Copyright © 2006 by Jose L. Frausto. The book author retains sole copyright to his contributions to this book.
writing
36 haiku on suicide and the disappearing pond. p.4
36 haiku on suicide and the disappearing pond.
the wheels rotating
then going out of control
stampeding the rest.
stampeding the rest,
over the rest of the world.
too late to stop now.
to late to stop now,
this is how it’s always been.
no one changes things.
no one changes things
because either no one cares
or has enough time.
or has enough time,
so that all that is known is
never really known.
never really known,
everyone’s a shadow
quickly passing by.
quickly passing by
no one is meant to stay long
cherishing people.
cherishing people
offers temporary hope and
and optimism.
and optimism
matters little when cup is
completely empty.
02.03-12.20.04.
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36 haiku on suicide and the disappearing pond. p.3
36 haiku on suicide and the disappearing pond. p.3
a message sent in,
an alien satellite
requesting return.
requesting return
to an island to escape
to rest my tired bones.
to rest my tired bones,
remove this feeling of pain
to be left alone.
to be left alone,
an opening universe
awaits by the dark.
awaits by the dark,
silent whisper of murder
calling dreams to rest.
calling dreams to rest
so that consciousness can rest
with eternity.
with eternity,
one should always roam and not
amongst the simple.
amongst the simple,
the burden becomes too great
till nothing matters.
till nothing matters
and burnt out like a candle,
the wheels rotating.
02.03-12.20.04.
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36 haiku on suicide and the disappearing pond. p.2
36 haiku on suicide and the disappearing pond. p.2
and pulls the trigger,
scraping off time’s memory,
peeling mental scabs.
peeling mental scabs,
red begins to overflow-
pain all in my head.
pain all in my head,
creates chaos, confusion
when asked, why i choose.
when asked, why i choose
to live apart? i reply,
to keep myself sane.
to keep myself sane,
some secrets can’t be revealed.
how much can one share?
how much can one share
before feeling invaded?
please, just let me leave.
please, just let me leave,
fading energy rising
desire to give up.
desire to give up
and a need for migration,
returning to space.
returning to space
towards a feeling of home-
a message sent in.
02.03-12.20.04.
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36 haiku on suicide and the disappearing pond. p.I
36 haiku on suicide and the disappearing pond.
just needed some space-
it was getting too stuffy,
and i couldn’t breathe.
and i couldn’t breathe,
an intellectual’s dream
while reading nietzsche.
while reading nietzche
and exploring jean-paul sartre,
sank into a void.
sank into a void,
all surrounded by darkness,
i wanted to die.
i wanted to die,
but thought that that would be rude,
so stayed for a while.
so stayed for a while,
and all things became unclear.
who murdered nature?
who murdered nature
or the original state?
now, how should i be?
now, how should i be?
these blank stares aiming at me,
shooting off weapons.
shooting off weapons,
blood spreads all over this space
and pulls the trigger.
02.03-12.20.04.
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blank.
blank.
i’m not the only one
weapon of,
dedicated to,
in the name of the
_____________blank.
but not in my
name of the
_____________blank.
check the i.d.
i’m not the only one,
anonymous,
often lost amongst the mist
a
_____________blank
message w/out sender.
no one remembers my
_____________blank.
_____________blank, _____________blank, _____________blank
when the gun went off
into the sky.
i’m not the only one,
_____________blank,
anonymous.
i’m not the only one,
_____________blank,
anonymous.
_____________blank,
anonymous.
10.24.05.
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left.
left.
we are writing the wor(l)d backwards.
welcome to the final seconds of existence.
when we wake up, we fall down and crash.
we will draw ourselves away on blank pieces of paper.
09.27.05.
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lefty.
lefty.
left handed piece for the broken right.
go in reverse.
go in reverse
to curse the verse.
which is worse,
we are stuck
here on earth
w/ out wings to fly,
or an imagination
to escape.
so i start asking questions,
and then my brain starts
to wander off
into the night
cause this is just a
left handed piece for the broken right.
and i’m not afraid to dream.
and i’m not afraid to sleep.
left handed piece for the broken right
cause i am not like you.
yes,
we will all just become
someone else’s memories,
but so then tell me
what were we before?
(because what is
the standard of reality?)
please, an island.
find me an island
to wander off
into the night.
cause this is just a
left handed piece for the broken right.
we sing our songs
to remember the worlds
inside of our minds.
how i hope
that this wasn’t for real,
but i fear that it is.
the universe scattered fragments
of which we are all pieces of
which don’t make sense,
so why not then
just go.
go in reverse. go in reverse.
and what is worse
feeling cursed
like we are stuck
here on earth
w/ out (any) wings to fly,
or an
imagination
to escape.
so i start asking questions,
and then my brain starts
to wander off
into the night
cause this is just a
left handed piece for the broken right.
07.05.
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i’m sorry my dear.
i’m sorry my dear.
my move
-ments
in mo-
ments
lose
pur(r)-
pose [lik(e) a
mo-
del’s smile].
i am trying
(that’s my ex
-cuse)
2b sin
-cere, but all
the noise and the
static of things
keep creep
-ing in.
i’ve often wandered.
i’ve often wondered
how 1 does it
? s)tick(s 2 1’s
princ
-i-
ples. please
my dear,
i am sorry.
4 not k(no)wing
how 2b a
hu- (or)
man
be)ing.
please my dear,
hand me a copy
of the set of
instructions
on how 2b a
hu- morless
be(ing.
01.09.05.
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existentialist moment.
existentialist moment.
be boy.
be girl.
be good. be good.
i’m so afraid of making mis/takes,
of falling
short of what’s expected-
what i’m expecting from
the world.
because beauty
is
bountiful, but barriers border,
therefore impeding
being. being babbling backward babylon’s
ancient rhetoric
banishing balance, but banking
on the people’s brand of ignorance,
lack of free will,
and our plain idleness.
barbaric bohemian baptisms bankrupt before bailing
out
brainwashed barbed bantlings breaking 2 beats.
when will our existentialist moment come?
when will our existentialist moment come?
b boy. boy just b. b boy. boy just b.
when will our existentialist moment come?
when will our existentialist moment come?
i’m not on a different planet
and i 2 need oxygen (o) 2 breathe.
“please, share your air (h2o) with me/eeee!”
is what the children will plead
on the $treet$ from the rich.
and i’m not a communi$t,
but
mostly, i just want to
be,
mostly, i just want to, mostly,
i just want.
when will our existentialist moment come?
when will our existentialist moment come?
this is not a dream.
you are al/one in the quest for self.
no one cares much about u as u,
but we are
not alone
because we all
share the planet,
and we all need oxygen to breathe.
when will our existentialist moment come?
when will our existentialist moment come?
12.02.04.
UP!::urban po'E.Tree(s) 