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5224. Macnas - 5/25/2004 8:47:02 PM Thankfully no, it is not true, but I do appreciate your kind analysis. I do not think I'm much good at the seasonal thing though.
One can imagine the Samurai, as they prepare for battle, using the haiku to express their true feelings before they engage the enemy:
Have you seen my sword?
I put it with my armour
Some bastard took it.
5225. jexster - 5/28/2004 5:09:10 AM The following was presented to the SF Ten Year Planning Council at hearings yesterday on the City's Ten Year Plan to End Chronic homelessness
THE SOLUTION
I AM THE AGE OLD PROBLEM: I WAS BORN
I GREW UP TO BE ONE OF "THEM"
I AM THE CAUSE AND THE REASON FOLKS MOURN
I AM THE FLAW IN THE BEAUTIFUL GEM
IF IT WEREN'T FOR ME, SEE HOW FREE YOU WOULD BE?
YOU COULD LIKE YOUR LIFE IN PEACE AND BEAUTY
YOU WOULD NOT HAVE TO LOOK AT ME
YOU WOULD NOT HAVE TO THINK OF ME AS YOUR DUTY
I once had a mother who loved me
And I suppose you did too
There must be a way that we could agree
On a Plan for me to stop bothering you
THERE ARE NOT ENOUGH JAILS TO HOLD US
NOR ENOUGH GUARDS TO KEEP US INSIDE
THERE ARE NOT ENOUGH LOCKS AND KEYS AND FENCES
NOR WALLS ENOUGH BEHIND WHICH TO HIDE
WHEN YOU ASK: "HOW CAN I HELP YOU?"
Excuse me, please; your arrogance shows
LISTEN SWEET ANGEL, Adjust your view;
To perceive what those disgusting "THEM" know....
IT IS "WE" WHO POSSESS THE ENERGY
BE NOT THE MOSQUITO WHICH BITES
"THINK", DEAR ONE. HOW YOU WANT IT TO BE
Service will bring it about, NOT FIGHTS. - Anonymous, 82 year old San Francisco homeless woman 5226. justears - 6/4/2004 12:19:33 AM You don’t notice as bugs
drill for blood
on the back of your neck
leaving a series of welts
like prayer beads,
as you concentrate
on the next rainbow.
5227. justears - 6/7/2004 12:11:20 AM High muddy water
and the trout disappear.
The fisherman gets desperate
caught between the beauty
of mere being and desire
for the old thrill
of strike, capture and release.
5228. wonkers2 - 6/9/2004 10:56:38 AM Poems of Blood and Anger 5229. ElliottRW - 6/9/2004 11:39:55 AM Dead tomorrow, possibly,
splashing in puddle,
poking beak amongst feathers,
shaking tail up-and-down;
blackbird is happy.
Dead tomorrow, possibly,
racing through Queen Anne's lace,
laughing at nothing,
touching without worry;
child is happy.
Dead tomorrow, possibly,
watching,
remembering,
smiling;
man is happy. 5230. ElliottRW - 6/9/2004 11:47:17 AM Justears, 5226.
I really like this poem. It works for me on two levels, first by provoking memories of last Summer's vacation to Cape Breton Island. Second, it is a superbly concise illustration of ... something I recognize. 5231. ElliottRW - 6/9/2004 12:03:02 PM (Working backward)
Macnas...The Samurai haiku is hilarious.
jexster...you are everywhere.
NuPlanetOne...ouch. Also, cigarettes are bad for you.
Here is a true story, Macnas, style:
car smacks errant bike
face smacks windshield hard and bright
buttocks smack asphalt
5232. Macnas - 6/9/2004 5:57:24 PM Ouch. 5233. wonkers2 - 6/10/2004 1:58:08 AM Justears, nice stuff! 5234. Ulgine Barrows - 6/10/2004 4:14:40 PM All of you, call your parents!
You're ridiculously gifted.
Me, I want to sleep.
But not invisibly.
You, too, can have a kid on your knee
This is a funeral! Show some respect. 5235. wonkers2 - 6/11/2004 10:45:33 PM More on the Iraq war;
Jim Brown, a former U.S. marine wrote from a soldier's point of view:
It's only a short dash, from this dusty
wall to that one;
But you try it:
When someone you can't see is
sending hot, cracking
thunderbolts your way,
And you're clutching your young wife's sweat-faded photo so tight,
Your legs don't work proplerly.
Or try to tell the good Iraqis from the
bad ones;
Make a mistake:
The good ones become bad ones, and
you make the evening news.
The answer is to get from this dusty
wall to that one, and get home.
Frank Sandoval thought of children:
A young girl in a pretty dress;
Her first kiss, her dried lips pressed
Into the dirt of a road....
She's now a horrid little carcass,
Flies, tears dried to gelatin in her
eyes,
Hair dirtier than a woman's hair
should ever be.
She's free.
I look now at my little girl,
Blue eyes prettier than a flower,
Laughter more joyous than a bird
song.
My hear swells in my chest and while
I laugh,
I feel fear, smll a faint sench of
insanity.
More here. 5236. wonkers2 - 6/12/2004 7:15:04 AM Bob Dylan Master Poet 5237. Ulgine Barrows - 6/14/2004 4:04:09 PM O my word, what great choices that poet Jim Brown made:
'sending hot, cracking
thunderbolts your way,
......
'Make a mistake:
The good ones become bad ones, and
you make the evening news. '
Frank, I like this:
'horrid little carcass'
Well I don't LIKE it, but then again, I do. I know what I mean.
Link following, another time, wonkers2. The Bob Dylan Master Puppet link looks interesting. 5238. The Summer Woman - 6/15/2004 3:14:30 AM Wonkers2
How much better war can be expressed in poetic images than in prose.
Thank you for posting them. 5239. RickNelson - 6/23/2004 11:10:50 AM Regarding Message # 5234 That's the day!
He's a month early
and his parents sighed relief.
He's small and healthy
and now mom's allowed sleep.
5240. arkymalarky - 6/23/2004 1:03:41 PM CONGRATULATIONS RICK!!!!!
'scuse the yelling. I'm overwhelmed. 5241. Absensia - 6/23/2004 1:09:19 PM RICK! Wonderful news! Much and many good wishes to you and your family. 5242. Ulgine Barrows - 6/24/2004 4:54:37 PM Cool, Rick.
Best of what the world's got to offer, to you and yours. 5243. justears - 6/25/2004 1:25:18 AM As below, so above……the mystic chants
Energy is to Mass
As Spirit is to Matter.
Knock a few Nuclei about and Energy flames out.
Add a few micrograms to the Brain
And watch it become Mind.
Is this a dualism? Or a polarity?
Who gives a shit except
Metaphysicians or monsters?
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