The Foul Memory

(image quoted from my video clip uploaded to YouTube,

please watch a video clip in the previous post)


to add a poem


The Foul Memory


I don’t know how to solve
My wrath arisen from the Foul memory,
That beyond expression, stinky
Much torments as well as maggots on
Foul breath of well higher men.

Hackney curse for guarding
My precious ones;
“May die those!”

Good expression for killing
The Foul memory of those
That naught but wither flowers
Of my heart;
“May exterminate all!”

At a blow of my hand,
Maggots of the Foul memory
May be blurred out.

But unable to do,
Clung to my brain the Foul
Ones who keep smirking.
My wrath burns up against those
Anytime the breeze whispers.

Which’s imbecile?
Which’s stuff?
How to pay off?

Nowhere to escape from
The Foul memory since anytime of
Occasion favoured adversity.
How beautiful ‘Tis the scene when
My wrath has rampaged around!

Afterward it, I wish,-
There’s naught but vacant land
where rises a new flower.