Poetic Tapestry 詩的織綴

Poetic tapestry, woven with transient vignettes, notes, words, and reveries along life's weary way... Get Your Own Tumblr Badge Follow @poetictapestry

[poetictapestry]

From Whisk to Pondicherry

For many years, I have been here. I have been there. From Whisk to Pondicherry I followed your footsteps until today. I thought I reached somewhere. I thought I got closer to something. I'm using my own way To walk farther and farther away To prove you're wrong, To prove you're right. All the separations have their reasons. The significance of coincidence given by myself Is a ritual of self-deception In order not to wake up. Actually I'm not so special. You're not so special. From the moment of missing, Love has been dead. Only illusion and attachment remain. They deprive me of freedom Which I believe I possess.   這許多年來 我去了這 我去了那 從上海那家叫WHISK的巧克力店到 朋迪榭里某領事館外的咖啡廳 我追隨你的腳步走到今天 我以為自己到達了某處 我以為自己靠近了什麼 卻在用自己的方式 越走越遠 只為了證明你是錯的 只為了證明你是對的 所有的分離都有其理由 這些巧合的意義全由自己賦予 一種自欺的儀式 好不讓自己醒來 其實自己沒那麼特別 你也沒那麼特別 從思念的那一刻開始 愛便已消亡 有的只是幻覺與牽掛 它們剝奪了自由 卻誤以為擁有了自由

[poetictapestry]

Flâneur / Scavenger  漫遊者／拾荒者

In a society where division of labor is clearer than ants’, Everyone needs an occupation; Everyone needs to work. Even if most people don’t really love their jobs, They wait for night during the day, waiting for weekends on Monday, Waiting to grow up when they’re kids, waiting for retirement when employed. After retirement, sick and tired, they hope to return to childhood all over again. Their lives are wasted on waiting. But everyone is required to fill something in professional fields To indicate their identity and status. Seeing the definition of flâneur by Walter Benjamin, I would like to fill in the field with “Flâneur.” Flânerie is the work I am most enthusiastic about If it can be called work. After much deliberation I decide to use “Scavenger,” Which is essentially the work I’m doing every day And never get bored. What I pick up are not tangible objects, But fleeting moments, Forgotten landscapes. I pick up the debris of broken hearts and dreams, Discarded in the unseen corners of the world. I pick up a bag of sweet aroma of lilies Dipped in the taste of salty sea air. I pick up every cloud tagged with your name, Using it to darn a big hole in the sky. I pick up circles and swirls made by raindrops breaking the puddles’ surface. They are the ECG of asphalt roads. They are the tears of joy mixed with sadness from heaven Producing sound waves that move up and down on the ground. I pick up the music wind is making for waves, grass, and trees For your hair and skirts flying. I pick up the gas that escapes from every color balloon, Every sigh it releases. I pick up every shadow of cement blocks in urban jungle. They look like wild animals Who once roamed the savannas and plains of Africa But are helplessly imprisoned behind the fences at a zoo. I pick up every fish no one noticed,   Floating under the footbridges and over the traffic. They are stuck in an aquarium Constructed by endless streams of vehicles and pedestrians,   Unable to swim out. I pick up every animal’s bone and soul, Chanting the mantras for salvation With POETRY. 這個分工比螞蟻還清楚的社會， 每個人都需要職業， 每個人都需要工作。 即使大部分人都不真正愛自己的職業與工作。 他們白天等著黑夜，周一等著周末， 年幼時等著長大，就業後等著退休， 退休後疾病纏身又盼望回到童年重來一遍， 把生命都浪費在等待。 但每個人又都被要求在職業欄填上點東西， 以標示自己的身分與地位。 看到班雅明對漫遊者的定義， 我想將自己的職業欄填上 「漫遊者」。 漫遊是我最熱衷的工作， 如果它可以稱得上工作。 後經細細推敲斟酌我決定改填上 「拾荒者」。 這是我實質上每天從事的工作， 而且樂此不疲。 只是我撿拾的不是有形的物體。 而是所有稍縱即逝的片刻， 所有被遺忘的風景。 我撿拾被世人丟棄在看不見角落的 心的碎片、 夢的殘屑。 我撿拾一袋浸染鹹鹹海水味道的 甜甜百合花香氣。 我撿拾每一朵寫著你的名字的雲， 再用它們織補破了個大洞的天空。 我撿拾雨滴敲碎水窪畫出的一圈圈漩渦， 它們是柏油路的心電圖， 它們是天悲傷摻雜喜悅的淚珠 在地上唱出上上下下的音波。 我撿拾風為海浪為草木 為你飛揚的髮絲與衣襟譜的樂曲。 我撿拾每一只彩色氣球所洩出的氣， 所嘆的每一口息。 我撿拾都市叢林中一幢幢水泥影子， 像一隻隻野生動物 原本追逐、跳躍在非洲大草原中 無奈被囚禁在動物園的柵欄後。 我撿拾漂浮在天橋下車陣上 無人注意的魚 牠們被卡在川流不息的車輛行人 所構築的水族箱裡， 游不出去。 我撿拾每一隻動物的屍骨與魂魄， 用詩句為牠們 超　渡。

[poetictapestry]

窗 Window

A few holes open up in a room, Where light comes, Where wind comes.

