Last Page
Of poetry

And so i stood a while in thought
Of poems poets ponder about
Why do poets write dismal sadness
Of lamentable loathing loneliness

But soon I found the answer I longed for
Of depression in poets' lore
Life is full of beautiful lights that blaze
Surrounded by a shadowy haze

So who would write poetry of futures bright
When they're busy riding on light?
So why pick up a pen and write of joy
And the experience do destroy?

-Qihong Bao
like it?
The Unattainable

Hours have I stared
At the bright screaming mirror of joy
At the silver screen of insanity

Long I stared at that list there
Long I sought for your name to show

That beautiful insignia of your presence

And just for a moment I'd imagine
Your name flickering below
That rampant
That sneering
That blooded sign

Of a "Buddy List"
Irony.
I have nothing to say
Until your name
Disappears.
- bao6
The beat (edited by charles zhang)

I can hear your heart beat against my ear.
That lightning-less thunder?
That somber smothered silent sound? 
That poetic rhythm in iambic pentameter?

I can hear your heart beat against my will.
That venomous thorn piercing my eardrum?
That dark disturbing quality of your life?
That dense dreary vibration against my
freedom?

Stop it!
Cease it!
Snuff it!

That thunder
Rumble
Knock
Ram
Beating
of my heart.

And now it has stopped.
The storm has cleared.
No more thunder.
No more drumming of your chest against my
will.

I'm still here.
I'm still sheltered
Inside your very heart,
For you are much too accustomed
To the beating of my heart.

So long have you loathed it,
So long have you wished for it to cease,
So long have you tried to stop it
That you could not live without it.

So that now you still take me with
That revenant of the beating,
That revenant of the heart,
That remaining bit of thunder.

And so much have you preferred it,
And so little have you to give up
That you kept it where it will be kept…
Your own heart.
My heart.

-Qihong Bao and Charles Zhang
Immortallity

A Rose within the tempest
Caught within the cyclone of death

Love!
Be it eternal!
Be it forever more!

Fall in love not with my body
But with my words
For the body may be pierced with
A thousand arrows
Swallowed by temptous fire
Consumed by
Rust
Time.

But the parchment of one word
One sentence
One poem
One "Je t'adore"
That
Is forever.
-to that special someone.