#horrid
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..
We don't write epic poetry in dactylic hexameter anymore. We don't compose courtly love sonnets to unattainable noblewomen. Some forms had their time, served their purpose in a specific cultural moment, and then ended. That's not a tragedy that's just how art evolves.
But haiku won't die because it's lazy and easy and fools every IDIOT into thinking they are an actual poet.. Read Plath, or Bukowski or Nabokov or anyone that actually has something to say. You may find that it's actually more satisfying than reading "frog farts in the wind."
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 ?
It's not deep and it's really not relevant. It's a cheap, lazy path of least resistance for people who want to pretend to be artistic or deep don't wanna do the actual work.
If it doesn't deserve at least a paragraph, it shouldn't deserve your time or attention.
Sep 25, 2025
Sep 25, 2025 at 9:17 PM UTC
What do I tell
About the blue deep inside me
Deep
Inside
Me
Outside
I smile
But inside
I'm indigo
But few know
Few can know
I can't take their pitchforks
I can't be ostracized
At least not tonight
I can't tell you
You'll find me a fool
I can't tell them
They won't comprehend
I can't tell them
He'll abandon my sins
I can't tell her
She'll see me and swerve
So...
...Who do I tell?...
Dec 18, 2019
Dec 18, 2019 at 1:40 AM UTC
Hiding in the attic
I couldn’t take it anymore
The fighting was erratic
And everyone thought me a bore
Cries sounded around
Yet I was silent
The others were upset again
Sounds like one went to town
The sound of footsteps filled the air
Like a cricket in the dead of night
Slowly making their way closer
Til I was frightened by an awful sight
A putrid smell filled the air
Liquor drank just before
This THING came to stare at me
Then there sounded a familiar roar
Laughter
It found me funny
How- I know not
There was no humor in the situation at all
Walking closer
it smelled me like a rose
Then dropped to my feet
And began mumbling by my toes
There it was again
The laughter
It laughed to the air
Which filled the empty walls of my lair
I was done watching this unfold
I took my bat and smashed and smashed
Crack!
I bashed every bone I could now see protruding from it
I looked to see it laughing-
Still!
I swung until I couldn’t
But that wasn’t enough
The roaring went on forever
It would never stop
I ran downstairs toward the door
And kept my legs going on, until they made me drop
Down the street
Through the park
Into the store
Right into the aisle
Before I knew it, I was home
in the attic
Listening to the roaring again
My mind, crystal clear
My mother laying there
Broken on the attic floor\
Her eyes giving me a dead stare
Using the item from the store
I sank it deep in my heart
Yet my knowledge hurt it more
So I did it again
My life was never easy
But I always had my family
My mother may have hurt me
But I was her life
I couldn’t believe myself
How could one be so cruel
I thought she was frightening
But it doesn’t compare
I am her life
As she is mine
A common love really
That cannot be undermined
Death was a nightmare
Yet not even real
I would die a thousand times
But my heart would be broken still
I thought I've seen monsters
Had a few experiences scored
But humans are the true haunters
And I am the most horrid
Nov 21, 2019
Nov 21, 2019 at 5:19 PM UTC
Sworn to silence
a sacred oath
never spoke a word
exactly as told
disease ridden
death bound doctors are certain
waiting behind a red oak door
beholds the grim reaper lurking
6 decades & this vow not yet broken
dragging this imense burden
debates reveling all the unspoken
as if behind a red velvet curtian
decision to tell came much too late.
frantic gasps; hands tight on throat
contemplation actually decided fate
saliva & foam; not a single word said
unintelligible noises is all he had left
both man & secret
officially pronounced dead
-Ajm
Sep 7, 2019
Sep 7, 2019 at 2:36 AM UTC
I'm an angel trapped in a bubble, who is remarkably naïve.
What will happen to this angel when the bubble bleeds?
Will I fall into the depths of this horrid world or will I stand tall above the trees?
Honestly,
I think I will fall into the depths of my own naiveness, blind to what I see.
Nov 9, 2017
Nov 9, 2017 at 7:12 PM UTC
In the dark of night she danced in my room
Running rampant like a weary changeling.
