- The Start Is Play -

On green earth in the dark universe,
What is the greatest living show?
There people find their true home,
And in the sweetest dream they roam.
When sinful wars poke all the holes,
But their game points a better road;
To their sorrow days and lost hope
They still can sing a rhymed prose.
From the presence to ancient old,
I swear we never lose our true goal;
Even the night rains strike with cold,
But dawn gonna come in color of rose.
Coz I see petal fly and sticker snow,
From my screens to the front rows.
There the stars fall in heavenly glow
To sing intros for my heroes’ show.
'No more sorrows' they sing, 'behold
The world gonna become one big hood.'
The cameras flash for their perfect pose,
And their peaceful hands heal broken soul.
The whistle of commander for ref to blow,
It’s made for games and not for gun smoke.

My hot babes and my sweet maids
I cannot refrain myself to gaze.
For their pure face and glamour shape
Shine ten thousand splendours to amaze.
They are the sunshine of my days,
And night rose of my secret space,
Brings me blue sky and good odors,
That the world is not a shitty place.

They stretched their beautiful feet,
Swing their shining sharpen cleats,
So all the cockroaches on my screen
Were swept away, off the wicked games.
They work hard on the green pitch,
And always play under fair light,
Even dive and fault in a honest name:
The chasing of their dream is true fame.

And peace filled their graceful heart,
Perfect shorts wrapped their sexy butt.
As butterflies they dance here n there,
Like doves they circled a ring of light.
Come in with kicking and screaming,
Playing with guts n breaking the balls,
Composing all the greatest dramas,
That even Shakespeare never saw!

Greek heroes of the present day,
Surely broke Achilles' feeble heel.
Odysseus always had strong arms,
But hey! Look at his weak legs.
Homer sold his Helen’s fair look,
But I do lust for Divas on the stand.
Sun Zi wrote Art of War, for war?!
Oh, No! I believe it is just for game.

And game wheels in movement of life,
As sprinting river clashing waves to the ocean.
People climb high to reach the peak of mountain,
But water streams low as art of my poem.
Generations in current from past to future,
Rolling and waving, pushing and pulling,
As songs and dance shift in tones and steps,
All kinds of fashions, old n new, switching trends,
But our passion for it forever streams.

Days and nights I stare at my TV screen,
Hope all channels show any team’s news.
According to result I drink beer or tears;
But if any rats or flies or cockroach wins,
I’d spit with a tooting fart: "What a damn scheme!"
Yeah, I should quit those; coz gals hate them.
But my fields are invaded by the true aliens,
Who show me their phony cards and tell me I play or not.

And the damn cockroaches sharing my meal
Before my lifetime potato feast is over;
Freaking flies soaring high in the ceiling
To drop their filthy eggs all over my bed;
And vicious rats sharpening their teeth,
Chewing my precious peanuts as concerto;
And I look beyond to my dream field and know:
Before the night is over, my heroes gonna win.

Even though the flies set up the fireworks
To make the skies to illume as a short day;
The cockroaches consume all the markets,
Marching in with an overwhelmed number;
The rats of the world drain my only oil jar,
And they dare to kill anyone without blinking an eye;
But I know their works are dust and smoke,
Once my players step in the field, then all dirt are gonna disperse.

So all my players are my heroes and stars
And defending my crappy poetry space-
Where Beauty shines and Hope glows
There my dream rows and heart goes
As the ball rolls that my desire flows
There the gods feed me their shows
In the company of the musical odes;
They chase n woo and fighting my foes!

Their gentle touch n clever play,
And build-up ways make me daze.
Their teasing moves never delay,
Tricked the world into fancy gate.
One and Two they call it Wall Play,
Bring out woohs n aahs in any day.
They patiently wait, as time won’t pay,
And I can’t hold n yell ‘Come on! Ain’t got all day!’

Yeah, what a game! It’s never a shame.
90 minutes length; never 2 minutes fame.
Guys strive for the competition;
Gals always require communication,
But I say, 'Forget about connection,
Just shoot to the goal with passion.
If anyone asks for an explanation,
Just tell that we were caught by emotion and lost in sensation.'

Players stand and start in formation,
Their thoughts of plans are deep as ocean,
And cleansed by their rousing sweat lotion
To push the earth to a perfect spinning motion.
What an inspiration to the world in depression,
When all of us stumble in confusion n frustration,
And struggle to get out of the freaking desperation,
There they deliver our satisfaction -another resurrection.

