Everyone needs a fleet of flying monkeys to rip the stuffing out of the annoying people in their lives
— Laura

Whenever I’m sad or unhappy, instead of getting loud and angry and violent, I like to express my feelings in poetry. SHUT. UP. IT’S  TRUE. Anyway, I thought I’d keep this short and write a Haiku poem to express myself. To be perfectly honest I’m not very familiar with Haiku  (or even the English language or sentence structure, for that matter- words are hard, yo!) so I had to look up the rules. They are as follows:

  • Only three lines, totaling 17 syllables throughout
  • The first line must be only 5 syllables
  • The second line must be comprised of 7 syllables
  • The third line must be 5 syllables like the first
  • Punctuation and capitalization rules are up to the poet, and need not follow rigid rules used in structuring sentences
  • Haiku does not have to rhyme, in fact many times it does not rhyme at all
  • Some haiku can include the repetition of words or sounds

So here we go. I titled this poem  “Betrayal.”

 

Betrayal

A Haiku by Laura Ledford

 

George Clooney’s engaged

I am fucking enraged now

Refrigerator

 

Now here’s a picture of some baby Capybaras. Just look at those adorable little horse-rat bastards. LOOK AT THEM!

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A while back, while watching the news at J’s mom’s house, a report on a house fire that tragically claimed something like six or seven children’s lives came on and after it was over J’s mom laid that gem out there. I thought it was genius. I’m thinking about embroidering it on a pillow.

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Me: “My friend Patty wants me to go with her to a quilters club meeting tomorrow.”

J: “You should go.”

Me: “Yeah, well, I haven’t quilted in years. And what if it’s like a quilting cult!”

J: “It won’t be a cult, Laura.”

Me: “Hmm, maybe they’ll teach me their secret quilting handshake.”

J: “What?”

Me: “Their secret handshake. It’s probably two cramped claws trying to grip.” *demonstrates* “Hey, when I walk in I should pick the toughest looking one and go punch her in the face.”

J: ”Laura, it’s a quilters meeting, not prison!”

Me: “Oh yeah. Then I probably won’t go.”

J: “God you’re weird.”

 

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Actually he said "It's cold as fuck here in the mornings." I don't know where he's picked that kind of language up from.

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