The Real Fengshui
his door faced the bend of a bridge
they told him that would bend his luck, so
he had the door torn down and bore through
a wall for a new door, one that faces
the Sun well for the sunshine of life
her door opened to the sharp edge
of a building she thought was the
inauspcious razor that had slashed
her chances in life, so with much incisive
belittlements of her neighbours,
she hung a ba kua mirror to throw back
what she thought should be theirs to keep
another one with the same predicarment
bought a large cannon to aim it at the poison arrow
she thought would overpower the bad influences
one man tore down a whole house
spending a few hundred thousands on
a fengshui expert to plan him a house
with all the good fengshui, a pyramid
he thought would be a panacea of
bad omens, where dreams perpetually come true
but to get the toilet, kitchen and living room in
the right paths of the stars, the house had bore
a hole right through his pocket
fortunately he is well heeled
the forces of wind and water
have like typhoon swept a flurry
of cash into the the coffers of
fengshui masters these days -
they sure had set the lucky winds
blowing in the right places
hopefully fengshui adherents
had had their bad angels swept
into oblivion never to return
perhaps there is another house
that needs all the fengshui care too
our spiritual, emotional and mental growth
needs the fengshui of the mind
to keep them strong - so that those
doors of success, failure, trails, tribulations
we could face with the right canon of faith,
courage and confidence
the house over our shoulders
is where the art of fengshui has to
come first for what we do reflects the
order of the chairs, tables and books
in the library of our heads
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Related quotes
Shopping Trail
she purrs; 'tea sir, please try
this tea. it is good for health,
japanese tea' so gentle, articulate
and musical to the ears, i thought
somebody should make her a secretary
she would be any office's perfect tea,
flowing with her grace and charm
'sir, sir, mastercard, here are
the free gifts- sport cars model.
lifetime free credit cards. here the gifts.
please sign up. i need some
commission for the Chinese
new year.' so truthful the boy
i thought he would be better off
a priest. signing up just so that
he can get some commission?
he's too truthful to be good for anything
free membership but one only knows
what a credit card means when the
monthly bill docks the door
'do you want a lady? do you want
a lady? do you want a lady?
er...er....do you want a boy? '
yes, they try to gauge what
you are and would sell you anyhing
possible in a redlight district -
even though all you want is to learn
a thing or two about the place
you are caught in a situation
where you have to run before
they really sex you up for what
you dont really want
you found the reality of life
- nowhere else is an anatomy
as mercilessly and shamelessly
sold - even the unhealthy ones -
outdoing the best abbatoir and
the morning markets
'take a stone sir for the new year
to bring new luck. what's your
birthdate. here is the gemstone
book, see what the astrologer
has to say.' But then your
nemesis is - you had bought
so many stones which all fail
to give any colours to your life
you thought every dollar you save
from now would be a gem itself
the fortune teller cum fengshui master
out to make the fortune of his day
excitedly points out: ' i know you are
in a bad patch of your life. now if you
dont mind can i visit your house? a tip or two
on the arrangement of rooms,
things will change your luck and life.'
mom zestfully told me the other day
a fengshui master unsuspectingly
told a woman who has made a great
fortune after moving into a new
house the same thing
fengshui quacks after fengshuing
clients'wealth in the direction of their pockets
really left what they promised to them
- a bonanaza of wind and water, a
thunderstorm to wreck havoc in their life
'here, here is a fine longines automatic sir
and at a fraction of the original ones.
it is as real as the real one and only US50.
no problem, works as good as the real
ones.' the time seller kept on a real sales pitch.
the man unthinkingly bought and sure enough
the glass case dropped off a week
later - showing him, time again, how
real a fake can be.
