When I screeched last night
I was not upset or mad.
Just aimed for surprise.
Why the hangover?
Is it nicotine or beer?
Clean living, someday.
That punch left a bruise.
I know it wasn't meant to.
Actions speak louder.
Spilled juice on my shirt.
Dropped coffee on my trousers.
It's my standard look.
Large-hipped women seen:
Subway staircase. Angles shift.
Thighs encased in jeans.
Flourescent-light frowns.
Blue button-downs. High-heel clops.
Coffee breath abounds.
Playing on iPod:
"Welcome to the Terrordome."
Bounce at work, door closed.
Inane discussion.
Quietly, I nod, knowing.
They think something else.
Waitress who hates all
Glares at me when asked for beer.
Like that tiny tip?
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3 comments:
I used to hold free-style Haiku battles with my friends accompanied by pre-recorded beats.
It sounds stupid, but I guarantee you it's the hardest thing you can ever try to master.
Today's popular music rhythms are generally broken down into repeating sets of 4 or 8, but as we know Haikus work in rhythms of 5 and 7. That can really fry your noodle sometimes when trying to integrate the two.
The difference between the good haiku rapper and great haiku rappper was always found in the contestant who wasn't counting the syllables on one hand behind his back.
Best regards,
Ryan
Just kidding. That never happened.
Ryan
Ryan -- some friends and I in the neighborhood used to collect machetes, lawn tractors and logs and use them to maul any rollerblading haiku rappers that rolled through our hood. By seventh grade, we all had a pretty good tolerance for mace, and were unstoppable. You wouldn't have had a chance.
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