Thursday, 24 March 2016

poetic fragments op.42

Pink noise

The galaxy deeply in my ears
Revolving like crazy.
Penetrated by the monotone sound,
I’m lost in a maze.
I lose my grasp
On this place.

At a crossroads in the maze,
Planting a flag saying,
“The charity for the recovery from the Great East Japan Earthquake,”
An old man edging a knife.

The sound sounds nice
for the ears of the galaxy.
He eagerly growling,

Achime ohhhhhhhh oke
Achime ohhhhhhhh oke


The old man sharpening a knife.
By its silver blade edge,
With his conjuration
I get an urge to be pronged.

Yet God already died,
So the emperor probably died too.


You react to the same sound. It’s called pink noise.

Pink noise:
A really pretty name.
My galaxy so cruel
That hearing the silver voice
never comes to good things;
Getting horny to rain, having a hatred for snow

Eager for the water of Sega well, Sega well.

Don’t drink only water so much.

The old man has dived suddenly
To a train of Shinkeisei line.
He mimics the dead under it.

A young station staff
Chastises him fiercely
With his loud voice as if reaching another world
Everything has already indeed
Reached this world, I suppose…

Aishi aishi

Now I remember,
A long time has passed
Since I was called my name lastly from my dead father.
This time,
I call your name
Light, sea
Women named so.

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