The Cracked Door – Daily Haikus
Reflections on life, the world, and society. Come explore with me.
Because I did nothing,
Because I did too much,
Because I did not intervene enough,
Because I interjected too much,
I am leaving your because
Blast from the past:
You had a lot to say
When you were telling me what to do,
And now that I establish no,
Nothing
I would expect storms
To take over these calm waters.
It’s getting ready
To explode in my little
Teacup inside which I hide.
Blast from the past:
New definition
Of class—having the means to
Afford a break down.
I want to explore
How the grain of the world runs.
The show must go on.
Blast from the past:
To your world that is,
I offer you the world as
I think it should be.
Whenever I leave,
Why do I end up the one
Who feels left behind?
Blast from the past:
Have you ever heard
The voice of a tree with all
It’s rhythm… grieving
I sit in the park
My chest still
Against the dizzying motion of life
My feet planted, clasping
Against the grass to keep still
My mind roams a thousand new worlds
Blast from the past:
I’m slow getting
What I believe, say, and do
Into harmony
I did not settle in the place
Where the sun rises slowly over the rolling waves
Where the mountains kiss the gentle mist
Where the voices chant under the rising sunI did not settle in the place
Where the cicadas cry in the forest
In unwavering melody
A premonition of the horror to comeI did not settle in the place
Where the scent of food permeates
To entice people to stop to buy
From their endless stream of motorbikes
Taking them to and froI did not settle in the place
Where others sit and drink
Each new round a toast
For a tomorrow they’d rather not seeI did not settle in the place
Where everyday I once breathed
Long sighs in my desperate attempt
To remain in old debates long settled
And follow where I did not want to goI did not settle in the place
Where everyone says hello
Excited to meet a foreigner
But never understanding meI did not settle in the place
Where I could see
The ocean and its waves,
The mountains and its mist,
Or the people and their flurry
Become the wallpaper of my life
Blast from the past:
Do more than see. Seek.
The assent to the finite.
Desire to create.
Nobody hears your
Symphony of panic
When you’re underwater
Blast from the past:
The first victims
On the way to the next world
Don’t look up