yes send the women
oh say once you blow her up
she wont be blowing....u

Life is a minefield
One foot after another
Send the woman first

Pulling together
All my thoughts I find that I
Have nothing to say

Being like SF is my highest aspiration

we shuffle along
one foot after the other
through our life's debris

it is bad haiku
but everyone's a critic
you can't please 'em all

whatever you say
to boost your low self-image
is okay with me

Criticize is wrong
Criticise is Queens English
Look it up retard

Like I said before
When they have nothing to say
Here's where they do it

Foul-mouth name-calling
When you can't articulate
Childish behaviour

learn the language first
then criticize all you want
you fucking retard

My god but its sad
If they have nothing to say
Here's where they do it

shaft: a bad mutha
dig it? i'm talkin bout shaft
the black private dick

I can only wait
for him to make the next move.
I just write my songs.

crazy as it seems
longitudinal pressure
sometimes turns me on

day's almost over
and i've insulted no one
i'm losing my edge

Five like Pentagon.
Roll two dice and get seven
I have five fingers

One thing is for sure
Misery loves company
Could you be more down?

a reason to live
sorry, it doesn't exist
i drink your milk shake

so nothings mean it
and if it is something then
well no..that's not it

Things given up in
error may be lost for good.
Oh, what have I done?

I lost track of more
than I was trying to lose.
My friends, where are you?

mistakes don't haunt me
ghosts from my past certainly
my conscience is clear

If mistakes stay in
the past when we put them there,
letting go makes sense.

may our happiness
increase in isolation
for i hate you all

Mistakes we have made
Haunt us for many reasons
None of them feel good

These mistakes we made
Make us what we are today
So why have regrets?

Can't seem to escape.
I say it's over, then go
right back to the start.

recalling the past
you think i'd get over it
even now i don't

many a long year
and some even longer days
life is full of it

Well-done Dragon Snail
Now you're writing good haiku's
These we can enjoy!

Screaming pain in chest
It tears a man asunder
Torso rent of life

I love your music,
little hippy drummer boy.
Can I play your flute?

A body, a cage,
shapes to hang upon a soul,
stuck within this skin.

if one wants to say
something else, let them eat grapes
and pass the times as

these folks art in thought
and limit things as to when
to keep the...the...pace

we made out last night
never mind bodies entwined
still fancy a shag

Maybe I should find
a less complicated way
to release the pain.

When I missed the point,
differing goals were the cause.
Minimalism?

Restraint of 3 lines
Express minimalism
Multi-line fuckers

Courageously here,
after years of fear and doubt,
I am reaching out.

Exploring freedom
I fled the cruel abuser
who imprisoned me.

The pendulum swings.
Confidence blossoms and wilts.
I will not look back.

Summers full vestage
Surrounded by vivid Green
Senses overwhelmed

Well that told "US"
So lets all get on our knees
Ask for forgiveness

We have met our match?
Worship the self-important!
Who does not need rules!

Its Zabadooey
Returned in disguise? Or what
Huge ego? No brains?

You have potential
Some of your stuff is not bad
So stop writing crap

Simplicity is
sometimes insufficient to
allow expression.

I bend rules to make
them fit my needs rather than
bending to fit them.

I've never been much
for following any rules
except for my own.

If it bothers you,
I can fit tradition, but
it's not as much fun.

Limits are more like
inspirations than rigid
barriers for me.

I agree Haiku
Not Poems broken in lines
But some times you just

Gota express your
self, you know what I mean
Though better than thinking!

george carlin is gone
and I hate the fact he's gone
no more of his jokes

poems divided
into lines of the right length
aren't really haiku

She played herself a
lullaby, but the focus
of fingering her

instrument kept her
from falling asleep. It was
like sex, distracting

from its purpose with
the physicality of
its form. The feel of

fingers on metal
and wood kept her too conscious
to fall into the

auditory shapes
that moved like a mandala
as she closed her eyes.

Is losing the spark
of language, concretion that
connects thoughts to sound

a simple step that
inches so carefully that
we feel no motion

but an absence at
stopping, or is expression
transfigured, growing

into something more
delicate and harder to
capture? Once I had

words like colors or
subtle impressions, changing
like notes of music,

fast enough to sketch
my feelings mid-flight. Now I
have only the wings.

I lost my language
when I lost the bravery
to fail fearlessly.

Creativity
led to punishment, so I
shied away from both.

What doesn't kill me
never makes me stronger. It
just hurts more next time.

Insecurity
prevents expressive freedom.
Don't criticize me.

I stop drawing when
the price is greater than the
pleasure of doing.

You roll your eyes and
criticize the fact that I
am so sensitive.

The situation
implodes and I withdraw. You
are just not worth it.

haiku warrior
I challenge you to battle
I'll be the victor