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 Feb 2017 kailasha
Cristina
What time is it?
She searched the room
Brown and white and almost red
She is a ghost
A body with life, or maybe not.

What time is it?
Whispers are low
Only by paying attention
The words can be heard.

What time is it?
Who will answer?
Walls, carpets and furniture?

What time is it?
I pray God will answer.

What time is it?*
Please give me an answer.
 Feb 2017 kailasha
autumn
My stars have all been crossed
Faded and wrong
It wasn't supposed to be this way
I am not supposed to be her.

I took the wrong fork
At the crossroads.
What if
our personalities
are just
our mother
and our father
fighting
inside of us?
 Feb 2017 kailasha
winter sakuras
Look at the stars carefully
because they are pieces of my soul
scattered in the warm and windy night sky,
they are my wishes and dreams
waiting for someone to wish
the same things and make them come true,
they are my thoughts that sometimes
I can not fathom into constellations,
and they sway and dance and burst, yearning
to take each and every one of you lost ones, home.
when no mornings
follow nights
cities lie without their lights
little beasts root happily
children can live all their fears
   forests break
   mountains shake
then it’s time again

rockets roar with deadly freight
sharp explosions rock the night
   soldiers shoot
   graveyards bloom
it is war

when scrawny skeletons
creep through the streets
parents weep
dead bodies radiate
   new death
and crumpled shapes
   spread more disease
then it’s time again

the general orders strategic attacks
and watches how the metropolis cracks
   rivers stink
   battleships sink
it is war

when the bakers bake no more bread
when the butchers chop off their hands
when the doctors’ only prescription is death
   corpses float in the village pond
   and supermarkets stay closed
24 hours a day
then it’s time again

maybe the ultimate time
for the warriors to storm from their heights
to the valleys to lance and destroy
   they also **** women
   all children are dead
   the moon is all red
   the stars are so wan

   we are counting the corpses
   as long as we can

it is war
This verse was originally written in January 2003, three months before G. W. Bush's invasion of Iraq. The military saber rattling and hyped governmental rhetoric of the last week trigger bad memories......
I feel so uninspired

maybe because I’m tired
of all the nicely rhyming jingle
I’d rather wish that just a single
great thought or image would appear
of love or hate or lust or fear
unfold its plethora of riches

     no matter whether clowns or witches
     the sky  the stars the moon the sea
     and all the creatures there may be
     nature’s eternal universal charm
     the friendly dragon that means no harm
     fair maidens pining for their knights
     vampires haunting stormy nights
     fairies benign and leprechauns
     protecting all the loved ones

so that my lines be generally admired

alas, I still feel uninspired…
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