Haiku Showing 801-850 of 8,460

[M]

Pike was a movie star. He didn’t need Star Trek. He might have made a terrible Captain Kirk, if only because he could act.

[Guy]

Hi Al! How's the studying and papers going?

Hello M, I don't remember ever seeing you on thread this late. Now I'm going to see if I can finish my story. Wish me luck. (Or is that 'break a leg'? Does the leg thing only applies to acting.)

Night.

[Guy]

Sorry, Al, but I don't count that high. Very glad to hear that you are less stressed. It shows, too, in your chit chat writing.

Have a good night's sleep. Although, one day, I'll give you what has become known as 'Guy's 'should word' lecture.' But out of kindness I'll wait until your finals are done so as not to increase your stress.

Be well.

PS I'd have responded earlier, but GR's notification didn't notify me you'd commented. Seems like there are still gremlins in the electrons.

[Guy]

OMG, I'm being discussed on Facebook?! LoL. I don't even have an account and yet have managed to get my name into it. Too funny.

Why ever would you think I had a four digit IQ? I assure you that I am not any brighter than you or M!

The should word lecture will wait! I'm still busy writing. Déjà vu has taken a strange turn and will now be a challenge to finish before it is time for me to kip.

[Guy]

LoL! Eh. Like, typical Canadian, eh? Makes an inside Canadian joke about himself, eh, but to a classroom full of Americans, eh? How dumb is that!? Eh?

Thanks Al, but I assure you I am not the real deal. Just a wanker who's read books that most people don't read. And these books, when read with an inquisitive and somewhat skeptical mind, which I have come to think I have at least in a small way, provide one with ideas that allow one to see things in life from a slightly 'quirky' perspective. I either sound like a fruitcake, an a**h**, or like a stuffy intellectual, depending on the audience. LoL. I assure you, that you and M are as real as I am, because I run to keep up. Great imagination and intellectual stimulation here. So... keep up the good and fun work.

I've included mochas in my story! LoL.

[Guy]

Al, you are still young! I remember when that would rankle me! Yikes, to be so labelled was such an 'old fogey' cop out. Sigh.

The inability to sit and read seems to be linked with our age of interrupted education and discourse. In a lecture/interview I saw with Noam Chomsky, he tells the anecdote about one of his MIT professor friends who can no longer use the history text books he'd been using for 30+ years because the students were unable to read them. They lacked the ability to concentrate on extended lines of thought or perhaps just long sentences. Morris Berman has discussed this too, as has Camille Paglia and I imagine scores of others.

Like all things, reading is the source of enlightenment and delusion. And it is no small matter to be able to distinguish between the two. I love the Taoist caution against words as the greatest source of confusion. Of course, they used words to cautions us!

[M]

A philosophy
of life is something I put
a lot of stock in.

I daily check the
Tao Jones Index to see how
my stock is doing.

[M]

Hmm. How to follow one about principles and women?


When his principal
called him into her office
for what he’d blurted,

he was unprepared,
when the door closed, to see
her unbloused, unskirted.


I’ll work on a reply to Guy’s #1313 this morning. What a delightful haiku chain, Guy!

[M]

Oh, my. That one was naughty. Maybe I should take that one down.

[Guy]

M wrote: "A philosophy
of life is something I put
a lot of stock in.

I daily check the
Tao Jones Index to see how
my stock is doing."

Does this mean, M, that you have read Confessions of a Taoist on Wall Street? If not, then READ IT. Okay, pull back. I would highly recommend you read it. Funny, philosophical, lyrical, poetical, beautiful and a play on exactly that: the protagonist looks for the Tao of Dow, because if the universe is truly one expression, then Dow is Tao too. In my top five works of fiction. I've read it at least five times, once out loud to my wife.

[Guy]

Oh, and the haiku was also delightful.

And 1332 is funny! Do not take down, well, because it is almost as low as it can go already! (Okay, bad, humour, Guy, go back to work.)

Al this is one of your best philosophical observational haiku. Nicely done!

M thank you for enjoying my effort, but I felt it lacked something.

And finally, thanks, guys, for giving my work morning a great start. Sipping coffee and laughing at Haiku. How could a day start any better? Okay, not being at work, I guess, but still. Have a great day.

[C. J., Cool yet firm like ice]

Wow. This thread sure got into the gutter! lol

[M]

At the W.
S.S., the office was, as
usual, a mess.

CJ happened in,
to mutter, “This thread has gone
right in the gutter.”