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Language Fengshui
language is fengshui
of wind, spirit, water and soil
set in place as the mind
negotiates its way through
the terrain of land and rivers,
hearts and souls
language is fengshui
acted out by the spirit of
the land as it twirls and swirls
through the tongue
to the heat, wind, light, water,
vibrations of land
charting out the joys, dos
and donts of land
for japanese,
subject and object meet
before they get
to know what they
are really out for
it is always
i movie see to go
and to the kimonoed girl you love
you have better say
i you love
for chinese
subject tells object directly
what he will do to her
always i wish to kiss her
for brits, yes, it is similar
subject verb object
i wish to kiss her
for germans and japanese
ying and yang
walk in separate lane
words for women
words for men
the sexes distinct
as black and white
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Fengshui of the Face
there are two magic
lakes to hold people dear
so that they soak up
the warmth of your hearts
this is fengshui of
the windows of your soul
look straight into
the lakes of theirs too
- with respect and honour -
and they will reflect to you
how much they hold you dear
fengshui of the wind
it comes from the cave
that transmits the voice of
your passions
in it are treasures
you can share with the world,
your words, your poems,
your knowledge
all carried in the winds
to the ones you love
the hill is where where you can
gather the scents of the
ins and outs of the world
let all the goodwill of the
world reverberate over the lakes
amplify in the cave so that it
echoes throughout the hill
show your love for all
with a great smile
it will light up the lake
fill the cave with songs
and the hill rolling with flowers
smile, smile for the world
show your love for the world
and it will surely love you back
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Grandad's grave
they sleep
in so many
different ways
each direction
pulls me a
separate way
the alluvial
seeps so
deeply into
my days
etched on
my face
this fengshui spot
late grandad's
final house
late grandma's
cold seat
as she puffed
away the haunting blues
dividing her world
his world
i wiped, wiped
cleaned the mosaic cross
the only place here
where i could
rest my heart
the myriad blooms
pull me back to this world
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Carps - Fish of Luck
Dad bought three carps
So bright so graceful
So colourful
Their debut dance in the pool
Casting an auspicious element
Here and there
Chasing away ill fortune
Fish of fengshui
Fish of triumph
So ideal in gearing up luck
The wondrous crystal water
Sings a welcome song
In accompaniment to
Their heartwarming dance
The fishes in excellent moods
Swirl around inviting us
To follow in
Their steps of fortune
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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A little Ghost Story
As I was going to bed
I turned out my light
tucked myself in
on a long winter's night
All of a sudden
I heard a door squeak
I thought someone was in my house
so I decided to take a peak
I heard the wind blow hard
and started to shiver with fear
and heard some noises again
but this time I knew I was near
I went into the living room
and noticed my door was opened wide
squeaking back and forth
I laughed so hard I almost cried
So I decided to go back up to my room
When I heard some terrible cries
I rushed to my room real quick
but a ghost stopped me in surprise
I ran and yelled
and I ran outside my house right then
and decided I would never
go back to that house again
At my new house
I turned out the light
you can probably guess
what went on that night
poem by Shaina Lloyd
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Coming Home
The railings were old and rusty,
The door paint was faded and chipped,
The poor old house had seen better days,
The roof, made of slate, had now dipped.
The windows showed broken hinges,
The path to the door, overgrown,
This was the place where I was born,
The only real home I had known.
The 'rambler' that clung to the front porch,
Was a rose in the deepest red,
Now looking forlorn and so straggly,
I thought that maybe it was dead.
But tiny buds were shooting,
From the root beside the door,
And I was sure that, with a little care,
The house would come alive once more.
I watched as the 'SOLD' sign was erected,
And I felt I had reached home at last,
I knew that I would be happy here,
After what had been in my past.
I washed, swept, scrubbed and polished,
Until everything looked 'brand new',
Then my heart sped back to my childhood days,
My return home, was well overdue.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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You Were The Passing Wind Of Our House
you pass by the house
like the wind
cold at first we felt
we thought we gonna miss you
but by then
we closed the door of the house
let one window open
we breathe
to regain what was warm
and comforting
once
then we sighed for that wind
we are not hopeless somehow
the other packets of winds
are coming
from all scattered directions
myriad
all eager to feel us too
our arms are true
our hands softer in our accepted
weaknesses
we do not ask anymore
what passing must be
and where those winds are really going
we understand that birds have to migrate
to far places
in order to survive
some people simply have to go
to map out their own destinies
we still live in this house
where we weave some dreams
in some little ways
we embark in the embroidery of
the delicate flowers
of our souls
and then we look at everything we have
been tasked
we nod, there is so much passion still
so much passion
yes.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fengshui
there are some places
that inspire forlorness
a coldness that reminds
me of a patch of old snow
nobody has stepped on
but has turned yellow,
collecting grime
from polluted wind
there are some places
that has dirty fengshui
the land of which luck
spreads out like a man's body
the land that rests on a luck head
collects all the fortune
the part that rests on the bottom
that expels filth
collects all the grime, muck,
you go into the pit of misfortune
inspired by
A Patch of Old Snow
There's a patch of old snow in a corner
That I should have guessed
Was a blow-away paper the rain
Had brought to rest.
