conceived and constructed by たいとしはる tai toshiharu
The Lion Sleeps Tonight

2015年04月08日

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 155th. week vol. 2

After to be left alone, to miss you, by the wind from a slit of windows.
What your name, at Yabura Street loose my footing, I wonder.
At the bottom of Shinjuku, your family temple is there, a flower for offering.
At Mamiana (the Soviet Russia embassy was used to be there), his bed room to rent, a big blood board does. Or, in the burrow of a raccoon dog, his bed room to rent, big weasel does.
You comb, after shaving on your underarm, spring has come.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 06:17 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 155th. week vol. 1

At the end of a line, through 100 generations 100 travellers passing, gademus they are.
On your eye, stroke to be coloured purple, and paint your cheek it.
Before my death, my half body to be torn, I miss.
A spoon for my coffee, to beat the beat, for getting tired out.
Just twenty she is, same numbers of her age, her fingers there was.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 06:15 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

2015年04月01日

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 154th. week vol. 2

Under martial law, how should do, to ask about cherry blossoms.
In the previous night, to flow as to say yes, fur there was.
What a coward you are, will be tomorrow discharged, to spread around.
Not to have used, two pillows and a waitress in a Japanese-style hotel, how should be.
Three goze there are, can't feel out the situation, cherry tree complains. Or, a goze I see, can't feel out the situation, to say cherry tree.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 12:04 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 154th. week vol. 1

To be listed, on the deck of the aircraft carrier, I slide down.
At the end of the rainy season in Japan, between camel's humps, to be covered in moss.
White Mahjong tiles and squid sashimi, to dip in soy sauce and vinegar.
At the edge of a pierce, of a fly, tattoo is there.
Of my little sister, to climb the upper arm of hers, two fingers of mine do.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 12:02 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

2015年03月25日

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 153rd. week

Playing Oicho-Kabu, with the lover of the pimp's wife.
To wait a cruising taxi, a woman holding her baggage, there is.
In the evening of this spring, to rest her head on a skull, a sleeping girl there. Or, to be drunken in the evening, to rest her head on a skull, a sleeping girl there.
To whisper for asking, playing with Hana Ichi Monme, to a person in a traffic sign.
To sound the death knell for, bells ring they are, to pedal an organ.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 10:08 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

2015年03月18日

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 152nd. week

On where raising the ground level, to take a pee, my being fated.
By my love, of in disposable shopping bag, same as weight.
My intestines, to turn over, and to dry out of direct sunlight.
And an ornamental hairpin, to lay on the grave, a chastity belt is there.
A pair of chopsticks is there, not to love me, my man's.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 09:35 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

2015年03月11日

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 151st. week

To close, the door behind you, with your smile on.
Being brought up with tender care in, beneath the back door, to play house.
On a tobacco tray, to snap guitar a string, at the first day.
To steal a kiss and have gone, a kamaitachi, Japanese dust devil does.
Not to go, an exorcist ,on her body to ride.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 10:00 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

2015年03月04日

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 150th. week

Their knees, to line up and hit, my profligate son does. Or, by his knee, to line up and hit gongs, my son does.
To get a boner, to pretend ignorance, for playing lucky laugh.
On a sunny spot, to be left out of them, spring has come.
Not to think deeply enough, to lick and lick her pen, to make a farewell call. Or, not to think deeply enough, to blow job, for love in her vacation.
Newspapers to cut up, and grill a squid, only having regrets about.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 08:50 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

2015年02月25日

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 149th. week vol. 2

To be taken in by your fast-talk, long time no see don' t you, on your rouge.
Lanterns, to pile up one after another, and to get in the pocket.
To tell a lie, also on today, somebody vomits.
So lonely, put down the moon, on the roof.
To fall head over heels and tumble to the ground, a tomica die-cast toy car turn and turn, red‐hot metal chopsticks stick.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 09:33 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 149th. week vol. 1

A low dining table, to pull over, in a beautiful spring day.
To say that's ok, over a half a day, at the airport we spend. Or, Eno's music this is to say, over a half a day, at the airport we spend.
Snowing in this Morning, good-looking but homeless.
A whale howls, to search for, a thermal airship flies.
On a tin roof, an egg rollin', for your love. Or, on a tin roof, an egg rollin', a yolk fallin' love.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 09:32 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

