Haiku  ?
What  you want    ISN’T  POETRY
Nor,  is  what you are  making .  Its a crossword puzzle!
Restricted,
confined
not necessarily useless, but unwanted  by  the  rest of  us.
What  I want is
not  poetry .
ITS A
SOAPBOX ,
not respected
Obeyed !

(Don’t  expect  us  to revel in your artificial cleverness. I can’t  candy  coat my sledgehammer  for the smug little puzzle palace where people confuse compression  with clarity and restraint with relevance or innovation. )

It’s not the form that’s brilliant . Neither  is  a form  that hinders  it. It’s the purported slickness of mediocrity pretending to be insight.
Like rain-slick ****: shiny on top, but still just ****** over processed  garbage.
No real expression  had  syllable  count as its impetus !

Yor lame  brevity without weight is really  just laziness and incompetence .  What should  have  been a  paragraph hacked to death isn’t automatically profound. It’s like handing someone a bag of bread crumbs and saying, “Enjoy your gourmet  sandwich.”
Most real writers can and  do enjoy words and or at least a complete  thought with actual  depth..

Why  do  you  Want  to mimic Basho, any way ?   Are  you a scared  feckless samurai boy  toy  trapped in  a ***** house  that serves  tea ? Are you socially stunted  and   rambling through  a whispering ******* zen garden ?
Are you being  forced to pretend  enjoyment in polite  torture  or can you not  tell  poetry from sudoku?
Emasculated wannabe samurai-boy’s at tea-party about to turn ****,
crybaby
daddy issues
art  act,
much ?

Haiku  ?
What  you want    ISN’T  POETRY
Nor,  is  what you are  making .  Its a crossword puzzle!
Restricted,
confined
not necessarily useless, but unwanted  by  the  rest of  us.
What  I want is
not  poetry .
ITS A
SOAPBOX ,
not respected
Obeyed !

(Don’t  expect  us  to revel in your artificial cleverness. I can’t  candy  coat my sledgehammer  for the smug little puzzle palace where people confuse compression  with clarity and restraint with relevance or innovation. )

It’s not the form that’s brilliant . Neither  is  a form  that hinders  it. It’s the purported slickness of mediocrity pretending to be insight.
Like rain-slick ****: shiny on top, but still just ****** over processed  garbage.
No real expression  had  syllable  count as its impetus !

Yor lame  brevity without weight is really  just laziness and incompetence .  What should  have  been a  paragraph hacked to death isn’t automatically profound. It’s like handing someone a bag of bread crumbs and saying, “Enjoy your gourmet  sandwich.”
Most real writers can and  do enjoy words and or at least a complete  thought with actual  depth..

Why  do  you  Want  to mimic Basho, any way ?   Are  you a scared  feckless samurai boy  toy  trapped in  a ***** house  that serves  tea ? Are you socially stunted  and   rambling through  a whispering ******* zen garden ?
Are you being  forced to pretend  enjoyment in polite  torture  or can you not  tell  poetry from sudoku?
Emasculated wannabe samurai-boy’s at tea-party about to turn ****,
crybaby
daddy issues
art  act,
much ?

Despite the fact that I thought you were hot.
What you did really did not hit the spot.
Because of you and their foolishness.
Now I will have nothing left.

I will be homeless.
Forever lost, and left talentless.
I hope these people never find peace of mind.
Because I was the one who was left behind.

I know you did it to be kind or hurtful.
What they did for you and your people was helpful.
Until someone else stepped in and held my life by a thread.
Maybe someday soon I will fall dead.

Because all the lies they feed us all.
I hope you have fun at the mall.
Have fun person who’s name rhymes with dating.
In that corner I was trying.

All you fools who ruined my chances time and again.
Like with moving arms I even right with a pen.
Again and again I play a song.
For me you better hope nothing is wrong.

I know you were married.
But I did not make the advance you carried.
Have fun all with your picnic.
Because you can like an apex you can have it big.

.
In mid airs, dimly,
The ****** birds cluck,
Only flutter useless wings
For they are grounded,
Nor are they beautiful,
O how they feign singing,
Gutteral cluckings only fit
For predators to stalk,
Lame ugly birds prefer
The company of other
Lame, ugly, groundy birds,
With no things, ever, to sing,
Only to preen and beak
For scraps under trees,
Where winged songbirds
Lit by the flighty sun
Do truly sing.

Yes, you out there wherever you may be
You try to steal our souls in poems
We know you, to the tee

What twisted motives to be us, by proxy, what cowardess you be
What an empty vessel posses you, such sadness, such despair
You pick our hard imagined fruit and not from your own tree

You clone our minds, like leaches on our skin
You wish us harm, you thieving ***
You wormy monster, a slug, next to kin

I curse you
I loath you
I hate you
You stealers of our youth
Betrayers of our written souls
What lacks is pride, and owners of the truth