Byline: High Haiku

Buford Youthward

There's nothing like failing in front of a room full of people.

Shame and humility never met someone creative they didn't like.

The unearthing of the earth once again has its peeps on tightened ends.

Out to reify or deify the villains of my youth I say grab your motor bike bag and get motoring. We got bikes to steal, goods to fence and fences to hop.

Every artificial, synthetic aesthetic that says it's out to break any rules quips foolishly. You can't break rules if you're blind to them, and when you think you do you are only violating your interpretation of the dogma. Ignorance and innocence intertwine.

Burning effigies light my path. I suffer from a suffocating sense of communication claustrophobia. You and Yoda both know if you're looking for perfection, elsewhere you must go.

Our way is good the coast is lean. Resources lush with steady demand drive up local markets.

What is a life if not a gamble. Carnal in nature and naturally carbonated the brew that bubbles up and makes men out of mice, mice out of men and mental misfits out of many is what we're made of.

Ignorant design, intelligent realization, I factor an evolution every twenty minutes or so. The nights burn like pages in a novel stashed on the wrong library stack.

I yawn as the next charismatic spastic steps up, collects their check then checks out. I say dispense with all these fake dispensers but they're as real as the day is long, inhabiting my screens, their shadows in my dreams.

A smooth voice whispers

There are things we cannot change

Nature's lost longing

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