It is speckled with grime as if
Small print overspread it,
The news of a day I've forgotten -
If I ever read it.
Robert Frost
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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The House With Many Doors
the house i love is a house
with many doors
the usual house you have
a front door and the back door
when one enters and there is nothing
to hide, one simply takes the back door
and be gone to the woods,
i can be imaginative at times
one door must open to the earth
another door must open to
the sky
and now, i must find a way
how to grow wings
or if destiny is too cruel
i must grow sharper claws
for digging the rocks of this
earth
now you must know that i have
many choices
up or
down.....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Men Cleaning Women Cannot Abide
My wife said she was going out to shop,
I knew she'd be gone for hours,
So I cleaned the house from bottom to top,
Then went out and bought her some flowers.
On arriving home she asked what's that smell,
I boasted I had just cleaned the house,
With what she said it's like something from Hell,
It stinks like a hundred dead grouse.
By doing the cleaning I thought you'd be flattered,
She said exactly what have you cleaned,
That really left my giant ego shattered,
How dare she leave me feeling demeaned?
The house is filthy what did you use,
I replied the same stuff as you,
She said it's my intelligence you're trying to abuse,
I'll now have to start cleaning anew.
What have you done to my kitchen floor?
You've got it full of stellar streaks,
The worktops are scratched like an old barn door,
My mop bucket's now full of leaks.
The toilet is filthy I said no it's not,
She said look at the state of the pan,
You've left enough stains to play dot to dot,
As for cleaning you're now on a ban.
She'll be so impressed she'll be singing,
That's what I honestly thought,
Now she's saying I've got the house minging,
Remember good cleaners cannot be bought.
I walked away totally deluded and sad,
It's moan if we don't then moan if we do,
If they had a self- cleaning house they'd still go mad,
I'm going down to the pub for a brew.
The moral of my story affects far more than me,
It's a problem that is truly worldwide,
It's a sexist thing I'm sure all males would agree,
‘' Men Cleaning, Women Cannot Abide ‘'
‘' They think we do it deliberately''
The Deserted House
Life and Thought have gone away
Side by side,
Leaving door and windows wide.
Careless tenants they!
All within is dark as night:
In the windows is no light;
And no murmur at the door,
So frequent on its hinge before.
Close the door; the shutters close;
Or through the windows we shall see
The nakedness and vacancy
Of the dark deserted house.
Come away: no more of mirth
Is here or merry-making sound.
The house was builded of the earth,
And shall fall again to ground.
Come away: for Life and Thought
Here no longer dwell;
But in a city glorious -
A great and distant city -have bought
A mansion incorruptible.
Would they could have stayed with us!
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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Building A Big House
you build a big house
with one thought, a wish
that something may last forever
like love, like the finest wood
like a relationship,
or say
(let me say it this way)
a marriage, like strong stairs
inviting attention to society
that no one is leaving
like a door closing behind
a sigh,
but a house with time falls
pillars collide, and floors go
termite eaten to the ground
doors fall out from the hinges
that hold them it their frames,
nothing lasts forever
i know,
i build a house because i know
what love is
i want to give it shelter and warmth
like those rooms
a glow like those living rooms
a nice dinner
like the kitchen and the dining tables.
i do not think beyond my body
that turns to dust
i know
i do not utter beyond my words, i know,
no words can withstand the
lures of the niceties of a lie.
i know
i build the house because we are here
and there is nothing
worth doing
there is no snow and ski is irrelevant.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Stranger In My Own House
(a capella: she said: boy, your luck is running out...she make me feel like a stranger...in my own house)
I come stumbling in at a quarter to three
To the sound of my own dog growlin at me
Im scared to move or turn on a light
Youve got me creepin around in the dark
Like a thief in the night
Ive got no excuse, I should have known
Ive got no place to live
I never feel at home
I walk into the kitchen to see whats there
Im tired and Im hungry but the cupboards bare
Ive been working all day and all night too
I cant believe this is all I have to come back to
I guess Ill take a look upstairs, in the danger zone
I wonder what Im doing here
When I never feel at home
Im a stranger in my own house
Ive got the keys to the door
But Im still locked out
Im a stranger in my own house
Ill huff and Ill puff and Ill blow this house down
Cant be a stranger in my own house
I see the do not disturb sign on my bedroom door
What is this sheet and pillow laying on the floor
I wore out my welcome
I hear you loud and clear
Its time to get a few things straight around here
Ive got no excuse, I should have known
Ive got a place to live but I never feel at home
Im just a stranger in my own house
Ive got the keys to the door
But Im still locked out
Stranger in my own house
Ill huff and Ill puff and Ill blow this house down
Cant be a stranger in my own house
Ive got no excuse, I should have known
With a woman like you Im better off alone
Im a stranger in my own house
Ive got the keys to the door
But Im still locked out
Im just a stranger in my own house
Oh, honey Im home
Im just a stranger in my own house
Im just a stranger in my own house
You got a lion on your hands girl, not a mouse!
