Sunday, November 16, 2008

Creation (Genesis 1-3)

Creation (Genesis 1-3)
By Laijon Liu (20081117)

Your spirit, your word,
And your cry,
Bring light into my world.

Your touch, your fingertip,
And your breath,
Give red earth your soul.

Ruby sun, golden moon,
Over the sapphire seas,
Shine their eternal muse.

Upon your vast bloom field,
Snow peaks, jade valleys,
Where life roam in dream.

Now I’m awakened,
By your touch and breath,
So I can feel my bone and flesh.

And somehow I know,
Your love and my suffering,
Are blended into your soul.

Wednesday, November 5, 2008

What If He Didn’t Come?

What If He Didn’t Come?
By Laijon Liu (20081106)

What if He didn’t come?
I’d never dare to think.
Would Jordan still be clean?
For cleansing of right or wrong?
Would baby’s eye ever blink?
The purest light of heaven?
Burdened exile sitting in a stable,
And accompanied by cattle and hay.
At deep night would they sing?
Their happy hymn and psalm?

Empty manger, two pale faces,
And cattle stopped chewing hay.
Gloomy sky without starlights,
Vast plain stretch’d into valley.
Shepherds calling for their sheep,
And wind whistled with his grief.

Monday, October 20, 2008

Why God Sent His Son

Why God Sent His Son
Laijon Liu (20081020)

To God I swear I am for peace.
When my enemy burns to ash,
Then I can take a little rest.
And to the world I must claim
That my peace is in the Lord,
And in my guns and more bloodshed.

To my church priest I must share,
My love for freedom and rights:
Oh, the grace of breaking bread,
And the taste of scarlet grape wine,
That I receive weekly in the mass,
And daily I serve in the desert sand.

To my people I must speak.
We are the leader of world.
So we must not give up and run,
Let’s ship off our daughter and son
To fight the enemy of God,
As our Lord who sent His son.

To my doubting self I must say.
I’m never in peace, still pissed.
The world is not perfect world,
It’s okay to pick the second choice.
But if guns could provide us peace,
Then why God sent His son?

I wrote this poem for myself, that I used to be a warmonger. And if my family and friends were attacked then I would surely revenge. I know I am a person that is not perfect, but it does not mean I lack of ability of hoping to earn the gift of Son of Man, Who Has Power To Forgive (Power of Forgiveness), so this poem is for me and those who suffer the same symptom… as Bible says …time to anger, time for war; time to forgive, and time for peace… and peace is not built by weapon nor protected, only by forgiveness I guess, if I truly believe and hope one day God would finally provide to me, I hope. And I don’t aim my pen at anyone, especially not to leaders, and nor I find troublemakers are attractive and idol, especially those who are just being rude, while leaders and troublemakers are all fighting, only their field seem different to our eye, and sometimes pens are more vicious than swords. So this poem is for me and everyone else. Those who disagree, you may write me down in history… but still I rise:-) like dust, like a fat baby in diaper I rise:-) and don’t hold my poem on your right or left hand, coz I'm an expert on chicken wings, whether left or right, I swallow them all.

And More, above poem is created in a method of Role-Play Writing, as sometimes that I realize I can live and walk in other people's shoe, and grasp other's feeling and thinking (maybe I am a hero like the NBC's show:-), so I could imagine I be a batman or badman, a girl falls in love, a fugitive, or homeless, sometimes my mom, a drunk, so I feel I can write for them as whoever I would be occasionally, of course I dream one day to be a leader of people:-) usually after Friday's heavy booze, and by morning I find myself in my bathroom, giving a great speech in front of mirror in a hangover state, and some speech was just too convincing, and hateful as what Jesus said: "What's goes in the mouth is clean, but what's comes out the mouth are filthy." Which this poem is one of great example, yet still I could see and how I was hateful, and doubtful, but still want to carry a great responsibility to strive for good, merely a common man or a hero of tragedy. Then I also could understand why I get angry as those peoples show up in the news or on a high judging chair, and I pity myself for doing the wrong things because my anger, also I could feel a little compassion about me often struggling in my own weakness that I lack of ability to see as people do to others. So I no more see me or any other as a picture (good/bad), but a flesh laboring under spirit. I pity those who called out "Nail him on the cross!" or "Fight for liberty!" and in the end of my hungover speech, I find myself is the one, my greatest enemy, of God. If I must fight with sword for peace, then why God sent us His son?