And I've heard resurrection is after death,
And death is after life, and life begins by birth.
Confucius said: "Why one asks about death,
When he does not grasp the meaning of life?"
And Jesus said: "If anyone wants to gain life,
Then one must die first, to receive his true life."
But why I mention this topic in my paragraph,
Maybe I just wanna show I know something, or add on more words.

But let me offer another way for explaining:
The ending of game is after its beginning,
And the game must end for a new starting,
And in it, whatever we are experiencing
Is just eternal struggling in a flashing;
And in the end, nothing remains its glowing,
Nor greatest ranking, nor highest scoring,
If there are really anything, then I'd say playing, drinking n snoring.

But wait, in the game what a suffering for playing!
Physical, I called it aching, like a nail pulling;
Spiritual, I called it battling, like a bad dating.
But these two are always coming with smiling.
And we can do nothing but to skip and running.
When the physical pain comes with knocking,
The spiritual wound is wrapped and covered,
Once our body healed, then spiritual torment revealed.

Pills for cold, surgery for bone fracture,
But what is treatment for missing shots?
Chocolate for girls, sorry notes for wife,
But how can we run away from Own Goal?
Fill up the cups, drink up the whole bottle,
But before we awake, sorrow returns with a stick.
When the body melts, shatters into dust,
Our spirit lingers, roams solo as a cursed ghost.

Yeah, nothing is worse than a lonely soul;
As a solo player who tries to fit in the team,
Plays an unfamiliar game thru an unusual frame:
Communications for a single connection;
Negotiations to deal with personal obsession;
And cut-throat competition for a short possession.
One must surf against all the mighty waves,
To find himself and others thru endlessly searching, forever downloading and acceptable uploading.

Struggling life as striving game in a flash,
For single second of glory, a forever catch.
So let’s drive it with ease and hush,
And bring no more harms or headless rush.
If it really hurts and our regretful thoughts gush,
Then drink beer, shed tear, and kiss our dear.
Even night seems forever, but love never over;
Even we can’t abide together, let’s share before it’s all over.

And my heroes learned from their young age,
That practice makes all things perfect.
When they tried to help family cooking,
Mom yelled at them: “You need practice!”
When they missed their easy shots on pitch,
Coach roared at them: “Go Home Practice!”
When their wife teased them in the morning,
They knew they must try hard in the backyard, kitchen and bathroom.

So their nightly works in a fragrant smell
Breezes kindly in morning winds to miles,
Sweetest perfume sweat- irresistible cologne
70 bucks draws their girl fans to heaven.
Their winning cleats never washed,
Pass down good luck to generations with odor.
So let the ref blow his unfair whistle,
Coz my heroes must dance shirtless for yellow and red cards.

The game is not only pure physical,
But it also requires some brain, or any;
Most time my heroes use their foot,
And sometimes they also throw their head,
But when their game is on the line,
That time burns to injury count,
And the goal must be achieved,
They will use anything, like their godly hand, vicious elbow and provocative saliva to get things done.

Yeah, the game is a life feast from start to end,
And in it they gather and depart by chance,
Thru the tastes of sour, sweet, bitter, and hot,
As four seasons dream they roam to awake.
Sunset and sunrise, moon wanes and wax;
Our heroes come and go, rise and fall,
While our passion sings up and shouts out.
The goal of life is a forever chase, and never give-up shot.

This game of war thru peace they exchange,
As life and death exemplified by start and end.
Losing requires tear n beer, nor life, nor blood;
Winning of cup is celebrated in showering wine.
Clubs rearrange all countries and towns,
Nation with nation competes in fair plays,
Only the purest concept reigns over all:
Virtuous Way, changing seasons, cultures, wits, and common laws.

No more boundaries and worldly craps,
As what we have submitted for our love:
Options of colors, race and fair looks,
Age for fit, wage for security,
Weights, heights, interests, and habits,
Certificates to speak for minds and wits;
But I long for thy cherry lips and beauty’s rose,
And my size n length to reach thy depth n width,
And my ultimate strength to fulfill thy enduring faith,
If not, then thy merciful forgiveness is my living grace.
And this is the moment of my truth -my real bullshits.

My true heroes on green pitch they play;
As injurious insect in the world they beguile.
That my heroes rip off all the crappy covers,
As the bold band of Robin Hood rob the rich for gold,
As the intoxicated outlaw of marsh fighting corruptions,
As the cowboy Jesse James rides riotously in Wild West.
And I raise my hands and praise their work:
May their deception in the game never end.