Continuing replacing, hastening
Till she has taken all she can consume.
I can no longer see the bright blue moon,
Because my eyes are blurred from her raging.
In the calm though I see her cradling
But her message rings sharp; lingers and looms
I can no longer feel much anymore,
but the hunger she left inside of me
A, need, more want, materials will feed
My corpse brings flies, walks round with open sores.
All morals about me are forced to flee.
She ruined my life, a woman named Greed.
Sep 6, 2017
Sep 6, 2017 at 4:26 PM UTC
it's terribly humid
and this cigarette
is terribly harmful
this life is horrid
it's terribly horrid.
and i terribly die
each time
you kiss my forrid.
-- Eleanor
Jun 23, 2017
Jun 23, 2017 at 5:19 PM UTC
Twitched strings, the clang of metal, beaten drums; dull, shrill, continuous, disquieting. The stealthy dancer comes undulant with cat-like steps that cling. The smile of evil crept between her painted lids, a smile. Motionless, unintelligible, she twines her fingers into mazy lines, the scarves across her fingers twine the while.
One, two, three, four glide forth, and, to and fro, delicately and imperceptibly.
You could hear the seraphs cry in between the swift dessous topped off with a jeté.
The observers watched every move, they have no idea what the young coryphée has in store.
A crimson blade covered her legs during every hypnotizing glide and sway; a matching blade for every female in the assembly, they wouldn't move from their spots on stage. They formed a pentagram with their swords; they were each so beautiful. So mesmerizing for the crowd to be graced with such pure refinement. The lead dancer gave a gesture and that's when it happened.
The girls twirled, gravitated away from their positions. Blood covers the entire floor like the rain falling; drenching the ground, dark red blood seeps into the nice hardwood floor. A body lays dead and bled out. They compiled a dance of death and evil, every pirouette sliced into the already rotted flesh. Slabs of skin thrown across the platform, horrified viewers didn't speak. Gruesome, yet beautiful. They finished and returned to their previous, assigned places of formation and the only sound is that of the maggots eating away at the rotting flesh, swallowing bites at a time adding more to the foul smell of decay.
The eyes burned onto the stage, heat built up. No one said a word; no one knew what they were suppose to say. Is it all an act? It must be, these things don't just happen, right? A few vomited because of the gut wrenching stench that overwhelmed the room.
The dancers eyes never left the floor, she simply bowed and twirled off stage; Her legs were never visible but you could see the foot prints forming behind her, they were made from blood.
Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 1:44 PM UTC
And I wonder now if this could've been avoided
If I've kept getting help instead of pushing it away
But I guess this is what would've happened eventually
Because I never really wanted help
I just wanted to leave this hellish world
Jan 11, 2016
Jan 11, 2016 at 1:10 PM UTC
Everything's wrong
I need to talk to someone but no one is around
Its all coming back worse than before
I can't escape it
Not for a second
I try to sleep but when I close my eyes everything is even more vivid
The blood, the thoughts, the memories
No one to talk to for a couple of days
Nothing's right
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 5:51 PM UTC
We the people
Created the definition of insanity
Continuously birthing another thesis to "protect" all of humanity
Meaningless validation to destroy and mutilate such a beautiful creation in order to achieve an unreachable reflection
I hate to do this again and again
But this world has became a fantasy of pretend
We the people
Slaughtered the human race
We walk from point A to B
Motivated by revenge, trying to fill in an empty space
We the people
Are not people
We are skin that's been injected by something lethal
A combination of confusion and being "equal"
Why can't we just remain simple
Dec 1, 2015
Dec 1, 2015 at 11:08 PM UTC
flipping the pages of the last book you made me read makes me feel like i've been suffering dyslexia for some time now
so hauntingly familiar
not in any way foreign to me
a photo falls so delicately onto my stained rug
the photo i used as a bookmark
the photo of us i've kept hidden
and forgotten
the photo of you handing a couple dollars
to somebody not in the camera's view
the photo with me beside you
gratefully smiling
as i munch on a waffle
the waffle i spit out right after
the photo that reminds me of the horrid taste of that waffle
it's taste almost as bad as what i feel for you
Jul 9, 2015
Jul 9, 2015 at 5:05 AM UTC
Knock, knock, knock.
