Heirlooms

Jun 2017

One day, parkouring through my uncles two story apartment,

I was drawn naturally to his desktop computer

upon which I found his OkCupid Dating profile.

I don't remember his username, Or anything about the site really,

But I remember the head-shot of a beautiful woman

framed above the desk

the sterile grey Rubbermaid totes behind me like caskets, 

How they made even the hardwood floors

look like they were holding in the dead.

For my Grandmothers birthday

my family gathered at Captain Newicks

her favorite seafood restaurant.

My uncle flirted with the waitress.

I don't think I've ever gone to a restaurant with my uncle where he

didn't flirt with the waitress.

Captain Newicks went out of business shortly after that dinner

followed shortly by my grandmothers life.

the relationship between my uncle and that waitress expired well

before both my Grandmother or Captain Newicks.

I remember asking my grandmother about my Uncle.

Tarots Fool would have predicted

my grandmothers eyelids

a silent prayer before her words.

He had two children by his first wife,

keeps a portrait of her above his desk.

She was a blessing on the family

Selfless amd loved by every one.

She took her own life

Spread her wings to break free from the cage He kept her locked in.

He buried his heart in her casket,

motorcycles, empty bottles

had a third child by a second wife

who buried her heart in drugs and strangers.

Amanda was 6 years old when her mother died.

my uncles wife. Her brother josh was 3

when she died my uncle wanted to put them both up for adoption

he didn't.

Their mother died on the 20th of September

a week after her 25th birthday.

their mother once bought a bunch of carnations

with a dead rose in the middle

and said "it looks like I'm dead".

she took a bottle of pills before going to a chinese restaurant

went out as a family

and collapsed at the table.

she was rushed to the hospital

she didn't make it.

their mother wasn't happy

her and my uncle were getting divorced at the time

lived in the same house that I grew up in.

when my uncle told the kids mommy wasn't coming home

my mother was 17 

and there to see all of it.

When my mother was 17 

she had to watch her baby cousins be told their mother had died.

When my grandmother passed.

grief bounced off of my uncles callouses

ricocheted to my cousins, robbed 

twice now of a selfless mother.

The tragedies in my family

have always enthralled me.

like shakespeare sonnets

I breath them into my faithless nights

tap an extra dream-catcher on my bedpost

in space of a prayer.

When The hearth-fire of our family dimmed 

a tealight in my grandmothers eyes.

grayed, Glossed.

she could no longer crochet 

one big dysfunctional quilt, 

together from our families yarn.

without her needle, 

I was determined to watch how our life spun forward.

The next time I saw my uncle,

He offered me a job.

Thick mosquito blinded us as we carried our sweat 

with Rubbermaid totes into a blue two story home 

deep in the evergreen thickets of Maine.

a tall white fan rotated slowly back and fourth 

Cooling the wet patches on our T-shirts while my Uncle 

flirted with the landlord

I still remember when my uncle tossed me the truck keys

the look of terror I gave him

How easy it was for him to trust

I guess when your heart is buried in a casket 

you stop worrying who has your keys.

It makes me remember

when my daughter asked for my keys 

I would sit her in the drivers seat

watch her pretend to drive.

I loved imagining her free

living how she wanted.

I still wouldn't give her my keys.

she would turn my car into a casket.

It makes me remember

when that little girls mother asked me to drive

My words spun portcullises

prison bars forged in anxiety

scaffolding out of latex secrets

Glued with siren smiles, pacifier kisses

denying cigarette smoke on her breath

fueling infernos in my head.

when my uncle handed me his keys without hesitation.

my religion was insulted by his tough skin.

I felt his simple kindness 

like a splash of holy water. 

saw in me, the devil 

caging a woman like property

holding her hostage 

out of fear.

And yes 

when She could drive she left me

And yes 

when she left me she took her daughter.

every morning 

cereal bowl of pills, I **** myself

keep a poster of my mothers face 

covered in bruises 

behind the tiny orange bottles 

to remind me why I do it.

wake up twice, 

first as Phoenix, dying

second as a watcher, writer and admirer.

callouses are not to protect us from the outside at all.

Callouses harden our bodies into caskets.

Hold in all our dead.

Like a shell taken hostage by the tide,
Like the rain to the river to the sea,
I walked out that door with all of my pride
And old neglect heavy inside of me.

Now the sea foam holds where your arms would be
And the sand buries where your lips could be.
The night breeze is soft like your hands should be
Echoing like a ghost still haunting me.

The dark deep unknown kisses me goodnight.
The broken rays of dawn's soft lips entice.
The soulless ocean I cry is my plight --
The faux strength and pride turning me to ice.

Wondering of you keeps my tides churning,
Dreaming of you puts salt in my waves,
Loving you created a deep yearning,
Loosing you crafted trenches and sunk caves.

I am glass heated from a time before:
molded, cooled, cracked, worn down by sand and strain.
I walk like I'm queen of the ocean floor
Burning to feel the warmth of love again.

I can't sleep
The horrible news is bothering me
My fellow Filipinos in Marawi
Are being attacked by Maute Group/ISIS
They are burning down the place
The houses, the hospitals, the churches
And if you can't prove that you are a Muslim
They'll take you as a hostage
Those who don't wear hijabs "are taken care of"
Horrible, really horrible
My fellow filipinos there are suffering
Muslims and non-muslims
It's not supposed to be about religion
It's supose to be being people, human
It's suppose to be "humanity"



*"Save me from people of the world" Psalm 17:14

It's horrible, really horrible. How can these people be so cruel?? It's really scary, really scary

Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya;aopicho@yahoo.com)
The Al shabab on 22 day of September 2013   attacked Kenya again. It has attacked and lynched siege on the Nairobi’s biggest mall known as the West Gate. This is one of the severest after other similar attack in 1998.The people who are averagely assumed to be killed are  one hundred.Al shabab is a regional east African arm of Arabo-islamic global terrorist group known as the Algaeda.But something notable about all the terrorist groups in the world, inclusive of Alshabab, is that they all have an Arabic, communist and Islamic bias with overt expression of anti-American movements.
The Lynching of the Mall in Nairobi has affected all the Kenyan communities. Asian and African, Europeans and Americans. However the survivors of the West Gate mall attack has narrated out that the attackers were discriminately asking for ones religion before they shoot. Thus Muslims were not shot but non Muslims were shot and then held hostage. The military sources on the site shared out that the terrorists were foreigners but they perfectly worked through their plan through co-operation of locals and citizens of a victim countries; Kenya and America.
Immediately after this terror attack in Nairobi, a group of social researchers in Kenya carried out an electronic survey on the social media to find out why the Alshabab has easily recruited the followers and why an African youth can easily accept recruitment in to the membership of terror groups like Boko haram, Al shabab, and Al gaeda.The responses gathered from diverse digital socialites  skews into one  modal direction which  shows that America alone with its ostentatious international relations  will not win the war on global terrorism.
The motivation for easy recruitment into membership of the terror groups was established by the social media survey as diverse factors but most august among them are ; extreme conditions of poverty among the youths in contrast to the rich and wealthy elderly echelons of the most African societies. Also, sharp contrast in the economic conditions between America and Africa where American societies wallow in extreme riches whereas the African societies contemporaneously are stark deep in idyllic poverty perpetually wallowing in the mire of need and economic challenges. Some respondents cited the crooked way through which the state of Israel was formed as well as the atrocious nature of American foreign policy towards the Arab world through which there was perpetration of killing of Muamar Al Gadaffi and regular Military bombardment of Arab countries like Syria and Afghanistan.
Also the current American presidency and the preceding one of George Bush provoke distasteful responses on the social media. Especially in relation to the Prison maintained at quatanamo bay which basically was established as a basic torture facility used by the American government to torture terrorist suscepects from North Africa, Arab emirates and Europe. But the prison at Quatanamo bay is composed of a large number of North African as detainees. A respondent on the social media quoted Pravda, the Russian Newspaper in English version which had a revelation about the Quatanamo prison. The Pravda projected number of North Africans in the Quatamo prison to be currently standing at one hundred and thirty seven. The Newsweek also concurs with this position by narrating in its july 2013 edition that, there are very many prisoners of North African descend in quatanamo prison who began a hunger strike sometimes ago but they are forcefully fed through a tube.

The facebooking ,tweetering and charting thematically show one modal position that American discriminatory foreign policy towards Israel and Persia, American extreme capital amid critical world poverty, poverty in Africa especially among the youth, presence of weapons of mass destruction in Israel to which America is oblivious or nonchalant  ,Russian technological casuistry and Chinese economic dominance combine into a blend of extensive anti-American feelings that  make the world youths not reliable when it comes to the moral duty of desisting from joining the terrorist groups. American hard politics and hard diplomacy will make America not to win war on global terrorism.

