Dedicated to my Youth



  Dedicated to my Youth

  -Words from a 20-year-old

  First published 2014

  Copyrighted© Bobby Tam (1994-)

  Prologue

  Lines are getting longer

  When I was small,

  I am not tall,

  But I can do all,

  And dream more.

  It was long long ago,

  Every day was simple and slow,

  But they were lengthy and untold.

  Mysteries and talents were unfolded.

  Symphonies would fly in my head,

  Piles of sketches could be found on my bed.

  I made new stories from everything I’ve read

  Since I was eight, my mother became mad,

  And my father decided nothing could be said.

  So I slowly withdrew from the noisy crowd

  And shut myself in my room fantasizing out loud.

  I heard my soul singing and shining on the stage,

  I found my mind expanding and free from the cage.

  But as life getting more complicated as the lines getting longer,

  I know we are hedgehogs who never want to be closer or further.

  Reaper steps on friendships, marriages, commitments and faith,

  It tears down genuine communication with the utmost distaste,

  But as it faces those words, sounds and images, it cannot destroy,

  It cannot kill the immaculate art even though it can kill the boy.

  Tormented by insomnia, I recall the relationships that were genuine,

  Harassed by headache, I remember the days that we were innocent.

  Frightened by heartache, all bitter or sweet memories become relevant.

  Loneliness and nostalgia, as we grow old, they would always strengthen.

  Part I Dreams and Disillusionment

  Chasing Sun

  Remember when I was young,

  I gazed at the little ants on the ground,

  My hand touched the mysterious ice,

  For hours I felt really nice.

  People told me to look up more,

  “Your eyes should target on the sun, but not the floor,”

  So I look up no matter what,

  Regardless how glaring the sun was.

  “Try reaching the sun and you will reach heaven,”

  So I run and I run,

  And tried to make it sounded fun,

  But the sun was always there with a considerable distance.

  There were sweat and sometimes even tears.

  “You cannot stop, or you wasted all those years,”

  Concentrated and tried to forget all,

  Neglect the remorse and the sore.

  At night, there were a thousand stars in the sky,

  It was a thousand times more beautiful than the lie,

  I know each of the stars is a martyr,

  Who lived harshly with dreams but died with laughter.

  Then memories flew back with the night breeze,

  Imagination built up from the tranquil peace,

  I have poems to write and songs to sing,

  But when I woke up I lost everything.

  Days, weeks, months, years and decades,

  Childhood, youth, adults, midlife and sin of old age.

  I never managed to reach the destination,

  But its glaring light managed to blind my vision.

  All I see is darkness, but without stars.

  Ddelfrydol

  A scholar is alone in a cold winter night,

  Burying his head to books by the candlelight.

  Glowing figures rise miraculously from papers,

  Many soon fade away yet one of them linger.

  That figure remains and slowly coagulates,

  Becomes a perfect body that is immaculate.

  She wears nothing but is pure without curse,

  And has eyes that reflect the deep universe.

  Where are you going? Please stay on earth.

  I am Ddelfrydol, she said.

  She walks into the town to the market,

  People are in awe and turn their head.

  Coins and gold melted as she walks by,

  Men no longer bargain about the price.

  She goes to the border to the battlefields,

  Soldiers are shocked and stop their kill.

  Swords are put down and armors are torn.

  They hug each other then sing merry songs.

  Where are you going? Please stay on earth.

  I am Ddelfrydol, she said.

  A blessed gentleman finally marry her,

  He is always in the greatest pleasure.

  But soon he loses his will to labour,

  Gradually becomes obsolete and poor.

  With her, he only speak a strange tongue,

  He forgot all other languages and customs.

  People patiently try to help and understand,

  But no one throughout the common land can.

  That man is then forgotten and dies being poor.

  Still many other men are attracted by Ddelfrydol

  Yet whoever get close to her suffer from that again,

  All become impoverished, isolated and eccentric men.

  Finally even the dreamiest men realize the bane,

  They all abandon Ddelfrydol to pretend to be sane.

  So she realizes the earth is never the home for beauty

  And ascends to the sky and becomes a distant history.

  Where are you going? Please stay on earth.

  I am Ddelfrydol, she said. And I don’t belong in here.

  Lacrimosa

  He simply scribbled down the flying notes in his mind,

  And already becoming the magic from the wide sky,

  Wrote not for the court, nor the church and was not tied.

