Kant dü Haiku

I’ve too much to squeeze

into only seventeen syllables.

My mind takes more than that to warm up.

How do you render down the image of kicking

a dog in the guts only to juxtapose the twist that you are both

the kicker and the kicked into five seven five?

I can’t do haiku.

Not when I need phrases like emotionally eviscerate

or character assassinate

or egotistically masturbate

or failed attempt to procreate

or I arrived at this terrible conclusion

too late…

That I am but maggot food waiting to be served.

How explore the horrible sublime?

Imagine me a monster built of butcher’s castoffs and

body snatchers’ prizes.

What horror I could show you if you’d just lend me your eyeses!

But not with piddly five seven fiveses.

I can’t do haiku.

Not with the sheer tonnage of self-loathing hanging over my head,

why, I need words like disagreeable, deplorable and dissatisfaction,

and even words that don’t begin with d, but haiku demands thrift,

and when it comes to pouring derision (another good d word) on myself,

I spare no expense.

And so I can’t do haiku

because there is so much more I have to say than just:

Am I a dog then?

Feed me from your table then

kick me in the guts.

 

—–

Here, let me redeem this bullshit with some Smiths…

 

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7 responses to “Kant dü Haiku

  1. i get what you are saying, however the challenge is to land a punch in 17 syllables. It is a challenge but not unobtainable.

  2. Haven’t been around in a while due to internet self-imposed schmozzle, but glad to be back. And I love the spilled guts of this poem, makes me want to be angry. Oh wait, I am angry, just can’t remember over what… irrespective, I can never channel myself like you’ve done here. Fantastic stuff… now for the real question. How soon is now?

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