My Neighbourhood’s Ecstasy

26 June 2009

Raindrops, tip, tap, tip,
smuggle bliss through this old coat -
laughing to the coulds.


I have lied today
just 108 times –
covered by the path.


The chrysanthemum
does not know the way poor leaves
shudder in the wind.


Here, too, somewhere,
hidden by the big, grey blocks,
the nightingale's song.


* * * * * * * * * * * * * *


I live like a nun,
my woods now, these bamboo blinds –
bliss visits here, too.


I do not miss now
the mountain, any longer –
concrete feels the same.


The void slips softly
into my brain, down the spine –
where to go, then, now?


Pure ecstasy,
this wind, tuning up my nerves
to reality.


My brother abuse
and my sister corruption –
two laughs, one humour.


My weapons are lost,
buried by him, who always
moves lower than me.


Scared once again,
when they got to see beauty
with no mask of taint.


The chrysanthemum
swirling on top of her head –
petals or soft roots?


What beauty is this,
willing to show no mercy
to my last poor thoughts?


Organic freedom –
moss or staircase, my soles
enjoy just the same.


When I’ve lied that day,
losing goodness, I’ve also
lost identity.


Today we caught hold
of the solitary bliss,
unknown wanderer.


When mother rainbow
visited the sky, sister
thunderbolt kept still.