A few holes open up in a face. Where image comes, Where air exchanges, Where sound goes.

A few holes open up in a heart. What has come inside? What has been exchanged? What has gone out?

A few holes open up in the sky. Twinkle, twinkle. Drop by drop.

窗

一間房開了幾個洞 光進來了 風進來了

一張臉開了幾個洞 影像進來了 空氣交換了 聲音出去了

一顆心開了幾個洞 甚麼進來了？ 甚麼交換了？ 甚麼出去了？

天空開了幾個洞 一閃一閃 一滴一滴

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

I remained too much inside my head and ended up losing my mind.

Edgar Allan Poe, Complete Writings (via heavydrug)

[poetictapestry]

Scarlet Rain　秋焰

Scarlet, seductive, splendid flames Carve the wilderness' veins. The steady drip, drip, drip of the murdering tedium Is every second since we parted Is the heartbeats of fall Is the dense raindrops Oozing bloody honey like needle stings. 猩紅妖豔燦爛的火焰 畫進荒野的脈 滴滴滴滴滴……滴盡的 是百無聊賴 是分離的分分秒秒 是秋天的心跳 是綿綿密密的雨絲 如針刺滲出血色的蜜

[poetictapestry]

Life's Comma (記生命的頓號）

(De notre sourire, gardez le souvenir) 為著我們的微笑，守護著記憶 My life never lacks question marks, Exclamation marks, And ellipsis... One Autumn, I left a piece of spleen Shaped like a comma, In Cimetière du Montparnasse Then I sink into a coma... 我的生命從不缺問號、 驚嘆號、 與刪節號... 某個秋天我遺落了一塊脾， 長得恰好像頓號， 在蒙帕納斯的公墓裡， 我便陷入了昏迷... For one year and one month, I still can't get used to a comma, I tried to insert an apostrophe, A dash, A colon, More space; I move in a perpetual comma Forced by a slash And endless controls... 整整一年與一月 我不習慣於頓號， 我試圖插入引號、 破折號、 冒號、 與更多的空白鍵， 我在永恆的逗號裡遷徙， 斜線號砍下的創口， 按下了無數的控制鍵... In a cemetery by the moon unblessed I must be drunken With a comma, ennui, sour fruit of incurious gloom, Assumes control of fate’s immortal loom... 在月光不祝福的墳場， 我一定是醉了， 醉倒在頓號裡， 倦怠，無趣陰影生出酸澀的果實， 掌控命運不死的紡綸... I am afraid of a period Before I click "enter" To turn the page. 在我按下輸入鍵 翻至下頁前 我懼怕著句點。 Maybe a period is necessary before a "Return." 或許句號在「歸位」前是必須的。 ----- Sometimes you lost you shadow somewhere. But if you can't fly, You simply can't get it back. 有時候你在某處丟失了影子， 但如果你不能飛 你就是取不回。 Some people, something simply vanish And they're simply alive in your own cemetery. 有些人有些事就是消失了， 他們僅僅存活在你自己的墳墓裡。

[poetictapestry]

Swallow 吞

I swallow your shadow Chew it in my mouth over and over, Chew your juice, Chew your flavor. I chew and chew Until nothing is left But my own saliva. Then I gulp you down...

"A fine line will set you apart Swallow my name, swallow it down Sing me a song" https://soundcloud.com/alt-j/moby-a-case-for-shame-thom-alt 我吞下你的影子 反覆在口腔內咀嚼 咀嚼出你的汁液 咀嚼出你的味道 咀嚼　咀嚼 直到再也沒有滋味 我咀嚼著自己的口水 將你嚥下 「一條細線會分裂你！ 吞下我的名字，吞下它！ 為我唱首歌！」 https://soundcloud.com/moby/a-case-for-shame

[thenoone-blog]

[poetictapestry]

ne pas avaler

It's easier to leave something unsaid

Than to say it frankly, sincerely right from your heart.

