planet earth is blue and there’s nothing I can do

1168725-7

an infidel runs out to the street
to gaze at the five planets which aren’t there,
the whore ties her hair in a bun
to sing to the moon draped behind the clouds,
and the starving mutt barks

creating a collapsing sense of reality,
where sound & vision are marred by
the man who sold the world,

the goblin king wreathing gold coins
enumerating the faces in pain, and
the pain in faces.

how odd is that space of un-belonging,
how dust from stars fall into my eyes
to let me see and let me think, and burn
from ashes to ashes, from skin to skin,

I did relinquish the desire of faith and fate,
I stole the diamonds from his eyes
but they were just buttons with no life,

so in the end, there are only dreams
and that tiny whimsy bit of hope
that has to be quashed, in order
to live.

the whore’s song has died.
the infidel castrated,
the starving has starved,
and I,
I, done with the world.

.
Image source

A Farewell to David Bowie. Linking it up with With Real Toads.

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Ring of World

the ring of world

where we go

round and round,

where we clamber

the highest mountains

for everything material,

to put up a drama

on a porcelain stage

drenched in water

of fate

*Written for Trifextra Week Seventy-Seven.

Jane Reichhold Inspired

forgotten brook

running the centuries down

locked in rock

~

distant from the world

obscured by cavernous trees

a stream flowing by

* The first haiku is written by the author Jane Reichhold. And the second one is my inspired creation. Written for Carpe Diem Special # 46.

Imagined World: A Rispetto

juvenile, a little kid prancing around

playing along with his sharp ingenious mind

treading on an illusionary firm ground,

he fabricates a hero, powerful kind,

causes him to brawl against callous people

who would pester and mock him at his cripple,

he became the hero himself, set to fight

in that imaginary world of his sight

you dream away, status

you dream away

to a distant land,

shimmering

with a glow

unearthly,

never seen before,

 .

you go prancing around-

letting your feet drown

in the desert sand,

raising your hands

letting them clutch air

and feel its feel

in the end,

 .

sit under a silver tree

crimson fruits hanging,

curb yourself

from sinking your teeth into

the luscious

spheres of poison,

 .

let your skin

absorb the bright

sunbeams,

let it burn

and sigh in relief,

 .

feel the jets of water,

on your palms,

spewing forth from

an unknown source

and grab the golden goblet

out of thin air

and have some water,

end up spilling

some of it

on your cheeks,

 .

hearing the thundering steps

of the giant

still yards away,

yet to arrive,

you do not go hide,

but run around

in no direction,

tired out,

sitting down

on a picnic bench

waiting,

 .

let yourself be grabbed

in those massive hands,

producing

an inaudible sound;

 .

the next moment

that comes to you,

you find yourself

waking up,

finding yourself

in the park,

lying under the ordinary

red maple,

rain droplets falling

over you in a certain rhythm,

a book resting

on your chest,

turned to the last page

now getting soaked;

 .

status:

you are done reading.

 

* Written in response to Wordle 112

Takenoko/Bamboo Shoots Haiku

going up and up

reaching for eternity

rigid, tall and straight

.

evergreen bamboo

shoots cut down and thinly sliced

boiled, to feast upon

.

survival circles

displayed around the body

every few inches

.

ward off the evil

takenoko surrounding

lonely Shinto shrine

.

wet and slippery

showered in the morning rain

a bamboo-poet writes

.

a childish cutter

gash shining stalk of bamboo

emerge moon goddess

.

shedding those gold tears

watching in pain, her moon world

born from bamboo stalk

* Written for Carpe Diem # 217 Takenoko/Bamboo Shoots

* The last two haiku are derived from a Japanese folktale; The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter. I came to know about it in a Japanese cartoon show once.