as the pulse quickens
kick the fm radio
and dial 9 1 1

a rythmic pulsing
by tempo and depth hastens
Billy Squier: (The) Stroke

Not been on a bike
since i was 18, came off
1963

so i dropped the bike
and slid across the roadway
but i'm not dead yet

I hear my name called
Come William, come dance tango
OK I'm coming.

I hear my name called
Come William, come dance tango
OK I

I don't quite think in
floral language, I don't know
what you call my style

critique of style meets
difference of taste, still one
has to be themselves

how myriad tools
don't suffer for ambition
beggars my belief

balance of my time
carousing and repenting
vacant, relenting

anniversary
of time ill spent, composing
and well spent reading

I'm xorry. we have these
memories for a time and
come back, visit them.

Many hours spent here
my salvation whilst my wife
Lay slowly dying

Very, very bad.
So very very not good.
Can't help but laugh ha.

My sweet bad haiku
Horrible fucking poems
A whole 16 years

the site grows older
but some trolls never grow up
blow me, zabadoo

sixteen but not sweet
happy birthday bad haiku
i love you long time

In a creepy house
I found an old creepy doll
Got out of there quick

Want to learn the truth?
Listen to politicians
Do the opposite

now I know why I'm
glad gen x is "over", folks
seem less x files and

the deal is more real
the challenges are concrete
rather than stale ghosts

why do I feel like
the older folks get they get
cynical and cool

in other words there's
a history of the end
of the world out there

The Cuban blockade
The free world the missile crisis
Annihilation

The end of time's here?
who cares heard it all before
Were wiped out so what

congratulations
on mind reading, Chowderhead
you busted that shit

Sleep eludes me on
the AM Midtown Direct
thanks to Coughing Guy

Why not sit next to
Cell Phone Lady or Full Blast
iPod Hipster Ass?

at the turning points
in history how did folks
live thinking there was

no time left to live?

why do people you
know even bother when there
is no tomorrow?

must be instinct

whether this is the
end times or not some days the
weather does not shine

nostradamus plays
more on history channels
than facts about pasts...

I wrote that? what now
layer of hell did I go
to to dredge that up?

the senses dulled down
survive the bad moods, ennui
paradiso revived?

beagle on my lap
but I sense a looming crap
shall sleeping dogs lie?

craving a speedball
Irish Coffee won't suffice
venomous River

what do you call this
driftwood when it washes up
on shore at 5 am?

nude in a hammock
stretched across a neighbor's porch
swinging morning wood

this is the time of
year of splitting wood and of
splitting headaches, fall

holidays, shopping
pissed off managers asserting
peon power, fudge

the christmas show
the season where love comes trapped
in a box o' wrap

Autuminal hues
Cold misty mornings bird song
long winter shadows

Intolerable
Bad Haiku has lost its "Bad"
We need more postings

a broken motive
shuttered with tacit notice
provokes mutterance

a hellscape anon
whereabouts we lilt, aimless
boundless, without point

patterns arising
from simply interlaced threads
omigosh, l'hopital

perhaps the reverse
a dalliance in blank verse
tossed to the lions

a lovelorn letter
for an audience of none
shattered matter falls

all it takes is one
good or bad event to crush
or awaken voice

As the Earth rotates
Too much of anythings bad
But Sun I miss you

Isolation sucks
Ebola virus not bad
Come give me a hug

Pains me to say it
But its rather slow on here
Muse deserted you?

I don't know who is
worse, a cruel mistress or a
cruel master. both cut...

how they cut and with
what one rips the flesh but she
murders the damned soul

mistress most cruel
never turn your back on her
nature will ass rape