only loved the lonely bird

that flew to heaven.

Now making chills that last too long

Impressions

2nd Jun 20192nd Jun 2019 / Rugby Lion / Leave a comment

http://www.nme.com/news/music/lcd-soundsystem-bring-american-dream-berlin-kick-off-european-tour-2134418

That’s how it starts
walking in the middle of now, here.
LCD Soundsystem,
and an easy morning sun.

A northern shimmer,
deep inside a faded city.
And the animal in me,
already in the birth of a new moment.

Halcyon days

31st May 2019 / Rugby Lion / Leave a comment

My picture: My apartment….

Years ago I was living in a different place,
writing at that window facing the main street.
And then you came by…..
lightning guided by the gods.
A sea of cherry blossom, wave after wave.

And now…..
I write at a different window, facing East.
But with traces of those ancient moments,
and stones here and there.
A shade of a white willow tree.

On the road again

30th May 201930th May 2019 / Rugby Lion / Leave a comment

My pictures: still taken from a short video I am trying to male 🙂

A heavy squeak of breaks
as taillights crest the hill.
Motors amplified,
playing AC/DC in the morning
Guaranteed to make me feel alright.

Some prefer to listen to a love song,
and watch the road go by.
And outside the crows
gorge in an open field,
pierced by sorrow and a heart beating morning.

A suggestion

29th May 2019 / Rugby Lion / Leave a comment

My picture: an early morning poem…I was very tired 🙂

I talked with a friend tonight, it was late

She told me I was different,

that I cared about China.

So I told her. …..

“I just want to write… just well enough
to make an end”

Night time laughter

27th May 201927th May 2019 / Rugby Lion / Leave a comment

My drawing: a reflection of a moment….thinking of someone…..

Twisting in the wind,

rebuilding the molecules.

It should be enough.

But breezing winds and flights in turn,

slam the days down through charcoal space

and sunlight filtered clouds.

And as the night relaxes,

nothing stirs except the saddest lines.

As I listen, an image appears

of your bright body and infinite eyes

….. laughing one more time.

Me and Bob Dylan, again

26th May 2019 / Rugby Lion / Leave a comment

hdrpl

First picture: http://www.hollywoodreporter.com/news/bob-dylan-artwork-go-view-217297 Second picture : my drawing

I did not know you last night,

then the doctors and nurses

….. the souls of China….

told me about your mountain spirit

and banners of cassia.

So I thought of bamboo groves,

and sky still unseen.

And how the thunder rumbles

and rain darkens

after all these years.

a very, weary day flies

sailing in concrete seas

with deep sleep a faint howl

cherished dreams take flight

Wondering here, while in the other room most do not. I listen to John Coltrane, and raise a speculative eyebrow that few will notice.

“Now watch me” I say but they never look…. and much goes on the same way. Like belief in great jazz.

A touch of empty

descends into the evening.

I only loved the lonely bird

that flew to heaven.

Now making chills that last too long

That’s how it starts walking in the middle of now, here. LCD Soundsystem, and an easy morning sun.

A northern shimmer, deep inside a faded city. And the animal in me, already in the birth of a new moment.

Years ago I was living in a different place, writing at that window facing the main street. And then you came by….. lightning guided by the gods. A sea of cherry blossom, wave after wave.

And now….. I write at a different window, facing East. But with traces of those ancient moments, and stones here and there. A shade of a white willow tree.

A heavy squeak of breaks as taillights crest the hill. Motors amplified, playing AC/DC in the morning Guaranteed to make me feel alright.

Some prefer to listen to a love song, and watch the road go by. And outside the crows gorge in an open field, pierced by sorrow and a heart beating morning.

I talked with a friend tonight, it was late

She told me I was different,

that I cared about China.

So I told her. …..

“I just want to write… just well enough to make an end”

Twisting in the wind,

rebuilding the molecules.

It should be enough.

But breezing winds and flights in turn,

slam the days down through charcoal space

and sunlight filtered clouds.

And as the night relaxes,

nothing stirs except the saddest lines.

As I listen, an image appears

of your bright body and infinite eyes

….. laughing one more time.

Sometimes I dream of sunshine, but not often.

Last night Bob Dylan appeared, riding on soft marshmallow clouds….. a contrived visual modality.

“Bob Dylan? What are you doing here” said I.

As the night unfolded….. there was a quest to write and dream.

And as the clouds left Bob told me

“You know… this world is ours, all of ours… but is run by people who never listen to music, anyway”

With that the dream drifted away, like a bottle on a journey. So empty to be.

Wondering here,
while in the other room
most do not.
I listen to John Coltrane,
and raise a speculative eyebrow
that few will notice.

“Now watch me” I say
but they never look…. and
much goes on the same way.
Like belief in great jazz.

That’s how it starts
walking in the middle of now, here.
LCD Soundsystem,
and an easy morning sun.

A northern shimmer,
deep inside a faded city.
And the animal in me,
already in the birth of a new moment.

Years ago I was living in a different place,
writing at that window facing the main street.
And then you came by…..
lightning guided by the gods.
A sea of cherry blossom, wave after wave.

And now…..
I write at a different window, facing East.
But with traces of those ancient moments,
and stones here and there.
A shade of a white willow tree.

A heavy squeak of breaks
as taillights crest the hill.
Motors amplified,
playing AC/DC in the morning
Guaranteed to make me feel alright.

Some prefer to listen to a love song,
and watch the road go by.
And outside the crows
gorge in an open field,
pierced by sorrow and a heart beating morning.

“I just want to write… just well enough
to make an end”

Sometimes I dream of sunshine,
but not often.

Last night Bob Dylan appeared,
riding on soft marshmallow clouds…..
a contrived visual modality.

And as the clouds left
Bob told me

“You know… this world is ours, all of ours…
but is run by people who never listen to music, anyway”

With that the dream drifted away,
like a bottle on a journey.
So empty to be.