My old front door creaked.
I went to the window to take a peak.
My hands shivering with fright, oh who could it be on the
horrible night?
As I hesitantly look out the window glare,
a puppy's whimper I hear.
Whimper, whimper, crying tears of red blood.
What ever is coming from his mouth?
Red, red indeed.
Perhaps it is an animal in need?
It's ears and tail point to the floor,
frightful sight I have to endure.
Once again, the creak of my door.
A bald man, staring back at me.
His smile so wide and his eyes as well,
full of hatred. I can tell.
His hands stained with dark red,
what have I done?
I scream and I shout,
I plead and I pout.
For such a man and dog have come to do what?
Everything turns black.
The man's smile shifts into a chuckle,
and I'm afraid this story might be my last.
Red, spread across the floor.
My blood, I can see no more.
Apr 2, 2015
Apr 2, 2015 at 9:47 AM UTC
the bottle's like a violin,
screaming demons in my stomach,
a cyborg forging information as lunch,
purging an urge for self-destruction,
my outer shell's cold but the circuits a storm,
of electrical database lifespan into megabytes of ****
see death is a story,
and my analogies are allegories,
mourning after the goriest morning is NOT worth storing,
blank pages turn into mythical dissipation,
and with that loud speaker you'd think he could pen down imagination,
a midnight gig playing with cosmic instrumentation,
for the humanoid race place your conscious on your invitation,
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 5:40 PM UTC
As horrid as it seems,
society cannot exist without inequality.
© Matthew Harlovic
Nov 7, 2014
Nov 7, 2014 at 2:39 PM UTC
Silhouettes
Shadows
Sights, dancing before my eyes
Voices
Noise, grazing my ear canals
Touch
A subtle whisper
Breath on my neck
Shivers.
Inhale
Exhale
Eyes finding eyes
Gazes held
Hands
Feeling, always feeling
Too close
For comfort
Closer still
Perfect
-ly horrid.
Cause to
My demise
s.q.
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 12:19 AM UTC
I picked my poison blindfolded.
Fumbling like Jane Grey
at the execution block.
Grabbed the jar closest,
cool glass with death beneath.
It was the slowest.
Death by leeches,
who **** the spirit dry
and replace it
with lead.
May 30, 2014
May 30, 2014 at 9:31 AM UTC
You wandered the room.
Entered through the doorway.
Fluently floating, and timidly tracing.
Your temporal frame, your transient shape.
Your obsession with perfection and your warm cordial face.
I noticed bite marks on your arms and legs,
they were red and freshly laid.
You shouldn't go where you aren't safe.
The world can be a horrid place.
When I looked into your eyes,
They were dead and they were cloudy.
I haven't seen or heard a thing scream dread so loudly.
I can see it in your soul, I can see in your consonance.
And if this what your future is, I don't want a part of it.
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 8:33 PM UTC
The likes of you I can't describe,
Yet I love to eat between your thighs.
The melody you spake to me
Unfolds my greatest sovereignty.
I crave to quaff all of your spit,
And swallow every drop of it.
Don't cheat me of your tasty flesh,
Those bare and supple ****** *******
Your eyes that follow my firm gaze,
While we kiss and lick and misbehave.
I need to feel each piece of skin,
Smashing girl and boy parts over and over again.
It's such a treat to eat you whole;
I'm obsessed with eating 19-year-olds.
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 9:32 PM UTC
Welling up inside of me
Like the guilt from things undone
Lies the horrid emotions
We don't deal to feel
For each other
Deny, deny, deny
The word has become the playlist
Of our lives
Bobbing in our heads
Wherever we go
Keep your thoughts hidden
Like the treasure of your skin
So preciously unique
Unlike any other I've heard
Rough like the tide washing me away
My heart no longer speeds
Up at your sight
My head no longer dizzies
As you speak your careful words
I've learned to burry it all in a well
Deep, deep in a well
Somewhere in my chest,
In my thoughts
Where you can't retrieve it
Deny, deny, deny
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 12:11 AM UTC