P.K. Leung

I came in a dream to the Land of Objects,
Whispers choked the air, unresting hearts of
A mutiny. Posters everywhere, protest from
the crowds gathered in the City Hall,
“Down with the Dictatorship of Arts!”
“Down with the obstinate artists who forced
the unrelated citizens together!”
Some reveled in their eccentric new identities,
Fresh veggies complained their talents wasted.
Fights went on, bodies exhausted, faces altered.
Intimidated by the uproarious objects, I retreated.
Yet, messages still rushed in @ dot com,
Via the computer I responded: the astounding
can also be Beauty, Right there, a strong Will Power existed,
backing up a political reform.
Re-arranging our confusion into precise new order,
Could that be a blueprint of the Future?
My keyboard got wrong all of a sudden,
Unusual words appeared on the screen
Kdjsl kdjk  eijwocn  dkjslejlwk dksjlj
What should I do?
I wrote and wrote all night,
Not knowing for whom I preached.
Beginning from the cluster of darkness outside the window,
The description turned into fictive creation.
When words meet images, is there a dialogue possible?
When tenderness faces the razor blade, process vs. product?
Can an opportunity kindly be granted?
The person stands right there, not just a tool to interpret us,
Such controversial tension inspires Arts.
On the other hand, tired from writing,
I look up and see the morning clouds permeating, slowly.

6 Sept 199