Once you know
You can’t actually make it right
You sit in that
At first you think
Yep
This’ll kill me
But
It doesn’t
How bizarre
Wholly unexpected
Stewing in it
This ridiculous wrongness
Waiting
Then
Suddenly you’re watching yourself
From outside
And….wow
You’re ok
Clearheaded
You can see
Really see
This action I choose
It’s the best available
I can’t make it right
Not this time
And
That’s alright
I don’t hate me for that
This is a taste of freedom
Taking lines from H. P. Lovecraft’s Fungi from Yuggoth sequence, I put them through The Interactive Haiku Generator. I then took the mangled results, and macheted them into a variety of haiku forms (See 65 Haiku Rules).
Beneath blackened boughs reeking quays – the peals gathered
great wailing branches
All religions, arts and sciences are branches of the same tree. All these aspirations are directed toward ennobling man’s life, lifting it from the sphere of mere physical existence and leading the individual towards freedom.
it's not - it can't be
yet somehow is
we laugh but shy, as if someone adult
might take it from us -
the moon perhaps, though she's allied
to lovers, traditionally - or some lurker,
hedged, patient, primed to spring
we both carry that fear bonewise,
running the body's rivers
seared in the deep red meat of us
how even if we get this moment that's not
but somehow is, somehow it isn't,
and won't, can't, mustn't be, or ever have been
they talk about their
journey's - gentle, enriching,
vastly fulfilling epics -
i've taken back roads
skirting bloody accidents,
animal attacks, sinkholes,
unexplained blazes
surprise meteorite strikes,
cold false dawn after false dawn,
failed and successful
rebellions, riots, warfare
open and guerilla, all
to get nowhere slow