Short Crisscrossed Poems

Crisscrossed 
your cat's eye
and I pray
you anesthetize me
Now.

Before I speak
Up and stumble
onto this
ridiculousness.

Far fetched and
grotesque is this
self-afflicted
ignominy.

Dismissal, readiness
without a backpack....

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Crisscrossed stitches,
Lusting the needles thread,
Caressing the distance,
Between the living dead.
Hand in hand,
Lips to lips,
Time sings candles,
Drip drop drip.
These sticks move in silence,
In there circle of malice,
Counting the numbers,
Verbs and nouns so callous....

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Wonderful unique sunrise
Above the misty vale
Clouds of magenta lie
Crisscrossed like a veil

Fanbrushed sand and whispy
Clouds adorn pale blue skies
As horizon turns to purple
Right before my sleepy eyes

Silhouetted trees stand
Limbs raised praising God
We should learn from them
Each moment praise as plod...

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"Clean shaven memories remain
stuck in silence waiting to scream"

Voices sing out in adulation
inflections bending an ear
float me off   to be
lit eye interior arranged
to be blown away 
with heavenly wings

Candlelit flickers imagine 
soft breeze kisses  await
crisscrossed oceans and moonbeams 
aired along whispered dreams
folded up neatly
cascading my way...

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Blind discontent bets
    on favor of the gods
Nondirected energy ricochets
     back to the source and
tears apart

Dreadful vengeance bows
     to your bidding
     with pocket foggy
retribution

Roll over crisscrossed rage as
     aluminum pop tops tinkle
     on shaved black head
ebony living statue testifies

You did not pay attention.
      Hope left long ago on wings
       of the moment....

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Tailors’ quaint imagination 
For customers adoration:
Only-God-knows inspiration 
He knows time of expiration: 
The crisscrossed and zigzagged entire, 
As they are what eyes require,
Bejeweled Hat like spire 
Who in Man ideas inspire?

One long look at Men’s Attire 
You know it would them not tire;
Man would not from farce retire 
On writers urging satire…

Tailors, gross imagination
From machines a machination....

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at high noon came the typhoon;
storm clouds, crisscrossed 
by zigzagging sparks of lightning,
cracked and burst 
as thunder roared
ominously.


rain gushed down in torrents
and, like furious waterfalls,
hit everything, anything below,
soaking the earth,
drenching all 
thoroughly.


after a while, it was gone;
in the fresh stillness,
wet greenery glistened in the sun,
insects frolicked free,
pleased, grateful,
delirious....

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Flicking
Like a snake’s tongue
Out and in
Long scars
From under the loose cuffs of her long sleeves
No matter the sultry summer day
Crisscrossed up and down
The banana skin of her underarms
Raw shiny and tiny stained like tomato kisses
Smeared and left from the lips
Of her childhood Barbie
Sitting propped and prepped
Cross-legged
At a miniature set dinner table
Of delectable plastic
Fruits and cakes
Shrimp and fillet
Waiting forever for her Ken....

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Through murky waters
a manatee sees me;
brave he is,
but knows not 
my kind
or does,
has shouldered mine,
the reckless,
careless.

I look down at wet feet
planning escape from
eyes that yank 
shame from me. 
I am the species
juggernaut
and he, a refugee,
gliding back and forth
alongside a slippery dock,
his back a revelation of 
crisscrossed shapes

he needs me to see.

And when I whisper
'Will you be here tomorrow'
he answers, 'you tell me.'...

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The Oracle spoke in tongues
Of crisscrossed words reversed in a pattern
Percolated in the minds to be given to lungs
Then tossed to the winds like a light to the lantern

Giving out hope for each to carry out
A new day that torched in their voices
While the words that did sway and melted all doubt
Meant all they could say or impart in their choices

A time when tribes and clans joined to make great their cause
But forgetting the reason for all the applause!...

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Author:  Chen Runping

He came up from the main road
While ahead watching numerous footpaths in the field,
Crisscrossed as a web.
He paced up and down in the web
And his thickly dotted footprints
Filled up the grid meshes
One by one.
Hardly can he
Walked through the web
And still paced up and down.
watching the years gone like river water
He has already had scales on his body
While his hands and feet retrograded into fins
And downstream
With which he struck violently and 
Lost...

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