MY GRANNY IS HAYLEY FROM THE BRATAYLEY YOUTUBE SITE

YOU SEE, IVY GIMBERT WHO WAS MY GRANNY, LEFT HER LIFE

IN JANUARY 2004, WHEN I WAS SICK, AND RE ENTERED THE WORLD

AS ANNA IN BRATAYLEY, YOU SEE WHAT MY GRAN IS HOPING

TO ACHIEVE, IS HER GRANDSONS ALL OVER AUSTRALIA

WILL WATCH HER VIDEOS ON YOUTUBE, YOU SEE YOUTUBE STARTED

IN 2004, AND BUDDHA MADE IVY ANNA BECAUSE, THIS IS A WAY

TO REFORM MY EVIL JINGLES LIKE OOPS PLEASE KIDNAP CHRIS

YA KNOW TAKE HIM HOSTAGE TIE HIM UP AND, ANOTHER THING TOO

BUDDHA, WANTED FOR MY GRAN TO BE A HIT IN CYBER SPACE

SO GRAN AND NAN, CAN BE TWO INTERNET SENSATIONS, YOU

SEE NAN IS JOHN ROBERT RIMEL, GRAN IS ANNE, AND ANNE

IS THE OLDEST SISTER, I AM SURE, GRAN IS TRYING TO SHOW

HOW SHE ACTUALLY WAS, BECAUSE, A LOT OF PEOPLE REMEMBER

HER BRI URN, AND ME TRYING TO SHOWSHE IS LIKE  LIKE THE BIG KIDS, BUT BUDDHA REALLY

THOUGHT, IT’LL BE HEAPS BETTER TO PUT IVY INTO ANOTHER GIRL

YEAH, THIS WILL BE FUN SAID IVY, AND IVY WAS PLAYING AROUND IN CYBER SPACE

WITH NAN AND GRAN, AND THEY STARTED UP THESE CLUBS UP IS SPACE

WHERE I CAN PLAY AND HAVE FUN, YOU SEE GRAN IS A BIT DIFFERENT AS SHE

IS GOOFING AROUND AND NAN, IS A 14 YEAR OLD SINGER, SHOWING OFF HER

CREATIVITY WITH THE GUITAR, THROUGH JOHN ROBERT RIMEL, AND, AT PRESENT

HAYLEY IS ENJOYING BEING THE CENTRE OF ATTENTION WITH HER SISTER ANNIE,WHO IS GRAN

AND BROTHER CALEB WHO IS PETER SARGENT, A FORMER KEANE PLACE KID WHO KILLED HIMSELF

WHO DIED IN A CAR ACCIDENT, AND THESE 3 KIDS ARE KNOWN AS THE BRATS, WHILE JOHN

ROBERT RIMEL IS WORKING ON BEING A MUSICIAN, AND THE REASON WHY I KNOW THIS IS

BRIAN ALLAN IN CANBERRA IS CRONUS, AND WATCHES EVERY LIFE, GO FROM DEATH OF LAST LIFE

TO BIRTH OF NEW LIFE, CURRENTLY I AM KEEPING OUR FAMILY TOGETHER, THROUGH BUDDHISM

YA SEE, I HAVE A SPECIAL GIFT, OF BEING THERE IN PREVIOUS LIVES, MY VOICES ARE THE AFTERLIFE

I CAN’T HELP IT, IF I AM CRONUS, DUDES, AND IN 2003 I WAS SICK, WHEN I WISHED GRAN DEAD, I DIDN’T MEAN TO

BUT I CAN ASSURE YOU, BUDDHA TOOK CRONUS OFF ME, SO I CAN THINK ABOUT MY SPECIAL GIFT OF LIFE

BUT I MUST BE CAREFUL, THE INTERNET AND SOCIAL MEDIA, ARE THE BEST WAYS OF GETTING YOUR STORY OUT

MY GRAN IS ANNE FROM BRATAYLEY NAN IS JOHN ROBERT RIMEL, DAD IS ELIZABETH CAMPBELL,

MARK JONES IS SUPERSONIC 3 YEAR OLD LIAM, AND THERE ARE HEAPS MORE TO NAME

MY GRAN REALLY ENJOYS BEING HAYLEY, YA SEE IT’S HER FAVOURITE

THE PARTY IN THE AFTERLIFE, WITH IVY GIMBERT, MAKING THE WIGS AN IN THING, AND A CHEAP WAY

FOR BRIAN TO BE CREATIVE, THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH BRIAN’S TAPESTRIES

AND IVY’S NEXT LIFE ANNE'S FAMILY HAD A PINK HAIR WIG, JUST LIKE MY SUSIE WIG

AND MY GRANDMA WHEN SHE SAYS BRIAN’S LIKE US, COULD SHE MEANS ONE OF THE CREATIVE FAMILIES

I AM PARANORMAL, I CAN’T HELP IT’S A BELIEF

I'm starting to think it's me.
Maybe I ask to much,
though, admittedly,
maybe's it's because
I don't know what I am asking for?
I am starting to think, it's me.
Maybe I am the problem.
Or maybe that's just the voice in my head,
like a vice,
crushing any minor thing,
like an atom,
until it splits with the force of a thousand suns.
Or maybe it's everything else,
me included.
Maybe I just say it's me,
because I am my biggest bully,
and easiest target.
I thought I was asking for simple things,
but nothing seems simple anymore.
I just want these ropes untied from my hands.
Trapped in my own mind like a hostage,
who doesn't care if they make it out.
There is no greener grass on the other side,
I just wish this grass wasn't wet.
Sticking to me like feathers and tar.
I'm starting to think that I am just coasting along,
waiting for someone to help me fix my boat for me, before it sinks.

I occasionally feel my smallness
to be a virtue
Yes I am invisible
and timid also, so quick to shut my eyes
I fade into the background.
my head,
settled into a thick fog
I do not speak words
which could be used against.
I do not open up
to those who could so easily harm me.

Don't try to to understand
the trickling through
my eyelids drooped.
When one has a secret life,
one's tears cannot be explained

But the problem is
that secrets worth having
tend to leak out
or implode

So I sometimes permit myself
to open at night,
I who vowed to never open again.
Speak to me at 3 o'clock
for I confess feebly in the light
but in darkness,
I am true

Discover me
before you find me in a coffin,
regretting all the questions
you never asked me
and all the things you should've said

I’m on a great journey
Trapped on a glorious road
I feel like running
Embedded with a code

Chewing myself
Swallowing one person
Digesting someone else

Plausible reminders
Allow the time

I prepare for the jaunt
In discovery of what I want

Chewing myself
Swallowing one person
Digesting someone else

I’m wrapped in a cordial dysfunction
Seared with an initial
An acronym of disjunction

I’m on a great journey
Trapped on a glorious road
I feel like running
Embedded with a code

The hopelessness hold so many worthy people hostage.
The key to rescue is in truth, Faith and healing,  love of Christ.
Like you I too was at one time, held a prisoner by its grasp.
But it took Christ to rescue me from its slimy clutches.
I needed to know I am loved, and worthy of complete joy.
I may not always be happy but I do have joy in my life.
To know whom you are in Christ is the key to rescue.
But so many end up ending their life because of this.
But once you realize just how special that you are.
This is where the healing will take place  in your life.

It's crazy how life mocks you...

The sun shines bright
and then calmly dims as it sets

The moon shines also,
but rather always seems incomplete
always striving to stay fulfilled however
it is inevitable
completely out of its control

So much passion in the sun, so much life
You can't help but relate

Yet still

My heart goes out to the moon

Bright and wonderful all in its lonesome
surrounded by all the coupled diamonds in the sky
He wonders why he is always in his lonesome,
why fate has dealt him such cruel cards

The sun is content without him
in it's eternal love
encouraged by the world
to keep thriving
it benefits everything to blossom.

There is a certain allure to this lonely
character's circumstances though...

Forever alone isn't enough
his vex is unrelenting as an albatross stare
It is a shame
to always be situated opposite the constellations

he will never understand
why he is made to suffer lost
Why the only thing to keep him company
is the dark of the night

Why he is so numb
Cold
Desolate

And just as night to day,
night turns into day
and all hope is gone

It's funny how life mocks you
I want to die.

For I am the moon and time has turned its back on me
Is it so foolish to avoid the warmth of day
just to keep the moon company

Unreliable yet familiar
Irrational yet ordinary
Safe in the lie of night

at least I can avoid the sight of an albatross...

i am sitting here at 3 am
confronting the empty side of my bed
my thoughts hold me hostage
to create a cage
that i will not be able to escape

i try to play dead
until they leave me alone
i try to shift shapes
for a hope they might leave
i try lighting a candle
for flicks of light to cast
the darkness away
but i soon begin to realize
that im not afraid of the dark

i cant get out of bed
my thoughts are holding me hostage
im at a place i dont want to be at
and can not leave
the sound of loneliness slowly begins to deafen me
the silver ray of moon is almost blinding me

all that i see through the reflection of my glass
are the bones of a hollow body, just like silver, starting to rust

and here i speak to my thoughts
that i have surrendered to their thoughtless plots
they ring my ears, with demands
to give up my soul to their filthy hands

i stumble as i try to stand up
i am as weak as a sedated body ready to be cut
my knees tremble like magnets
attached to no other but my bed
they repel any movement to stand up straight

panic fills my fearful cup
my gaze shifts to my reflection
and i see the ghost
of forgotten remains of someone who
has lost

i do not want to die
i deserve more
than being ended by no other than my filthy thoughts
i force my eyes open and smash the reflection with both my fists
adrenaline painfully waking my body up
with every ounce i have left
i try to detach myself from my bed
i am peeling layers off
and have never been in more pain
but it is all worth the pain
for i wont fail myself again
to become forgotten ruins
of a life-time faded into a blank sheet

there is more to my story
than just an empty bed
for i will not be manipulated
by my own self again
even if it shall be 3 a.m again

Our first kiss was in my basement, one year,
and three hundred and forty-seven days ago,

his lips tasted like the saccharine double chocolate chunk ice cream
that he licked off my spoon just minutes ago, beard
brushing against the soft bottom of my chin,
                                                           ­                   his hand slipped
into mine as we walked away from yet another birthday celebrated,
it’s been seven since we first became friends

and his hands have finally stopped trembling.

Her eyes convey concern as her head slowly rises up from mine.

“This is a bad idea.”
In her face, against the lightly accented string lights

I see his eyes, tears welling up,

I know I can’t do this, I can’t kiss her, I can’t lose her

I can’t betray him.

I know this is wrong but

I love her and as she leans back down our lips crash together,
hers are plain, soft, safe,

When he cries, he sniffles more than he sobs, when I see him sad, powerless,
my heart cracks, I made a promise in my basement to never be the cause of this suffering,

my right hand runs through her soft hair, twirled between my *******
left hand resting on her cheek, I can feel that under her eyelid she is helpless,
I feel powerless, captivated by the twinkle in her eyes when she laughs,

I feel as though I am held hostage in her arms, yet a wave of freedom washes over me,

I don't know how I feel all I know is I don't yet want this to end,

we both want this,

yet I tell him it is my fault, I hold him close to my chest, my fingers run through
his wildly curly hair,
                     she pulls me closer as we continue to fight rationality,
and in this moment, we are breathing in synchrony, I taste nothing saccharine,

only feeling her soft lips and a bittersweet moment

All is NOT well in the grasslands.
The animals are fit to be tied.
The actions of the crafty wolves
Have left the rest of them horrified.

"How will we EVER be able
To keep democracy afloat,"
The antelope asked, "if the wolves
Don't allow us all to vote?

"In many sections of these grasslands,
Shameless wolves are doing their best
To hold voter registration
Hostage, keeping voters suppressed."

"They aim to control voter turnout,"
The deer added. "That's their hope.
Their sneaky ways to manipulate
Elections push the envelope!

“They stall and seek petty reasons
To take names off voting lists.
Fair and honest elections are
In jeopardy if this persists.”

"It's so close to election day,
Our courts are reluctant to raise objections,"
The buffalo said. "Some of the wolves
Are even running in the elections!

"Humph! They stole a Supreme Court justice.
Then they rammed another one through.
Now they're still suppressing voters.
What more damage will they do?"

"Winnowing down voter rolls!
Their strategies should be illegal!"
The fox chimed in. Looking around,
He asked, "Where is our dear friend Eagle?"

The absent eagle wanted no
Responsibility tied to her name.
She couldn't stop the out-of-control
Wolves, and hid her head in shame.

-by Bob B (10-19-18)

there once was this guy named oedipus
of whom it was prophesied
that his mother he'd marry, his father he'd ****
at a place where three roads were tied.

his mother and father discovered their fate
and tried to dispose of their son
but he ended up in corinthian lands
and their efforts were all undone.

then a drunk guy ruined his happy facade
and to an oracle oedipus went
who repeated to him the dank prophesy;
he fled corinth, not taking a cent.

while on his sojourn away from his home
he encountered a party royale
which rudely pushed him off of the road,
and angered he slaughtered them all.

then from that blood soaked three-way path
he nonchalantly flew
not knowing that his father was
the man that he just slew.

he continued his journey until he reached thebes
where a sphinx held the city hostage
so oedipus solved the bird-cat's lame rhyme
and released thebes from its *******.

as a reward, the people of thebes
gave oedipus their widowed queen,
unknowingly joining mother and son
in a marriage that was unclean.

after they ruled for twenty good years,
during which four children came,
a plague was induced by the sheltering of
the man by whom was slain

in searching him out, oedipus found
that the murderer was really he,
so long ago. the man he had killed
at the place where were joined roads of three.

but by finding this out, he also discovered
that his wife and his mother were one.
he gouged out his eyes after her suicide;
in her own bedroom she was hung.

as it turned out, oeddy exiled himself
but the seeds of his misery were sewn.
so he went to colonus and wandered around
and this is the end.