Im just a stranger in my own house
Im just a stranger in my own house
Well, somebodys got to go...
Stranger
Stranger
song performed by by Foreigner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Get Out Of My House
(hee-haw! hee-haw! hee-haw!)
When you left, the door was
(slamming!)
You paused in the doorway
(slamming!)
As though a thought stole you away.
(slamming!)
I watched the world pull you away.
(lock it!)
So I run into the hall,
(lock it!)
Into the corridor.
(lock it!)
Theres a door in the house
(slamming).
I hear the lift descending.
(slamming!)
I hear it hit the landing,
(slamming!)
See the hackles on the cat
(standing).
With my key i
(lock it).
With my key i
(lock it up).
With my key i
(lock it).
With my key i
(lock it up).
I am the concierge chez-moi, honey.
Wont letcha in for love, nor money.
(let me in!)
My home, my joy.
Im barred and bolted and i
(wont let you in).
(get out of my house!)
No strangers feet
Will enter me.
(get out of my house!)
I wash the panes,
(get out of my house!)
I clean the stains away.
(get out of my house!)
This house is as old as I am.
(slamming.)
This house knows all I have done.
(slamming.)
They come with their weather hanging round them,
(slamming.)
But cant knock my door down!
(slamming.)
With my key i
(lock it).
With my key i
(lock it).
This house is full of m-m-my mess.
(slamming.)
This house is full of m-m-mistakes.
(slamming.)
This house is full of m-m-madness.
(slamming.)
This house is full of, full of, full of fight!
(slam it.)
With my keeper i
(clean up).
With my keeper i
(clean it all up).
With my keeper i
(clean up).
With my keeper i
(clean it all up).
I am the concierge chez-moi, honey.
Wont letcha in for love, nor money.
(its cold out here!)
My home, my joy.
Im barred and bolted and i
(get out of my house!)
(wont let you in).
(get out of my house!)
No strangers feet
(get out of my house!)
Will enter me.
(get out of my house!)
I wash the panes.
(get out of my house!)
I clean the stains.
(get out of my house!)
(get out of my house!)
(get out of my house!)
(get out of my house!)
Wont enter me.
(get out of my house!)
(get out of my house!)
(get out of my house!)
(get out of my house!)
Yeah! wont let you in!
(get out of my house!)
(get out of my house!)
Let me in!
Woman let me in!
Let me bring in the memories!
Woman let me in!
Let me bring in the devil dreams!
I will not let you in!
Dont you bring back the reveries.
I turn into a bird,
Carry further than the word is heard.
Woman let me in!
I turn into the wind.
I blow you a cold kiss,
Stronger than the songs hit.
I will not let you in.
I face towards the wind.
I change into the mule.
I change into the mule.
Hee-haw! hee-haw! hee-haw-hee-haw-hee-haw-hee-haw...
Hee-haw! hee-haw! hee-haw!
song performed by by Kate Bush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Sebokarang Villages
Every evening
I always go to the Sebokarang villages
bike to break through the twilight
In the Bamboo threes
and the field of sugar plantantion
its flower blossom, yellow and
to bend in the street
to be fenced in kembang sepatu
and than turn to her hause
the wall of her house made from teakwood
and around her house planted
The Ceplok Piring flowers
in front of the door of her houses
I knocked its with my thremble fingers,
With my thremble heart
Where my blood flow fastly
The evening wind
Blowing softly
And start to be darkness
Its covering the leaf
Eat the tree near the street
Where the people pass and through
So cat run to catch the mouse
the mouse jump
To the path of the villages
I fell loneness
in front of the door
waiting for you
open the door
when the door opened
the light of petromax lamp is lighting
to my eyes wonder
of your smile
from the red lips
open, just open the door
the door of your heart
again and again
till I could stay
in the wide room of your heart
forever
poem by Prasetya Utama
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Consent
i
only knock
you are the owner
of the door
of the house
if
you open it
then i
enter
but you close
the door
and the windows
of your house
airtight
and so
i turn my back
and walk
away
if you change
your mind
however
i am just
a stone
throw
away...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Porch
Because it was what we thought was meant by family:
Laughter.
