
Are we really the
Good people that we always
Thought of ourselves as?
Blast from the Past:
In grand positions,
Who can you now trust to tell
You your true mistakes?
The Cracked Door – Daily Haikus
Reflections on life, the world, and society. Come explore with me.
Poems about navigating life

Are we really the
Good people that we always
Thought of ourselves as?
Blast from the Past:
In grand positions,
Who can you now trust to tell
You your true mistakes?

A one cup coffee
Pick me up zooms me into
The hyped stratosphere
(I’m so buzzed that I may just take over the world today.)
Blast from the Past:
If only I’d pause
In this transitory world
To smell the flowers

I strive to try to fly.
My lie is that I’d fly so high.
I cry each time I fly so high.
This lie that I will fly.
I can try to fly.
My time to fly is nigh.
If I fly, I’ll die.
I buy the lie to fly so high.
I fly to strive to try.
My eyes grow wide with pride.
I lied to fly so high I’d die.
I try my lie that I will fly.
My cry will fly so high.
My time to fly is nigh.
I fly to try to strive.
Can I just try to fly?
I fly with no cry to die.
I fly so high I cry.
I lie as I try to fly.
My try is that I’d fly so high.
I lie to fly so high.
I try by the by.
My cry will lie and die.
Don’t try to fly so high.
I hide to not fly so high I’d die.
I cry, why can’t I fly?
I grow my grand lie to fly so high.
I cry as I fly.
I want to try to fly.
I must fly to not die.
When I fly so high, I die.
Why lie when I can fly?
I must try to fly.
I fly so high I’ll die.
Less try. Just fly. Don’t die.
Blast from the Past:
But why long for wings?
My shoulders’ pang for freedom
Has kept me grounded.

Pinky, not the Brain,
Is the one who understands
The world’s meaning: Narf!
Blast from the Past:
Nothing’s better than
Achieving your long-sought goal
To feel hollowness.

Signs litter the land
Watch out for them, but where are
These cassowaries?
Blast from the Past:
Now that I finished
All of my tasks, emptiness
Washes over me

Oh waters of Babylon
Can your ever
Collect all my tears?
Blast from the Past:
Every tear wept
By the abused is a crown
Drawn to a new dawn

It is not the fear
Of death I have, but the fear
Of never living…
Blast from the Past:
The only constant
More certain than death is our
Quest for more in life

I
Grow
My
Grand
Lie
To
Fly
So
High
This is a poem form I invented, based on Magic 9 poems, which I was reading about recently. Basically, each line must be one syllable and must follow the rhyme scheme: abacadaba.
Blast from the Past:
I stand here confused.
I shake my wings intently,
But I do not fly.

To avoid thinking
To not reflect on one’s life
Go through the motions
Blast from the Past:
The questions of life:
No matter how fast you run,
They’re where you will be

Eyes glued forward, beyond the rise and fall
Too afraid to look another way
The wind howls its persistent call
A slap across my face
The boat inches on its slow crawl
Nothing can change its glacial pace
“Forward!”, “Forward!” I try to call
Get me to another day
Beyond the rise and fall
Today’s poem is a Magic 9 poem, a 9 line poem following this rhyme scheme: abacadaba. Evidently, this form of poetry was invented as a typo of abracadabra, but without the r’s.
Blast from the Past:
I’ll try again to
Right the ship that veers off course
Towards oblivion