I don’t really like to play the victim,
But I'm being failed by this system
7 hours, a hostage to cinder block rooms
With nothing to do but let myself be groomed
Into someone's labor source  

If I don’t have money, I cannot live
But nobody seems to have a thought to give
To my Life being turned into a commodity
Something to be owned, taxed, a luxury  
That sometimes I’m not able to afford.

So much stock is put into democracy
But we don’t matter to bureaucracy
Unless we use the paychecks earned
From the Liberties we burned
To fill their empty promises

They call us ungrateful and lazy
For recognizing that this life is crazy
And resenting all the thought and time
Spent in the Pursuit of a rich man’s dime
Instead of our own Happiness

Diminutive in frame and stature
defines him not, but instead enhances the
brilliance of his smile’s shine.
The golden flakes of honesty in his warm brown eyes
covey one vice that is captivation.
They hold hostage your most destructive thoughts
to instantaneously
replace them with the best; of
joy, contentment, and love-the best of him.

His high cheek bones define a mouth
so perfectly constructed.
They rise and fall like oceans’ waves with
every gentle gesture.

He thinks of love as a pool of chances
and illogically
he dives into the hurt he’s found himself in once
twice, no wait, three times.
But still, he never falters to give “chance”
just one more chance to prove he’s done what’s right.

Secondary comes his needs, in light of someone else’s.
The thoughts, “too tired” or “too busy” does nothing for him because
if someone needs help, you help them undoubtedly.
I  have seen the coat that once
cascaded on his back give warmth to one
who had no coat
or smile
or joy
or light.

And for that one he lowered his head
to ask God for a favor.
I met this guy, this “perfect” guy when innocence consumed me
and since that day we’ve been each other’s confidant and comforter.
My love towards him supersedes that of a friend or
the best of that.

The truest thing I know is that when everyone one else
disappears to the mundane norms of life,
he will be there with me to cut through
the silence with rolls of laughter.
At what? It does not matter.
Because when I’m with him and he’s with me
there is a “we” that is formed and that “we” is captivates me

An infinite truth is that I will never stop
loving this young man.
He keeps my heartbeat steady so I
must exclaim the best of
joy, contentment, and love-the best of him.

there is a darkness
that the silver song
of soft illusion lights
in symbolic equivalents
of images real
it is a light
brutally interrogative
magnifying with dazzling rays
the breakage
at the jagged edges of the world
and lays hostage to impersonation
that resembles fragments
of smashed oval shaped mirrors
reflecting pieces of broken
brown terracotta soldiers
and causes the eyes to hurt
with a watched inner holocaust
of disturbing coloured detonations,
implosively autonomous
given to a deceived departure
a departure from reality
given by the advocacy
of ideological rationalism  
that sees three kings
with blood on their crowns
in amplified convulsions
call mustre for
disturbance, disorder, destruction
and death
as blood stains the Balkan streets
and all emotional impulse
is volatilized
and a sinister, stuporous, stagnancy
stalks the land
where sustaining minds
are subject to a brutal insensitivity
that dazzles on the edge of a spiral vertigo
it is a light
brutally interrogative
magnifying with dazzling rays
a vocabulary of incoherence
like the rancid stains of *****
that inhabit the jagged edges of the world

Its the words that we hear, the life that we seek that makes us impeckable.
 
I listen deeply to your soothing voice, cherishing each word you tell me.
 
You used me.
Broke my heart.
Than dated my best friend.
 
You made us fall into a gab, made us hold on to the past for dear life. Things will never be the same all because of you.
 
She said she was sorry, but sorry doesn't mean anything when you can't accept it. I lost you. Than I lost her. The two most important people in my life.
 
I lost hope. I tried to converse with my peers but all I ended up doing was bashing her. The one you stole from me. They got tired and stopped trying to make me happy like I once was. Like I was when I was with you.
 
Each day, I would walk the halls to see her with you. My anger would boil in my vains, and all the memories between us would hit me like bullets. All the times you told me you loved me. All the times you held me close, when you never let me go. All the times you wishpered in my ear how much I changed you. All those times were gone, forgotten, like a gust of wind, you forgot about us. But I could never forget, even the countless times I tried its too hard. You left a whole in my heart, one that can never be perpared.
 
Than I see you. See you with her. I feel the pain once more. The urgeing sensation to graspe you from her grip and make you mine once more. To be able to call you mine once more.
 
But that can never happen. Or so I thought.
 
The days pass by that your with her. That you are caught up in every aspect of the one I used to call best friend. Now I only call her words that are beyond my reach, ones that I regret the moment they leave the tip of my lips. But I stay loyal, I never spread her secrets. Nor do I hope she will fail. Instead, I wish her luck with you; the guy who made my heart bleed with hate, you changed me. Some might say its for the better but all I can say is you changed me in a way that I can never be pepared again.
 
The sun sets, the moon rises and the stars are twinkling in the dark sky, when my phone rings. I see your name. The name I spit on with hate. I let it go to voicemail not wanting to hear your voice, scared that if I do the tears will start again. I wonder how that's possible, since I wasted all my tears on you but yet I'm proven wrong its possible.
 
Your voicemail is cut short. I hear your voice, its strange at first but then I fall deeply in love once more with the way you pronouce my name. Full with love and admiration. I'm falling for you once more. Falling slowly, and slowly. But when the end is near I think of you and her. The pair who made me suffer all those nights, the ones who made me cry myself to sleep.
 
Then I fall full speed into the whole, the rocks crashing on top of me. I scream, and scream untill I realize I am stuck. How much I try to push my way through there is no use.
I am stuck in your wrath forever.
5  years. 
 
5 long years filled with related concepts always bringing my thoughts back to you. 
 
I tried to forget. Belive me. But somehow its like you are carved into me like wood. I could never forget you. 
 
Its been 5 years since I last saw you. I wonder each morning when I wake up if you changed. Or if you still have that charming smile, and that flirty personallity But the thought that comes across me the most is if everyone falls for you as hard as I did or it was only me. 
 
You made my heart bleed that senoir year. You made me fill endless emotions towards you, and all I got in return was a wink and a "hey baby we didn't say we were exclusive" 
 
Those words burned through me. Leaving me with only hate to deal with. I made a vow with myself I would forget you. But it was impossible. Every where I turned I saw your flawless face within my reach. Your pulmp lips wishpering my name soothingly making me fall only deeper in love with the fake you. I made a character out of you. One which loved me with all its heart and cared for me endlessly. 
 
I tried to believe it was true. That there was such a thing but once again its only a fantasie. Soon I will be brought into reality to see you with her. She who shall not be named. 
 
Its the day that changed me once again. A day which you made me choke and feel the emotions you cast on me once again. My phone vibrates, for a moment I belive its a dream as your name blinks on the small screen. I feel the anticipation arising throughout me. Why would he be calling? I thought while picking on my nails. My hands shaky, I picked up the phone. And once again I fell beneath your spell. 
 
"Florence..." I heard your voice say. The world spinning around me I was almost lost in your voice. Snapping back into reality I prayed my voice wouldn't brake, that it would be stable but once again life is against me. 
 
I cleared my thraot, the curses I was getting ready to say formng in my mind. All the things I wanted to remind you of ready to come bursting out of me. But at that moment only one thing came out. One word. "Jake....." I heard myself say it. The way my voice said it, it was as there hadn't been 5 years between us. And we were just back on that night, in senior year, when you held me close and wishpered to me. 
 
I didn't realize it was quiet untill I heard ask me if I wanted to delete this message. I saw I had a miss call from you. You of all people. I was gettng ready to blast you but all I could think was if I should call you back. But then my phone rang, and I saw your name once more. 
 
One voicemail. That's all it took for me to rush to the phone and want to hear your voice again. I picked it up, feeling the nerves arising beneath me, the goosebumps starting to form on my arms. "Hello." I breathed into the reciever. 
 
"Florence?" I heard your voice ask. The same voice that I heard on the voicemail, the same voice that you had over me the years before. 
 
I tried to compose my voice, trying to make it like I forgot you. But in reality it was the exact oppisite. 
 
"Yeah, its me." I said in a strained voice. 
 
Suddenly slience struck upon us. None of us said a word. Just the dead selience between us. The tension high. 
 
But I didn't mind it. 
For what was there to say to the man who destroyed any ounce of belief I had in me? 
To the man who left me when everything was wrong. 
Now he calls me, I know what I must do. 
But in the end love does a funny thing to you; no matter how much you try to lock someone out, deep beneath the depths the right guy always finds the key. 
 
You foiund the key, opening the door slightly I heard your voice. Looking around me horror crept into my whole body, making me frozen in place. "......I was a **** and idiot...." You trailed off on the reciever. Barely listening to your words I was too caught up on the way you made me feell, the way you made everything appear perfect.
That night, the night you barged in and put me under your spell once more. Compelled by you I acted like your puppet, mimicking your every movement, following your every order. The distance between us fulled with tension. The anxiety of seeing your face again, uprising beneath me, while I took each step cautously to the Diner.
 
The Diner.
The place were everything had once been perfect between us. You would play with a stroke of my hair, I would giiggle in apparation as your gaze would be locked on mine.
Everything completely perfect.
 
Now, as I step foot into the diner, the goshtly images of us by our daily table, the one in the back corner. For a moment I could swear I saw us giggling and smiling at eachother. But as I look back the figures are gone and all that's there is an empty chair.
 
I walk in, immidently I am greeted by a middle aged waitress. Awe shown on her wrinkled face. "You here again?" She squels in delight. I looked at her puzzled.
 
"Your a legend here." She said, her eyes gleaming. "You don't remember I had been your waitress everyday when you guys would come. Your love so pure and magical it made me believe."
 
Suddenly the images were flooding back into my head. The ones of the giddy waitress we used to make fun of. The one we thought had a crush on you. We had laughed it off, you would remind me how I was your only one. But now it all fit into place. She hadn't been watching you, she had been watching us., mesmerized by our love that's what she had been doing.
If only she knew.
If only she knew that our love had failed, that you had cheated.
 
Our love had once been a blossoming flower, now all it was was a distant memory.
 
A gust of wind pulled me out of my daze. I noticed the waitress had been stareing at me all along with questioning eyes. I knew I should have been nicer, more apealing but this went along with all of the things I wish I was.
 
The sound of an schreeching door being opended caught my senses, everything hapend so quickly. I saw his face. That face which had haunted me all these years. The one which appeared in my dreams, day after day, I would wake up sweating, screaming his name for help. The hysterical cry I wouild scream, but he would never come. Nor would he answer my calls.
 
