Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 102nd. week vol. 1

With no umbrella, a woman for others (not for me), you I’ll meet.
Lost your tongue, to eat mushrooms, your chin falls down.
At a parting scene, to weep, all one have to do is.
A reason for concern I have though, cannot relieve or scatter, dawn comes and rains it.
To count on my fingers, before my holidays come, it’s my hand-job.

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2014年03月26日

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 101st. week vol. 2

A one only pretends not to know, of the Mercy Goddess who has eleven faces.
Well done it is, child on my shoulder, who has no mouth.
To melt and to make itself poison, a snake in his bosom, to have a harmful result for a snake.
The universe from a shell, spitting sand out day by day, of her dream.
With an arrow wheel, not to go anywhere, to stay by windsock. Or, with an arrow wheel, not to go anywhere, to blow and to float down on the water.

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Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 101st. week vol. 1

In the films, all of eight women, called as Anna. Or, in the films, all of eight women, Mina and Anna.
At dawn, a laugh floating, by Aka Manto.
On the journey in eternity, not to dust returnest, to bury at universe.
To cremate, a woman only left, at a desert island. Or, to cremate, the lonely woman for us, at a desert island.
A cat is immortal, it is sure never die it will, Fujiko Mine called as. (In Japanese, Fujiko Mine is the anagram of Neko Fujimi, it means an immortal cat.)

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2014年03月19日

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 100th. week vol.2

On the edge of the moon, to remember you by, a piece of rust there is.
Heavy oil floating, her little finger of the widow, feeding to sharks.
Cendrillon dares, beside a nuclear reactor, to get warm.
An Ama, Japanese woman diver landed, her collarbones have wet, it tastes water.
Sexual is also desire, either hand‐rolled sushis or mahjong tiles, to be get by same fingers. Or, how good colours they are, either hand‐rolled sushis or mahjong tiles, to be get by same fingers. Otherwise, for a sweetheart useful they are, either hand‐rolled sushis or mahjong tiles, to be get by same fingers.

posted =oyo= : 06:08 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 100th. week vol. 1

To come out of mourning, the time has come to turn the lights off, at the nightless city.
Of a passion flower, clock mainspring has cracked open, and a whip yields.
A hero for the novel, to be left not to be born, incomplete.
If you are the man, to get the virgin records, here’s the sex pistols.
The legs spinning by, morning glory, the well-bucket twisted.

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2014年03月12日

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 99th. week vol. 3

A flowers from an illusion, blooming the time has come, the fool says.
For a substitute of this spring, of the clown, coming off his nose, into the eye. Or, for a substitute of this spring, of the clown, coming off his nose, as a bud.
From this mortal coil, flowing and in high spirits, and her body jumping off. Or, from this mortal coil, flowing and in high spirits, only I can be.
To put down a stone for which being used to place the body in a coffin, at the funeral for my father. only I laugh.
Being plastered to, a toe getting wet with, having a taste of honey. Or, being plastered to, a toe getting wet with, honey on her leg.

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Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 99th. week vol. 2

Since that day, the sounds of tap water, to agree I heard. Or, since that day, the sounds of tap water, from the ducts I heard.
Scissors in the hand, of which in the inner part, an eye watches.
Those who you called, he waves in the wind, a bad company does.
Chasin’ her ball, and to go missing, the frog were.
Her tide is down, being left to dirty the tops of her feet.

posted =oyo= : 09:03 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 99th. week vol. 1

Begging for another five minutes, five minutes it takes, five minutes have still passed.
Of a snail, agony can’t understand, Remi “Sans famille” does. Or, of a snail, agony can’t understand, a child who cannot speak does.
Just mother and her child, it’s me, a bruise also I have.
All day long at spring it is, to string out (records of) sonata, scores of people are there.
Over and over again, piled up films of her portraits, to be dyed in black.

posted =oyo= : 09:01 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

2014年03月05日

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 98th. week vol. 3

Over thirty years old, heard Japanese bush warbler call, I know Japanese apricot was there. Or, across the thirtieth street, heard Japanese bush warbler call, it told me to have a baby.
On a tryst is it, around a solitary pine tree, turn turn and turn seven times.
On July, no water, no god. Or, having a card of July, but no cards of June and October.
To a disjoin, the Japanese god standing at streets, put on a red clothes, Saint Nicolas looked on.
A swallow first appearance in this season, of the clothes line, sweeps under. Or, a wallow first appearance in this season, the edge of his sword Bisen-Nagahune-Osamitsu called as Monogoshizao by Sasaki Kojiro, escapes from brilliantly.

posted =oyo= : 08:07 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 98th. week vol. 2

Of jika-tabis Japanese working boots, to grasp kohaze metal tab closures on them, 27.5cm it’s long.
In a shroud, a spotted shad on sushi filled my mouth, to have arrived at Hanzomon Sta.
To be seen through, skin of a girl, translucent can be seen.
I must dream, hardly to hold if I want to do, no bones in her.
The stomach is full, even a muddy heel, a mouth and a tongue never lick on.

