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

2012年08月22日

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 18th. week vol. 2

Make him putting on a diaper, hit with a whip the ignorant, Mutsu no Kami, the governor for the land of Mutsu.
On a night of April, running over my pussycat, the tongue of a dog. Or, under the obscene moon, running over my pussycat, the tongue of a dog.
When I wind the watch, like a clockwork, Immanuel Kant goes. Or, when I wind the machine, like a clockwork, a cunt wets.
From the building fire breaks out, for the endless of this summer, an indication it is.
To the back of water, a ladle as a offering of flowers, the woman throws (to call the ghost who was drowned and will be drowned by him).

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 11:51 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 18th. week vol. 1

From the lunch a packed, the broth dropped off, the Rising Sun Flag you can see.
Flying like dancing, in the room where the sunshine of the sunset are coming, a butterfly made from my hands.
To a tongue from another, a suspension bridge is bending, of which made from saliva.
Itumade, the monster which crying to appeal how long a corpse is left here, so now at its feet, a few corpses are there.
From your back, putting my chin on your clavicle, of what view I can see. Or, from your back, putting my chin on your clavicle, I wonder how you can feel.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 11:48 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

2012年08月15日

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 17th. week vol. 2

By high waves in high summer, is gotten loose her straggling hair, so with only half her mind listening to.
A nightmare is getting on. my heartbeat becomes faster and stronger, but my heart is pretty vacant.
An exile have exiled, on four fingers each of the hands, "love" and "hate" are there.
A shadow I find, it hangs around there, flows sweat as one line.
The weight of your thigh, knows my left side.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 11:14 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 17th. week vol. 1

For an hors d'oeuvre, of my adulterous partner, an eggplant in autumn I'll eat.
Where my mother and father are there, looking for to be at a loss, I find a guillotined head on public display. Or, Where my mother and father are there, looking for to be at a loss, punished a guillotined head on public display, I am.
Be injured in this summer, finish to slurp the pus by the crimson lips.
Like algae, inviting by her arms, of Ophelia.
When offering of flowers fall, vermilion on the toenails, a dreaming a secchin from the novel "Yapou, betail humain" dreams of.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 11:12 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

2012年08月08日

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 16th. week

In a muddy place, giving myself up to, like an sleeping lungfish.
Either a sudden-death round or a game of chicken, I wonder which is suitable for me?
Have you sunburn? the girl in a school swimsuit and my "petite mort."
So, stripping yourself to the waist, for a landscape in the summer, put on vermilion by brush.
Two Monks come and go the very narrow passage. Or, two Monks come and go between her pussy and anal.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 23:19 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

2012年08月01日

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 15th. week

At the beach house, I wonder where is "Komata" in the woman's body.
Hold between her teeth, an end of the handkerchief as a sunshade putting on her head, there she is.
Showing the stomachs, also striped mosquitos have taken a nap, an extremely hot day it is.
On the first Festival of the Dead after his death, there is the eggplant, which is sticked four toothpicks as four legs and is standing as a horse for the spirit ridding on, and sap from the eggplant flows on the one of the toothpicks.
On your soft fair skin, a ripe tomato smells like a taste of honey.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 04:52 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

2012年07月25日

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 14th. week vol. 3

The chin straps of the baton twirlers make the sounds clatter.
To make love with you, I'll blow salt water on your wales.
All of the things which I get ..., blowing his horn, like Lupin the Third says.
To keep my occupied, reading the book "How to work", after sleeping in my siesta.
When my tongue is crawling, remarks of your swimming wear, going and returning on your body.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 12:26 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 14th. week vol. 2

When I wake up, my body has been plugged in, I know.
In searching of Japanese rice fish, Miguel Chijiwa and a travelers' guardian deity, I met.
Put in a metal basin, the National Diet Building, to soak and wash.
Into the tea kept overnight, dip a salted salmon, and will drink it, you won't?
To be peevish, beating futons, Japanese bedclothes, how slovenly she is.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 12:26 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 14th. week vol. 1

In Doyo no Ushi, the dog day of summer, from the basket used for carrying fish, which it crawled to get out off, so it was born under Capricorn.
Monday hits on my ass to remind me of everything making both ends meet.
In a sumo stable, has being at a loose end, Lord Cusco with his speculum there.
Being in a three cornered deadlock, he can only hold three of them in his mouth, playing mahjong. Or, being in a three cornered deadlock, they take somebody into the triangle and make their circle, and four of them play mahjong.
Bathing in this morning, I feel like having finished my business on today.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 12:24 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

2012年07月18日

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 13th. week vol. 3

With unwarmed sake, an women shampoowashing her hair, a few of teeth on her comb was broken.
In Koi-Koi (it also means comeon-comeon nor love-love), one of the hanahuda card game, it is a temptation for me, she is sitting with her knee drawn up so I can see her chemise is folded and ... .
Is it a mukaebi, a small fire lit at the gate of a house in the evening of the first day of the Bon Festival, walking with a masseuse, we've just drunken in the sunset.
The tongue of hers dares to reach my chin.
To say something over her shoulder, out of spite, born under Aquarius.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 10:27 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 13th. week vol. 2

