“Papaya Punch”
When I was a kid,
others would fart in bottles.
And seal them back up.
Haiku Humpdays: “Papaya Punch”
Tag: haiku
Haiku Humpdays: “Pause”
“Pause”
A temporary
lull, in my creative flow.
Leads to more output.
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Haiku Humpdays: “The Heist”
“The Heist”
Buick century.
Moist knuckles, crack in the breeze.
Finger, banging art.
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Haiku Humpdays: “Excuses”
“Excuses”
There is no excuse.
I simply did not do it.
I am not ashamed.
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Haiku Humpdays: “Un-mitsake”
“Un-mitsake”
With the help of friends,
there is a way around it.
I am in good stead.
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Haiku Humpdays: “Mitsake”
“Mitsake”
I screwed up again.
There is no way around it.
I am in deep shit.
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Haiku Humpdays: “Dreary Air”
“Dreary Air”
Spring rain falls downward.
It spatters on arid ground.
Dry soil drinks fully.
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Haiku Humpdays: “Patagonia”
“Patagonia”
Patagonia,
a company that sells stuff,
is also a place.
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Haiku Humpdays: Pole Position
Welcome, to another new feature on ProCrasstheNation!
Wednesday’s are now
“Haiku Humpdays”
“Pole Position”
An abandoned glove.
Take some solace that,
somewhere exists another.
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“Universal Basic Income in the U.S.”
Poem 28 has been a thorn in my side. The concept is something I know little about, and I don’t want to provoke my audience into an all out assault on each other’s sensibilities. So when in doubt, Haiku. To my lifelong friend Brian S., even Rumplestiltskin can’t weave this straw into gold. It just pricks my fahkin fingahs, and hurts wicked bad.
“Universal Basic Income in the U.S.”
Some folks have nothing.
A few folks have everything.
Let’s divvy it up.
