Poopoopachu doesn’t know haiku from Boku™
I know that this might come as a shock to many of you, but poetry’s not in Poopoopachu’s wheelhouse. But because I’m so deeply committed to my editor, I made a legitimate effort to {educate} myself for the sake of this month’s post on Pabulum & Poetry. (And also to make myself a more well-rounded and cultured individual, obviously.) In short: I don’t like poetry. It’s almost as stupid as running. (More on that in a moment.)
That said, I did pick up enough Poetry 101 knowledge that I’m going to try and summarize a recent week of mine in a series of haikus.
(And if you don’t know what Boku is, check it out here.)
RUNNING IS STUPID
OMG! My legs!
Stride. Stride. Stride. Fuck this noise.
Too fat for this shit.
ON SAFARI
Drunk Cougar asks me
“Do you have six friends?” “For What?
Gang Bang?” “NO! Poker!”
(It was my friend Mike who listened to my story of that Tuesday night out and immediately offered the above haiku. He inspired this haiku-themed post.)
RIDING THE B TRAIN TO OOBIE STREET
Thru shaded eyeballs
I ogle her tits, hidden.
Oops, not so. She gone.
GFYS
“You got change? Got Change?”
Everyday for eight plus years.
I fucking hate bums.
NIGHTMARE
“I dreamt we made out.”
“I didn’t.” Brutally honest.
No worries, I’ll keep dreaming.
PLANTING A BEER GARDEN
“This is a liter?
You sure?” Repeated five times.
RIP fave Mets hat.
GEEK
Mandalorian.
Trained well by Jango, he was.
Not enough screen time.
About Mr. Poopoopachu