A new house.
A party in the garden where the tables were filled with young faces. Who did not want this true and tender accomplishment?
This just reward handed over to the world’s honest men,
its citizens.
Every house rested on its joys.
So when one of the guests nudged a glass when she was telling a joke which fell on the floor and broke,
we laughed.
We were accountable merely for our own mistakes and committed solely.
And everything was part of the good story,
really.
How could we not love what it cost?
Crack on the marble floor just set,
dent on a polished kitchen door.
A small window overlooks the children,
one nimble,
one frail,
balancing
on the far edge of the porch.
*by L.L.Ypil
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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There's Nae Luck about the House
And are ye sure the news is true?
And are ye sure he's weel?
Is this a time to think o' wark?
Mak haste, lay by your wheel;
Is this the time to spin a thread
When Colin's at the door?
Reach me my cloak, I'll to the quay
And see him come ashore.
For there's nae luck about the house,
There's nae luck at a',
There's little pleasure in the house
When our gudeman's awa.
And gie to me my bigonet,
My bishop's satin gown;
For I maun tell the bailie's wife
That Colin's come to town.
My Turkey slippers maun gae on,
My stockings pearly blue;
It's a' to pleasure my gudeman,
For he's baith leel and true.
For there's nae luck about the house,
There's nae luck at a',
There's little pleasure in the house
When our gudeman's awa.
Rise, lass, and mak a clean fire side,
Put on the muckle pot,
Gie little Kate her button gown,
And Jock his Sunday coat;
And mak their shoon as black as slaes,
Their hose as white as snaw,
It's a' to please my ain gudeman,
For he's been lang awa.
For there's nae luck about the house,
There's nae luck at a',
There's little pleasure in the house
When our gudeman's awa.
There's twa fat hens upo' the bauk,
Been fed this month and mair,
Mak haste and thraw their necks about,
That Colin weel may fare;
And mak the table neat and clean,
Gar ilka thing look braw,
For wha can tell how Colin fared
When he was far awa?
Ah, there's nae luck about the house,
There's nae luck at a',
There's little pleasure in the house
When our gudeman's awa.
Sae true his heart, sae smooth his speech,
His breath like cauler air,
His very foot has music in't
As he comes up the stair!
And will I see his face again,
And will I hear him speak?
I'm downright dizzy wi' the thought,
In troth I'm like to greet.
For there's nae luck about the house,
There's nae luck at a',
There's little pleasure in the house
When our gudeman's awa.
If Colin's weel, and weel content,
I hae nae mair to crave--
And gin I live to keep him sae,
I'm blest aboon the lave.
And will I see his face again,
And will I hear him speak?
I'm downright dizzy wi' the thought,
In troth I'm like to greet.
For there's nae luck about the house,
There's nae luck at a',
There's little pleasure in the house
When our gudeman's awa.
poem by William Mickle
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Home is much more
I thought of home
As a dwelling house
Where I could lay naked without a blouse
I thought of home
As a dwelling house
Playing cat and mouse with my spouse
But home is much more!
Much more than a place you lay your head
O! where do I begin
Home is within
Home is deep rooted in ones soul
Home is empty if your heart has a large hole
Home is rebirth from childbirth to death
Home is when you make peace with thyself
And return back to earth!
I thought of home
As a bed with a respectable foam
I thought of home
As a place we feel we belong
Recharging our bodies to be strong
I thought of home
As living in no chronological order
With father, mother, sister or brother
I thought of home
Associating it with family
Affiliating it with ones country
Contemplating with the idea
As where one spends Christmas, Easter and New Year
O! dear
But home is much more!
O! where do I begin
Home is within
Home is thy inside twin
Your spiritual interior environment
No one dares enter without thy consent!
Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi
www.sylviachidi.co.uk
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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