Guy had observed dri-
ly, though, “It’s gone about as
low as it can go.”

The principal gasped,
“Oh, go lower!” She sighed, “And
a little slower.”

[Guy]

RotFL!

[Guy]

Tonight I'll put up the polls (after I finish my story!) Thoughts for a new subject - or am I free to pick or pick from the suggeggestions?

[M]

I hope you get to pick the topic, especially after you’ve done all the work of putting up the polls!

[M]

The sparkling references in #1313 make it difficult to choose what to reply to. I love the description of Mebh, and the last-stanza references to Jim Beam and Jack Daniels (both sour mash). I can’t interpret Stanza 1--in particular, the phrase “pitched mash.”

[M]

Captain Pike plugged all
the air vents and gave his
crew Luna breath mints

and laughed as though at
some old joke, and shook his head:
“Cosmic corndog smoke!”

[Guy]

'pitched mash' - to give it up, go on the wagon so as to in this case sing. (Obscure, I confess, but it had a nice sound to it. :~] )

[M]

Oh, what sheets Mebh’s night-
gown had parted! M’s harem
invisibly stole

away to a lone-
ly place uncharted, to an
old watering hole.

It had seemed, since they
began it, a long, tiring
voyage on the run.

Now they dreamed of an
autumnal planet with an
ever-setting sun.

M lay snoring in
his berth, dreaming of
the commodore’s wife,

of her strange childhood
on Old Earth. Wakened from sleep
by the boatswain’s fife,

he yawned and pushed the
intercom key. “M,” he said,
then he could hear a

sultry voice: “This is
Jeanie. We’re in visual
range of Epeira.”

Looking utterly
out of style, in Topsiders
and striped pajamas,

he was relieved to
be free for a while from Star
Fleet’s little dramas.

He settled in the
captain’s chair and looked out through
the picture window

at a landscape steeped
in evening air. “Speak Low” played
on the stereo.

Margo sighed, “I think
we can safely assume Pike’s
corndogged out back there.”

M smelled a faint musk
as Jeanie ran her lovely
fingers through his hair.

M and his crew brought
in the huge cloak, an awful
chore to fold and stow

by spare cannisters
of Cosmic Corndog Smoke, in
its locker below.

A gleaming flying-
saucer hull of stainless steel,
the Plasmodium.

No captain ever
had to strain less, whose crew kept
the ship stocked with rum.

Jeanie sought M’s bunk
for a pre-landing briefing
of what was to come.

M was not one to
shirk his duties, and he was
especially fond

of Jeanie--striking
among his crew of beauties,
this strawberry blonde!

They cast a spell quick
and severe and brewed of their
cunning and aplomb.

“We’re in Epeira’s
atmosphere,” came Kim’s voice
on the intercom.

A pale moon hung in
a cloudless sky. A stream fell
among rocks nearby.

As light flashed from its
fusion core, the craft landed
on a valley floor.

[M]

I hope your migraine goes away fast! Poor Alex.

I added a few stanzas, but I’m about to crash out.

[Guy]

M, that is amazing! And, again, so funny! How do you do that?

Sigh, I'm too busy writing to write right now. Right?

Al, hope you are a) in bed and sleeping and b) that your migraine has flown.

[M]

I couldn’t sleep, and I had come up with more stanzas. I hope you don’t mind, but I went ahead and added them to what I had posted before. I had planned to land the spaceship. A good captain always follows protocol, however.

Thanks for putting up the polls, Guy! I’m looking forward to the new topic.

[M]

Meanwhile, on Channel
Eleven, Jack thought he’d died
and gone to heaven.

The principal had
told him his chances were slim.
Did he want to pass?

When at last she got
through with him, he wasn’t fit
to go back to class.

[M]

Guy, I haven’t read (or heard of) Confessions of a Taoist on Wall Street, but I promise to put it on my list of books to read. I’ve been on the same page of Roberts’ Understanding English for several months now, though, and have yet to read Jung’s Collected Works, so I may not get to it by this afternoon.

[M]

“If development-
ally there has to be a
cause for my arrest,”

the patient dragged hard
on a cigarette, “it might
as well be a breast.”

[M]

That’s nice of you to say! I’m glad you’ve started something new. I ran out of steam in the space harem story.

[Guy]

M, 1363 is delightful! I'm off to do chores, will jump in when I get the chance.

[M]

Jack the Ripper grew
fond of a particular
sein rond. “A rare one,

for these climes,” he re-
marked as he sliced. “I must keep
a breast of the times.”

