pickpocket’s proverb

A poem written as 2 continuous haikus:

Grandfather always
says “never a borrower
nor a lender be”


She’s deaf to his words
of age-old wisdom, swiping
my penniless heart.

Haiku 575

-Raxtus (Bilal Moin)


Tipton Poetry Journal

Dear all,

One of ideajunkyard’s haikus, papercut, was recently featured in The Tipton Poetry Journal, a reputed publication based in Indiana, America..

I would like to thank the Tipton publishing team for the honour of having my work published along side that of University professors and professional published artists. I would recommend a visit to Tipton’s issuu.com publication if you wish to read the haiku, and many other alluring works of poetry from all over the globe.


You could also support the publication by buying a copy from Amazon.


Thank you very much! Looking forward to such opportunities in the future


Bilal Moin

happy hour

A poem written as 12 continuous Haikus

Welcome! March right in.
Every hour is happy hour
at the state-owned bar.


Let us pour you a
pint of our propaganda:
persistent and stiff.


Rest your weathered hands,
bottle your anger and let
your brain have a wash.


Government approved
radio repeats anthems,
muting stories of


spreadeagle Mary
one part vodka two part blood
slain on the stained square.


Miners mull over
murky malt, grazing on fresh


oligarchs oppress
behind opulent curtains
sipping strong spirits.


Stifle your complaints.
Accept the Authority
Raise your flute up high.


And celebrate with
the drinks flowing like rivers
in rationed volumes.


Dance the night away
with your equally gin-soaked
comrades under the


stars and stripes, hammer
and sickle to music of
fireworks and gunshots.


The eyes note as you
uncork another bottle
of dry deception.

575- Haiku

self defense

A poem written as two continuous haikus;

small sea urchins are

elusively innocent

inky black hunters


a sea of sharp stings

scattered on the dim seabed

stabbing the scrouges

575 Haiku


Inspired by the stinging needles of sea urchins

Hvar, Croatia (July 2017)


Sometimes you look in the mirror

Sometimes you hate what looks back

Sometimes you hate what you’ve turned into

Sometimes you hate what the world has turned you into

And sometimes you hate yourself for blaming the world


Your macrocosm is a mirror

Mangled with distorted insecurities

Muddled with your polar personas

Maddened by your deepest regrets

Mutilated by an excruciating pain:

The shattered mirror of a shattered life.

– Raxtus

sanctified slaughterhouse

A poem written as 6 continious Haikus..

The Holy City
of golden domes and walled streets
ringing with prayer.

Incense meanders
the desert air, bewitching
beguiled believers.

Polarized pilgrims
protected by the Gods in
The Holy City.

The Holy City
of barbed wire and concrete walls,
wailing tears of paint.

Cleaved up city where
blood flows freer than red wine.
-painful partitions.

Dogmatic zealots
crusading for the gods in
The Holy City.


Hope: A poem written as 7 interconnected haikus.


They came bearing gifts:
lead and steel and blood and bone.
Gifts of genocide.


deceived by dogmas,
they trudge through ruby puddles
cleansing the country


They erase a race
one child at a time. Begging
in the tongue they share


Scat! Scamper! Split! Help!
We flee, they follow. Childish
game of cat and mouse


Music of murder
is monotony to us.
storms of survival.


tongue tied humankind
silent spectator to the
massacre of millions


They fall like petals
tribes dwindle. A culture fades
A blemish in time.