Plastic Lasts Forever

Little bits of plastic
In the shape of people
Are scattered around me
Their faces full of glee

A cat among toy dolls
Can leisure contently
If only real people
Would spend their life like this

Translator's Note: I believe his photo does a better job than the poem to display his disgust with "real" people.  He's been a sour puss for a few months.

Cat In the Corn

If you build it, a river will wash it away
If you want to rebuild it, a crisis will delay it

They used to all drink down the syrup
And now they prefer to put it in their cars

One company patents a multipurpose bean
One bean arouses the emotions of millions

There is a farmhouse with its miserable couple
And now here I am, the new cat in the corn

Translator's Note: Obvious thoughts on and impressions of Iowa.

Breezes

She sneezes
as she pleases
on colby cheeses.

Translator's note: I just don't know.

The Martians

The martians
They are made of wood
The martians
They have been here for a while
The martians
They will be leaving us shortly

The martians
They are the trees
The martians
They have observed us enough
The martians
They won't be discovered on Mars

The martians
They are dying
The martians
They have been slashed and burned
The martians
They know this is the next red planet

Translator's Note: This is an interesting concept, but I wish Dima used a bit more subtlety to get his message across. The second verse spells it out too clearly that my mind nearly turned off.

Colette

"Our lust belongings"
Willy's Claudine
Scandal at the Moulin Rouge

Daughter neglected
Stepson tempted

Maurice Ravel and Jean Cocteau
Cocottes and gigolos
Silk pyjamas and Lea's pearls


Translator's Note: Dima was inspired by Colette, who was not only famous for her writing and feminine sexuality, but also for her love for cats. Her famous quotes were "Time with cats is never wasted," and "There are no ordinary cats." Here's Dima's poetry to prove her second point.

Protector of Matrilineality

Heaven made me a manly cat
And hell hath given me my animus
Earth has known my gracious style
Earth has seen my vicious smile

The mice that I have eaten
The birds that I have beaten
Have died to return again
To spread the word of my shining pride

"His eyes, they glow of wisdom
His ears are beacons to the forlorn
His claws protect the weak kittens
His teeth have torn and shorn"

I am the modern Maahes,
"He who is true beside her"
I am sworn to protect the autumn
And all her maternal ancestors

Mothers who have passed from this plane
Shall have their names in this world remain
Maahes has declared war on those who dishonor
the mothers of present and past
They shall meet their end at last

Translator's Note: This is Dima's egotistic way of celebrating Mother's Day. He was delighted to find out that Maahes, son of the Egyptian goddess Bast, was a lion who protected his mother, and thus was known to be a warrior-son. Dima likes to think of himself as our warrior-son and protector of his human sister, Autumn.

Sunshine

Stirring bliss around a sphere
Making clouds disappear
Yes, that's what the sunshine does

Translator's Note: Dima is pining for the sunshine, which is severely limited this winter. This is a non-traditional haiku; a commercial for the sunshine.

Victorian Cat Poetry

I wandered lonely as a cat
That floats on high o'er vales and hills
When all at once I saw a crowd
A host of golden tabby cats

I met a traveler from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert...
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of cats
Look on my whiskers, mice and birds, and despair
I'm the most gifted cat you'll ever see
The cats of old weren't half as bold
And cunningly cute and talented as me."

My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
My sense, as though a Rottweiler I'd seen
An odious greasy dog
With shiny fangs and white frothing drool
I seem to feel its cruel jaws
Crunch! Crunch! There go my legs
Snap! Snap! My torso too
My head's in a twain
There goes my brain
Swallow! Swallow! The cat is no more.

Translator's Note: You would think Dima was inspired by the real Victorian poets of William Wordsworth, Percy Bysshe Shelley, and John Keats. However his inspiration came while he was sitting on my lap watching an episode of Monty Python's Flying Circus called "Michael Ellis." Below is the sketch that Dima ripped off.

Old English

Fetisly purren
Meows withalle
Statlich catt
Pitous catt
Me thinketh daintee
The catts and kittener
To liven in delit
Was evere his wone

Translator's Note: Dima was investigating the history of the English language and cat language and found that they once belonged to the same linguistic group over 3000 years ago. According to Dima's research cats and humans once spoke the same language in the regions of lower Germany. He also claims that the vikings spoke this language into the modern era.

Mr. Spacecat

Woke up this afternoon with a light in my eyes
And then realized it was snowing outside
Then I saw a new toy on the floor
I didn't know who it was for

Must be that baby that wakes up every night
Those hungry cries have put all the cats uptight
She's got a blue-green saucer that glows in the dark
I hope this will help her sleep all right

Hey, I'm Mr. Spacecat
I'd like to take you along
I won't do anything wrong
Hey, I'm Mr. Spacecat
I'd like to take you along for a ride

After spinning around, I was feeling quite weird
It was what I had feared, my cat food was smeared
All over the window, the baby had written my name
Said, never take a ride in my saucer again

Hey, I'm Mr. Spacecat
I wish I could take you along
But I did something wrong
Hey, I'm Mr. Spacecat
I wish I could take you along for a ride

Translator's Note: I thought it was a bit funny that the cat was inspired by the Byrds. Actually, our baby is too young to take a spin on that saucer. I don't know how she communicated to Dima that he is no longer allowed on it.

The Laws of Claws

Sacred is the word of cats

That it shall not be written

Our fangs our sealed

Our tails swoop low

When it comes to truth

Subtle is the law of cats

That it shall not be shared

Our eyes follow

Our paws pounce

Our claws dig into the meat of the unjust

Translator's Note: Apparently the reason Dima hasn't written a poem for months wasn't that there's a new baby in the house. He recently joined a cat cult where he had to refrain from doing his favorite thing (besides eating and sleeping) for 3 months as an initiation rite. The good news is that they let him in. This poem is evidence of the brainwashing going on. I'm fine as long as the cult doesn't involve murdering one's providers.