[M]

This thread
is all but dead.

[M]

Goodnight, Alex! Have interesting dreams--which we will analyze in the morning. Well, not tomorrow morning. I have to go out of town. Thursday morning.

Two nights ago I had a paper chase dream. I have a lot of those. I dreamed I was in architecture school but couldn’t get the required textbooks because I wasn’t in one of the special fraternal organizations. It was an old school, the inside of which reminded me of Pennsylvania Station, that had been modeled on the Baths of Caracalla. I found myself in a very old library that was no longer used, sitting at a massive, antique, oak table, my head in my hands. A ragged black owl that lived there was perched on the table. It looked dispirited. Someone had yanked the plumes out of the top of its head. As I sat there, it leaned its head against mine. Then I woke up.

[Guy]

Not dead! I've been busy, busy! And feeling a little guilty that I haven't been here.

M, this is a fascinating dream! May I do an analysis of it? (More busy-ness to keep me from Haiku-ing. Sheesh!) If you do, I'll send you my analysis via GR.mail.

[M]

I’d love to have your analysis of the dream! Thank you, Guy.

[M]

Now, wait a minute! First you say you think you know what my dream was about. Then you say “but I’ll keep my mouth shut.” That’s not nice! Naturally, I want to know, especially since you’ve decided it’s better not to tell.

Why are you thinking of leaving the W.S.S.? You can go and come as you like, for however long you like, and still have as much control over the group as if you looked in every day. You and Stephanie are the heart and soul of the ship. As long as you two are moderators, the group can’t help but thrive.

[M]

Thanks, Alex! The poor owl. That was something from the dream that really stood out for me.

Years ago, when I was in graduate school, I had a horrible dream that I was hanging by my hands from a roof. Two stories below was an asphalt parking lot. It was summer. The roof was hot. My hands were tired, and I couldn’t hold on much longer. A voice in my head said, “Let go, and you won’t fall. If you try to hold on, you’ll fall, but if you let go, you won’t.” I let go. It was a strange thing for me to do, even in a dream. I didn’t fall, but floated out into the air.

I think you’ll find that you have more room to “let go,” to give yourself some space, than you realize.

[Guy]

Wow, I'm almost ready to write! Almost.

[Guy]

Al, I began to use my falling dreams as a trigger to become lucid - as soon as I began to fall in the peculiar way you do in dreams, I taught myself to think - wow, I'm falling again, this must be a dream. Then presto, I'd think "I'm dreaming! I can do anything!" and would begin to fly. Visited the moon, once. It was fun.

[M]

I haven’t made any attempts at lucid dreaming in years. Maybe I’ll try it again. For me, though, there’s potentially real danger in making dreamed moon landings. I tend to talk in my sleep.

[M]

Having managed moon
landings before, I was, to
say the least, wary

as I saw motion
to me from her door Mr.
Barnes’ secretary.

[M]

Alex, for shame! How in the world am I going to follow something that brazen?

She looked me over
hungrily. Each inch of me
seemed to excite her

until she saw that
what excited me was her
sleek new typewriter.

[Guy]

Congratulations! Now, breathe, enjoy.
Excellent M and Al. And Al, I confess to blushing at yours! Yikes, that was funny and, well, I was going to say 'right on point' but that would have been just a little to off base! LoL.

Last couple of days I've had field work at work, which keeps me away from the pc. And then tonight, when I was starting to make supper, the kitchen faucet failed and began to leak water. So, off to the hardware store and replace it. Then still supper - a simpler simple one. Just finished.

Will most likely do the polls and next topic tomorrow. Unless I get a burst of energy and do them tonight. But 5am comes so early!

Did you want to pick it this time?

[M]

Unprepared for the
sight in store, old Mr. Barnes
appeared in the door.

He scratched his head, dis-
gust on his face. “Barton’s here
on the Fielding case,”

[M]

By the way, a few days ago, in the window of the Goodwill Store, I saw one of the original IBM Selectrics, with one of the old ribbons. It didn’t have a scratch on it. It was $19.95.

[Guy]

Did you buy it? I think I would have if I'd been there.

[M]

No. These aren’t typewriters you can let sit and expect them to keep working. They have to have regular maintenance. The last typewriter repair shop within two hours of here closed years ago.

[Guy]

Yes, that's true. However, they'd pose the challenge of doing your own maintenance. That might be kind of fun, in the peculiarly masochistic way of men who like to keep their fingers busy. I wonder if the manauals ever made it on line?