The anger boiling up in me once more, I swiftly forgot the love I had felt for him earlier this day. I wanted to remind him of everything. All the hurt he caused me, the tears shed on his behalf. I hated him for everything.
For the way he made me blush when he would wink at me.
For the way he caused me to act in sivere ways.
And for the way he made me love him so deeply that I had to make myself angry at him.
 
You were a few feet away from me, enough for me to reach out my hand and touch you. Everything around us was silent. It seemed as though all eyes were on us. I could hear the distant sounds of a cricket and I was definite you could hear my loud breathing or the accleration of my beating heart. Pounding against my chest, it acclerated with each cautous step you took.
 
I could smel your chlonage, your famillar smell rininging up the senses which have been held hostage for so long. Your aroma taking up the air, ******* out all the oxygen making it hard for me to breathe. Taking deep breathes, I couldn't help but feel compelled for a moment. I would have done anything you wished.
 
The awkwardness hit upon us. All we did was stare at eachother. Unable to speak I was hoping you would start. My mind blank, full-speed I tried to skim my brain for a word, anythjing. Everything seemed forgien to me. I felt useless. Parralyzed.
But I couldn't help but realize you were stareing at me with the same baffled expression as I was to you.
 
A word escaped your mouth. Your voice sounding like bells, having a musical ring to it. It caught me off gaurd, causing my heart to skip a beat. Just like the old days.
 
Looking around me I noticed the cracked wholes in the wooden walls, the hardwood floor beneath us, dusty with names carved into it. While you stared at me waiting for a response, my eyes skimmed over the floor beneath us, desperatly searching for it. That one thing that would remind me of what you did. So that I wouldn't fall for you once more.
There it was::
'Jake&Florence-F;&A.;' But starein
g at it closely, I noticed the one thjing I had been looking for. The word 'Florence' had been crossed out and replaced with 'Nicole'.
 
My best friend which you stole for me.
Bringing my attention back up to you I fought back the tears which had been trying to force there way out.
 
"Save it." I spat, not before letting the heel of my shoe dig into the wood earasing our names from the hardwood floor. Forever.

The Kitten from under the chair
Thank God for the day the drug bust took place
The Sting was set up and the early morning began
Kicking down the door yelling and seeing their face
As the task force entered weapons raised, the victim ran  
The sounds of cyiruns from police cars gather, road blocks in place  
I wonder that day who of us would go home that night, or that man
weapons drawn and hostage began, police cars every where during the chase
After it was over hostage was released, victim in cuffs arrested were pleased.
Task force enter the building of **** , under the chair was a kitten that was left.
She was so tiny frail and shaken, eyes of fright the kitten was taken
I took her home  gave her milk,wrapped her in a blanket ,laid her to rest
Tiny frighten little kitten, She inhaled so much ****, sickly and shaken.
I adopted her and gave her a name and so much love I felt.
Her nane is penny and I made sure I would adopt her before she was taken
The kitten from under the chair
She's 18 years old now and has epileptic seizures treated with Phenobarbital and loving care
Oh how I love the kitten from under the chair that has given me so much love
I'm retied and so is she we both love each other til the years set us free.

He stands in his house that is young than he does
His room is miserable like protégé of a teenager,
In contrast to his septuagenarian age ring,
He hates his house with juvenile energy
Not knowing what to do with such hate of loss,
In blurred memory of his estranged wife,
Not able to discern the current age of his daughter,
That had accompanied the distaff on the day of separation,
He lulls his nerves to slumber, away from such menace of a thought,
By walking slowly to the den of wine, like Mermeldov in hands of Fydor,
He sinks down in a chair, plants himself deep into a tumbler of Whisky,
The only fortress into which the poor prodigals take refuge,
Running away from duty of ethics that spans across life of man,
As he wants not memory of his erstwhile risky *** with a punch of ******,
From which he condones his exposure to deadly malady,
He wants not his memory of overdrawing his account,
In faithful service to master wine, against the sub-current
Of wisdom that the carouser labours but labours for the brewer,
He wants not memory that his moral duty got punctured,
And hence self-exile in to slavish duty to wine
The only hostage to the whole rounded prodigal.

I don't want to be this way,
Scared and on edge,
With my heart
And my mind
Locked far away.

But what can I do?
I'm battling with
Logic and love
All while trying not to bleed
In front of you.

I'm sorry
That I'm not brave enough,
I'm not strong enough,
To leave behind
My defense mechanisms.

But if you just stay,
Maybe soon I'll stop
Being so afraid
Of what I have to say.  

If you keep holding me,
Maybe the chains
That bind me
To this weight of fear
Will dissolve slowly.

If you keep loving me,
I'll rip my heart out
And let you keep it.
Sorry if that's too gory.

Please keep loving me,
Because I can feel
The darkness
Beginning to recede.
I can feel myself
Opening to the love
I've been dying to receive.

I was trapped lured into lie by a clever evil mastermind .
Lost in a strange land locked away in a basement guarded by some twisted hamster on steroids known as a kangaroo.

Sure I had been tricked by evil means by the mastermind known as Helen hey look she told me there was a huge **** down in the basement with tons of strippers and ******* who wouldn't fall for that? Duh everyone knows you never let strippers in the good part of your house .

So here I was living in the basement like some sad nerd who probably posts on a web site everyday thinking they are totally awesome cause they have five hundred followers when in reality they'd be lucky if they had even one human friend in real life.

What ?
I was talking  about one of those star wars nerd sites cause everyone knows I'd never bash a site like Hello that is ruled by a evil cult leader who moved to the states after collecting money under guise to help the site when in reality it was for his *** change .

Yeah Id never pick on someone like that .
Frankly I'm hurt you'd think that  I'm kidding and as long as I'm breathing I will always be your favorite ruthless ******* slash ****** with a heart of gold.

I sat there in my new cell wondering just what the hell I was to do all the while kangaroo jack kept his beady little eyes locked onto me .
Yeah I knew he was sitting there mentally ******* me with his eyes I felt so naked course id probably feel better if I actually put some clothes on.
Duh who wears clothes at a **** *******?
Had I known this was all a lure I would have kept my clothes on and kept my trusty **** whistle and not got into this mess to begin with.

I was ready to scream for help when all the sudden I herd a sound .
Muffled as it was still I herd it the kangaroo hopped as it approached me oh dear lord man I was far to fragile to be assaulted by this weird *** overgrown rat .

The sound was so strange it sounded like the men at work song land from down under but where the **** was it coming from!
The Kangaroo was getting far to close it leaned over into my face and being a true man I did what any other true man would do.

Began to cry and beg this ****** up gerbil not to **** me.
Answer the ******* phone mate.
It said to me as I was stunned .

Hey ******* answer the ******* phone .
It said again  incase your to high or didn't read it the first time .
You ******* talk and what ******* phone I asked trying to hold back the tears let me tell you these animals were known killers they were like Canadians on crack with incredibly strong legs yeah imagine what nickel back could do with powers like these those heartless ******* would be unstoppable .


I was lost naked and afraid minus the camera crew and some ***** chick who smelled really bad and ******* at me for not having great hunting skills why not call that show what millions of people wearing clothes call it .
Marriage yeah now there's some scary ****!

Look **** for brains snap out of hit .
The kangaroo said as it kicked me upside the head .
Answer the ******* phone so we can get on with this story you *******.

I swear those kangaroos really had a mouth on them who knew such cute looking standing rabbit could be such a *******.

Okay so where the hells the phone and never kick me again you got it!?
I have no clue where your furry foots been.
Up your grandmas *** mate and where else would I keep my phone in my ******* pouch .

Look You can insult me how ever you like Gerbil but I'm not putting my hand in that pouch besides that is the oldest trick in the book you know how many times I fell for that with grandpa ?

What?

This steroid fed mouse asked as it looked at me like all other people and some who read this might think.
What the **** is wrong with me?

Yeah that's a whole other write in itself .

Answer the ******* phone in my pouch now *******!
Umm no .
Why not ?
Cause I don't want to .
Look you ***** if  I had long enough arms I would do it but I cant okay
you know how ****** up it is to have arms this short now you know why the T Rex was the most ******* dinosaur of them all .

Yeah I had to admit my new friend slash captor had a point imagine being a total badass that cant ******* boy that's some ****** up **** but enough with the foreplay hamsters.

After some back and fourth  debate I against great protest reached in this hopping *******'s pouch and found a cell phone .

Hello ?
Well Gonzo how you like your new digs mate?
I knew that voice anywhere .

Helen !

My friend turned evil super villain explained to me her evil plan to keep me hostage and force me to co write for eternity in this basement guarded twenty four seven by Ursula her trained evil kangaroo henchwoman .

It was clear all hope was lost how could I ever escape the clutches of such twisted evil?
Then it occurred to me I would simply bust the window in the basement and get the **** out of here .

I had to act fast cause it's almost happy hour at the bar kids and this hamster is thirsty.
  
Hey Ursula I really got to use the bathroom .
Well go ahead mate the toilets in the corner .

Yeah but you know I really like my privacy you know I mean I tell you those burritos are really talking back if you know what I mean but hey if you can stand the smell be my guest I mean sure the oder alone will strip the paint off the walls but I'm sure after you pass out from the fumes you will be fine.

Fine you stupid ******* just make it quick Ursula said as she bounced her grouchy *** upstairs .

It was my only shot and thank God they had left a trusty boomerang around so I could bust the window to make my escape its almost like it was planned that way being I'm writing the story.
No **** Sherlock!

I was free as a bird if a bird had a really bad drinking problem and twisted sense of humor and was totally naked .
I looked to the front gates but there was no way I could escape that way barbwire and flesh didn't mix that well besides without there draw bridge down the crocodiles would eat me alive yeah these Aussies were total freaks .

So like some naked ninja I made my way around Helens Compound of evil making my way upstairs I slipped into a room in hopes of finding just where my clothes had been taken to.

Hey help me .
I herd a mans voice say as I flipped  on the light to find a horrific scene a strange man chained to the wall no wonder this evil woman was such a prolific writer .

Hey mate help me please get me out of here .
I knew this woman was evil but after some deep discussion I learned this poor man trapped in this upstairs *** dungeon was secretly her husband  I know how weird who has there *** dungeon upstairs ?

I don't know what I'm going to do I'm never getting out of here Gonz .
I unchained my knew friend after he told me he knew how to find a way out of here and after finding my clothes and grabbing my trusty case of bourbon we put on some music caught a killer buzz and totally forgot  why we were trying to escape the clutches of evil to begin with.

The party was great we laughed we cried we watched some really freaky homemade movies once only made me love my knew Aussie brother more Shawn was ******* awesome a bit of a freak but ******* awesome.

The party was going full swing when the doors few open and there she was my evil long lost sister Helen and her demented *** evil henchwoman  slash house pet kangaroo Ursula who although a animal had some great legs I have to admit .


The gigs up Gonz it's off to the basement with you forever !
I looked at my new best friend thought about how sad he was when I found him and thought of the great times we could have roaming the wasteland looking for gasoline like in mad max just being totally drunk instead.

