Haiku

Blue skies, now turned grey.
Leaves, inverted on their trees.
Sudden comes the storm.
 
Endless wrangling jerks
Like medieval bishops screech.
They don't understand.
 
"I love you," she said.
"But, I don't love you," I said.
"Yes, you do," she said.

I tried to argue.
She pulled me in for a kiss.
It was heavenly.

"I love you," I said.
"I knew you did," she replied.
"You were right," I said.

"Now what?" I queried.
"Let's take this to bed," she said.
My thoughts exactly.
 
bubbles in the wind
each a captured gasp of joy
in search of hearing
 
Crusted muck of sweat
Atop prior sweat. Humid.
When will autumn come?
 
Groundless complaints howled!
No dog in the fight? Who cares!
Spew hate anyway!
 
bitter resentment
over something trivial
tears falling as snow
 
Thread derails happen.
But when derail becomes thread?
Boring. Time to go.
 
that lover of craft
who decries vile wokery
keeps winding me up
 
As water off duck,
So pass the viewpoints of fools.
In one eye, out next.
 
what pearls of wisdom!
such thick ejaculation
should leave us speechless
 
doomed by wokery
we watch the bramble's sharp thorns
draw blood between threads
 
Sharp katana swings:
Wise mocking, unheard by fools.
Discourse elevates.
 
this royal passing
is made yet another stick
to beat against us
the gloating malevolents
pissing from the balcony
 
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