[M]

I don’t know.

When we were operating a business, I had two Selectrics, one that I used, and one that I kept sealed in a plastic bag so that the lubricant wouldn’t evaporate. After being cleaned and lubricated, the spare typewriter could sit for two or three years before disuse rendered it no longer functional.

In 1999, when we went into business, it had been many years since IBM had made parts for the Selectric, so there were stockpiles of them at little typewriter shops. I imagine most of all that is now gone. IBM once had fleets of trained repairmen, who knew how to make adjustments. With my Correcting Selectric II, after so many hours of use, the escapement rack would get out of adjustment. When that happened, in certain places the spacing would be off and the element would strike wrong letters.

---------------------

If I hadn’t posted this in another group, I probably wouldn’t have kept patching on it. Here it is in its latest version:

Miss Bains

Having managed moon
landings before, I was, to
say the least, wary

as I saw motion
to me from her door Mr.
Barnes’ secretary.

She looked me over
hungrily. Each inch of me
seemed to excite her

until she saw that
what excited me was her
sleek new typewriter.

Unprepared for the
sight in store, old Mr. Barnes
appeared in the door.

He scratched his head, dis-
gust on his face. “Barton’s here
on the Fielding case,”

he warned me. “They’re mad
and trusting us to find where
the missing tape went.”

“He’ll be a moment,”
Miss Bains half moaned. “He’s adjust-
ing my escapement.”

With flailing legs and
perfumed hair, she writhed in the
ergonomic chair

that rocked and yawed and
almost tipped. Soon afterward
I was combed and zipped.

Then Miss Bains sprawled in
her desk seat, cooling down from
pica to elite.

“Pardon my desk. It
hasn’t been dusted,” she smiled,
seeming elated

that her machine had
been adjusted and thorough-
ly lubricated.

Old Barnes handed me
the folder. “I’d better stay,”
he said, “and scold her.”

What happened I can
only surmise, but not post
for young readers’ eyes,

how, at Miss Bains’ new
typing station, Barnes had giv-
en her dictation

then left her office
flushed, in a daze, insisting
she had earned a raise.

Nothing’s harder on
the bladder than climbing the
corporate ladder.

Miss Bains scaled it ly-
ing down, passed the bar, became
chairman of the board,

yet she never wore
a wedding gown, for there was
one man she adored.

Businesslike, stylish-
ly dressed, odd times she
lights my private line

and says she wants to
to be caressed. O such the
burdens that are mine!

Setting aside stacks
of cases my doctor says
make me grind my teeth,

I revisit the
sacred places of bliss a-
waiting me beneath

her business attire
that pretends to tame what no
man has tamed before,

and a faint perfume
I cannot name but recall
that she always wore.

Her curves don’t quite reach
the dark parquet floor but come to
rest on swank high heels.

She doesn’t tell me
her feet are sore. “Oh, there,” she
sighs, “how good that feels . . .”

With how she breathes she
leaves unsaid how much she craves
the way I treat her;

from her instep to
her forehead, I’ve tasted ever-
y millimeter.

Summers burn out, then
come the rains of winter. “I’ve
got gray hair,” Miss Bains

remarks sadly as
I train recruits to search the
files of civil suits.

Closing a heavy,
fireproof-file drawer, I ponder
what I’m on earth for

if not to cheer Bains--
“A few gray roots!” My eyes take
in her brown suede boots

then wander upward
to her waist, to lips I ab-
jectly yearn to taste.

Lust must fester un-
abated when it is type-
writer related.

Ensnared in a dull
conference call, I sense her
glance from down the hall.

In meetings, over
her folder, her long-lashed eyes
hold mine and smolder.

Soon I go in and
close her door, and on the desk
or the polished floor,

we scatter notepads,
files, and phonebooks, our fingers
on zippers and hooks,

or in the breakroom
after hours, on stairs of
the office towers,

blind with desire,
quoting Lao-Tzu. She laughs, “And
all this in haiku?”

[M]

I wondered if I should delete it. I’m not sure how to classify it, but I wouldn’t give it a G rating.

[M]

Alex, you’re too kind! In that case, I’ll be curious to see what Guy thinks of it. I haven’t written anything quite like it before. It’s epic office haiku.

[M]

Thank you for reading it! I don’t know what happened to me. I got completely carried away. I just love writing this sort of thing. Isn’t that horrible?