Haiku
by “Clear Dew” Ibuse
One cannot see it;
but it’s there; one can feel it;
ice upon the fence.
Haiku
by “Clear Dew” Ibuse
The cat makes its rounds,
first testing temperature.
Time to come in—fast.
“Clear Dew” Ibuse is a poet of Japanese poetic forms. One of his favourite Japanese prose and haiku writers is Natsume Soseki (1867-1915), author who uses, as a common house cat, a high-register phrasing in his satirical novel I Am a Cat.
~~~
Haiku
by “Wired Clues” Abe
The cold, north wind blows,
as one walks to get the mail,
assailing one’s bones.
Haiku
by “Wired Clues” Abe
The outdoor faucets
are wrapped with cloth and plastic.
Will that be enough?
Haiku
by “Wired Clues” Abe
Dark, iced-road commute:
lamp post crash, crazed coyote,
overpass tow trucks.
Haiku
by “Wired Clues” Abe
Billions read, text, stream,
naturally on their screens:
Silicon implants.
“Wired Clues” Abe is a poet of technology in English, using Japanese forms.
~~~
Dressed All in Green
by Sri Wele Cebuda
“Simplify. Simplify. Simplify.”
—Henry David Thoreau
Dressed all in green from top to bottom in the lotus pose.
“Live Simple” said the shirt he wore; head, shoulders, torso rose.
He stretched his legs and ankles out, his heels and his toes.
O, he was ready for some meditation, I suppose.
He contemplated on his fragile situation there,
upon the bed, below the dread, o, in that open air.
At first he hummed his OM. He felt at home. He loved the sky.
He breathed in oxygen, while opening his inner eye.
He sat as comfortably as he could; his neck stretched up.
He loved to be uncuffed, connected to a cosmic sump.
O, yeah, it was so awesome, focused on eternity,
so mentally alert, and in electric ecstasy.
Greenager Greta Thunberg Tweet
by Sri Wele Cebuda
In India, she sparked a criminal conspiracy,
greenager Greta Thunberg, when she wrote her latest tweet:
She wrote what she was told to write on Twitter recently
about the farm revolt in Delhi, farmers on the street.
Her toolbox tweet immediately was deleted and
replaced as soon as government officials had it scanned.
It called for economic, cultural and social war
against the state of India. It made ten millions roar.
She quickly changed her tweet, but it already had been seen
by millions all across the Globe, words from this Swedish teen.
The probe is looking in to those who were behind events;
Rhianna and a Swedish teen promoting violence.
Sri Wele Cebuda is a poet of meditation and India. Three new laws deregulating farmer’s markets are causing the ongoing protests in Delhi. The whole farming situation is complex, but basically government elites are wreaking havoc in ordinary people’s lives. The truckers support the farmers generally. The violence in India’s capital is much larger than anything seen in the US District of Columbia. Greta is a teenage activist and Rihanna is a global pop star.
~~~
Morning Safari
by Cur A. Wildebees
He stood up tall, like as giraffe at an acacia tree,
and did his morning grooming, carefully, methodic’lly.
First came the shaving and the combing, coffee at his side,
he turned his mane about, like as a lion in his pride.
As easily as any happy hippo at his hump,
upon the toilet seat, he parked his rump and took a dump.
Next up, he took a shower, spraying, washing, back and front,
like as, at water hole, with squirting trunk, an elephant.
He cleaned his teeth and sculpted nails, like leopard at a task,
and like gorilla, fingered skin, an overbody scan.
Cur A. Wildebees is a poet of African animalia. He enjoys jamming with the gentle, vegetarian giant, the giraffe.
~~~
Newsreel:
WHO states the China virus came from a bat in Wuhan’
but only if the bat speaks Mandarin, says Li-MengYan.
At least 483,000 have died so far from the Corona Virus that came from China, and was disguised from the World in China for one? two? three? four months? Will the World ever discover the truth of what the Chinese Communist Party has done.
~~~
Zombie Yachting
by Rus Ciel Badeew
He found himself upon a yacht with zombies sailing it.
like as the Ancient Mariner in a Pacific niche.
