poems | the hong kong agent

p o e m s



Vertical Narratives

juxtapositions of space and time.
hyper polished surfaces reflect wealth in rows of designer boutiques endlessly repeating up endless malls
escalator as art
down on street level it's either Blade Runner close and dense humanity and food stalls reflected in the clusters of neon signs above or
wide avenues with once again repeating dried herbal medicine shops
shark fin mounds take centre stage on white tiled floors
outside on the footpath mounds of dried lizards stretched across bamboo frames spill into the gutter their dulled eyes reflected in the thin stream of water collected from outflow hoses of
a thousand air conditioners
refrigerator drones chorus down
the gothic crumbling cathedral of Queens Road West
meanwhile back at the Centre
it's all sanitised artificial space colony living
descend to the lower levels
without ever having to touch the ground or breathe tainted air
shop and shop and shop and eat and shop and shop and eat and ....... collective pastime?
hungry ghost, Ghost in the Shell
the dead, the living, Tao-Buddhist fear
even ultra architecture can't escape the ghost factor
Feng Shui or else!

Mong Kok

Mmmm melancholy gentle mid-winter glow
Mon
gkok
p-p-p-pop palace-ebo?
tunnelling inward to the centre of now new neo-Nippon-nature well-come to my tight fit maxi-maze - outer neon skin sheds ray-on-gun mysteries reflected in the thousand street eyes alive with hope and uniqueness, each pair a floating vessel carrying a billion possible memories.
Now in decode mode, mobile and scanning, sensing no malice, only sadness, respect, awareness, sensitivity and then unexpectedly from this saline eyeball world a tear-drop falls…….

Che Kung's Birthday Party

Spin the wheel, beat the drum, shake the sticks ‘til kingdom come: Smokey blue clouds of hope and prosperity engulf the city as six million hands light sixty million joss sticks and twelve million ears strain to decipher soothsayers tones above the relentless sacred back-beat of sixty thousand factories playing the pearl river delta blues.

The Hong Kong Mall

A model for extraterrestrial colonisation
Autonomous zone. Generic and mobile existing everywhere in time and space. Impermanent. Regenerative. Pure, nostalgia and preservation free. The total liberation experience.
Safely explore and express without the inconvenience of those pesky phobia producing earth bound organisms.
Simultaneous perspectives in this free flowing geomantically precise floating world. clocks rendered ornamental, their impotent hands, no longer holding anyone to ransom. Desire, memory …..dissolves

New Year's Eve

On the eve of the Boar, flowers change hands in Victoria’s garden. Choose carefully, 12 moons till the next chance. Blow-up dolls masquerading as pigs hover above the multitude, umbilical, docile - ritual liberation. The occasional rebel flees to the eagle world and beyond…….down on ground level, floral trophies held high, the people exit. At traffic lights, surgeon police separate metal from flesh, the empty and the full face off …. Then on cue magically pass through each other without the slightest resistance…… nearby, on a suddenly empty street two butterflies dance above tram tracks, ignored. Moments later a tram rolls by, heading west to do a deal with the shinning new silver Mercedes at the crossroads…..

Healing Torture

Heavy metal electrode needles puncture my skin, inside crumbling cement needle puncturing Tai Ping Shan’s side, in the heart of Queens Road Central’s herbal heaven. Muscular twitching, as female assistant fingers gently manipulate the, still a mystery to science, electro energy, to locate the pain thresh-hold.
translucent threads of web connect the metal healing telegraph poles along the meridians of my shell.