Again, I think this poem is really good poem.
First, it reveals a brutal truth about our condition.
Poem often deals with beauty, but it does not mean the writer always records the fine face of life, unless he wants to write for market.
Nor I want to write a poem that gives someone a permanent name for others to call, so I must put on my character's shoe and dress and live in his/her house and labors his work to write something that shows complete human being as good and bad showing in one piece. So I can be fair and compassionate to the character I portrait. And the more I live in my character's life(let's say the one I dislike or disagree), the more I earn respect for my character and I also feel his/her conflict thoughts and difficult state he is in, and the more I look at myself as the same as that character. Often human being are so weak, that we pick a second choice that we've never thought we are going to... as Paul says what we don't want to do, we have done; but what we should do that we are never able. This is an example of self struggle. However we cannot forgive ourselves that we always pick the second choice every time as

To God I swear I am for peace,
When my enemy burns to ash,
Then I can have a little rest.
And to the world I must claim
That my peace is in the Lord,
And in my guns and more bloodshed.
It is tragic to hear such phrase, when we whole humanity find a clumsy or violent method to work for good, and often we are all fighting for a good cause, and we truly believe our ways and we swear to God.

To my church priest I must share,
My love for freedom and rights:
Oh, the grace of breaking bread,
And the taste of scarlet grape wine,
That I receive weekly in the mass,
And daily I serve in the desert sand.
As a Christian if God agrees that I am one as I believe about my faith, then I know my freedom and rights is through Christ Jesus who died on the cross by shedding his blood and breaking his body, that is the reason we have Eucharist to memorize and celebrate the freedom and rights that are already given, and all people are created and everyone is a part of God, but why we still doing such unnecessary sacrifice on the battlefield, God even has his good plan for nonbelievers, but some people may lose their life chance by our unnecessary sacrifice. As our priest weekly breaking the bread and pouring wine to symbolize, but after, we humanity daily break the body parts and shed blood of God on his field. Is it conflicting?

To my people I must speak,
We are the leader of world,
So we must not give up and run.
Let’s ship off our daughter and son
To fight the enemy of God,
As our Lord who sent His son.
I believe a leader of peace will bring us to peace, a general only knows about bringing his soldiers to war. As we pick a teacher for our children that we have to be careful about the morality of teacher, no one wants to have a greedy criminal to get near to their kids. And often someone who leads us to fight the enemy of God, and his/her convincing speech is that we should follow our Lord who sent His own son, but don't we know that God already sent His son? and His son already put our enemy(sin) on the cross, the price already been paid, and we never have to send our daughter and son? God did not even let Abraham sacrifice his son, are we and our seeds that holy compare to Isaac? God does not need us to fight his enemy, He can win all alone in style, and He already proved to us as the Gospel states, we never have to shed blood for peace no more.

To my doubting self I must say,
I’m never in peace, still pissed.
The world is not perfect world,
It’s okay to pick the second choice.
But if guns could provide us peace,
Then why God sent His son?
This part I tell I also have compassion about anyone who doing wrong thing in anger, and I understand his/her situation is never easy as the third person sees, but still, as I often did wrong thing and then ask myself what I just did.

Many people misread this poem, this is not pro-war poem, definitely anti-war.
I chose an opposite way to write it, which I guess better than straight forward shout that shows absolutely no compassion to the character, nor tells the complete view of a full person, otherwise it's always 'I am right and you are wrong' phrase that we yell at each other for 2000 years.

Thursday, September 11, 2008

Poem of Christ’s Birth

Poem of Christ’s Birth
Laijon Liu 20080912

The baby King in a manger he laid,
Born of Holy and Savior's his name.
Army of heavenly hosts sang in angel’s rhythm
To gather the shepherds on earth
And to bring their good news and aid.
Oh, Jerusalem, depart in peace,
For the Messiah’s here, and you are redeemed.
Wise men’s gifts to the King of Jews;
Herod raided in a rage,
And Ramah started her wail…
But look-
God called His son out of Egypt.