Born in Lebedyan, Tambov, Russia, 1884,
his father was a priest, his mother played Chopin and more.
He was a lonely child without companions of his age.
He often was found overlooking some book’s open page.
He’d read its lines, as if he were upon a mountain top,
or if he also were down at its bottom looking up.
He went to school in Petersburg, a naval engineer;
his Bolshevism got him prison for part of a year.
While there, his nightmares reoccurred time over and again;
he worried the authorities would find pyroxylin;
but comrades managed to dispose explosives that he had,
and he was able to return to Russia going mad.
In World War I, in England, he helped build icebreaking ships;
when he returned to Russia the Red Revolution hit.
But when he saw the Commissars were merely Commie-tsars,
he wrote a futurist dystopia—We got the farce.
“We” was the first book censored by the Russian Soviets.
From there, the censoring of people grew to camps and deaths.
He got off of the zombie ship, and landed in Paree,
where he died in ignominy and poverty—but free.
Rus Ciel Badeew is a poet of Russia. “We” by Zamyatin, was first published in the USA.
~~~
The Wide-Eyed Mariner
by Acwiles Berude
He was at rest in ecstasy—that bearded mariner—
He was a strong, intrepid soul and daring challenger.
He only had firm shield, spear, and beaucoup derring-do,
to face each fierce, ferocious foe who came into his view,
from Trojans in their citadel, to oddly, mythic Ones,
from vile, lotus-eating scum, to thick, hard Ithacas.
But he rose to each situation as it came to him,
attempting to present true grit, with vinegar and vim.
No matter who he had to face, he tried to do his best;
he wanted so to greet each enemy, to meet each test.
O, here in Greece, on land or sea, he’d take his stand and be…
a fighter in the wider battle of Eternity.
Acwiles Berude is a poet of Ancient Greece. The poet he most admires is Homer.
~~~
Upon My Pillow
by Waldeci Erebus
“What crimes, o, Somnos, keep me from my sleep,
that I am now in such a state so deep?”
—Aedile Cwerbus, “Lie Sense”
At night I go to sleep upon my pillow…and have dreams
I cannot tell what these realities reveal to me.
Is it night’s dark dominion that is clouding up my eyes?
Is it the absolute truth night is trying to disguise?
I am not reading on my phone; my k(l)indle has been closed;
I cannot face my book at night. Wit irks me, I suppose.
I dream of vores, like sleeping sheep. Why would I dream of that?
How would that be? How should that be? How could such be a fact?
And so, awoke, I wonder at these nightly, numbing dumps.
How can I go to sleep at night, when even slumber slumps.
Waldeci Erebus is a poet of the dark.
~~~
We Like
by Esca Webuilder
“…everyone must lose his mind, everyone must.”
—Yevgeny Zamyatin, “We”
We here are happy in OneState, bland, empty, open, round.
We wear our faces at our phones in pageless books unbound
We like our Benefactor’s smiley, MagicMountain Moon.
We like his bland and empty face. He is a GooGhoul Goon.
We like how he controls our minds. He is beyond compare.
We like him for his work in crushing freedom everywhere.
We like the way he lies and tries to never tell the truth.
We like how he destroys the lives of old, adults and youth.
We like his company. He’s like a friend who’s always there.
We like his Integral Community and barren stare.
Esca Webuilder is a poet of the Internet. Yevgeny Zamyatin’s dystopian novel “We” forms the skeleton of this tennos.
~~~
In His Head
by Dr. Weslie Ubeca
His head went warm, a tropic storm; he felt a gushing rush.
He felt that he was having a full, niacin-flown flush.
This massive relaxation happened in blood-vessel-dom
the prostaglandins causing vas-o-di-la-tion to come.
Not knowing what it was at first, he did not feel at ease;
but he felt so much better learning of its properties.
It can increase one’s HDL, decrease triglycerides,
and lower LDL the bad cholesterol inside.
Perhaps it helps reduce potential schizophrenia.
He now no longer fears a niacin flush in his head.
Dr. Weslie Ubeca (not a medical doctor) is a poet of medicine.
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