about haiku, quick
short statement fleeting about
some sort of short theme

about haiku, quick
short statement fleeting about
some sort of short theme

i've thought about it
another man crushing me
with his warm, brute strength

It's not so much a
surprise, but disappointing
that I still want him.

What they say about
"the good ones" shouldn't be true.
Maybe he's just bi.

so the muso's gay
can't say that we're surprised here
the signals were there

hippo on water
no no he's not magical
he's wearing swimmies

to touch and to be
frothing at the mouth of next
but, it never comes

slaughter of your soul
i'm a drunk motherfucker
no world but this one

I can picture him
having sex with men, but not
with random strangers!

i kneel before you
my tongue darting and probing
the blackest of holes

when dealing with goth
things the isolation might
be there as reason

elevated you
walk on I sing in tune too
all of thee are free

in a nick of time
he missed it and red one waits
love read it..AND PASSED

My hopes are hanging
by a single question now.
I'm afraid to ask.

there is a focus
on denial sometimes for
all the human race

one can only do
on and on and on and on
but once, but twice, sold

Inspirationless
Who? Its Negro Oveja
On and on and on!!!!

sometimes I get bored
no less than i am sure you
you see more than i

I got a solid
sensation I know why things
are happening now

when he breaks your heart
you'll return with legs spread wide
crying for the cock

gimmee self control
when ya know when you need it~
kids songs are right on

I can still feel my
bones glowing inside for days
after he hugs me.

Oh, no! The Haiku!
So exacting! So demand
ing. I can't do it.

funny tricks and bones:
life sticks found with river stones:
bridge material

remember the flick
the matrix? what is to be
made of this film now?

when herds gather they
usually eat all the grass
the nature of sprawl

hot mulled mead sooths mind
medieval fancy absent
double bladed mace

the sheep assemble
we trample our enemies
it's a walmart world

our or their new sword
can kill. dumb kids focus
on intestinals.

words can kill, words can
heal, i think I said that once
blah blah blah blah...sigh

Words! Powerful words!
In some hands they're inspiring
In others! Garbage!!!!

artfully, spoken
warblers fall from the sky, zen
i am eating well

jetlagged from night work
procastinate till i crash
eventually

sweet simplicity
construes more implicitly
than verbosity

many of you have
much more courage than i for
the balls go flyin'

for it's the season
to let it all go and the
Son to rise again

pillow blanket snow
throwing those perfect made balls
sunny day with chills

I wish I wasn't
angry, so the words here would
be words of healing

the spirit is quite
unreasonable, yes, but this
is work in progress

yes, I am aware
of my own flaws, a deep dark
anger, resentment

not liking rejection
I suppose some embrace it
and some just give up

yes, there is a fear
of the dumb spit chew redneck
he is frusrtation

he is powerless
he is trying to survive
and gets in the way

of progressiveism
this is why there are
still nazis in the world

I find no peace of
mind here of course, it drains
to try and create

for an enemy audience

i would rather write
lighthearted things but the angry
it is like if you

show any imperfect
nature, it's shot down, where's
your own fucking modesty

this is not a field
of battle, but the blood soaked
swords of samurai

how buddhists made sense
of taking life while making
it mesh with their zen

nonsense is used in
some eras, as dada was
to expose madness

of war, but in the
cause of marxist ideals, well
how does one answer

enemies, i see you
as enemies

I don't know if it
matters
nothing I say matters if I answer you

BS do you know
how to write a haiku or
not? you are not sup

posed to keep going
accross the lines just to fin
ish writing nonsence

is this good or bad
to be complacent at last
thinking less, and less

To Florida now
for underwater bubbles
and fun. Goodbye, cold.

frustration is a
reaction, for example
when someone says a

poem is "derivative" they
are themselves, reacting
so, in reaction vs. pro-active

this does nothing...I wrote
two violent images and it solved nothing

some poets are still
going to be the kind of person
who photographs the

old lady run over by
a lunatic for the evening news
and feels nothing for her

I've had fantasies
of beating the class snob
into a bloody pulp