  And transcending his contemporary to the other side.

  But finally he heard death whispering cruelly to his ears,

  Life is short and he still had million notes for us to hear.

  But death is unmerciful and that winter rained with tears.

  Descend into a common grave that people hardly remember.

  The body became bones and ashes but the music live forever,

  Thirty five odd years for a matchless magician is just not fair

  But wait, there were thousands of other similar tragic figures,

  How I wish I could just give them my remaining mediocre years.

  Part II Loneliness

  Dear Loneliness

  The ones I love, the ones I hate,

  I can’t tell you.

  My biggest desire, my greatest fear,

  I can’t tell you.

  My darkest secret, my brightest story,

  I can’t tell you.

  You could steal my diary, do me an autopsy,

  But you won’t know me.

  Put wires in my brain, keep asking what I think,

  But you won’t understand me.

  I just want a companion,

  Who walks with me across the underworld streams

  Sleeps with me to my dreams

  Share all my memory, my misery,

  My fantasy, my sensory

  Oh yes, I have one.

  Her name is loneliness.

  She gives me a painful kiss every night

  And a stubborn wake every day

  River Lotharia

  There was a girl whose name was Lotharia,

  Her father asked her to be the best in town,

  Lotharia said “Papa, I can’t”.

  Then his father beat her until she couldn’t make a sound.

  Poor Lotharia hid in the corner,

  Tears dropped on the floor,

  Father ca
me and softly touched her hair,

  And gently whisper,

  “I beat you cause I want you to be better,

  I always love you, my daughter.”

  At night,

  Lotharia heard his father fought with her mother,

  Vicious words echoed in the cold air.

  But in the next morning,

  Mother and father just acted normally,

  As if they loved each other.

  Five years later,

  Father and mother parted and disappeared.

  The lonely and despaired Lotharia decorated her hair.

  And went to towns and cities to attract others.

  So many men hung out with Lotharia,

  Saying “I love you so much, my dear.”

  But they turned out to be liars,

  Who just wanted to penetrate her vagina.

  Frustrated and confused,

  Lotharia visited a river,

  “I hate love and I love hate!” thought Lotharia.

  Then she reconsidered,

  “No, I need love and love needs me.”

  But she finally pondered,

  “What is love and what is hate?”

  She fainted and slowly moved into the water,

  To become part of the river.

  Years later,

  People living near to the river started to disappear.

  First the marginalized beggars,

  But later all the villagers.

  Rumors blamed the manipulative Lotharia,

  Who could turn to all forms to lure others,

  She would tenderly mend your fear,

  Embrace you tightly and strike towards your core,

  And consume you forever.

  After someone willingly vanish into the river,

  She will whisper,

  “When all is one and one is all,

  Which true love could last ever after.”

  So heroes came to battle against this disaster.

  Severus Snape fearlessly drew out his ward,

  But then…

  He saw his childhood love Lily Evans in the water.

  Luke Skywalker promptly ignited his lightsaber,

  But then…

  He saw his deceased wife Mara Jade deep under.

  Orfeo magically played his lyre,

  But then…

  He saw his long lost Eurydice flowing in the river.

  Now I walked slowly towards River Lotharia,

  Holding strong my scarlet ego,

  Defending my precious freewill,

  But then…

  Water Droplets

  Everything is made up from liquid,

  And we are tiny droplets,

  Insignificant but fluid,

  Tiny droplets merge and drift away,

  Within seconds but without trance,

  It is sad but we never slow down the pace.

  Slog done and enjoyment come,

  It is not even fun as the cycle just made you numb,

  Until we are finally evaporated by the cruel sun.

 

  Everyday millions of tiny droplets

  Chasing in the labyrinth of pleasure and guilt

  Tiptoeing on the line between optimism and pessimism.

  Melted by the endless heat of unrequited love,

  Or frozen as ice by your merciless restrain,

  Still you are always a solitary droplet.

  Drunk and Heartache

  Alone, I am in this big grey world,

  With so many people around!

  My mind is as simple as a piece of white paper,

  No, it changes so rapidly like the erratic weather.

  Alone, I am talking to myself,

  With so many people chatting with me!

  Think you are touching my soul?

  Then, scarlet, violet or gold?

  None of the above!

  Shouldn’t pretend that you know!

  Alone, I am in this small bedroom,

  With so many lights sparkling outside!

