this is not a haiku, but i am pro-haiku

when i am taking a bath
and submerge my head below the water
i feel like i'm being aborted.

objects are broken up, analyzed, and re-assembled in an abstracted form

a woman meets a man and says,
'oh, Dick. i didn't recognise ya!'

there are some people who never change
and others with a face like coastal sand.

Picasso had it right.
you can't rely on a nose being
in the place it should be.

i want to put my head up a woman's dress,
but with my eyes closed, because I'm not a pervert.

anyway, i think it looks like a nice place to sleep.

my ears on her warm thighs.
my teeth gently nibbling her labia.

adolescent boys and middle-aged men sometimes develop breasts

when we start going out we will be great together and never argue.
i will be a clothes-stand for your underwear. you will put your pants over my face.
i will wear your bra around my ass. then i will wear it like a mask.
i will be a home for your insecurities. i will let you eat cake with a teaspoon.
we will share more than our character flaws.

i will tell you that your flaws are the reason i like you.
then it will become clear that we are two different people.

with a different destiny. (if you believe that.)
at this point we will just be friends and try not to speak about love again.

one of the two standard special keys beyond digits 0 to 9

if i put three #'s in a row it makes two thick black lines
across the page in the word processing package i use.

i choose not to write about death very often.
i can say 'death' many times, but i will never
describe a death more than once.
if i can help it.

this is because, i have heard, (i believe)
that writers who write a specific type of death more than once
will die in that way that they have mentioned more than once.

i don't want to die. and once is enough.
i don't want to do a christ and come back for a replay.

if i was christ, i'd be a hit at parties.

i would smoke hash and perform palm readings

on girls 1,993 years younger than me.

i am already a hit at parties. (i believe)

YABBA DABBA DOO! would be an obvious title

when i think back to watching The Flintstones as a kid
i remember the animals the most.

the ones that were running all the gadgets they had.

like the mammoth “shower”. birds acting as "car horns,"
the "electric razor” made from a clam shell, vibrating from a honey-bee inside.

we use too much electric and too little eccentric.

it makes me miss the good old days.

humility shall escape them without more

this is a mild epiphany that will surprise no one.

if you climb a tree at exactly 2:51 in the afternoon
you will be able to see the moment you were conceived.
you will never want to climb trees again.
this is when you will realise you're an adult.

finally.

and in the distance, you'll see Anthony the Great.
there on the beach, no cave to hide in, stepping around
trays of silver coins.

a special 250 GB hard disk limited edition version

choosing an avatar as a starting point on the Xbox is like Sophie's choice.

parades of small men and women dance across the screen;
then they leave. live ones die in my search of a better version of them.

we're living in a post-modern digital Völkisch State.

man is defined as a human being and a woman as a female

equality is walking through a door at the same time together.

i always let her go through first (whoever she is)

because i don't want to get stuck.

i don't want to be fed by the royal mail

and have people take photos of our bums.

her bum looks so good

that no one would look at mine.

Feminism should aim to make doors wider.

insects that pupate in a cocoon must escape from it

leaves aren't even thinking about the fall ahead.

i am thinking about death; but in a good way.
like going to sleep, but for longer.

i can't believe, even for a moment, that anyone old
was once my age and possibly younger.

i can't believe i am this old already.

my skin feels like a pupa.

my soul is a set of house-keys that make
an awkward shape in my pocket.

as the process of giving formal notice to the world

when I am reading a book on the train
i try to hide the cover from everyone
even if it is stephen king or some shit.

i imagine the author catching me
and taking the book away.

i imagine the author running up and down
the entire length of the train carriage
screaming,
'i am the author of this.'
IN BLOCK CAPITALS.

i wish i lived in Brooklyn
or something.

a non-apology apology is a statement in the form of an apology that is nothing of the sort

sometimes i see people
and think

why did i let light enter my pupils
hit the photosensitive receptors of my retina
translate all that information into neuronal signals
and then use my brain
to put them back the right way up again?

the sticks i pick up are crap at yoga

i pick up a twig and want to wear it on my wrist as a bracelet.

so i try to bend it, but it isn't good at bending.

the sun is great.
a glass of water is able to make it look
like it is somewhere else in the sky.

the grass looks like a punk with bed-hair.

the bugs around here look clumsy, but i think they know what they are doing.

people are *not* immortal beings who have forgotten their true nature

i watched The Last Samurai in the cinema.

The Last Samurai is actually a scientologist in real life.

when i came out of the cinema i thought i was a Samurai.
i am now The Last Samurai.

everyone else in the cinema
comes out as a Samurai.

we are all The Last Samurai.

i love the word Samurai.

split screen game options are almost as confusing as printers

my friend is in the middle of telling me her dream
when my phone rings and I say,

“that’s the ‘i don’t care’ alarm.”

and she does a little laugh
but looks hurt

so i say;

'i was joking.'

but i wasn’t.
i meant it.

i think the world is in trouble
when tubes of toothpaste have
‘squeeze from bottom towards cap’
written on them.

sometimes I wish sex was like laser tag.

if I’m wrong about everything else at least I’m right about being psychic.

attempts to explain the symbolism of the rite also must negotiate the illogical placement of the coin in the mouth

when i see you working in that bar
whose name i mispronounce on purpose
i see you in short dresses
and in my large blue eyes.

you say;
'what'll it be tonight, sugar?'

i want to push coins
into your tiny lipstick-slick mouth.

i will do this to remind you what money means.

i will call it a tip.

an effective way to lose body fat is to burn slightly more calories than you take in

i saw a girl in shorts
who should never wear shorts.

but a friend said;
'cellulite is a fine and normal part of people's legs.'

and the girl in shorts bragged to a barman
about all of the empty bottles her group of friends had drunk.

and said;
'that's what we've done today.'

she reminded me of a small child,

or a cat bringing a dead animal for its owner.

it was meant to be impressive. and it was. in a way.
but she still shouldn't wear shorts.

i'm not saying what i can never get

my friend at university
used to hate hearing people complain.

he used to stand up and leave
even when he had half his drink left.

he used to hit his girlfriend
but only on the ass
and only with a plastic straw
no thicker than a plastic straw.

he used to stop me
mid-moan
and say.

"go and write a fucking poem about it!”

ceramic is not a friendly material

my biggest achievement today

was standing next to another man
at the urinal
and not feeling weird about it.

i have no idea
how i accomplished this.

but these types of things
deserve medals.

these things keep the world spinning.

girlfriends are parasites or worse

i remember being on the train
as it was pulling out of Bristol Temple Meads
and a head louse dropped from your hair
onto my leg.

i remember you blaming Alice
(our Australian house-mate)
for not washing her sheets.

i didn't have head-lice
but i remember this memory
because it felt like i had them too.

i wish i had a cape

i have succeeded in making my friend

spit out her drink laughing

after saying a funny thing for so long
now it just takes a look.

i feel like a superhero.