Tag Archives: random

I couldn’t write anything good last night because cats. So here are some silly 3/5/3 haikus I was playing around with.

 


 

Birthday cake

Candle porcupine

We love you.

 


Gorilla

Can’t fit into pants

Man or beast?

 


Dog flaps ears

Animals do talk

We are deaf

 


Hostess frowns

Looks askance at me

I farted.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

Lump Bump

 

I didn’t finish my comic page today either! But I got some work done on it so I’m happy.

Here’s another old poem, recovered from the journals.

 


 

Is this what seduction is?

Lump lump bump bump

All I can do is stare

And wonder at the reaction

Of a Vulcan mind meld

With the office chair

Which sits blankly

Watching us

As its stuffing detaches

And dust gathers

In its joints

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

Not in This One

 

This is a lot of nonsense. I didn’t write anything very good, and I didn’t want to separate it into different poems because it all fit together so well into the whole “I can’t think or write today” theme. So this is my free association. Consider it a deep insight into the magical creative process, dissect it, and discover great wonders. Or consider it somebody’s brain vomit, and know that you deserve better.

 


 

 

These thumbs

These fingers

These hands

These arms

These shoulders

This torso

These thighs

Knees

Shins

Feet

Toes.

All are mine.

All work well.

All are obedient

I keep them clean.

I exercise them

But today I still feel gross.

Whatta belly.

What an ass.

What thighs.

Nobody will want to look at me

If my belly sticks out this far.

It doesn’t matter

How bright my smile

(My teeth are rotting anyway)

Or how loving my eyes

(Bad vision, asymmetry, burgeoning body tag on eyelid)

Even my glorious red hair

(Knotty, rough, frizzy, not forever)

And my white nails

(Thin, prone to tearing)

Although my hands give me the ability to write, draw, cook,

I am all thumbs today.

 

 

 

I hate myself.

No I don’t.

 

I love myself.

Eh, mostly.

I do my damnedest either way.

 

 

 

Neutral

I was only

Neutral

Today.

I lived in beige.

An open door

Through which everything passed.

Nothing but net.

I fed the cats.

I worked.

I cooked oatmeal.

I fed the cats.

I washed dishes.

I worked.

I cooked soup.

I washed dishes.

I worked.

I cooked pudding.

I fed the cats.

We ate soup.

I washed dishes.

I napped.

I watched TV.

I tried to read

But nothing got to me.

We ate pudding.

I tried to read.

I ate scraps.

I fed the cats.

I showered.

I went to bed.

I was able to do everything I was supposed to do

Because I just

Wasn’t

There.

 

 

 

Hey, it’s Harold’s herald!

Behold! Harold cometh!

Harold! We knew you were coming. Your herald was here.

Where did my herald go?

He probably went to the next place you plan to go.

I’d like to meet him myself, but that guy’s always one step ahead of me.

Wish I had a herald.

I need a house crier.

What’s that?

Like a town crier, but just for house stuff. He’ll get through to my deaf husband.

Take him to the monastery, he can be a friar crier.

If the monks decide to market homemade onion rings, he can be the friar’s fryer crier.

And if a friar dyes the fryer, the crier can tell everyone who did it, and be a friar fryer dyer crier.

 
Boy am I on point tonight.

 

 

 

The deer

Tall

Antlers like icicles

Legs like drumsticks

Eyes like bocce balls

Wings like no one else

Flies lightly

Into the sky

On his skateboard.

Don’t get hit by his eggs.

 

 

 

How much is a face hugger worth?

A partillion?

A zoodlequad perhaps? Maybe even twoodlequads?

I’ll buy a facehugger one day. I will, wait and see. I’ll keep it in a cage and feed it faces every six thousand years, and I’ll love it and squeeze it and call it George.

 

 

 

I am utterly blank inside.

My brain is a vacuum

My eyes are marbles.

My skin is pale, insipid, dull

I smell like strawberry shampoo

I look like a wad.

I feel like…

Like an emptiness.

Nothing matters.

I don’t mind.

Maybe if I go to WordPress

I’ll read something beautiful

Have a feeling

Get a sense of human connection.

It won’t load.

The page too

Is blank.

Well fuck me.

 

 

 

 

Come along darling.

We’ll be late for the nothing.

Don’t dawdle.

When we get there we’ll have ice chips

And mothballs.

We can dance the tarantella

The quiet unmoving one.

And then we’ll hold hands

And wait to see

Who breathes first.

 

 

 

It’s not here.

It’s not anywhere.

It’s not in the soup.

It’s not in the couch.

The blankets are too hot.

The cats are too obedient.

It might be in the licorice pudding

I’ll look…. no, nope, not there

The pudding was flavorful

But too thick.

It’s not in the malted milk

It’s not in the boyfriend for sure

I got him sick and he’s down for the count.

It’s not in the shower

It’s not in the bed

And it’s sure as hell not

In this poem.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

Bits and Pieces

 

I have lots of little bits and pieces floating around. Not quite good enough, or not quite enough substance, for a whole post. But they’re interesting, and they’re clogging up my archives, and I want to stop tripping over them every time I go through my stuff to choose what to post, so here you go.

 


 

Today I suffer

From reverse Midas touch

Where everything my skin so much as grazes

Turns to shit.

I’m not giving out hugs today.

 


 

I have four little plants in my window box

They are growing

Happy and young and turgid

I do love me a turgid turgid plant.

 


 

Everything is a failure

Everything I touch

But every failure I touch is a little better than the last failure

A little less fail in each one

 


 

Charles Bukowski

What a nut

So why is it I understand

Everything he says

And everything he is…

 


 

The internet is down
And we have nothing to do
But work outside
Write
Cook
Watch movies
Pet the cats.
Oh please Mr Internet Man,
Come save us!

 


 

I think I will
Refract
And if I choose to do so
How many forms of me
Must I maintain?

 


 

I hurt.

I rage.

Everything is uncomfortable.

Everyone pisses me off.

I foam

I age

I stabbed something to death today

But when I try to remember what

All I see is red.