  My heart is as solid as a vow,

  No, it is just another empty black hole.

  Hyper? Lonely? Thrilled? Angry? Frightened?

  Sir, what will make you feel comfortable?

  Nothing, life is yet another tragic show

  And death will be my final bow.

  Part III Delirium from Romance

  Those Moments in Our Life

  Accidental moments and random places,

  Our hallow eyes meet again,

  As if we have something to say.

  It is unlikely to forget your face,

  Even though we never know each other’s name.

  We didn’t speak a word to each other,

  But that does not even matter,

  Because words are just by meaningless letters.

  Even beautiful music are made from notes,

  We just need our hearts to look

  No matter how fast the planes fly,

  How well the Internet is tied,

  No matter how we say goodbye,

  Or just a silent sigh,

  Seeing again is yet a lie

  Will you forget me after years of grey and blue?

  Will work and pain numb my memory of you?

  After years of sleep and wake,

  When our beautiful curly hair become tediously straight,

  Will we still remember?

  Or we accept that fate is only God’s meaningless trick?

  Rose Ghost

  The comfortable light breeze,

  Shaking the decaying tree.

  The blissful morning sunshine,

  Shine on where the beggars lie.

  Learn my name, I know you,

  Talk to me, just we two.

  The pure raindrops pouring from the sky,

  Diluting the poisonous tears in my eyes.

  The carefree singing from the birds,

  Waking me up to this loveless earth.

  Marry me, I love you,

  I know the pain, you lost soul.

  But it is too late,

  I wake up at the station,

  And the train is long gone,

  All left is this regretful song.

  In this garden of flowers,

  Why should I care about one rose?

  I don’t know. I just don’t know.

  When I discover the poems you wrote,

  In a language that I barely know,

  I try to translate every words,

  And I understand it’s not ordinary prose.

  Then I finally realize what I’ve lost?

  A soul that share all my heart frost.

  Please, don’t haunt me like a ghost.

  Even you are across the universe

  And until my death you will never show.

  Part IV As we step outside ourselves, we discover…

  History of Pain

  The thickest book’s name,

  History of pain.

  The longest song ever,

  Cries and tears.

  Jewish isolated in their community,

  Volga German alone at the Steppe,

  Gypsies around the shabby streets,

  Aztecs struggling from diseases.

  Why? After years and years,

  People have to be distinguished.

  Why? After centuries and centuries,

  The strong lives and weak perish.

  Circassians cover their sorrow with silk

  Blacks sing their souls in the cotton field

  Kurdish wander futilely around the mountains

  Lebanese sleepless in the war torn kingdom.

  Why? After years and years,

  People have to be distinguished.

  Why? After centuries and centuries,

  The strong lives and weak perish.

  2024

  He cannot sleep once more,

  Fearing a knock on his door.

  The sound of the strong wind and the distant screams,

&
nbsp; Only makes him more paranoid.

  Knock, knock, the abrupt sound breaks his dream,

  When his fear became reality

  Two shadows, dark and tall.

  Stands outside the dimly lit hall.

  They bring him along the shabby lanes,

  Along the streets where people no longer sing,

  Through the square where no one gather,

  Across the desolated parks without laughter.

  He lies on the cold metal altar,

  Feeling the sharp pain piercing to his heart,

  He tries to open his eyes but he dares not to see,

  Because he knows that a vulture is pecking his body

  The next moment he is drifted to a red sea,

  Swimming in the blood that has been spilt.

  He secretly has a sip of blood for his memory,

  Tasting the long lost vigor, hope and bravery.

  Later he is playing the accordion tediously,

  Making the same harmonized chords repetitively,

  Around him are chained dancing monkeys,

  Next to them is a cage holding their progeny.

  Fear and desolation, he cannot hold back anymore

  Confusion and anger, he releases them once and for all.

  A long painful shriek by him rips open the dark sky,

  He is woken up by his own cry and opens his eyes.

  Two shadows come and ask “what the hell”,

  He says “If you want to know why, look at yourself.”

  Whether it is pain or fear of pain,

  He really can no longer tell.

  He walks slowly to a street with lamp posts,

  Where he would like to join the wandering ghosts.

  He ties a rope on his neck and let his eyes closed,

  To a place where river still flows and wind continues to blow.

  Sigh

  Brother, brother, why did the protestors die?