To get rid of harshness, "Putting People's Lives First" he said.
Rura. Rure. Ru. Ruraru. Rurare. Ruru. Rurero.
As tears go by, I put a spell on you, irregular conjugationof a limited number of verbs ending in "ru".
For the abuse, to see how to get rid of harshness it is, the garbages is flitting.
Also the akaname, Japanese monster to come out at night to literally lick up the grime and dirt that accumulates in unclean bathrooms, must visit to the oiran, three times to make love with her.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 10:25 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 13th. week vol. 1

Being in black, excites our curiosity, her body made in specification for skeleton, a woman there is.
On her left cheek, getting a tear, like an arlequin she is.
When you put a plaster on, you should treat as a benchmark, a mole on the right shoulder.
When I asked the child who lost his way where he would go, he pointed from the universe.
On the nape of her neck, like wringing water out of, she is running with sweat.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 10:24 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

2012年07月11日

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 12th. week vol. 3

At the dry riverbed of the Sai, the Children's Limbo, count the numbers of the girls making love with, and try to heap up the same numbers of stones.
A smoky fire used to keep off mosquitoes we need. When I read a novel of gothic roman, I tear off my arm bloody.
In the school, there is the one of toilet stalls. which is sealed by a talisman.
By the cuckold girl, who is sleeping, of her pussy, the dawn here comes I wide awake all night.
The remain of the sunshine, in this night, the girl gets in her ecstasy three times. Or, 5 for 3 to 1, Histoire d'O.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 09:19 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 12th. week vol. 2

A toothpick hold between his teeth, In his siesta, there is.
An evening cicada sounds like sorrowing the end of summer.
A man live from hand to mouth has bought a drink for his dinner and shouted loud.
Be drunken and comes drizzling rain, inviting an streetwalker, stay all night long.
So, the rain is now coming down in earnest, I pretend as being caught as fish, and hop some bars.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 09:17 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 12th. week vol. 1

At the Shirotaya, a diner for cutlets on skewers, a bar hostess with her child brought tempura flour.
In every morning and in every evening, some dietary supplements by my hand, I toss as beanbags.
By jet lag, I'll eat lunch of mackerel in miso on a sultry day in mid‐summer.
Have no home to come back to, like Peter Schlemihls created by Adelbert von Chamisso, or Alien Pegassa from his dark zone.
By your side, warm beer in your beer mug, it is called as if it's unsophisticated.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 09:15 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

2012年07月04日

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 11th. week vol. 2

A bar at a blacksmith, as a thief at a fire, Mercurius here comes.
Is this "Les huit coups de l'horloge"? When eight bells toll, they find a corpse holding in the hand a rolling pin for making horse chestnut noodles. Maybe it was a scatterbrain in its lifetime.
My debt, I look back and up to, high diving I can see.
At an opium den, though my fingers touch a pussy.
Must be falling in love, because of devouring greedily, like a mantis.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 13:15 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 11th. week vol. 1

On a scratch of her chicken pox, she put a beauty spot.
There is the ferryman by the Styx, who carries on his back a few of stupas.
On the street, only a delivery man or a Tofu Kozou, Japanese monster, who brings tofus as appearing a young Buddhist monk, in a summer afternoon shower.
It's a night flight. if you mistake it for the Star of Bethlehem, off-season it is (you have a crazy idea).
Emerging in the forest, changing stillness to the chirring of cicadas in chorus like a shower, in this morning.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 13:15 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

2012年06月27日

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 10th. week vol. 3

How shrewd this maltese is! I'll pick up it's nose.
On the dawn, the something which has one arm and one leg (and has one eye) play hopscotch.
When this takasebune, the boat which transport criminals on the Takase river, come back, monks will be brought here, also today. (When this takasebune come back, they will get no fish, also today.)
In a river delta, is there an evening primrose like an pomelo?
On your areolas, I spread honey, a spring evening on my getting drunk.

composed by them.

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

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the the 10th. week vol. 2

There is a tale of a lizard, it has dried up completely because of run over by car, so cannot dance at all.
It tells an only way. There is the card "le Jugement XX". Everyone cannot faiter.
In boredom with you, on a Sunday, and a shower here comes.
Just joking, in spite of having no coffin, I stick my fang on your throat.
All of us forgot to drink water out of our hands from a road mirage in that summer.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 12:11 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the the 10th. week vol. 1

At the Outouki, the anniversary that celebrates author Dazai Osamu's birthday, and incidentally, the day his body was found after he was involved in a double suicide, there is no red string of fate connect us harder.
Even a falconer was bewildered by a rhamphorhynchus.
The lovers have smoldering quarrel with each other like an enraenra, Japanese monster, that is composed of smoke.
How her sobbing falls and overflows, muddy and drop by drop, it does!
If you mistake a feeding cup for something, it is undoubtedly your funeral ode.

composed by them.

posted =oyo= : 12:06 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

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