Japanese Poetry Week Continues (And Ends)

I had such a fun time playing with tanka yesterday that today I’m treating us all to a few prose pieces of the haiku variety. You remember haiku from middle school: 5-7-5 syllables. Feel free to count my syllables and call me out on my mistakes. I will gladly admit to them. And then hunt you down. Alright, yo. Haikuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu.

Haiku, I’d like to Ride You
Haiku, I’d like to
Take you to a nice supper
Then maybe bed you.

We’ll start with a kiss
Then I will caress your neck
And feel your bosom.

I’ll slip off your dress
Lift you by your sweet round ass
Gently lay you down.

Then I’ll climb on top
Run my hands through your long hair
And massage your skin.

A lover’s embrace
Our bodies pressed together
I’ll penetrate you.

Slowly, lovingly
One syllable at a time
Until you climax.

You Have to Discipline Your Ham Salad
Ham Salad, you make
A better door than window
Sitcho pink ass down.

Watch your tone, Ham Salad
I brought you into this world
I can take you out.

I am serious!
Stop misbehaving at once!
Are you listening?!

Then I have no choice.
It’s too late for sorry now
Get the bread, Ham Salad.

Fruit by the Foot
If I were a girl
Banana in a condom
Would always trump cock.

Slightly under-ripe
Halfway from green to yellow
For added firmness

No small bananas
Only massive ‘nana rods
In both length and girth.

I’d peel off the top
Cause I prefer my fruit cocks
To be circumcised.

The Case of the Missing Cheeto
Hey, Mister, come here.
Where did you get that Cheeto?
It looks just like mine.

Strange coincidence.
Two such similar Cheetos.
No accusation.

I’m sure it is yours
Just looks VERY similar.
Lying sack of shit.

My name is Ben, I am a blogger and a poet.

It’s so cold in LA…

Like every other young hepcat, I like to start my day by putting on my good slippers and checking the weather channel. That doesn’t sound as youthful and hip as I thought it would. I’ve got it! Like every other young hepcat, I like to start my day by putting on my naughty slippers and masturbating to the weather channel. “I feel a warm front coming on, too!”

I have only lived here in Los Angeles for about seven months, so I cannot say for certain what the weather should be like, but I feel totally comfortable saying it shouldn’t be like this. May is but days away and I struggle to type this through my constant shivers. Could I be shaking because I just quit heroine cold turkey? Possibly. Could it be because I haven’t eaten anything but sand for three days? Not out of the question. But I think I’m shivering because it is FUCKING COLD OUTSIDE.

This is LA, goddamnit. Why are we putting up with this? Last week we had two days where the temperature approached 100 and since then, nothing but 60. The rest of the country doesn’t understand California weather; 60 sounds great in Detroit. 60 feels great in Detroit. LA 60 feels like Detroit 40: Just cold enough to make you angry. How the fuck is we sposed to keep peace?!

Seriously, it’s like getting ass-fucked by the air. If I wanted to keep getting ass fucked, I would’ve stayed in maximum security federal prison.

Okay, maximum security may have been a stretch. They weren’t up in our shit all the time.

Maybe it wasn’t exactly prison, but it was still a really tough jail.

Not the toughest jail, but jail is jail, y’all.

Alright, jail is a specific term that may not 100% apply. The incarceration chamber where I was…detention center…holding cell? FINE. It was mall security! If I wanted to keep getting ass fucked I would’ve stayed in mall security! Are you happy now?!

Why was I getting ass fucked at the mall? Protection, that’s why. You become a big dude’s bitch and the the chicks at Hot Topic don’t give you any guff. Guy at the pretzel stand remembers you on free sample day. What?! I stand by my decision. You guys are dicks.

My name is Ben, I blogged this, and I regret nothing.