2015年02月18日

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 148th. week

To draw a net ashore, with a man who bed-hop, and with an woman who bed-hop.
On a pale cheek, to do being painted redness.
Sunset comes, at the end of a branch line, to be at a loss.
For a mutual‐aid association, two of women, to packed be in a casebox.
To give the challenge, Mercurian am I, it answers and there is.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 09:42 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

2015年02月11日

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 147th. week

A clapperboard, to cry and bum, a seven years old child does. Or, a clapperboard, to cry and bum, seven children do.
At "Der Lindenbaum", looking like maitreya very much, a hair ornament is there.
By a red light, whoever will die, drunken at this noon.
Under rubber sole, to think for yourself, what goes on.
At Hachioji, to have been bored looking for, Suzuki or Takahashi. Or, eight princes, to have been bored looking for, in pig's dung.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 09:12 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

2015年02月04日

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 146th. week

On my yawning it bursts into flame, snow falls at noon.
To go numb, by match no selling, setting it fire.
Of flesh-colored, crayons in the name, 14 or 15 there are.
Eyebrow to wipe off, in this morning, how quiet it is.
In Hollywood, jewels on her navel, to pick on. Or, To Hollywood, just the jewels, to pick up.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 09:29 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

2015年01月28日

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 145th. week vol. 2

In a ferris wheel, a giant mouse, running and running is.
For an outcast, one of long chopsticks has been broken. Or, to hold the nose, one of long chopsticks has been broken.
Having no money, how much to pick up, stray bullets are. Or, having no money, how much to pick up, loose pachinko balls.
At Kinosaki, to count up to aborted fetuses.
Flame in "Fahrenheit 451", to hold a karakasa an oil-paper umbrella with a bamboo frame, saying Adieu.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 12:27 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 145th. week vol. 1

A bomb thrown away into the wall.
Before having grown up to be, the face to be blushed, to change the sex on legal.
Without the hips, like an woman, to make fun of me. Or, to have no tensions, like an woman, to make fun of me.
A body by roadkill, from the lintel, to hang.
On the wind, flying far a way my wife, and mustard paste are.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 12:25 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

2015年01月21日

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 144th. week

At the bathroom, with a shadow of an woman, to be staggered by. Or, a bathing lord, with a shadow of an woman, to have an affair.
A man with a gentle nature, in the name of blues, like slapping hands in front of you. Or, a man with a gentle nature, not to call it blues, like slapping hands in front of you.
By the two of them, to rattle and rattle their dump car, sing the song "Soshunfu, Ode to Early Spring".
To make a call of condolence, what a killing someone's enthusiasm, a sound of the tubular bells.
"City Lights", regarded as tiny, Frank Zappa has.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 07:17 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

2015年01月14日

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 143th. week vol. 2

Around high buildings a strong wind blowing, a parabolic antenna flown', like a cloud.
On a wheelchair, rain falls, without an umbrella. Or, on a wheelchair, rain falls, with no enough volume for fit.
About your lips, other way to choice, steam bathing with mugwort.
On green colour, over the other green, and crimson put it on.
With join our hands, something out from the mouth slowly, the night of the Round Table.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 13:21 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 143rd. week vol. 1

The intestines become, breaking to pieces, an artificial flower in water blooms.
The boy put it on the tongue of his mortal enemy.
Two pillows on the bed, to the nan sitting next, and cutting nails.
Like to butter thickly, how the music scores are. Or, many butter tones on the music scores are written.
Your hairs, to fold and ticked inside the front of my kimono, and to go down a river.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 13:19 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

2015年01月07日

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 142nd. week

At Tenman Shinto Shrine, dancing and dancing, it falls. Or, at Tenman Shinto Shrine, Wodoro-wodoro Japanese monster, falls down.
Would you like doing again, for the world order, of re-construction.
Before a newly released, because of not having enough scale, sun drying films.
In the middle of the day, on a go board, cock-a-doodle-doo.
Four semibreves, on each bars to put, for cutting corners.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 10:12 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

2014年12月31日

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 141st. week

To take no notice, so being jealous, her orient clam on my bathtub. Or, my fragrance she smells at first, so being jealous, her orient clam on my bathtub.
To run out ourselves each other, to live as one, to play shell-matching game. At perch to mark in a water channel, to live as one, to play shell-matching game.
A extrasensory, in the sounds of violin, goes in the sky.
To put butter on, the other name of yours, surrealisme is. Or, to put butter on, the name of your legsput, surrealisme is.
On an intermission, sounds of beating wooden clappers, an letter for the warning comes.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 09:31 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

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