The Inevitability of Doom

Haiku for a Urinal

Such glamorless job

but still you never grumble

Ice plant and poppies

Coconut-scented sunscreen on the sea-wind.

Surfers

living the stoke, crossing the road

With ice plant- and poppy-

colored boards.

The sunshine beats this bare sheet,

My bare legs, my scars

A history of self-harm in bas-relief

Remember when I ******* my ***** with a *****,

wasted on Jäger

at Ataturk International?

God I get anxious.

 Consider the surfers of the sea. For they work not, neither do they seek employment, nor gather into halfway houses, and yet your heavenly government feedeth them. Are ye not much better than they?

 Apparently decidedly not.

Well, I mean, who fucking knows?

O! the odes that I was reading

in the sunshine, by The Hook,

and while there was a raven,

the thick library book

was nothing more than artifice.

All I wanted was to look

We saw only excellent fuel for the lime kilns.

                     please tell me why

“Good Friday? Are we talking about the weather?”

Sean hasn’t the still for the meaning.

“2000 years ago nothing happened,” he says.

“So why don’t we celebrate?”

Absurd. Absurdus. Surdus.