The life, sex, death haiku

Life evaded her.
Sex mostly evaded her.
Death evaded her.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2016)

Note
As we all know and have been told by countless pundits countless times, all good poems, novels, novellas, stories, movies and life in general are about life, sex or death. Or one or two of the three. Or all three, just like the purely fictitious, brutally honest and minimally mysterious ball breaker above.

The working man’s haiku

Got a new job. And
somebody next door inflicts
loud nasty grinding.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2016)

Notes
The facts and nothing but.

The prehistoric alienation haiku

They called her rebel
for resenting to weave baskets
each and every day.

– Leonard Blumfeld ((c) 2016)

Note
Now we know that alienation existed even at the dawn of mankind.

The damn fine haiku

It was a fine poem
and was doing fine until
someone said stand down.
 
– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2015)

Note
According to Ted Kooser and his column American Life in Poetry, American literature is full of fine poems. Yep, you got to pronounce that fine with some sort of corn belt accent to get the full meaning. The stand down part is popular in recent military Hollywood lingo. It is frequently used when we all (the audience) are meant to strongly feel that someone should actually not stand down. I added damn to the title because a damn fine poem is even finer than one that is just fine.

The fighting the addiction haiku

Succeeded! Did not
use or think of using smart-
phone for fourteen hours.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2016)

Note
Actually not that autobiographical. I’m perfectly happy being connected to the world normally and not through the damn gadget – unless I’m walking around taking pictures with it. Sometimes of people in public places staring into their smartphones.

The Francis Bacon face haiku

Looks like TV on
a windy day disturbing
the satellite dish.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2016)

Note
This poem was inspired by true events – we have a big eucalyptus outside whose branches and leaves interfere with satellite reception and cause such Bacon-like distorted faces. (Alludes to the 20th century artist (1909-1992), not the Elizabethan philosopher.)

The cannot fail to be poetic haiku

Pathetic words to
beat the crap out of your mind-
less astral body.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2016)

And the inevitable note
Where did that one come from? From all the ball-twisting, tear-jerking poetry out there on the net.

The damn it I said haiku

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2016)

Written on Write A Haiku, which counts syllables for you and turns your outpourings into magnetic poetry.

The ostrich haiku

Stick your head in the
sand and wait; that is the art
of problem solving.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2016)

Note
All too often I catch myself doing exactly this kind of problem solving. Which is not easy to detect with your head in the sand...

The you must watch haiku

You must watch this ad
before you can see what
you wanted to see.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2016)

Note
A little kick at today’s coercive online advertising blackmail practices. (Is that a tautology? Doesn’t matter. Drives home the point.) This forced ad exposure reminds me of Stanley Kubricks’s film A Clockwork Orange (1971), where Malcolm McDowell’s eyes were kept open by force so he could not avoid seeing the things that were forced on him. With the aim of turning him into a nice guy from a criminal. So what’s the advertising forced upon us supposed to turn us into? Idiots who will eventually succumb and consume?

The candlelight installation haiku

Bucket-size candle
jars, jasmine water-filled, in
about any church.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2016)

Note
This one was sparked by a photo of an eminent contemporary conceptual artist's installation in a church in Santiago de Compostela, Spain. The jasmine water is my invention. Add a wick and paraffin, and it would probably burn nicely. I'm convinced it would smell good in any church. Priests, preachers, bishops, etc., please contact me for possible execution.

The extended burger and fries haiku

Let’s think of the pain
of the cows and potatoes – 
or rather not go there
and eat the damn thing.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2016)

Notes
This one's pretty much self-explanatory... I admit to having second thoughts every time I eat a hamburger somewhere. And the haiku is definitely extended.

The Heather Nova haiku

Dedicated to Alexa

Said my daughter: you’re
the only person I know 
who listens to her.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2016)

Notes
The truth and nothing but the truth (about the quote*). Out of the blue** I felt the urge to listen to Heather Nova’s London Rain and its healing effects*** today.

* Some evening in the early 2000s I ended up watching part of a Heather Nova concert on German TV, probably as a result of zapping through channels in search of something watchable. I don’t recall anyone else who comes off as ethereal on stage, as dreamy and enamored with singing with eyes closed. It’s something that can get too much. However, I ended up getting some Heather Nova CDs and playing them frequently when my daughter still lived at home. Hence the quote. I don’t think she liked H. N. very much. She preferred bands like The Back Street Boys back then.
** Does anything ever really occur out of the blue?
*** Nothing falls like London rain / Nothing heals me like you do

The friend from my youth haiku

She used words that I
would have never used to make
new categories.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2016)

Note
This one is about a friend from my youth (as she called me even 20 years ago). When she used that term, I felt hurt because she seemed to be saying that we were friends back then but could no longer be. She had created a limited category instead of the friends is friends and friends last for ever that I would have preferred.