posted =oyo= : 08:05 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 98th. week vol. 1

To hide under leaves, paint the body green, a raccoon dog does. Or, to read “Hagakure : The Book Of Samurai”, paint the body green, a raccoon dog does.
Into round slices the body cut off, bends and grins like, of The Cheshire Cat.
Be mortified, to chew an umeboshi, and blow my nose.
Beretta 92, to treat as for women, and insult.
Big noise comin’, on my deathbed, the sounds I want to hear.

posted =oyo= : 08:03 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

2014年02月26日

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 97th. week vol. 3

A bass string, howling, in sorrow you’ll become, in greasy sweat.
Going on a trip, left it empty, a feeding bottle is there.
Meeting with three wise monkeys, at an unwillingly park, we have a good chance. Or, Meeting with three wise monkeys, and to join No-No monkey, is there five?
To cut the wind, as a bookmark my knife is, on the last chapter.
On my knees, a woman crying, volume of her behind.

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Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 97th. week vol. 2

By my sugar boy, on the Bellows, a rice cracker seasoned with soy sauce eaten.
Playing piano, by heel kicking I hear, the beat from is black.
At first a girl for, and the last of all, die you should.
Wimpy we are, we're so pretty, we're vacant.
A gag on her, taking off as soon as, spurts it.

posted =oyo= : 05:50 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 97th. week vol. 1

“You bastard!”, you can only do to bluster about, because you have no-face.
On the remaining snow, too painful to take a long walk off a short pier, it must be.
At Toronto, Dorompa to Roppa, calling out mahjong.
Those who are frighten, just only one thing about, speak louder than.
Kibi-dango, being scattered and confused, blowin’ by wind.

posted =oyo= : 05:48 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

2014年02月19日

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 96th. week vol. 3

“A bitch you are!”, blaming a woman by, her carelessness she does.
By his stammering, to response and sway, soap bubbles does.
Hey Hokusai, thighs you need as much as octopuses you have.
Of the receipts, to get the wrinkles out, the end of the fiscal year it comes.
On the velvet, in her mouth to hold and blow a vidro.

posted =oyo= : 05:55 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 96th. week vol. 2

Her fingernails have grown out, to bite them instead of using a nail clipper, and sharpen by my tongue.
On my half‐drunk, to spill sake from Japanese tea-cup, for playing cee-lo Japanese dice game. Or, because of my half-drunk, spilling sake from my Japanese tea-cup, like dices jump out on playing cee-lo.
How about “Fin de siecle”, don’t worry about, to fly a kite drawn by Yoshitoshi. Or, in your “Fin de siecle”, where the wind’s blowin’, a kite drawn by Yoshitoshi.
All night long, nothing to do with each other, to get bored with their marriage.
On my shoulder, by your heel, dirty to me. Or, on my shoulder, by your heel, a disgrace to me.

posted =oyo= : 05:53 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 96th. week vol. 1

To make him take to feeding, rubber for a license, on a neck of the wild goose.
Having her a period, a dick makes fun ofs her, and put a red seal on.
Of creeping rockfoil, being buried to see, under an overhead wire.
Crying like a kitty, the two in a chest, pee they need.
An eye on a shoji door, a girl comes untied the obi on her kimono as soon as, an akoya pearl oyster is there.

posted =oyo= : 05:51 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

2014年02月12日

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 95th. week vol. 3

To draw wrong, one of the continents, firstly there isn’t.
Kuniyoshi drew a holdup with a thread-sail filefish, under rose of sharon.
With a pair of sewing shears, her eyes closed each other and become a mono-eye, to cut her hairs straight fringe.
Something to eat going to bed and shut-up, my tits how should do to.
To say “Come on baby, light my fire”, how about to sell yourself, the little match girl don’t you.

posted =oyo= : 05:51 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 95th. week vol. 2

Nitroglycerin I have, to sento Japanese communal bath house on my going snow falling, at the risk of my life. Or, nitroglycerin I have, in battle snow falling, at the risk of my life.
At the shore of Tagonoura, Hedoron, the sludge monster was floating, the times we have.
Be piled up high, and made a spiral as mountain, in Showa period it was. Or, to make a whirlpool up high, and piled up it, in Showa period it was.
“Des violons De l’automne”, to sock away, into a piggy bank.
On thin ice, to order to martial law, snow falls. Or, because of none of the above, to order to martial law, snow falls.

posted =oyo= : 05:49 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 95th. week vol. 1

“Still more”, you have already say, for your vice. Or, “Still more”, you have already say, despite being you.
With long green onions, a gun makes appearance from the plastic shopping bag.
The robber was also asked by the shopkeeper, how many chopsticks you needed.
To the pair of compasses, get lost, to make someone to tell.
Before the dawn, the same name as my mother’s, a spam mail it’s may be.

posted =oyo= : 05:47 | comment (0) | trackBack (0)