Source: Luke 2:1-38, Matt 2:1-18

Tuesday, July 29, 2008

I Don’t See God

I Don’t See God
By Laijon Liu (20080730)

I don’t see God,
Nor I can draw Him in a form;
But I can only pray to Him in spirit,
And that is my truth for all.

I don’t hear God,
Nor I can teach His words;
But I can only beg His mercy
For every time I fail His law.

I don’t know God,
Nor I can avoid my fault;
But I know what’s good
And desperately hoping for His tao.

Do I believe God?
My mind ponders,
My heart troubles,
My strength withered
And my soul suffers…
For all my life I ask myself and God.

This poemprayer is inspired by the poem of Ms. Emily Dickinson, I Never Saw a Moor. I think my dear poetess speaks to me thru her poems from heaven.

I Never Saw a Moor
Emily Dickinson

I never saw a moor,
I never saw the sea;
Yet know I how the heather looks,
And what a wave must be.

I never spoke with God,
Nor visited in heaven;
Yet certain am I of the spot
As if the chart were given.

Thursday, June 19, 2008

Zacharias' Lot (Luke 1:5-25)

Zacharias' Lot (Luke 1:5-25)

Devout faith and zealous practice
of an old man's incense prayers
drawn him three miracles:
childless shame, Gabriel's news,
and the work of silence
of God and men.

Friday, May 30, 2008

Poemprayer John 1:1-18

Poemprayer John 1:1-18
Laijon Liu (20080530)

O my great Word,
You shine thru the dark skies
With your eternal light
To bring a new sunrise;

But who knew
You must fall from heaven to earth
Into a lowly flesh,
That I can never recognize
With my very own eyes,
Nor hear your thunder voice
By my faith of Moses laws;

Unless, at one night,
I somehow changed my mind
To pursue our Father’s love,
Then I may bow my head
To read your footprint
Among men’s, says:
The size of the Son is true grace.

Thursday, April 3, 2008

A Writer’s Prayer

Oh God, give me the drama of Shakespeare,
Give me the prose and guts of James Joyce,
Give me the eyes and sense of Jane Austen,
And mostly, give me your pen of creation,
That I may paint my work of passion
Thru the drops of my blood and beer,
To build a perfect world on this blank page
To make it to sing and dance,
To bring laughters and to draw tears,
To rip off the covers for truth,
To born anew of an undying faith,
To shake my foes’ hand with love,
To cleanse heart and to baptize mind,
To company the lonely soul with hope
Before your morning light breaks the night sky.

I usually do not pray before I write, only when sometimes I put down the vicious words with hatred thoughts, that moment I know I need a prayer, and sometimes I dare not to tell the truth so I also pray. I know many writers pray before they start, and often wonder what they pray before their life work: words, lines, plots, links, or how to tell the truth, pursue love and sow hope thru fiction. And the more classic and great works I read, I find out that they exist for a reason, a living person beneath all the fancy expression. So I pray I may tell a story that speaks truth touch everyone who reads or hears it.


Sunday, March 23, 2008

A Voice I Heard

Cup by cup,
I drank the blood colored wine,
that intoxicated my mind
and eased my lonely night.

Piece by piece,
I received the breaking bread,
that filled up my stomach
and got pass my starving day.

Needs and wants,
I strove for a temporary name,
But besides wine and bread,
what else to feed my quenching soul?

Week and weeks,
I stood and observed,
the rites of Eucharist
of my symbolic faith.

Coin and coins,
I drew them out,
For the offering tithe
of my whole lot robbery.

Hours and changes,
I counted them with my wits,
But besides these routines,
what else should be my ways?

Words for Word,
I held up my hands and prayed,
How come the house of prayer
became a stage of political play?

Speech for ballots,
preached through a sermon voice,
Echoing howls over the sheep field,
crossed the boundary of church and state.

Days and nights,
I stared at the shock and awe,
And hoped one day God brings me away
to a quite place, and enjoy some true peace.