Yes -- we are ready!
Primed and ready for the war...
Haiku civil war.

Abraxas is great.
Inspired by Hermann Hesse.
A true gnostic work.

Santana album.
The name of the song: TABOO.
(from seventy-one)

Return to the corpse.
Have intimate relations
with the dead body.

Cut out the organs.
Leave the organless corpse there;
The corpse of haiku.

Dearest Uncle Clem:
Could it be yore own pore self
Done gave me scabies?

You cursed losers.
You post haiku at this site.
What is wrong with you?

I will use a cheap
Tracfone to post haiku whilst
In a parking lot

All over the West:
Dangerously confused kids.
All over. (The West)

Squat over the hole.
Meditate on high ideals.
Then watch what comes out.

Philippines restroom
Hold my beer, Fukushima!
Watch me shit this out

Japanese toilet.
Identify your asshole
on global camera.

Modern art priesthood:
They interpret it for me.
Postmodern vomit.

Restroom Attendant
A gentle robotic arm
assists with wiping

Jackson P. mentioned:
pissing and also shitting.
Abstract expressions.

Jackson Pollock's piss
in Peggy G's fireplace:
urinary art.

How on earth does a
Anyone eat 73
Moon pies, 8 min?

Art imitates farts
The Jackson Pollock splatter
Brown back-end batter

we are butt players
on the janky stage of life
you can kiss my arts

Abundant fuel source
Unidentified (It’s Darth)
Flatulent Object

This world is a show:
Badly-written comedy,
Too much fake laughter.

Grandma have a cock
Barnyard are SOOOO oppressive.
Grandpa have a hen.

January sixth
and the armies of Q and
Other Lib delusions

Mixed outcomes: stuffed hen.
Farce. Extra cheesy haiku.
Grandma has rooster.

Fixed income drove her
theft. Moon Cakes with extra cream.
Grandma has a cock

Fixed income drove her
theft. Moon Pies with extra cream.
Grandma has cock

First time shoplifting
The moon cakes are expensive
Shove them down your pants

The artist rests but
Only if in peace just mad
Empty suffering

Goodbye sweet angel

Art imitates life
But sheeple don’t want to know
Distracted by lies

They worship false stars
That influence their thinking
And lull them to sleep

They’ll never ask why
They’re too in love with the dream
They’d rather pretend

Live within a show
They obey their programming
Cursed television

Voluntarily
Under blind obedience
Admiring foes

That have enslaved them
They can’t tell the difference
Destroyed discernment

Out of convenience
Afraid of truth’s wilderness
They snooze through alarms

Falling for dark charms
Slaves to the hypnotism
Comatose zombies.

I feel like raimen
On to the next oh bent oh
I'd use a fork though.

I like you too, Ash
But I am more of a cat
Lyrically speaking

these verses are fine
dogs are not that discerning
they even like me

no-one is perfect
just be better when you can
because it's a start

details aside are
we still posting the loud part
spoken quietly?

BR549

You drive off the lot
Is there nothing like that smell
of a new haiku?

My head popped out on
A spring, cat played with it purring...
Boi oi oi oi oing

Will he won't he he
Forgot, he is a she then
Wild became insane

Ah, so there he is
That stupid motherfucker
What a fuckin' tool

What if it turns out
God is just a big old dink
Flapping in the wind

Haiku guides my steps:
Failing into the fullness
of my destiny

The Doctor is in!
Banish your low self esteem.
We’re all losers here

I write these poems
then I realize once more
that I am useless.

You write these poems
You say you’re a great poet
I believe you now

Faces change. It's strange...
Aging rock stars remember
And choose their coffins.

I'm happy to sit
To watch the clouds drift and change.
So . . . LET'S GO BRANDON!

Bad Haiku goes deep,
Down to the lowest level.
Figpucker digs it.

shine on, bad haiku !
quarter of a century
and never better

relic of the net
james interwebb telescope
to our distant past

go supernova
look deep into our black holes
see the stars twinkle

Adam sees Eve's dink.
They argue over pronouns . . .
Updated version

Fig leaf of Adam
falls gently and gracefully
Eve sees Adam’s dink