
Movie-making is
All about the magic of
Clever illusions
Blast from the Past:
Stuck here as I race
At the speed of light in my
Imagination
The Cracked Door – Daily Haikus
Reflections on life, the world, and society. Come explore with me.

Movie-making is
All about the magic of
Clever illusions
Blast from the Past:
Stuck here as I race
At the speed of light in my
Imagination

The mountain beckons.
The clouds warn. A storm’s coming.
Best to know your path.
Blast from the Past:
Scaling the mountain
Rainy, slippery, wishing
Humans had four legs

Its calm, slow waters
And meandering bank hide its
Secret personhood
(This one is about the Whanganui River.)
Blast from the Past:
Fumble through the fog.
Rivers go where the waters flood.
Vanish into dark.

To avoid thinking,
Not reflecting; for some that’s
What it means to live
Blast from the Past:
The fool entices,
“This is just the way things are.
Don’t overthink it.”

Beautiful rainbow,
I rush towards its beauty;
It just disappears.
Blast from the Past:
The waves surge forward
Just to rush back to the depths,
An eternal dance

Desire’s soggy crust
Manufacturing the real
Sorrows like closed rooms
Blast from the Past:
The only people I enjoy
Are the mad ones
Who desire everything all at once
And refuse to compromise

Coming from the ground,
Sulphur vents out the shrubs of
The tundra wasteland
Blast from the Past:
Microbes glistening
The ocean water under
The clear starlit sky
My first haiku is about the sulphur vents common in the Rotorua area of New Zealand. The second haiku is about the bioluminescent microbes native to some of the waters in Puerto Rico and other parts of the Caribbean.

Nothing to see here
If things were all different
You will not escape
Blast from the Past:
Have we trapped ourselves
Inside unsatisfying
Narratives of gain?

Why are we the ones
Sacrificed to uphold your
False reality?
Blast from the Past:
It takes resilience
To stand so long in the absence
Of authentic gods

Branches dissolving
As they descend into the
Acidic green lake
Blast from the Past:
Burnt red clay
And shards of glass
Where the world turned to salt and fire