Haikus to My Ineptitude

By Ann

Because, as we know,

Being a grown up is hard.

Harder when you’re dumb…

If I could count the

Countless times I found too late

My shirt was backwards.

Out of socks again.

I could simply do laundry,

But we know I won’t.

Now I work from home.

What is this so-called sunlight

Others talk about?

Cookies for dinner

Is not a healthy choice, but

Nothing can stop me.

Yet another plant

Gifted to me, so unwise,

Soon I will kill you.

Don’t judge me, Netflix.

Of course I am still watching.

You know this damn well.

I cannot get up.

There is a cat upon me.

Yes, a good excuse.

Pop-Songs as Sonnets #5: DNCE–Cake by the Ocean

By Shawn

I spy thee in a march funereal—
Why tiptoe thou, why are thy feet so cold?
I proffer thee a plan venereal
Involving cake that is exceeding bold.
I know a beach where we might eat with ease,
A place that I have ne’er brought kin nor kith.
Pass not thy time beside a masterpiece—
‘Tis I that thou shouldst fain be rollin’ with.
I watch thee plunge thine arms in frosting deep,
And crave a lick of thine enfrosted hand.
Aquatic sex confection’s what I seek—
I tire of all the candy on dry land.
O let us act as madly as we dare,
Cake-eating by Poseidon’s wat’ry lair.

A Ballad for the Woman on a Flight Who Gave Her Screaming Children Coffee

By Shawn

O dearest woman on the flight
I took not long ago,
I have a bone to pick with you,
About two cups of joe.

Remember that late Delta flight?
They packed us like sardines,
And none of us were in the mood,
To hear your children’s screams.

Yet they both wailed and kicked the seats
Of those in front of them,
Denying weary passengers
Some needed R.E.M.

I thought that you might feel the need
To make your children cease.
Events would soon make clear to me
You don’t care in the least.

For in the midst of all their cries,
Your children screamed at you:
“More coffee, Mom! We want some now!”
Well, what’s a mom to do?

I guess if you’re a shitty mom,
You do just what you did,
And buy two cups of black cocaine
To overclock your kids.

What happened next was horrible—
You couldn’t pay me millions
To relive that and watch your kids
Both act like Robin Williams.

I think you hate the human race.
I think that must be why
You’d put your fellow human beings
Through torture in the sky.

Well, I enjoyed that trip so much–
I love when children yell.
Still, I don’t blame your kids for this,
But you can burn in hell.

Pop Songs as Sonnets #4: Cee-Lo — F**k You

By Shawn

I spy thy coach; it driveth ’round the town,
And with thee is a wench belov’d by me—
Alack! Hot tears cannot my sorrows drown.
That shit’s messed up, and so I say, fie thee.
True, thou dost me exceed in finery.
Yea, I confess my change-purse holds no coins.
But had I jewels and men in livery,
I’d still have access to thy lady’s loins.
To think what silken shawls and comely blouses
I purchased for that most ill-favored sow!
God grant my prayers, a plague on both your houses—
Forsooth, I really hate thy ass right now.
I can’t believe that she’d do this to me.
I’m like, fie thee, and also fie on she.

Haikus in Honor of Comcast

By Shawn


Hello, I need help.

My internet doesn’t work.

Right. Yes, I can hold.


Hi. Good, how are you?

Yes, my internet is out.

It’s been out all day.


Reset the router?

Okay, I’ll give it a try.

No, that didn’t do it.


Reset it again?

Okay, but I just did that.

Guess what? Still broken.


Which light do you mean?

At the top of the router?

Still orange like before.


I reset it twice.

We know now that does not help.

Any other thoughts?


It’s orange. It’s still orange.

It’s going to stay orange unless

you try something else.


I won’t reset it.

Third time is not the charm here.

Check things on your end.


Okay, fine, I’ll hold.

… Hi there. My account is what?

Why can’t you find it?


Huh? Transfer me where?

No, I’m in Connecticut.

My phone number’s just–


I’m on a cellphone.

It’s a Maryland number,

but I’m living here.


No, I’m not lying.

Yes, I have the same address.

I’d know if I moved.


Well, that’s pretty odd,

’cause you’ve been mailing me bills.

Ah, great, you’ve found it.


Still orange. You know why?

Because nothing has happened

here that would change that.


What? No, of course not.

I don’t have a spare router.

Why would I have that?



Please have a new idea,

I am begging you.


Oh, for the love of–




Okay, look, can you–

Can you send someone out here?

Yes, I would like that.


My address? But I–

I thought we just sorted that–

What? But… Fine, I’ll hold.

Pop Songs as Sonnets #3: LMFAO – Sexy and I Know It

By Shawn

Yea when I walk on by a maiden fair,
I feel her blushing gaze doth follow me,
And rest upon my ample derriere,
Which clad in an’mal print much tempteth she.
I’m in a Speedo tryin’ t’ tan my cheeks
And every passing lass is on me soon.
I know it is my codpiece that they seek,
For I have passion in my pantaloons.
O wench I bid thee look upon that body—
The normal rules of sexy it doth flout.
Aye, thou wilt quite agree it be not shoddy;
I’ll have thee know ’tis ’cause I oft work out.
I’m proud of my great rump and would fain show it.
I tell thee, maid, I’m comely and I know it.

Pop Songs as Sonnets #2: Rebecca Black – Friday

By Shawn

‘Tis Friday morn; the boist’rous cock doth crow,
And down the stairs I spring to take my meal.
The hour grows late and to the bus I go–
I spy my friends and muse on how I feel:
To kick it in the front seat of yon coach,
Or ‘stead to rest my feet up in the back?
To be in front, or be in back the coach,
That is the question (for Rebecca Black).
‘Twas Thursday ere the sun rose up this dawn.
‘Tis Friday now, and if ye hark this rhyme,
I’ll tell thee broadly of my goings-on,
And keep thee posted ’bout the current time.
‘Tis Friday, and with joy we greet this day–
Yeah party party fun fun fun fun yay!

Pop Songs as Sonnets #1: R. Kelly and Usher — Same Girl

By Shawn

Fair Usher, I would have a word with thee.
— Pray, Kells, tell all; I’ll gladly hear thee speak.
I’ve met a maid whose aspect charmeth me.
She’s named T.T. and hath a rosy cheek.
— Alack! Black day! This cannot be the truth!
What sayest thou? Thy homie bids thee tell!
— I too have bed this wench; my phone holds proof!
My heart, it burns with all the fires of hell!
— R. Kelly, friend, we must avenge this slight.
I’ll call her up, and thou wilt stay concealed;
She’ll get into the airport late tonight;
We’ll ambush her and all will be revealed!
O what a wicked, cruel, and heartless churl!
To think that we had messed with the same girl!