Yeah then Helen yelled in her outside voice inside and bout made me **** myself so I said **** this and left my brother behind and hauled ***  

I made it to the kitchen but was trapped by Helen and her evil **** minion .

Give it up Gonz  Helen said .
At that moment I grabbed a knife .

Oh cut the crap Gonz stop being silly what are you going to do with that ?

She thought she had me but I had one last trick up my sleeve .

I opened the fridge and grabbed her trusty box of wine
You ******* don't you dare hurt my baby!

Yeah you want this back I said as walked forward and out of the kitchen towards the veranda .

You get back Helen or I swear the box of wine gets it.

Oh  yeah you stab that box then I will drop this fifth of your bourbon over the rail Helen said with that devilish look in her eyes.

You heartless ***** !
She dropped the bottle I swear it cried daddy as it fell to the ground shattering to a million pieces on the concreate beside the pool wow I had to admit she really had a nice place.

I mean sure she was twisted evil heartless had a awesome husband she kept in a upstairs *** dungeon but enough about Helens  good quality's  .

I looked as my pour bottle lay shattered upon the floor  .
I laughed you know that wasn't my only bottle .

I know that mate then reached to Ursula grabbing yet another bottle from her pouch dam you Australia why must you have so many ****** up animals in one place its like a zoo on crack.

Helen went to drop yet another bottle over the rail when I cracked.
Okay enough!
I will put your box of wine down just don't hurt the bottle okay .

Deal mate Helen replied .

We both slowly put are true passions in life down .
I'm glad you could see things my way Gonz now time for you to get writing .

Yeah Helen I don't think so I said pulling the trusty boomerang from a location I rather not disclose hey I been to prison before you be surprised the stuff people smuggle in.
Dam that hurt.!


I threw the boomerang with all my might this was my one truly  last chance at getting out of here.
But like some Aussie ninja Helen just ducked the thing  as  it flew past her head went flying around the house and turned direction coming straight towards me hitting me in the skull.

As I fell to my death music played as I took that long dramatic one story fall .
I hit the pavement like Lindsey Lohans career.

I laid there broken my new best friend speaking to me no gonz don't leave me we could have are own spinoff if only you didn't die .
Shawn my brother I will never forget you but I have just one last thing to say to you are you listening .

Yes mate I am.

And at that moment of dire sadness I ripped the biggest **** .
Shawn busted up laughing as above Helen looked at Ursula
Men are so ******* disgusting .

And later as they all sat looking down upon me from the veranda Helen furious at her man slaves betrayal told her partner in crime slash killer kangaroo .

Ursula go fetch the battery out of the car and the ****** clamps someone is going to be punished .
Shawn's face lit up with joy yay he exclaimed .
Helen shoot him a look .

I mean oh no such horror please don't torture me mistress   .
But hey don't judge them there not freaks there Australian.

Ursula shook her head as she made her way to fetch the car battery .
Jesus Christ why couldn't I have been Mel Gibson's pet.

Helen looked down one last time at her dead brothers body .
But to her surprise he was   gone .
The dramatic Halloween music played as Shawn looked to his evil temptress slash wife .

Mistress was that the boogeyman?

She slapped the **** outta him **** no its just that lovable perverted misspelling ***** across the water everyone calls Gonzo.

She shook her head and laughed to herself .
We will meet again my friend .


Until next time kids or Helen finds and actually kills
me stay crazy.

Gonz

Stereotypes manifesting always,
(Always)
Trying to form themselves from something once seen,
But not really believing in oneself,
I see ignorance,
I see arrogance,
I see the lack of hunger,
Observing such savage pride of life,
I run from it all into a previous state,
(Anonymity)
I've reached the heights of total in-completion,
I build walls of isolation upon myself,
I am the collateral default of widespread degradation,
I stand in the gap between teeth and consumption,
I am the breed conceived by prey and predator,
Widespread suspended animation: that is our future,
We've tried to replicate the human makeup with mechanical frames,
And the translation of electronic gates,
Yet this is a folly,
For staring at the mirrors of selected life in an artificial environment,
Numbs our lives with emulation and self delusion,
The days of nobility dismantle into fragments and sink to the bottom of the glass,
Never to be turned over again,
Scattered,
Living among remnants of a life once lived with some sort of intensity,
Now smoldered in a quite ferocity of anger beneath the surface,
(Quiet tremors coming in flames)
Because we don't live our dreams,
We stand in the shadows of ruins,
We are afraid of the future,
We are afraid of the past,
Where does that leave us?
Leave me?
I stand on the edge of The Void
I'm holding myself hostage in the self sabotage entourage of the usual suspects,
Our friends, our families,
Disconnected with all intentions of coming together,
Because they die in front of their screens,
Not really living,
Right?
Light pollution massacre...
We'll fall like stars

Staring

With
Lustful
Gaze

Seductive
Darkness

Eludes

Light
To
Dark

Black
To
White

Gradients
Of
Trouble

Capture

This
Weary
Mind

Lie
Still
You
Hopeful
Hostage­

Thirsting
For
Sleep’s

Tranquil
Sanctuary

Assuredly

Salvation
Is
Just
Moments

Away

I'm so tired of scammers!
There are so many around!
For every situation,
A scammer is to be found.

There's the email message
From a "friend" stuck overseas
Whose money has been stolen--
Who needs your help, please.

Have you received the phone call
Saying that you're in big trouble
With the I.R.S. and insisting
That you must pay on the double?

Computer hackers will take
Your PC hostage and say
That you'll lose ALL your computer
Data unless you pay.

What about being a winner
Of a contest? All you must do
Is forward them some money
And they'll send the "winnings" to you.

If you by chance get a call
From "Microsoft" or "Dell"
Saying your account's in danger,
Tell them to go to hell.

Scamming probably reaches
Far back into history.
The demise of the Neanderthals
Might not have been a mystery.

Did early **** sapiens
With carefully planned persistence
Scam neanderthalensis
Out of its earthly existence?

If scammers had put their know-how
In a positive direction,
We could say, "Three cheers
For natural selection!"

But, no, we're stuck with scammers--
A problem that clearly shows
That if we want to survive,
We've got to be on our toes!

- by Bob B

I am having trouble writing.
It is as if there is a wall of bulletproof glass separating me from the words that are dying to escape the metal cage they are kept in. I am the only one with a key sitting comfortably in the pockets of my jeans, but no matter how hard I pound my fists against the wall, I do not get any closer to quieting the agonizing screams emerging from the trap. They get louder, aching for liberation, tethering their syllables around the bars as they sit, confined within a reality I am desperate to free them from.

They are starving to live. I can see the outlines of their bones through the transparent letters that blanket their elastic limbs, each day growing more tired, forgetting the taste of hope every minute that passes. I can feel them collecting dust, shrinking down to fragile skeletons that have begun to lose meaning. What if one day I will no longer be able to see them? What if one day I have nothing left to save?

I am starving to live. I cannot feel love without a knife stuck wedged in the back of my throat reminding me that I have nothing to describe it with. I can give all of myself to the one who thankfully accepts it but my teeth chatter at the thought of having to apologize for stealing joy from the cookie jar. I am sorry for having no words to say sorry. They told me to tell you that they are sorry for their absence, but I do not know how to say this without them.

For now, I am waiting. The same way I do for Fridays, for your call, for my heartbeat to obey the speed limit, for time to run dry.

I will continue to wait
patiently, tiredly, averting my eyes to the hopes that maybe tomorrow, they will be small enough to squeeze through the bars and set me free.

Tonight... My slumber is a distant relative not even a pen pal can reach, but with each attempt I make to contact sleep, the line is disconnected by the rhymes haunting my upper room. Its like my stream of conscioussness is a bottle of liquor, the more I abuse the drug, the more it abuses my anatomy
Tonight... Sleep is my ex-wife I long to caress and attend to. She cries echoes of silenceas we are kept apart by this sadistic night that is lazily hanging over the sky, just waiting for my eyelids to align in holy matrimony, just to rip them apart again.
Tonight... Rhymes run free in my mind like emancipated slaves and they do their best to reach all corners of my minds landscape, making sleep an impoverished state
Tonight... I gaze into the darkness with pure desparation. My mind deprives me of sleep, yet it is what my soul wants most.

Match, match forward and go, you heroic sons of America
Reconnoiter into the strongholds of boko haram,
And restore our captive girls from the foul  custody,
Lawlessly held hostage by the connoisseurs of terror,
Go on and recover poor souls from ribald of religion
Impishly created by Moslem from the satanic verses,
Regulating foray of terror on the poor of the poor
******, mahyeming, looting and executing massacres,
Match on and on yee angels of democracy,
Don’t stop in any haste or in any wonder,
To help in the sham flabbergastations,
About  the  Igbos who fought the Biafra,
And the Yorubas who federally defended,
Under the aegis of Obasanjo the Sandhurst
General, where are they all to save the girls
Of Nigeria from the Islamist terror
Excuted by  boko haram the handmaid of evil.

Hostage
Unable to free myself
Nobody to turn to
For the demon is within me
External forces, internal forces
Counter, opposing
Tormenting
Screams within
Let me go, let me go
Till I realize
What’s holding me hostage
is me

The Original Sin: Rhyming Haiku!

Haiku
should never rhyme:
it’s a crime!
―Michael R. Burch

The herons stand,
sentry-like, at attention ...
rigid observers of some unknown command.
―Michael R. Burch

Late
fall;
all
the golden leaves turn black underfoot:
soot
―Michael R. Burch

Dry leaf flung awry:
bright butterfly,
goodbye!
―Michael R. Burch

A snake in the grass
lies, hissing
"Trespass!"
―Michael R. Burch

Honeysuckle
blesses my knuckle
with affectionate dew
―Michael R. Burch

My nose nuzzles
honeysuckle’s
sweet nothings
―Michael R. Burch

The day’s eyes were blue
until you appeared
and they wept at your beauty.
―Michael R. Burch

The moon in decline
like my lover’s heart
lies far beyond mine
―Michael R. Burch

My mother’s eyes
acknowledging my imperfection:
dejection
―Michael R. Burch

The sun sets
the moon fails to rise
we avoid each other’s eyes
―Michael R. Burch

brief leaf flung awry ~
bright butterfly, goodbye!
―Michael R. Burch

leaf flutters in flight ~
bright, O and endeavoring butterfly,
goodbye!
―Michael R. Burch

The girl with the pallid lips
lipsticks
into something more comfortable
―Michael R. Burch

I am a traveler
going nowhere,
but my how the gawking bystanders stare!
―Michael R. Burch



Here's a poem that's composed of haiku-like stanzas:

Haiku Sequence: The Seasons
by Michael R. Burch

Lift up your head
dandelion,
hear spring roar!

How will you tidy your hair
this near
summer?

Leave to each still night
your lightest affliction,
dandruff.

Soon you will free yourself:
one shake
of your white mane.

Now there are worlds
into which you appear
and disappear

seemingly at will
but invariably blown
wildly, then still.

Gasp at the bright chill
glower
of winter.

Icicles splinter;
sleep still an hour,
till, resurrected in power,

you lift up your head,
dandelion.
Hear spring roar!



