You write an entire haiku, then tag someone to write the next, or
You take turns writing single lines
Here are some we wrote on the 2004 trip to New Zealand, etc:
8/31/2004
Bus from Honesdale, PA, to NYC
Background: 50-something man talking (to a film student - dude! documentary!) about going to NYC to meet 29-yr-old actress he’s written to. Says her father is one of his favorite actors. Character actor? Nope: Jon Voigt. That’s right, he was headed to see Angelina Jolie. Sweet. We wrote haiku and quotes for an hour and a half.
middle-aged stalker
going to the Big Apple –
Angelina, run!
Angelina’s man
is loony as a jaybird;
restraining order!
fortune cookie says
Angelina’s my true love;
I’m loony as hell
odd couple on bus:
Indian film student and
Angelina’s love
crazy old stalker;
an Indian film student;
the bus is so fun.
now he’s a singer;
the crazy old elephant.
what’s next, Jedi knight?
we will see him with
Angelina on TV:
the joke is on us.
Stalker quotes:
“I’m a realist.”
“Love is a form of obsession.” (in response to film student’s observation of “You’re obsessed with her.”)
“I’m still married, by the way. I’ve had trouble getting divorced.”
Other haiku, because our Air New Zealand tickets had not yet arrived from Jeff @ Air Brokers:
missing plane tickets;
God only knows where they are;
maybe we can walk.
Jeff had a hissy;
the tickets are in limbo;
Jeff is a sissy.
the backpacks are packed,
the vagabonds are ready;
no tickets? let’s go!
9/12/2004
Free-camping at Maungaraho Rock Scenic Reserve
hiking up the rock
I am struggling to breathe
but the nookie’s nice…
I have no butt crack;
my cornbread is backing up;
I need a tapeworm.
Dave’s guts are rumbling.
cool, maybe they will explode.
when did I have corn?
toe jam is not jam;
earwigs neither ears nor wigs;
English is stupid.
trampolines are fun
but naked jumping can hurt;
I think I just plotzed.
the flowering tree
sheltering a tiny lamb
taking a big dump.
a river runneth
o’er the rocks and verdant plants;
I’ve peed on my foot.
the twinkling stars
may hold my destiny, but
my poo poo still stinks.
one cappuccino
has the ability to
keep me regular.
go pray to your God.
before you finish, ask him:
“do you have titties?”
my husband’s a god.
my wife is a hot mama.
bow chick-a bow wow…
give to charity.
I hear it’s a good way to
die poor and alone.
sheared sheep shivering;
queerish quakers quavering;
crusty crappy crack.
my underwear is
standing on its own but my
socks are mingling well.
I chew my toenails
when I’m nervous; when relaxed,
I pluck my back hair.
[and, after meeting a guy taking his kitten to the vet for you-know-what...]
poor teenage kitten
about to lose his testes;
better him than me.
No comments:
Post a Comment