Here are ten of the tanka I wrote. These, I think, are the best in the pile of crap.
It is cold in here
I should have brought a jacket,
Or at least long pants.
I hope tomorrow is warm
Because don’t we live in hell?
The rain has started
But that is fine, I like it.
My hat keeps me warm
And I sit under cover
But still feeling a drizzle
Sometimes I wonder,
If there is another me
I wonder if his life sucks.
If not then I’ll get mad.
If so then I might smile.
Am I ever done?
Because it all seems endless
I guess when it ends,
I’ll sing another song.
But for now it is just so far.
My life is no show.
There is no plot of climax
Only an ending
Not even a good one
Reality is no show.
I am writing,
It’s poetry.
Tanka.
Would you read it?
No? That’s okay.
Anyone can write
It isn’t that hard.
Just a pen and paper
Making art?
Who cares?
Fifteen years of suck
So far, that has been my life.
It’ll get better
People always promise me.
I want to believe them.
Why do I feel blue?
Is there a reason for this?
Maybe it’s just life.
Or maybe it’s just my life.
Anyway, how are you?
The telephone rings.
But I don’t want to pickup.
I’ll just let if go.
Over and over again
Until I decide to die.
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