Friday, March 25, 2005

riding the red bull
by iggy

so tonight i am busting my ass to make this deadline for that writing class. it's 5am and i am not even near being done with this shit. it's the end of the quarter and after i turn this in i have some time off. tomorrow i'm going into LA to visit brad and alphie. theres another crappy band they want to go see.

but before i do all that good stuff i have to write in four different poetry styles and its a total bitch. this first one is about when cleo called me earlier when i was at albertson's (yeah, don't remind me) stocking up on red bull for tonight. (it's "limerick")


when i went to the store i was called
by a girl who i wish would get mauled.
she talked while i shopped
the red bull got dropped
the guy with the mop was appalled


that shit really happened, and all she did was laugh at me on the phone. i asked her didn't she have something better to do? like turning tricks at el pollo loco or something?

she said she was sick and was staying in and did i want her to write me a poem to turn in? i figured she was full of shit, but i gave her "3-verse haiku" cause i thought she could handle that allright. here's what she came up with...


igor you'll go blind
unless you cut down on that.
you want hairy palms?

six times in one day?
not just any man could be
don juan of the john.

if you're reclining
you had best practice your aim
or you'll taste chlorine


right now it is late and i am stuck writing another sonnet. i know her haiku sucks (what do those last three mean anyway?) but i might just turn it in if i get desperate.

oh well, time for another red bull i guess...