It's easier to know what to do

Than to do it immediately, perfectly right from the start.

You know all the emotions are impermanent

But you simply can't stop the tears from flowing down your cheeks.

You simply can't stop the heart from breaking into pieces.

You tell yourself you should not cry;

Then the tears start cutting through your heart,

Trickling into the crevices between every small broken piece,

Reflecting the disintegrated images of a sand castle you built,

Onto a cracked mirror,

Where you're blinded by the mirages of irredecent clouds,

Where your wounds fester and stink,

Where your feelings are numbed and ossified. 

So it's better to cry like a baby until you forget why you cry.

So it's better to yell like a tiger until you forget why you yell.

So it's better to let it break, let it break, let it break...;

Then make art from the broken pieces you gather.

It may not be perfect. Yet it's beautiful.

[poetictapestry]

Architecture Cemetery 建築墳場

This is an architecture cemetery visited by nobody.

Nobody knows it's there.

Only those dying buildings

Cherishing memories left by people

Will sense the call of the cemetery

And inform the people who grieve for its disappearance

Of its future destination.

More and more crowded is the cemetery.

Fewer and fewer people know its existence.

A massacre of buildings gets into full swing.

The startling casualty numbers are more than

Those of wars, earthquakes, and mudslides.

Before they had time to own their souls,

Before they had time to gather memories,

They were already slaughtered.

The building that recently died of old age

Also cannot win respect from their companions

Due to people's nostalgic yearnings.

Saudade doesn't last long

While apathy and oblivion are eternal.

It remembered how heartbroken it was 

When it told the people bidding farewell

The location of the cemetery.

They said every year they would bring it a fresh flower,

Shed a tear,

Write a poem,

Sing a song for it.

As they sent away another batch of buildings the very next day,

They were not able to keep promises.

So no one knows this bleak mass grave.

Only the wind occasionally visits.

Only the stuff once cherished but ultimately dumped as garbage

By people living in the buildings

Would renew old friendships 

Talking about the fickleness of the people they loved.

  這是座無人探訪的建築墳場。

沒人知道它的存在。

唯有即將死去的建築，

溫存著人們留在它身上的回憶，

會預先感應到墳場的召喚，

把訊息告知對它不捨的人們。

近來墳場越來越擁擠，

知道墳場的人們卻越來越少。

一場建築大屠殺如火如荼，

比戰爭地震土石流不幸陣亡的總數還驚人。

它們來不及有靈魂，

來不及有記憶，

就被送上斷頭台。

得享高壽卻在近期死去的老建築，

也無法因人們的懷念而獲得同伴的尊重，

因為懷念是短暫的。

麻木與遺忘是永恆的。

它記得自己傷心欲絕地把墳場的位置

告訴為它送終的一夥人，

他們說他們會每年為它採一朵鮮花，

掬一把眼淚，

做一首詩，

唱一首歌，

他們在隔日又送走另一批建築時，

就無法遵守承諾了。

所以沒有人知道這座淒涼的亂葬崗，

只有風偶爾探訪，

只有房子裡曾被珍愛卻終究成為垃圾的物品，

偶爾會來敘舊，

訴說人們的寡情。

If you appreciate the street art and old buildings here, please help us save Nangang Bottle Cap Factory.

1. Like its Facebook fan page https://www.facebook.com/SaveNangangBottleCapFactory 2. Join the Facebook event.

https://www.facebook.com/events/388523021259384/

[poetictapestry]

Que Reste-T-Il de Nos Amours

[poetictapestry]

Green Waves

If the ocean is the embrace of Mother, The green waves overgrown with seaweed Must be the soft, wet gate To Mother's uterus, Hidden behind lush plants, Where surf occasionally splashes up. Like a kitten, My feet are stamping upon Mother's belly. Never stepping on anything more comfortable, Perhaps I am hopping from cloud to cloud. I knead and knead; Then I emit a blissful purr. 綠色的波浪 如果大海是母親的懷抱， 這海草蔓生的綠色波浪， 定是通往母親子宮， 柔軟潮濕的門戶， 藏在茂盛的植被後面， 間隙裡偶爾濺起水花。 如同一隻小貓， 我雙腳踩在媽媽的肚皮上， 從未踏過比這更舒服的， 也許自己正踩著雲朵， 踏著踏著 我發出幸福的呼嚕。

[poetictapestry]

To Tree

Dear Tree, As you raise your head Watching the years countless as the stars,  You always gaze at the same sky, Your roots grow deeper and deeper into the same ground. Have you ever wanted To travel elsewhere To see another sky To step into another land If you have any choices? Is there a yearning for moving Scattering in the gaps in sound As the wind shivers amongst your leaves? Or being a time traveler, Do you move more in stasis? Do you perceive more, Knowing more things we can't learn while shuffling around? So you're unwilling to exchange your time with space. At a snail's gallop, You simply approach the sky where birds have been flittering. At a snail's pace, You simply grasp the soil where numerous lives have decayed.

