Haiku, yuku, we all ku for haiku

I finally found the usb cords for my camera and my audio recorder. I plan on making use of the pics and sounds and videos soon. For the time being, though, our dreams of a Coffee Night podcast are gonna have to wait.

I thought I’d take this opportunity to post some of our S.G. haiku. Since I’m only posting the stuff I really, really like, these are all from This Is Not A Book. After this, there are only one or two example of games left to post. I think “A, B, C” and some of the old, dusty “Rhyme/Opposite” types are the only ones I have done yet.

there is no reason
only love and bad gut pain
could move me this way

 

I was on mushrooms
my mind became a pony
spur my lobes, I run

 

what the fuck bozo?
bozo the assassin clown
death in squeaky shoes

 

I need the sun’s glow
like I need a second butt
twice the shit for me!

 

all these sodomites
coming to coffee for grease
and heaven for love

 

There, that about does it. A fine selection of our most brilliant haiku. Mad skills we bring. I’d like to point out that you can subscribe to this blog, so you don’t miss any developments. Not that I’m at all ashamed of urging people to check it out – I just thought you should know. Cheers!

-BRP

The opposite of ‘I need help’

I need help.
You need a real struggle.
You need to live on easy street.
You need to be a hobo.
You need to get a job.
I want to fire you, Trump-style.
You want to verbally stomp me, Omarosa-style.
You don’t silently tip-toe me, Apprentice-style.
I raucously crush you with authority.
Let anarchy free your voice.
Chain order in silence.
Silent disorder.
Uproarious communism.
Quiet capitalists.
Outrageous transgendered whale-lovers!
Conservative post-op dolphin-haters!
Punk pre-cut sea-horse lovers?
Haters of classical water pony music.
Contemporary apathy is dry silence.

I don’t know… it seems to me that this particular piece is a call to action.  Of some kind.  Sometimes, juxtaposing the first line with the last line can give a surprising insight.

“I need help.
Contemporary apathy is dry silence.”

Perhaps just a call for someone to speak up?  Hell, I always do this – I can’t help analyzing these things.  I think I’ll try just letting the work speak for itself for awhile.

Although, I have noticed a disturbing trend, of late.  I’m usually the person to get these things started, but that’s always been the case, really.  I’ve also been very greedy (or whatever) and insist on having the last line, as well.  What’s up with that?  Why haven’t I been called on that?  C’mon, I may have started this whole thing, but that don’t mean I own it.  Or, maybe nobody really cares – that’s possible too.  I dunno.  Clearly, I have too much time on my hands.  Right.  Shutting up now.

-BRP

Conversation(s)

Why haven’t you called?
Service is necessary.
He brought us juice that wasn’t juice.
Ya know, chit-chat.
I do have suspenders.
Spelled, like, “G”, “O”, “U”, uh, “G”, “H”…
It’s a crackberry.
I think I caught him posing in the mirror.
Let’s go get something to eat.
I’m really gassy.
If you flex, will it get bigger?
I’m doing it, as soon as I have the money.
Can I have the ear?
It’s got skulls in it.
You’re not a religious man.
I didn’t even hear her.
You’re cut off – you’re done.
People always do this to me.
You’re lucky you even got one.
I’m so glad I was blacked out.
She’s just as annoying, drunk or sober.
She stays home.
Couldn’t blame him.
She does what now?
Quit camping.

So, there’s that. Fresh off the griddle, as they say – barely an hour old! It’s almost like being there, ain’t it? Perched high atop our unassailable aerie of smugness… Yup. This is dedicated to Alexandra; she knows why… mm-hm.

-BRP

Conspiracy java

The really nice thing about the conspiracy S.G. is that it takes advantage of the idea of connections. Sure, they’re probably just invented connections, but they get made nonetheless. Am I reading too much into this stuff again? Ooh, look – there’s a bunch of dirty words in this one…

Shari’s is a front for Juan Valdez
Who just happens to be the bastard child of J. Edgar Hoover
Whose secret files contained pictures of the real Yeti
While it was ass-raping Prime Minister Tony Blair
Who introduced perversion to surrealist games
Which are a cabalist tool for unlocking the true name of God
Who is really a greasy fry cook in St. Louis
Which is where Elvis is currently living
With Hitler, Jim Morrison and Tony’s Yeti
Who is actually Stacey’s mom

-BRP

We Are Going To Hell

We are going to hell
You are going to hell
You are going to fart
You are going to fart fire
You are going to fart a fire bomb
You are never going to fart a fire bomb
You are never going to fart a pork bomb
You are never going to fart a pork womb
You are never going to fuck a pork womb
You’re going to fuck a pork womb
You’re going to fuck a pork sandwich
You’re starting to fuck a pork sandwich
You’re starting to shit a pork sandwich
You’re starting to shit my pork sandwich
You’re starting to shit my pork dildo
Bastard, you’re starting to shit my pork dildo!
Bastard, you’re starting to shit my dildo!
Bastard, you’re starting to monkey-fuck my dildo!
Bastard, you’re starting to smell my dildo!
Fuck, you’re starting to smell my dildo!
Why the fuck are you starting to smell my dildo?
Why the fuck are you smelling my dildo?
Why the fuck are you smelling my butt-plug?
Why the fuck are weasels smelling my butt-plug?
Why the fuck are there weasels in my butt-plug?
Why the fuck are there weasels in my baby jesus butt-plug?
Why the fuck is there a baby jesus butt-plug in my weasel?

I’m very excited about sharing this madness here. It requires a great deal of effort, to resist posting everything, all at once. But no, I’m strong, I’ll limit myself to no more than a few dozen posts per day – week! – I mean week. Yikes.

This is an older S.G., but one of my personal favorites. The “Add One, Change One” game is usually the easiest way to introduce people to this type of ‘art’. All I can really say about this piece is, this is the first one that really got under my skin. The effect was electrifying to me. Am I overstating it? I dunno – every time I read the damn thing, I start cackling like a madman. Hope you dig it.

-BRP

A Letter To William Shatner

Dear William Shatner,

Hello friend, I have spent many, many hours devoting my time and body fluids to your graven image. I was wondering if you’re willing to hear me beg for mercy – or we could dance by the tonsil trees and have pie, here… in my boudoir…

I dream often of your pearly beads of sweat, pooling in my closed eyelids. Suns rise and set, but our shared experience, fixed in Martha Gram’s womb, will remain forever. Do you recall the time when your hot muffin went missing in my back seat? What buttery fun! Oh, goodness yes. What a night of magic!

Let’s meet in Northern Mesopotamia and rock out, like ancient creatures of lore. But don’t forget to bring the table wax and badger meat.

Sincerely,

~the poor man’s algonquin table

This was one of our early attempts at a surreal letter. We ‘cheated’ a bit at the end there, with the signature. What’s up that ‘poor man’s algonquin table’? Well, it’d be really funny if you knew about the real Algonquin Table and the might of their assembled wit. And if you were Evan Dorkin (or the kind of person who remembers some of his most obscure comic strips), you’d feel a sort of sad pride. I think.

Seriously, though, William Shatner? He’s way cooler than I can describe. This letter is dripping with sincerity.

-BRP