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
Standing by the piled up tables
Examining 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 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 fulfill this concept of living
But recently I’ve just realized
That we are all piled up on the stand
Toilet, What A Sanctuary To Be
Laijon Liu 20090218
Toilet, what a sanctuary to be
Whenever files piled up on my desk
I can always come to you
To obtain a moment of peace
No one would dare to stop me
If I loudly pronounce your name
Whether they’re enemies or boss
For they must wait for your sake
You’re stuck with all kind papers
Political reviews help me to blow
Porn magazines satisfy my drive
And clean roll tissues all we need
I wish I have your mighty strength
That all people sit on you daily
And you can take whatever they dump
Without any complaints
I know I can always count on you
Your space, my venting place
Where I curse and where I pray
After, I’m clean, and rumors never leak
I think you are the most holy thing
But why I don’t pay you much respect
Watching you sucking in all the shits
Isn’t it what world really need?
I hope I could adore you as my dog does
For he knows you hold the living source
And I pray you never fail to flush out
Or else, all hell breaks loose, and I’m crying to God
Laijon liu 20090310
Last night, I dreamt of myself
Growing a pair of wings,
Liked the soft feather of swan,
A snowy flare in a green pond.
But to Lord I urgently prayed,
Not to grow a pair of wings.
I rather had a pair of red eyes,
And using eye drop for whole life.
How could I walk among people
with a pair of feathery wings?
They would call me a freak,
And despise my saintly look.
Would people greet me as an angel?
Or fear me and jail me as a demon?
For I would never see a bright day
Till all my feather are plucked away.
Oh, I never want to be an angel,
And I am scared to grow wings.
For angels are welcomed in dream,
But in world, oh, they must cut off their wings.