Wednesday, December 9, 2009

Haiku

Some recycled haiku I wrote in December 2006....



I went to do some relatively last-minute Christmas shopping tonight. I'm no great fan of shopping in general, and Christmas shopping is decidedly black or white for me-- either it's great, or it's horrible. The experience in Target tonight was bad enough to leave me without the words to describe it in prose-- I am forced to resort to haiku.

Christmas shopping hell
Fat wobbling everywhere
Get out of my way

Waddle waddle lurch
your thighs slap like wave on beach
Cellulite thunder

Fluorescent cavern
temple of cheap and shoddy stuff
souls not yet for sale

Herd your children, bitch
like sheep to the meat market
They're getting shorn too

Hey madam wide ass
Your butt is blocking the aisle
Put down the Big Mac

Christmas time is here
bright lights, bows, lots of bunting
Retail job is hell

Merry Christmas
Sales staff shove Santa in box
Time for Valentines

Two old men stand there
recall days now long gone by
wish for better times

I see no windows
no clocks, so time escapes me
got lost in housewares

Don't get things backwards
Holiday is time for fun
not to create stress

Warning I have nog
made of eggs, milk, other stuff
Deck the halls or else

I begrudge the world
stealing joy from holiday
drip, drop on a stone

wrong turn, lingerie
panties should not be so big
mainsail for tea clipper

Horde of shrieking gnomes
Running amok, soprano cries
I wish for a gun

Sign says ten or less
you must learn to count your items
express aisle my ass

Young man in track suit
thinks he is the mack daddy
tarnished bling, girls laugh

Gibraltar indoors
stream parts, circles, flows, rejoins
Dumbass stands like rock

Wonderbra wishes
girl in checkout line, flat chest
delusions of size

Stack of DVDs
on sale, picked over, pile of crap
nothing worth buying

throbbing with his angst
emopunk stares at world
still shops at the Gap

Transformers movie
trailer is out on the net
fans all spooge in pants

haiku are addictive
so simple, yet emotive
you can't eat just one

Five syllables is
an awkward length for poems
so bugger all this