The surreally sentenced haiku

Thirty days of hot 
landswart for the misdeamer, 
said the judge. Gavel!

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2016)

Note
Another one that came to me while I was half asleep and getting ready to wake up.

Emancipated

“A little backbone once in a while wouldn’t cheapen your dangle,” she said with a twinkle in her eye.

I’d just apologized to the waiter for the fact that she had ordered a Dos Equis and that he had brought her a Tres Equis.

When, in fact, I was pretty sure she’d said Tres Equis.

Now what the hell was her meaning?

Which is exactly what I asked her.

“It means that you should learn to stand up to some people, my dear man. And it would not hurt that swagger of yours I love so much,” she laughed and slapped me in the area of my bum – which she couldn’t quite get to because we were seated.

Reading between the lines is sometimes difficult.

What she really was trying to say might be, “Stand up to others as much as you like, but be wax in my dainty little hands.”

However, there definitely had been some innuendo in the dangle.

So that I was not entirely surprised when she suggested going back to our room after a while.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2016)

Written around the words backbone, cheapen and dangle from 3WW.

The Martin Shkreli haiku

There he goes crowing
and smirking: the cockiest
cock on the dunghill.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2016)

Note
This one was prompted by this morning’s news on France 24, where it was said that Martin Shkreli might easily be America’s most hated man nowadays.

The early morning dog haiku

Barking. The shrill kind,
a smallish yelp. Ecstatic
to have done a job.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2016)

Note
I hope this renders the facts as experienced from my early morning office: the yelp of a dog being walked somewhere in the vicinity. Saw neither the dog nor its walker. The job is my interpretation. Alas, many of these jobs can be encountered in the vicinity.

The Ansel Adams haiku

Oak tree, grassy hill,
fence posts in bottom foreground,
color, faded some.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2016)

Note
It’s a little known fact that the American photographer Ansel Adams (1902-1984), who is famous for his monochrome photographs of American landscapes, also experimented with color photography. This poem is a direct reference to one of his color photos, which can be seen online here. The first two lines actually consist of the photo’s matter-of-fact description at the Center for Creative Photography site.

The photographable interior haiku

Oh how I'd love to
have a photographable
interior! Oh!

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2016)

Notes
Welcome to this new year's first poetic product. It was triggered by looking at pictures of stylish interiors on tumblr. Sad to say, our interior at this point does not look like interior design mag material. It is as pictured above. And, contrary to some of those stylish pictures, it looks lived in...

Rude

"My internal monologue started ..."
"Keep it internal!"

- Leonard Blumfeld ((c) 2015)

Note
Inspired by some chatty piece I encountered in a blog a minute ago. After reading the first few words and glimpsing the length of it (considerable), I knew I would have no patience for these monologic outpourings of a literary soul.

The alone at home haiku

Alone at home with
two hibernating turtles
and some silverfish.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2015)

Note
The truth and nothing but the naked truth. That’s all, folks, for now.

The all is well in the tv series haiku

Metal impact, tires
screeching, sirens, megaphone,
explosions and shots.

- Leonard Blumfeld ((c) 2015)

Note
This is what I heard from the living room below as an episode of Quantico or some such series was unrolling.

The situation in central Italy haiku

Wild pigs in the streets, 
trash scandal and regular 
bus service delays.

- Leonard Blumfeld ((c) 2015)

Note
Once again, nothing but the truth in a haiku. Today's newspaper, quickly perused at the breakfast bar, reported on wild pigs in the streets of Ostia. A photo graphically demonstrating the lack of garbage removal at Viale F. T. Marinetti was published in the press a few days ago. And the bus service has been sporadic, erratic or simply nonexistent. Supposedly because the bus drivers have not been paid in months.

The undulation haiku

An undulation
through the wall – sufi music
or vacuum cleaner

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2015)

Note
Again the truth and nothing but the truth as it happened a while ago. Considering that this musical event did not last very long and did not develop, I now suspect that it was indeed the vacuum cleaner run at low speed to pick up a specific moderate mess and not the alaap of an Indian music piece.

Work

I’ve been coming twice a week to clean this illustrious writer’s house – thirteen or even fourteen years it must be. He used to meet people, have interviews, appear on TV, particularly after the success of his one and only novel The Deserted Planet, which, as you know, also became a movie everyone went to see. That was probably about ten years ago. He had a big party to celebrate his 70th birthday – I was there to help out in the kitchen. Lots of VIPs – writers, the mayor, people from politics and cinema. His ex-wife, that well-known anchorwoman. And then a gradual decline set in, fewer people came, he stayed home most of the time. Eventually he would no longer go on his habitual hour long walks. And now, sadly, his speech is as jumbled as his thoughts. His niece is taking care of him now, is getting paid for it and in control of everything. And stingy. He’s become haggard because she skimps on his food – while treating herself to fancy meals downtown with her boyfriend. He moved in a year ago. The slick, lecherous type. Has his eyes glued to certain parts of me whenever he’s around. Once he told me, when handing me my money, “You know, Felicidad, I love Latin women. A lot. There is something so exotically sensuous and seductive about them.” I keep the job because of the old man, who mostly sits in the living room now, staring out of the window.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2015)

Written around illustrious, habitual and jumbled from 3WW.