Unrhymed Original Haiku and Tanka
by Michael R. Burch

These are original haiku and tanka written by Michael R. Burch, along with haiku-like and tanka-like poems inspired by the forms but not necessarily abiding by all the rules.

Dark-bosomed clouds
pregnant with heavy thunder ...
the water breaks
―Michael R. Burch

one pillow ...
our dreams
merge
―Michael R. Burch



Iffy Coronavirus Haiku

yet another iffy coronavirus haiku #1
by Michael R. Burch

plagued by the Plague
i plague the goldfish
with my verse

yet another iffy coronavirus haiku #2
by Michael R. Burch

sunflowers
hang their heads
embarrassed by their coronas

I wrote this poem after having a sunflower arrangement delivered to my mother, who is in an assisted living center and can’t have visitors due to the coronavirus pandemic. I have been informed the poem breaks haiku rules about personification, etc.

Homework (yet another iffy coronavirus haiku #3)
by Michael R. Burch

Dim bulb overhead,
my silent companion:
still imitating the noonday sun?

New World Order (last in a series and perhaps a species)
by Michael R. Burch

The days of the dandelions dawn ...
soon man will be gone:
fertilizer.



Variations on Fall

Farewells like
falling
leaves,
so many sad goodbyes.
―Michael R. Burch

Falling leaves
brittle hearts
whisper farewells
―Michael R. Burch

Autumn leaves
soft farewells
falling ...
falling ...
falling ...
―Michael R. Burch

Autumn leaves
Fall’s farewells
Whispered goodbyes
―Michael R. Burch



Variations on the Seasons
by Michael R. Burch

Mother earth
prepares her nurseries:
spring greening

The trees become
modest,
coy behind fans



Wobbly fawns
have become the fleetest athletes:
summer



Dry leaves
scuttle like *****:
autumn

*

The sky
shivers:
snowfall

each
translucent flake
lighter than eiderdown

the entire town entombed
but not in gloom,
bedazzled.



Variations on Night

Night,
ice and darkness
conspire against human warmth
―Michael R. Burch

Night and the Stars
conspire against me:
Immensity
―Michael R. Burch

in the ice-cold cathedral
prayer candles ablaze
flicker warmthlessly
―Michael R. Burch



Variations on the Arts
by Michael R. Burch

Paint peeling:
the novel's
novelty wears off ...

The autumn marigold's
former glory:
allegory.

Human arias?
The nightingale frowns, perplexed.
Tone deaf!

Where do cynics
finally retire?
Satire.

All the world’s
a stage
unless it’s a cage.

To write an epigram,
cram.
If you lack wit, scram.

Haiku
should never rhyme:
it’s a crime!

Video
dumped the **** tube
for YouTube.

Anyone
can rap:
just write rhythmic crap!

Variations on Lingerie
by Michael R. Burch

Were you just a delusion?
The black negligee you left
now merest illusion.

The clothesline
quivers,
ripe with unmentionables.

The clothesline quivers:
wind,
or ghosts?



Variations on Love and Wisdom
by Michael R. Burch

Wise old owls
stare myopically at the moon,
hooting as the hart escapes.

Myopic moon-hooting owls
hoot as the hart escapes

The myopic owl,
moon-intent, scowls;
my rabbit heart thunders ...
Peace, wise fowl!



Original Tanka

All the wild energies
of electric youth
captured in the monochromes
of an ancient photobooth
like zigzagging lightning.
―Michael R. Burch

The plums were sweet,
icy and delicious.
To eat them all
was perhaps malicious.
But I vastly prefer your kisses!
―Michael R. Burch

A child waving ...
The train groans slowly away ...
Loneliness ...
Somewhere in the distance gusts
scatter the stray unharvested hay ...
―Michael R. Burch

How vaguely I knew you
however I held you close ...
your heart’s muffled thunder,
your breath the wind―
rising and dying.
―Michael R. Burch



Miscellanea

Childless
by Michael R. Burch

How can she bear her grief?
Mightier than Atlas, she shoulders the weight
of one fallen star.

sheer green stockings
queer green beer
St. Patrick's Day!
―Michael R. Burch

cicadas chirping everywhere
singing to beat the band―
surround sound
―Michael R. Burch

Regal, upright,
clad in royal purple:
Zinnia
―Michael R. Burch

Love is a surreal sweetness
in a world where trampled grapes
become wine.
―Michael R. Burch

although meant for market
a pail full of strawberries
invites indulgence
―Michael R. Burch

late November;
skeptics scoff
but the geese no longer migrate
―Michael R. Burch

as the butterfly hunts nectar
the generous iris
continues to bloom
―Michael R. Burch



Haiku Translations of the Oriental Masters

Grasses wilt:
the braking locomotive
grinds to a halt
― Yamaguchi Seishi, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Oh, fallen camellias,
if I were you,
I'd leap into the torrent!
― Takaha Shugyo, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

The first soft snow:
leaves of the awed jonquil
bow low
― Matsuo Basho, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Come, investigate loneliness!
a solitary leaf
clings to the Kiri tree
― Matsuo Basho, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Lightning
shatters the darkness―
the night heron's shriek
― Matsuo Basho, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

One apple, alone
in the abandoned orchard
reddens for winter
― Patrick Blanche, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

The poem above is by a French poet; it illustrates how the poetry of Oriental masters like Basho has influenced poets around the world.



I remove my beautiful kimono:
its varied braids
surround and entwine my body
― Hisajo Sugita, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

This day of chrysanthemums
I shake and comb my wet hair,
as their petals shed rain
― Hisajo Sugita, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

This sheer kimono—
how the moon peers through
to my naked skin!
—Hisajo Sugita (1890-1946), loose translation by Michael R. Burch

These festive flowery robes—
though quickly undressed,
how their colored cords still continue to cling!
—Hisajo Sugita (1890-1946), loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Chrysanthemum petals
reveal their pale curves
shyly to the moon.
—Hisajo Sugita (1890-1946), loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Loneliness —
reading the Bible
as the rain deflowers cherry blossoms.
—Hisajo Sugita (1890-1946), loose translation by Michael R. Burch

How deep this valley,
how elevated the butterfly's flight!
—Hisajo Sugita (1890-1946), loose translation by Michael R. Burch

How lowly this valley,
how lofty the butterfly's flight!
—Hisajo Sugita (1890-1946), loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Echoes from the hills—
the mountain cuckoo sings as it will,
trill upon trill
—Hisajo Sugita (1890-1946), loose translation by Michael R. Burch



This darkening autumn:
my neighbor,
how does he continue?
― Matsuo Basho, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Let us arrange
these lovely flowers in the bowl
since there's no rice
― Matsuo Basho, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

An ancient pond,
the frog leaps:
the silver plop and gurgle of water
― Matsuo Basho, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

The butterfly
perfuming its wings
fans the orchid
― Matsuo Basho, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Pausing between clouds
the moon rests
in the eyes of its beholders
― Matsuo Basho, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

The first chill rain:
poor monkey, you too could use
a woven cape of straw
― Matsuo Basho, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

This snowy morning:
cries of the crow I despise
(ah, but so beautiful!)
― Matsuo Basho, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Like a heavy fragrance
snow-flakes settle:
lilies on the rocks
― Matsuo Basho, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

The cheerful-chirping cricket
contends gray autumn's gay,
contemptuous of frost
― Matsuo Basho, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Whistle on, twilight whippoorwill,
solemn evangelist
of loneliness
― Matsuo Basho, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

The sea darkening,
the voices of the wild ducks:
my mysterious companions!
― Matsuo Basho, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Will we meet again?
Here at your flowering grave:
two white butterflies
― Matsuo Basho, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Fever-felled mid-path
my dreams resurrect, to trek
into a hollow land
― Matsuo Basho, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Too ill to travel,
now only my autumn dreams
survey these withering fields
― Matsuo Basho, loose translation by Michael R. Burch; this has been called Basho's death poem

These brown summer grasses?
The only remains
of "invincible" warriors...
― Matsuo Basho, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Graven images of long-departed gods,
dry spiritless leaves:
companions of the temple porch
― Matsuo Basho, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

See: whose surviving sons
visit the ancestral graves
white-bearded, with trembling canes?
― Matsuo Basho, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

An empty road
lonelier than abandonment:
this autumn evening
― Matsuo Basho, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Spring has come:
the nameless hill
lies shrouded in mist
― Matsuo Basho, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

This world?
Moonlit dew
flicked from a crane's bill.
—Eihei Dogen Kigen (1200-1253) loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Seventy-one?
How long
can a dewdrop last?
—Eihei Dogen Kigen, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Dewdrops beading grass-blades
die before dawn;
may an untimely wind not hasten their departure!
—Eihei Dogen Kigen, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Dewdrops beading blades of grass
have so little time to shine before dawn;
let the autumn wind not rush too quickly through the field!
—Eihei Dogen Kigen, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Outside my window the plums, blossoming,
within their curled buds, contain the spring;
the moon is reflected in the cup-like whorls
of the lovely flowers I gather and twirl.
—Eihei Dogen Kigen, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch



The Oldest Haiku

These are my translations of some of the oldest Japanese waka, which evolved into poetic forms such as tanka, renga and haiku over time. My translations are excerpts from the Kojiki (the "Record of Ancient Matters"), a book composed around 711-712 A.D. by the historian and poet Ō no Yasumaro. The Kojiki relates Japan’s mythological beginnings and the history of its imperial line. Like Virgil's Aeneid, the Kojiki seeks to legitimize rulers by recounting their roots. These are lines from one of the oldest Japanese poems, found in the oldest Japanese book:

While you decline to cry,
high on the mountainside
a single stalk of plumegrass wilts.
― Ō no Yasumaro (circa 711), loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Here's another excerpt, with a humorous twist, from the Kojiki:

Hush, cawing crows; what rackets you make!
Heaven's indignant messengers,
you remind me of wordsmiths!
― Ō no Yasumaro (circa 711), loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Here's another, this one a poem of love and longing:

Onyx, this gem-black night.
Downcast, I await your return
like the rising sun, unrivaled in splendor.
― Ō no Yasumaro (circa 711), loose translation by Michael R. Burch



More Haiku by Various Poets

Right at my feet!
When did you arrive here,
snail?
― Kobayashi Issa, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Our world of dew
is a world of dew indeed;
and yet, and yet...
― Kobayashi Issa, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Oh, brilliant moon
can it be true that even you
must rush off, like us, tardy?
― Kobayashi Issa, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Standing unsteadily,
I am the scarecrow’s
skinny surrogate
―Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Autumn wind ...
She always wanted to pluck
the reddest roses
―Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Issa wrote the haiku above after the death of his daughter Sato with the note: “Sato, girl, 35th day, at the grave.”