Oh, deception! How could I forget about!
Wise act as April’s fool; lions speak as meek;
Vultures soar as eagles; and wolves dress as sheep;
Able does not show, giving is to receive;
Enemy is never far, and friends are never close.
Seduce their greed, rob those in chaos,
Avoid the strong, scratch the wrath,
Praise the humbles, and labor the rested,
Separate the close, strike the incautious,
And break into the house of rash head.
But let me stop plagiarizing Sun Zi’s.

Yeah, my heroes are the players knowing themselves,
And before their game starts they learn their enemies.
Seasons pass, nights and days, they will never lose.
They launch in a common form and score with surprise.
Ooh, their surprises! Limitless as heavens and earth,
Ceaselessly flushes as rolling river and spring water.
Their splashing waves beating the stony shores,
Chunk by chunk the rock are tossed and metal floats.

On the pitch they strike with thunder blow.
Their golden shoes are the cloudy Zeus’ bow,
Aim every wicked hole, shoot a deadly stroke.
As hawk they soar, as tiger they stalk, as lion they roar,
In sec of flash the old foxes are trapped and choke.
My heroes wax their bow with strength,
Shoot off their silvering arrows in trice,
And beat down their enemies as a giant rock that rolls.

Their great strategy lies in a fluid form,
Changes its infinite shape as time flows.
Swift as high winds that blows, sweeping clouds;
Calm as night forest that grows, unmoving oceans.
Wild as autumn fire that razes, brimstone storms.
Firm as Himalayas that stands, everlasting tall!
They are my monkey king holds a magic staff,
Poked nine heavens and stirred four seas.

People say: “Warriors are born for war,
And they are never made for good date.”
But they are more than heroes and players,
They are lover and mate, and perfect fit.
Coz on our dear mother earth they strive
Fearlessly for love, barefoot they pursue;
Shamelessly for truth, strip off all their cloth,
Drunk with dreams, intoxicated for hope.

When their magical sphere rolls and bounces,
Strangers in the world become old time intimate.
One by one and step by step in rhymes and tones,
The world rises to awake, to listen and to echo:
One and two and three, we hold our hand and sing;
Four and five and six, we lean together and dance;
Seven, eight and nine, heaven rains and earth swings;
Ten, eleven and twelve, world melts and spirit joins;
Thirteen, fourteen and sixteen, we make the time to stop.

Oh my dreamer! Wake up! Wake up!
Call back your roaming spirit to return,
To the mortal shell of this mirage world.
We don’t call the game, not one, nor any.
In chain we are dragged into the coliseum,
We bleed for the worldly gods to drink wine,
We howl bitter tear for ‘the angels’ to sip beer,
We were hero in our dream, but woke to be slave.

For we rise to end, flourish to decline.
Life goes to death, surviving to the end.
Oh love! Topic of two in spirit and mind;
But a single drop of joy arouses lifetime griefs.
Cupid toys his bow, our affection come and go.
Death preaches his faith, a license to kill,
So we all battle for someone else’ belief,
And offer our tear, blood, and blind faith.

Yeah, world's image clouds and changes,
As the fortune roads never in our grasp.
The unseeing stars shiver in deep heavens,
I can see the soaring flies, marching roaches,
Hear the symphony of rats, harmonizing;
But I know after dark night, sunny day,
After rain storms, there’ll be rainbows,
And toward the green field I smile and look.

Winter passes and spring comes quickly,
Sun smiles kindly and rain caresses softly,
Wind blows loving seeds everywhere swiftly,
Willow shade our streets and swing tenderly.
All flowers gonna blossom courageously,
Spreading their gorgeous petals widely,
And showing off their sweet pistil wildly.
There butterflies offering love dance freely,
Honey bees singing and flying, working n playing joyfully.

Come, my love. Let’s row to the pleasure field,
In there we will visit the dream of red mansion,
All the beauties express themselves thru poetry,
As my heroic players en pointed in swan lake;
Their peaceful feet spread blessed good news,
To all the children of the green mother earth.
And let’s loose our shoes to play, and be lost;
Coz the pasture of our true heart is holy,
And there we shall stay forever happily.

I will hold your hand, and together we'll fly;
and we not gonna reach the blue sky,
nor pluck the golden moon, nor stir the star oceans.
But we will leap off the high cliff, and free fall,
and sink deep into the darkness of downlow,
to the mystery of eternity, of the still water,
there the Spirit floats, from the beginning of the big bang.

Then, we shall hear the song of birds,
wonder the glamour of rainbows, smell the fragrant earth,
kiss the flavor roses, taste the sweetest honey dew,
pick all the juicy fruit, close our eyes to roam,
and plunge into the beauty of Eden – that’s love!
And be reborn to a new life.

- The End Is Peace -

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