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Precious air slips through
the crack in my helmet
as I wish for some tape.
Great war machine arrives,
cold and deadly -
I step on it, unknowing.
to a gratifying realization of scale.
Colony's food ran out days ago
Soon we must turn on each other.
The kitchen knife slipped
and severed my thumb,
Now I must grow another.
activity is shown to be but an annoyance.
Going into Toshi Station
to pick up some power converters
friends, yet will the chores be done?
Bored on a warm Sunday -
Guess I'll plug myself
back into the console
Ships move between suns
enacting a silent game
of Marco Polo.
the swimming pool of the universe.
Primitive man stands
in a monolith's shadow,
shrieking at its form.
Visions of himself
using his tool of bone and
killing a tapir.
by ancient, unseen hands? Thus spake Zarathustra. The Bad Lounge Haiku of Polarbeast The Bad Goth Haiku of Polarbeast The Bad Haiku of Our Visitors ![]() |