The childless woman,
how tenderly she caresses
homeless dolls ...
—Hattori Ransetsu, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Clinging
to the plum tree:
one blossom's worth of warmth
—Hattori Ransetsu, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

One leaf falls, enlightenment!
Another leaf falls,
swept away by the wind ...
—Hattori Ransetsu, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

This has been called Ransetsu’s “death poem.” In The Classic Tradition of Haiku, Faubion Bowers says in a footnote to this haiku: “Just as ‘blossom’, when not modified, means ‘cherry flower’ in haiku, ‘one leaf’ is code for ‘kiri’. Kiri ... is the Pawlonia ... The leaves drop throughout the year. They shrivel, turn yellow, and yield to gravity. Their falling symbolizes loneliness and connotes the past. The large purple flowers ... are deeply associated with haiku because the three prongs hold 5, 7 and 5 buds ... ‘Totsu’ is an exclamation supposedly uttered when a Zen student achieves enlightenment. The sound also imitates the dry crackle the pawlonia leaf makes as it scratches the ground upon falling.”



Disdaining grass,
the firefly nibbles nettles—
this is who I am.
—Takarai Kikaku (1661-1707), loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

A simple man,
content to breakfast with the morning glories—
this is who I am.
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
This is Basho’s response to the Takarai Kikaku haiku above

The morning glories, alas,
also turned out
not to embrace me
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The morning glories bloom,
mending chinks
in the old fence
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Morning glories,
however poorly painted,
still engage us
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I too
have been accused
of morning glory gazing ...
—original haiku by by Michael R. Burch

Taming the rage
of an unrelenting sun—
autumn breeze.
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The sun sets,
relentlessly red,
yet autumn’s in the wind.
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

As autumn deepens,
a butterfly sips
chrysanthemum dew.
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

As autumn draws near,
so too our hearts
in this small tea room.
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Nothing happened!
Yesterday simply vanished
like the blowfish soup.
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The surging sea crests around Sado ...
and above her?
An ocean of stars.
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Revered figure!
I bow low
to the rabbit-eared Iris.
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Come, butterfly,
it’s late
and we’ve a long way to go!
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Nothing in the cry
of the cicadas
suggests they know they soon must die.
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I wish I could wash
this perishing earth
in its shimmering dew.
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Dabbed with morning dew
and splashed with mud,
the melon looks wonderfully cool.
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Cold white azalea—
a lone nun
in her thatched straw hut.
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Glimpsed on this high mountain trail,
delighting my heart—
wild violets
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The bee emerging
from deep within the peony’s hairy recesses
flies off heavily, sated
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

A crow has settled
on a naked branch—
autumn nightfall
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Except for a woodpecker
tapping at a post,
the house is silent.
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

That dying cricket,
how he goes on about his life!
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Like a glorious shrine—
on these green, budding leaves,
the sun’s intense radiance.
—Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch



Yosa Buson haiku translations

A kite floats
at the same place in the sky
where yesterday it floated...
― Yosa Buson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

On the temple’s great bronze gong
a butterfly
snoozes.
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Hard to describe:
this light sensation of being pinched
by a butterfly!
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Not to worry spiders,
I clean house ... sparingly.
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Among the fallen leaves,
an elderly frog.
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

In an ancient well
fish leap for mosquitoes,
a dark sound.
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Flowers with thorns
remind me of my hometown ...
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Reaching the white chrysanthemum
the scissors hesitate ...
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Picking autumn plums
my wrinkled hands
once again grow fragrant
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

A silk robe, casually discarded,
exudes fragrance
into the darkening evening
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Whose delicate clothes
still decorate the clothesline?
Late autumn wind.
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

An evening breeze:
water lapping the heron’s legs.
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

gills puffing,
a hooked fish:
the patient
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The stirred morning air
ruffles the hair
of a caterpillar.
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Intruder!
This white plum tree
was once outside our fence!
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Tender grass
forgetful of its roots
the willow
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I believe the poem above can be taken as commentary on ungrateful children. It reminds me of Robert Hayden's "Those Winter Sundays."―MRB

Since I'm left here alone,
I'll make friends with the moon.
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The hood-wearer
in his self-created darkness
misses the harvest moon
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

White blossoms of the pear tree―
a young woman reading his moonlit letter
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The pear tree flowers whitely:
a young woman reading his letter
by moonlight
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

On adjacent branches
the plum tree blossoms
bloom petal by petal―love!
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

A misty spring moon ...
I entice a woman
to pay it our respects
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Courtesans
purchasing kimonos:
plum trees blossoming
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The spring sea
rocks all day long:
rising and falling, ebbing and flowing ...
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

As the whale
  dives
its tail gets taller!
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

While tilling the field
the motionless cloud
vanished.
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Even lonelier than last year:
this autumn evening.
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

My thoughts return to my Mother and Father:
late autumn
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Late autumn:
my thoughts return to my Mother and Father
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

This roaring winter wind:
the cataract grates on its rocks.
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

While snow lingers
in creases and recesses:
flowers of the plum
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Plowing,
not a single bird sings
in the mountain's shadow
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

In the lingering heat
of an abandoned cowbarn
only the sound of the mosquitoes is dark.
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The red plum's fallen petals
seem to ignite horse dung.
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Dawn!
The brilliant sun illuminates
sardine heads.
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The abandoned willow shines
between bright rains
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Dew-damp grass:
the setting sun’s tears
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The dew-damp grass
weeps silently
in the setting sun
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

White plum blossoms―
though the hour grows late,
a glimpse of dawn
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The poem above is believed to be Buson's jisei (death poem) and he is said to have died before dawn.

Lately the nights
dawn
plum-blossom white.
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

This is a second interpretation of Buson's jisei (death poem).

In the deepening night
I saw by the light
of the white plum blossoms
―Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

This is a third interpretation of Buson's jisei (death poem).

Our life here on earth:
to what shall we compare it?
Perhaps to a rowboat
departing at daybreak,
leaving no trace of us in its wake?
—Takaha Shugyo or Yosa Buson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch



I thought I felt a dewdrop
plop
on me as I lay in bed!
― Masaoka Shiki, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

We cannot see the moon
and yet the waves still rise
― Shiki Masaoka, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

The first morning of autumn:
the mirror I investigate
reflects my father’s face
― Shiki Masaoka, loose translation by Michael R. Burch



Wild geese pass
leaving the emptiness of heaven
revealed
― Takaha Shugyo, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Inside the cracked shell
of a walnut:
one empty room.
—Takaha Shugyo, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Bring me an icicle
sparkling with the stars
of the deep north
—Takaha Shugyo, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Seen from the skyscraper
the trees' fresh greenery:
parsley sprigs
—Takaha Shugyo, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Are the geese flying south?
The candle continues to flicker ...
—Takaha Shugyo, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Still clad in its clown's costume—
the dead ladybird.
—Takaha Shugyo, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

A single tree,
a heart carved into its trunk,
blossoms prematurely
—Takaha Shugyo, loose translation by Michael R. Burch



Silently observing
the bottomless mountain lake:
water lilies
― Inahata Teiko, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Cranes
flapping ceaselessly
test the sky's upper limits
― Inahata Teiko, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Falling snowflakes'
glitter
tinsels the sea
― Inahata Teiko, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Blizzards here on earth,
blizzards of stars
in the sky
― Inahata Teiko, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Completely encircled
in emerald:
the glittering swamp!
― Inahata Teiko, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

The new calendar!:
as if tomorrow
is assured...
― Inahata Teiko, loose translation by Michael R. Burch



Ah butterfly,
what dreams do you ply
with your beautiful wings?
― Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Because morning glories
hold my well-bucket hostage
I go begging for water
― Fukuda Chiyo-ni, loose translation by Michael R. Burch



Spring
stirs the clouds
in the sky's teabowl
― Kikusha-ni, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Tonight I saw
how the peony crumples
in the fire's embers
― Katoh Shuhson, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

It fills me with anger,
this moon; it fills me
and makes me whole
― Takeshita Shizunojo, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

War
stood at the end of the hall
in the long shadows
― Watanabe Hakusen, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Because he is slow to wrath,
I tackle him, then wring his neck
in the long grass
― Shimazu Ryoh, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Pale mountain sky:
cherry petals play
as they tumble earthward
― Kusama Tokihiko, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

The frozen moon,
the frozen lake:
two oval mirrors reflecting each other.
― Hashimoto Takako, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

The bitter winter wind
ends here
with the frozen sea
― Ikenishi Gonsui, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Oh, bitter winter wind,
why bellow so
when there's no leaves to fell?
― Natsume Sôseki, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Winter waves
roil
their own shadows
― Tominaga Fûsei, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

No sky,
no land:
just snow eternally falling...
― Kajiwara Hashin, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Along with spring leaves
my child's teeth
take root, blossom
― Nakamura Kusatao, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Stillness:
a single chestnut leaf glides
on brilliant water
― Ryuin, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

As thunder recedes
a lone tree stands illuminated in sunlight:
applauded by cicadas
― Masaoka Shiki, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

The snake slipped away
but his eyes, having held mine,
still stare in the grass
― Kyoshi Takahama, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Girls gather sprouts of rice:
reflections of the water flicker
on the backs of their hats
― Kyoshi Takahama, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Murmurs follow the hay cart
this blossoming summer day
― Ippekiro Nakatsuka (1887-1946), loose translation by Michael R. Burch

The wet nurse
paused to consider a bucket of sea urchins
then walked away
― Ippekiro Nakatsuka (1887-1946), loose translation by Michael R. Burch

May I be with my mother
wearing her summer kimono
by the morning window
― Ippekiro Nakatsuka (1887-1946), loose translation by Michael R. Burch

The hands of a woman exist
to remove the insides of the spring cuttlefish
― Sekitei Hara, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

The moon
hovering above the snow-capped mountains
rained down hailstones
― Sekitei Hara, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Oh, dreamlike winter butterfly:
a puff of white snow
cresting mountains
― Kakio Tomizawa, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Spring snow
cascades over fences
in white waves
― Suju Takano, loose translation by Michael R. Burch



Tanka and Waka translations:

If fields of autumn flowers
can shed their blossoms, shameless,
why can’t I also frolic here —
as fearless, and as blameless?
—Ono no Komachi, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Submit to you —
is that what you advise?
The way the ripples do
whenever ill winds arise?
—Ono no Komachi, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Watching wan moonlight
illuminate trees,
my heart also brims,
overflowing with autumn.
—Ono no Komachi, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

I had thought to pluck
the flower of forgetfulness
only to find it
already blossoming in his heart.
—Ono no Komachi, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

That which men call "love" —
is it not merely the chain
preventing our escape
from this world of pain?
—Ono no Komachi, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Once-colorful flowers faded,
while in my drab cell
life’s impulse also abated
as the long rains fell.
—Ono no Komachi, loose translation by Michael R. Burch

I set off at the shore
of the seaside of Tago,
where I saw the high, illuminated peak
of Fuji―white, aglow―
through flakes of drifting downy snow.
― Akahito Yamabe, loose translation by Michael R. Burch


Haiku Translations

As the monks sip their morning tea,
chrysanthemums quietly blossom.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The fragrance of plum blossoms
on a foggy path:
the sun rising.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The sea darkens ...
yet still faintly white
the wild duck protests.
—Matsuo Basho, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Pear tree blossoms
whitened by moonlight:
a young woman reading a letter.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Outlined in the moonlight ...
who is that standing
among the pear trees?
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Your coolness:
the sound of the bell
departing the bell.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

