The Cracked Door – Daily Haikus
Reflections on life, the world, and society. Come explore with me.
(My poem for today is a tanka.)
Bolting to the street
In such a rush I forget
To even decide
How I will get around or
Even where I am going
Blast from the Past:
Rapids rinse water
Free of color – too rushed to
Reflect its world back
To the man who pursues more—
Will tomorrow be worth your while?
Or just part of an endless pile?
Why should you go one more mile?
Blast from the Past:
I climb the mountain,
And now what?
There always seems to be
Another mountain to climb
I lie here in your cave
Your touch is all I crave
You forced me to be your slave
While you descend on my in another wave,
I must decide whether to make this place my grave.
Blast from the Past:
Timber and limber
Remember and dismember
Embers and members
Take a college degree.
Wrap it in a crisp shirt
And seal it with a tie
For the next several months, knead out all of its creativity
As it seeks to rise from its station
Roll it with trivial tasks
Until its spread thin across your pan
Then, once you can’t stretch it anymore without tearing
Fire it in your ovenRecipe for a white collar worker
Blast from the Past:
Gain your employment
Earn your opportunity
To obtain freedom
I wanna
Sleep through the night,
Sleep through the day,
Sleep through the sun,
Sleep through the rain,
And then wake up to
Go back to sleep again
Blast from the Past:
My paradise sleeps
And finds me in
My dreams.
Oh beautiful city
Towers of human ingenuity
Rising step by step
To discover its true embrace in
Death
Blast from the Past:
Perfect, synchronized
Machinery performing
Humanization
We live in cycles
Of failure and success
Forever moving
Towards balance
Blast from the Past:
How grounded we are,
Breathing the earth we make up,
In, out, forever
Flying down the mountain
On the back of a motorbike
Bump, bump, bump throbs my butt
Each thud sliding me further back in the seat
Until I slide into the metal grate
The tiny guard preventing me from flying off the edge
Blast from the Past:
My last chance to feel.
I am this great, unstable
Mess of blood and mud
As my eyelids close,
The constant blares of traffic
Help to remind me
That the city does not join me
In slowly drifting to sleep
Blast from the Past:
A massive skyline
Peeks to seek, to spot, to scale
Manicured mountains
Waking the morning after
The apocalypse that never came.
What do you do now
That you have your whole life ahead of you?
Blast from the Past:
I’m thinking about
The end of the world—how bored
It is making me.