樹啊！ 在你抬頭仰望數都數不盡的星星般的歲月裡， 你始終凝視同一個天空， 根往同一個地底越扎越深， 是否 你曾經想要旅行到他處， 看看另一片天空， 踩踩另一塊土地， 如果 你有選擇的話？ 是否 曾有半點移動的渴望 在風舞動你枝葉時， 悄悄竄在聲音的縫隙？ 還是 作為一個時間的旅人， 你在靜止的狀態下動得更多， 感覺得更多， 知道更多我們東跑西跑卻仍無法得知的事？ 所以 你不願拿時間換取空間， 你只慢慢趨近碰觸那片鳥兒飛過的天空， 你只慢慢抓住埋葬無數腐朽生命的土壤。

[couchsurfing]

The amazing Couchsurfing community in Taipei organized a picnic to support a library project, collecting books and stationery for aboriginal children in Taitung, Taiwan.

The picnic attracted more than 50 people. Ambassador and host Rebecca Lin gave all the CS wristbands she received...

[poetictapestry]

「善為士者不武，善戰者不怒，善勝敵者不與，善用人者為之下，是謂不爭之德，是謂用人之力，是謂配天，古之極也。」 The best warrior is never aggressive. The best fighter is never angry. The best tactician does not engage the enemy. The best utilizer of people's talents places himself below them. This is called the virtue of non-contention. It is called the ability to engage people's talents. It is called the ultimate in merging with Heaven.

道德經 Tao Te Ching

[poetictapestry]

How to become a poet

How to write a poem?

First you must learn to mumble nonsense

Which seems to make sense

But is actually without any sense.

You must fall in love,

Make love

With WORD,

Gently caressing your WORD,

Pleasing the WORD,

Having fun with it,

Making fun of it,

Being made fun of by it,

Ticking, titillating it,

Like scratching where it itches,

But missing it by a few inches,

Always circling around something,

Never touching the core of anything,

But seeming to have touched everything.

Readers are watching landscape in the mist,

Yet greatly pleased.

They call it POETRY.

After all, we dislike anything that is too clear.

You shouldn't be straightforward and sincere,

Saying, "This is a pipe."

You should speak tongue in cheek,

"The is NOT a pipe"

And make a "WHY IT IS NOT" list from A to Z.

It may well be an overmature banana dipped in chocolate,

Decorated with poured sugar icing

Like diamonds glistening.

You see what poets have seen.

You hear what poets have heard.

You smell what poets have smelt.

But as you want to taste it,

You sense

That it may actually be

A one hundred percent authentic

"PIPE."

After all, we dislike FACTs.

About the future, you can weave a future.

About the past, you can also weave the past.

About NOW, you can either overlook or look at it,

Or read a poem,

Or write a poem.

NOTE: THIS IS NOT A POEM.

如何成為一個詩人？ 如何寫一首詩？ 你得先學會胡言亂語的本事， 學會把胡言亂語說得煞有介事， 卻又全然不是那麼回事。 你得跟文字 談戀愛，做愛做的事， 輕輕愛撫文字， 取悅文字， 令它開心，尋它開心， 讓它尋你開心， 對它搔癢哈氣， 好似 騷到了癢處， 可又差了幾毫釐。 始終在周圍轉著， 始終未曾碰觸過任何事物的核心， 可又好似 全都被碰觸了。 讀詩的人在霧裡看著花， 卻看得很高興， 他們說這是詩。 畢竟，我們都不喜歡太過清楚的東西。 你不能直接了當 說：「這是一個菸斗。」 你得睜眼說瞎話： 「這不是一個菸斗。」 鉅細靡遺條列為何它不是。 而是過熟的香蕉，裹上了巧克力。 淋上糖霜 好似 亮晶晶的鑽石。 我們都看見了詩人看見的， 聽見了詩人聽見的， 聞到詩人聞到的， 而當你想嘗一口時， 你意識 到或許這真的是 一個貨真價實 的「菸斗」。 畢竟，我們都不喜歡事實。 關於未來你可以編織， 關於過去你也可以編織， 關於現在你只能忽視或直視， 或者讀一首詩， 或者寫一首詩。

  備註：這不是一首詩。

[poetictapestry]

Missing