As the moon flies west
the flowers' shadows
creep eastward.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

By such pale moonlight
even the wisteria's fragrance
seems distant.
—Yosa Buson, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Leaves
like crows’ shadows
flirt with a lonely moon.
Kaga no Chiyo, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Let me die
covered with flowers
and never again wake to this earthly dream!
—Ochi Etsujin, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

To reveal how your heart flowers,
sway like the summer grove.
—Tagami Kikusha-Ni, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

In the thicket's shade
a solitary woman sings the rice-planting song.
Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Unaware of these degenerate times,
cherry blossoms abound!
Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

These silent summer nights
even the stars
seem to whisper.
Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The enormous firefly
weaves its way, this way and that,
as it passes by.
Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Composed like the Thinker, he sits
contemplating the mountains:
the sagacious frog!
Kobayashi Issa, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

A fallen blossom
returning to its bough?
No, a butterfly!
Arakida Moritake, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Illuminated by the harvest moon
smoke is caught creeping
across the water ...
Hattori Ransetsu, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Fanning its tail flamboyantly
with every excuse of a breeze,
the peacock!
Masaoki Shiki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Waves row through the mists
of the endless sea.
Masaoki Shiki, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I hurl a firefly into the darkness
and sense the enormity of night.
—Kyoshi Takahama, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

As girls gather rice sprouts
reflections of the rain ripple
on the backs of their hats.
—Kyoshi Takahama, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Keywords/Tags: haiku, tanka, oriental, masters, translation, Japanese, nature, seasons, Basho, Buson, Issa, waka, tanka, mrbhaiku

Its the words that we hear, the life that we seek that makes us impeckable.
 
I listen deeply to your soothing voice, cherishing each word you tell me.
 
You used me.
Broke my heart.
Than dated my best friend.
 
You made us fall into a gab, made us hold on to the past for dear life. Things will never be the same all because of you.
 
She said she was sorry, but sorry doesn't mean anything when you can't accept it. I lost you. Than I lost her. The two most important people in my life.
 
I lost hope. I tried to converse with my peers but all I ended up doing was bashing her. The one you stole from me. They got tired and stopped trying to make me happy like I once was. Like I was when I was with you.
 
Each day, I would walk the halls to see her with you. My anger would boil in my vains, and all the memories between us would hit me like bullets. All the times you told me you loved me. All the times you held me close, when you never let me go. All the times you wishpered in my ear how much I changed you. All those times were gone, forgotten, like a gust of wind, you forgot about us. But I could never forget, even the countless times I tried its too hard. You left a whole in my heart, one that can never be perpared.
 
Than I see you. See you with her. I feel the pain once more. The urgeing sensation to graspe you from her grip and make you mine once more. To be able to call you mine once more.
 
But that can never happen. Or so I thought.
 
The days pass by that your with her. That you are caught up in every aspect of the one I used to call best friend. Now I only call her words that are beyond my reach, ones that I regret the moment they leave the tip of my lips. But I stay loyal, I never spread her secrets. Nor do I hope she will fail. Instead, I wish her luck with you; the guy who made my heart bleed with hate, you changed me. Some might say its for the better but all I can say is you changed me in a way that I can never be pepared again.
 
The sun sets, the moon rises and the stars are twinkling in the dark sky, when my phone rings. I see your name. The name I spit on with hate. I let it go to voicemail not wanting to hear your voice, scared that if I do the tears will start again. I wonder how that's possible, since I wasted all my tears on you but yet I'm proven wrong its possible.
 
Your voicemail is cut short. I hear your voice, its strange at first but then I fall deeply in love once more with the way you pronouce my name. Full with love and admiration. I'm falling for you once more. Falling slowly, and slowly. But when the end is near I think of you and her. The pair who made me suffer all those nights, the ones who made me cry myself to sleep.
 
Then I fall full speed into the whole, the rocks crashing on top of me. I scream, and scream untill I realize I am stuck. How much I try to push my way through there is no use.
I am stuck in your wrath forever.
5  years. 
 
5 long years filled with related concepts always bringing my thoughts back to you. 
 
I tried to forget. Belive me. But somehow its like you are carved into me like wood. I could never forget you. 
 
Its been 5 years since I last saw you. I wonder each morning when I wake up if you changed. Or if you still have that charming smile, and that flirty personallity But the thought that comes across me the most is if everyone falls for you as hard as I did or it was only me. 
 
You made my heart bleed that senoir year. You made me fill endless emotions towards you, and all I got in return was a wink and a "hey baby we didn't say we were exclusive" 
 
Those words burned through me. Leaving me with only hate to deal with. I made a vow with myself I would forget you. But it was impossible. Every where I turned I saw your flawless face within my reach. Your pulmp lips wishpering my name soothingly making me fall only deeper in love with the fake you. I made a character out of you. One which loved me with all its heart and cared for me endlessly. 
 
I tried to believe it was true. That there was such a thing but once again its only a fantasie. Soon I will be brought into reality to see you with her. She who shall not be named. 
 
Its the day that changed me once again. A day which you made me choke and feel the emotions you cast on me once again. My phone vibrates, for a moment I belive its a dream as your name blinks on the small screen. I feel the anticipation arising throughout me. Why would he be calling? I thought while picking on my nails. My hands shaky, I picked up the phone. And once again I fell beneath your spell. 
 
"Florence..." I heard your voice say. The world spinning around me I was almost lost in your voice. Snapping back into reality I prayed my voice wouldn't brake, that it would be stable but once again life is against me. 
 
I cleared my thraot, the curses I was getting ready to say formng in my mind. All the things I wanted to remind you of ready to come bursting out of me. But at that moment only one thing came out. One word. "Jake....." I heard myself say it. The way my voice said it, it was as there hadn't been 5 years between us. And we were just back on that night, in senior year, when you held me close and wishpered to me. 
 
I didn't realize it was quiet untill I heard ask me if I wanted to delete this message. I saw I had a miss call from you. You of all people. I was gettng ready to blast you but all I could think was if I should call you back. But then my phone rang, and I saw your name once more. 
 
One voicemail. That's all it took for me to rush to the phone and want to hear your voice again. I picked it up, feeling the nerves arising beneath me, the goosebumps starting to form on my arms. "Hello." I breathed into the reciever. 
 
"Florence?" I heard your voice ask. The same voice that I heard on the voicemail, the same voice that you had over me the years before. 
 
I tried to compose my voice, trying to make it like I forgot you. But in reality it was the exact oppisite. 
 
"Yeah, its me." I said in a strained voice. 
 
Suddenly slience struck upon us. None of us said a word. Just the dead selience between us. The tension high. 
 
But I didn't mind it. 
For what was there to say to the man who destroyed any ounce of belief I had in me? 
To the man who left me when everything was wrong. 
Now he calls me, I know what I must do. 
But in the end love does a funny thing to you; no matter how much you try to lock someone out, deep beneath the depths the right guy always finds the key. 
 
You foiund the key, opening the door slightly I heard your voice. Looking around me horror crept into my whole body, making me frozen in place. "......I was a **** and idiot...." You trailed off on the reciever. Barely listening to your words I was too caught up on the way you made me feell, the way you made everything appear perfect.
That night, the night you barged in and put me under your spell once more. Compelled by you I acted like your puppet, mimicking your every movement, following your every order. The distance between us fulled with tension. The anxiety of seeing your face again, uprising beneath me, while I took each step cautously to the Diner.
 
The Diner.
The place were everything had once been perfect between us. You would play with a stroke of my hair, I would giiggle in apparation as your gaze would be locked on mine.
Everything completely perfect.
 
Now, as I step foot into the diner, the goshtly images of us by our daily table, the one in the back corner. For a moment I could swear I saw us giggling and smiling at eachother. But as I look back the figures are gone and all that's there is an empty chair.
 
I walk in, immidently I am greeted by a middle aged waitress. Awe shown on her wrinkled face. "You here again?" She squels in delight. I looked at her puzzled.
 
"Your a legend here." She said, her eyes gleaming. "You don't remember I had been your waitress everyday when you guys would come. Your love so pure and magical it made me believe."
 
Suddenly the images were flooding back into my head. The ones of the giddy waitress we used to make fun of. The one we thought had a crush on you. We had laughed it off, you would remind me how I was your only one. But now it all fit into place. She hadn't been watching you, she had been watching us., mesmerized by our love that's what she had been doing.
If only she knew.
If only she knew that our love had failed, that you had cheated.
 
Our love had once been a blossoming flower, now all it was was a distant memory.
 
A gust of wind pulled me out of my daze. I noticed the waitress had been stareing at me all along with questioning eyes. I knew I should have been nicer, more apealing but this went along with all of the things I wish I was.
 
The sound of an schreeching door being opended caught my senses, everything hapend so quickly. I saw his face. That face which had haunted me all these years. The one which appeared in my dreams, day after day, I would wake up sweating, screaming his name for help. The hysterical cry I wouild scream, but he would never come. Nor would he answer my calls.
 
The anger boiling up in me once more, I swiftly forgot the love I had felt for him earlier this day. I wanted to remind him of everything. All the hurt he caused me, the tears shed on his behalf. I hated him for everything.
For the way he made me blush when he would wink at me.
For the way he caused me to act in sivere ways.
And for the way he made me love him so deeply that I had to make myself angry at him.
 
You were a few feet away from me, enough for me to reach out my hand and touch you. Everything around us was silent. It seemed as though all eyes were on us. I could hear the distant sounds of a cricket and I was definite you could hear my loud breathing or the accleration of my beating heart. Pounding against my chest, it acclerated with each cautous step you took.
 
I could smel your chlonage, your famillar smell rininging up the senses which have been held hostage for so long. Your aroma taking up the air, ******* out all the oxygen making it hard for me to breathe. Taking deep breathes, I couldn't help but feel compelled for a moment. I would have done anything you wished.
 
The awkwardness hit upon us. All we did was stare at eachother. Unable to speak I was hoping you would start. My mind blank, full-speed I tried to skim my brain for a word, anythjing. Everything seemed forgien to me. I felt useless. Parralyzed.
But I couldn't help but realize you were stareing at me with the same baffled expression as I was to you.
 
A word escaped your mouth. Your voice sounding like bells, having a musical ring to it. It caught me off gaurd, causing my heart to skip a beat. Just like the old days.
 
Looking around me I noticed the cracked wholes in the wooden walls, the hardwood floor beneath us, dusty with names carved into it. While you stared at me waiting for a response, my eyes skimmed over the floor beneath us, desperatly searching for it. That one thing that would remind me of what you did. So that I wouldn't fall for you once more.
There it was::
'Jake&Florence-F;&A.;' But starein
g at it closely, I noticed the one thjing I had been looking for. The word 'Florence' had been crossed out and replaced with 'Nicole'.
 
My best friend which you stole for me.
Bringing my attention back up to you I fought back the tears which had been trying to force there way out.
 
"Save it." I spat, not before letting the heel of my shoe dig into the wood earasing our names from the hardwood floor. Forever.