the tortoise-shaped cloud
as tall as a skyscraper
and a half as wide
floats slowly across blue sky
with no hare-shaped cloud to race
patchy cloudy sky
with shapely stories to tell
hare-brained ideas
and the tortoise will always
slowly and steadily win
Levity, leveret
Too phony, coney
Bucks for the buck
And dough to see doe
Hare-brained, hilarious
Rabbit died laughing
That’s funny, bunny
The kittens will grow
You don’t know jack, rabbit
We’re in high cotton
Hightail it out of here
Peter, you know
Toss in the pepper
You got hassenpfeffer
Throw in a carrot
That’s Bugs’ old show
the smell of her perfume is still in the air
internal rolling hills with large stones give me blue relief
it has been a few weeks and i am still on the sharp edge of last night
melted snow falls from the sun's red eyes in the sky
my pain worsens, and i know that i have just been fired several run on sentences ago
i am a victim of the hypocrisy of my own advice to previous hypocrites
nothing has been moved but the obtuse angle of my broken heart
i try to move, but the oil to the tin is defiant like hypothermia taking directions
i pray for her to come back, but only the devil answers
attention provides her book of directions on wilted late bloomer time
now the smell of her perfume is like poisonous furies singing teasingly to the smart part of my brain
all i write now right now are poems devoid of solid rhythm
my existence is nothing but a vapor far removed from former glory
i now have a life sentence at a snail's pace with the tortoise winning at hare brained speed
i slide down black hill mountain......white is the bloody fire of regret and shame
Yes indeed, I am maestro and mistress of Hare-Brained Town.
I can probably out-absurd you backwards and upside down.
My fatuous foolishness is deemed crazy by some, possibly most.
This will be taught to you in fury, as I am your elaborate host.
What was senseless and silly a second or two in your life,
Will make you dance a happy coal-fire-dance on top of a knife.
I will open your dendrites, get them to slide up and laugh.
Leave your tired ideas at home with your dull stuffed giraffe.
I am not good with posers, so lend me your dreams and your heart.
Sharing your most cleverly hidden secrets, will be the best place to start.
You can be mayor, queen, or puma mascot of Hare-brained Town.
We will start with whack-a-doodle-spinning until we both fall down.
SILENT STREAMS
Silent streams resonate yesterdays
puddles
while we discount that our lives are
packed with lunatic
floods
let’s talk of strawberries that are
tasteful and succulently
arduous
We are as gentle as the storms
eye
as mild as a quiet hare-brained
crazy mad-capped
fire
we whisper that our universe
and splendour can never
expire
©Kim van Breda— 23 June 2014
WHO AM I
Who am I anyway; a hare-brained mongrel?
A tree lightning struck on sedate shores?
Deadwood burnt lying in the grave of forgetting?
A firefly turned into scorching torch?
Or thunder challenged screaming at the lightning?
Today I am in the sky where a red sword
From a swarthy ocean furiously flashed
Between blasting billows of earth’s passion
Am I not my friend fearing this sword-thrust
Into this far sky coalescing into
My black blood’s steady vermillion whisper
Where is the truth that deliquesces not
At my patient inquest into this burn
Its never healing itch and identity
The rain soaked bird and its song is sunk
The river is in flood, my thirst is but quenched
I strain to break through my birth-bonding skeins
By S.Jagathsimhan Nair
Date: Written about 20 years back
For Gautami Phookan's contest
I
to remain sane
to help evolve
hare- brained
and who says
the hare has an inferior brain
for the snow
that fell on trees we did not know
then
idols march
while we watch
people tie laces
she had braces
I gave her vanilla
while stars exploded
into brazen quilts
I touched them
with my malignant wand
and now the chrysanthemums wilt
in the heat that melts windshields
while we hold
mountains in our encrusted hands
II
and then the dusting
of yesterday’s socks
flocks of cloud run away
even as I honk
funny music falls
into a gas station
tea shop
terrace of rice
even here there is vice
look at the moon
eaten away with disease
look at the wars that stars
fight in headlight
look at your fingers
inch into the withered ice
just so they can be wise