Kusa’s English Poems
Fruity
it was hidden in my hands behind,
the shape of a fruit
if you don’t know
you won’t know
it had been a long long time,
the pollination of a fruit
who once talked about the love?
it's a dead bee
now I give it to you,
the frosting on a fruit
first exposed
first rot
please eat at once
all my fruity time
or as the waste of a fruit,
let it be fruitless
Ajar
open the door
with a certain angle
the light on a running train
is sneaking off
if you are like me
who refuse to follow
we can founder
on a little pebble
then close ourselves
and hide in an envelope
in the flight of refugees
we swap our stamps
In Poetry
a map, no road
a land, stateless
a novel, deserted
a phone, flying always
a backpack, unopenable
a calendar, lack of date
anytime
someway
Political Correctness
I had a pedantic illness
I had colored eyes
I should’ve cut off the prejudice in my brain
I should’ve been treated for my heterosexuality
my pagans went on the march
they forced me to burn my scriptures
my unwellness was a complication
my treatment was in the community
a group of patients was rioting
a group of doctors was proving
I was taken all the placebos
I was cured by them, feignedly
It Be
instructors wave a flag of concept
trying to guide our life
performers play a game of concept
trying to blur the paradigm
concepts are well done
the show must go on
finally detonated by rebels
the conflict break the fourth wall
policemen never ask
scholars wear masks
the poet starts to busk
a refugee steals my brass