Thursday, July 8, 2010

Haikus on a Refrigerator

There's nothing like going on a vacation and neglecting all responsibilities.

And then you come back from the vacation, and you still neglect as many responsibilities as you can, just for good measure.

I'm still in partial neglecting mode, just for your information. And, since one of the rules of partial neglecting mode is that you can't strain your brain too much, I'm not going to write a new post. I'm going to pick one from the draft folder!

*Half-hearted applause from a canned audience.*

(Come on, y'all. Have some respect for the draft folder.)
(And, yes, I've given in to the power of the "y'all". Deal with it.)

Anyway, here's a draft that was started back in the good old days, when Taren and I spent that year and a half in the basement. Life in the basement was filled with all sorts of creative adventures--just ask Taren or me to sing our song entitled "Spiritual Spectacles", and you'll see how gosh-darn creative we are. (You'll also never want to hear the song again, but that's beside the point.)

Well, I thought it would be a shame to let some of our creativity to just die in the basement. (Ashes to ashes, basement to basement. What?) So, here is the collection of our Refrigerator Haikus, crafted ever so brilliantly using Movie Quote Magnets.

(Aren't you excited? I can tell by the way your eyes glazed over just now.)


Without further delay, here are the (sort of) haikus. (Feel free to discuss the deep, hidden meaning of these haikus with your intellectual friends. Taren and I will be having a poetry reading very soon [never], and we will have an open discussion panel where we will discuss our thought processes during the composition process. Doughnuts will [not] be provided.)

Presented in no particular order.


I could have been here.
I'm not this conversation.
I am in the truth.

(And what IS truth? It's just so deep!)

You've gotten stupid.
I'm mad as a mission from God.
Together we're nice.

(Can you decode the secret message in this haiku?)

In my pajamas
I am not an animal.
That little dog is.

(And what does the little dog represent? Is there a little dog in each of us?)

A real pretty mouth.
I hear you talking to me.
Go ahead and stop.

(Seriously. Stop.)

Show me what it means--
I once shot a boy's best friend.
I'm ready for you.

(What does it mean?! The sheer brilliance of this poetry is ASTOUNDING!)

He can't refuse you,
and I picked on an angel,
so I got no place.

(You can just sense the inner struggle the author was going through when she so skillfully rearranged those refrigerator magnets. Truly inspiring.)

4 comments:

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joven said...

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joven said...

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Taren said...

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