Did you ever wonder how Windows and Internet popup alerts would sound had they been written by the Japanese, the source of haunting Haiku poetry? Well, we consider it an important issue. So, we are grateful that someone went to the trouble of suggesting an answer to that important question.
| EPHEMERAL |
| A file that big? |
| It might be very useful. |
| But now it is gone. |
| DEATH |
| Windows has crashed. |
| I am the Blue Screen of Death. |
| No one hears your screams. |
| IMPERFECTION |
| Login incorrect. |
| Only perfect spellers may |
| enter this system. |
| 404 |
| This site has moved. |
| We'd tell you where, but then we'd |
| have to delete you. |
| SAILING |
| This crash reduces |
| your expensive computer |
| to a perfect boat anchor. |
| VALLEY |
| There is a chasm |
| of carbon and silicon |
| the software cannot bridge. |
| WINDOWS |
| Yesterday it worked. |
| Today, it is not working. |
| Windows is like that. |
We are sure you have always wondered what if haiku were written by people like Andry Griffin and the Dukes of Hazard. Now, there is an issue that comes up every day in our lives. Again, we are fortunate that Paul Ogden found someone sensitive enough to explore this question and below are the results of their musings.
| BEAUTY |
| Naked in repose |
| Silvery silhouette girls |
| Adorn my mudflaps. |
| OPTIONS |
| Unemployment's out. |
| Disability now takes on |
| An inviting glow. |
| MOTHER AND CHILD |
| Crusted in boogers, |
| Stained with Kool-Aid, baby with face |
| Only Mama loves. |
| BLAZE |
| Distant siren screams |
| Verne's been mowing with |
| Moonshine again. |
| A NEW MOON |
| Flashlights pierce darkness |
| No nightcrawlers in the ground; |
| Guess we'll gig some frogs. |
| EXUBERANCE |
| Joyous, playful, bright |
| Trailer park girl rolls in puddle |
| Left by afternoon rain. |
| ALONE |
| Seeking solitude |
| Carl's ex-wife Tammy files fer |
| Restraining order. |
| DESIRE |
| Damn, in that tube-top |
| You make me almost fergit |
| That you're my sister. |
| HATRED |
| I curse the rainbow |
| Emblazoned upon his hood |
| Hot-dang Jeff Gordon. |
| OFFERINGS |
| Tonight we hunger |
| Grandma sent grocery money |
| To Robert Tilton. |
| DRAMA |
| Set the VCR |
| Dukes of Hazzard Marathon |
| Starts at 9 O'Clock. |
| DEPRIVED |
| In WalMart toy aisle |
| Wailing boy wants rasslin' doll |
| Mama whups his butt.. |
| NO SIGNAL |
| White noise, buzzing static |
| Call Earl; the satellite dish |
| needs new descrambler. |
| IMPOUNDED |
| Sixty-five dollars and |
| That cyclone fence |
| Keeps me from my El Camino. |
| GATHERING |
| In early morning mist |
| Mama searches Circle K for |
| Moon Pies and RC Cola. |
| PRIDE |
| Grinning, he displays |
| The nine hundred beer cans that |
| Fill his pickup bed. |
From the prodigious collection of Paul Ogden
