A Life Rolled in Haiku

Stage 1

whimpers, mother’s voice;

is the world, in truth, so good

—just milk and potty?

perhaps i’m still blind

my ears can hear but a sound

i can tell nothing

Stage 2

let me play a game

a simple game, not your crap,

—reason defying

toys and all playthings

are only we wish we have;

you shape us with guns

Stage 3

why should I follow

your deeds and dreams so hollow?

i have my credo.

guns and goons galore

does the pen have more power?

reality sucks.

Stage 4

teenage dreams are done

if not for my killer crush

what has life for me?

the government kills

why is the world so fucked up?

smoke and take a rest

Stage 5

the joke is on me

gunshots have become berceuse;

backache and lost dreams

once upon a time

i was unsure about life;

what happiness is

Stage 6

in the pale blue dot

besot with skepticism

drink rum as potion.

will this be the end

with life with a wife and kids?

too old to muse on

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T H E   E N D

they fight for free speech

we battle for life and death

the art of protest

death has come to stay

while i fail to see what lies 

beyond bleary eyes

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