The outside the bar on a November morning haiku

She holds her warm cup
as if it were a gift from 
the gods of autumn.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2015)

Note
Based on an observation from this morning. Being smokers, Mona Lisa and her Indian companion were outside and shivering while I was enjoying the warmer climate inside.

The grace haiku

Sitting in the sun,
watching the turtles play in
the warmth of the sun.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2015)

Note
The truth and nothing but the truth a few minutes ago when this came to me and I went upstairs to write it down. Italian sun in the middle of November...

Sweet music from next door

Her heart is full of
love and longing for someone.
Heavy metal gone.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2015)

Note
The truth and nothing but the truth about the teeny neighbor. May this soft phase last! It’s definitely easier on the ears.

Suzanne

Suzanne takes you down to her place by the river
– Leonard Cohen

Today, Suzanne mused again sentimentally on her blog about washing and its close relationship to loving and longing, hanging up bunches of unnatural things for drying. As if the sun would ever get to them down there by the river.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2015)

Notes
Mixed media – digestion of a poem about washing found on a blog and XOR operation with Leonard Cohen's song Suzanne. By the way, Leonard Cohen was the one who gave half of this pseudonym, the other half coming from Franz Kafka.

The Donald Trump haiku

Billions and not
a thing to sell. Billions.
No trump, none at all.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2015)

Note
Some people appear to have it all. Well, maybe in the bank. Other than that: nothing at all.

Final

Rose's jabs at me while we were having our weekly candlelight dinner at the Oasis, that place of Nouvelle Cuisine fine dining and excessive pricing, seemed a bit labored or even makeshift.

"There's something wrong with your jabs tonight, love," I said during a break.

She took her time chewing a morsel of boeuf whatever.

She cleared her throat; this was always a bad sign.

"My jabs, as you so conveniently call my part of our conversation, have come to an end. I'm leaving you."

"Don't tell me it's Julian Dent."

Julian Dent was her posh and good looking dentist. I'd long suspected that something might be going on there.

"No. It's not."

She took a sip from her glass of Merlot and savored it.

"Someone I know?"

"Yes."

"Who?"

"Your brother."

Now that was the final jab. Like one with a knife. And it had come easily from her, sounding neither labored nor makeshift.

She rose quietly and walked out of my life.

– Leonard Blumfeld ((c) 2015)

Written around jab, labored and makeshift from 3WW.

The thanks but no thanks haiku

To Elsie and her dog Chihuauzer

Thank you for your grrrr
picture. I know you love your
dog. But I do not.

– Leonard Blumfeld ((c) 2015)

Notes
All too often dog owners are so enamored with their furry friends that they assume everyone else loves them just as much (or should). Barking, penetrating and unwelcome interest, sniffing, showing teeth, planting paws on someone's chest are just a few choice items of dog behavior not everyone appreciates.
Disclaimer: I do not know anyone named Elsie, nor do I know a dog named Chihuauzer. However, I did know someone years ago who had a mutt resulting from the union of a chihuahua and a schnauzer and proclaimed that his dog was therefore a chihuauzer.

An excerpt from an interview with Anna K., actress

“I hate smoking, especially Lucky Strikes.
And I hate kissing – or worse –, especially old lechers like [name omitted], my so-called romantic partner in my most recent film.
Ha!
Both make me vomit, and that’s not a good thing to do in front of the camera.”

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2015)

Disclaimer
Some names have been shortened or suppressed to avoid legal issues.

Witticism

Actors are supposed to act like normal people, but more often than not it's the other way round.

– Leonard Blumfeld

Throwing sand into the wind

She went to the sandy beach to throw sand into the wind.
She threw sand.
She threw more sand.
She kept throwing sand.
Into the wind, which was sometimes stronger
and sometimes milder
and sometimes blew the sand into her face.

"Why are you doing this?" a voice said.
"It's a statement."
"What kind of a statement?"
"It's a concept."
"What kind of a concept?"
"It's art."
"But there's no-one around to watch it."
"That's part of the concept."
"I see."
"Plus there's always the universe and eternity."

– Leonard Blumfeld ((c) 2015)

About A. H.

What a nasty, greasy character to have ignited this hellish chapter in the history of mankind.

– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2015)

Written around the words greasy, hellish and ignite from 3WW.

Note
No need to explain who this refers to. At least I should hope so.