A Bunch of Haikus About Cats and Then Some Other Stuff

A Bunch of Haikus About Cats and Then Some Other Stuff

triplefur poof cat
grape green eyes hold a black moon
sliver that sees all

Red cat under desk
Mischief waits in his thick tail
He bolts with no plan

wipe sleep from cat eye
no time for last night, friend-son
this day is for you

Tibby poops in box
scratches gravel to cover
waits for birds to wake

Daughter snores on couch
Dreams a june bug or spider
wakes to the same world

Dazzled by whimsy
a moth got in into the house
Faeries watch faeries

Daydreams watch windows
Our maple tree sends out seeds
My kids watch and think

I am getting old
I will feel it more harshly
Cats sit on my lap

My heart is honey
My soul is inside these cats
I’ll give them a treat

Who speaks from my mouth?
When you look down an abyss
it looks back at you

A common refrain for Beard Bite Man dot com is that I would like to communicate. Mostly that’s what I’m getting at. I have a fat tongue, a beer-addled brain, a dour countenance. However, even as an introverted weirdo bugman, I think there is some insatiable bug instinct to touch your antennae to another bug and connect. Senpai, or anybody, notice me.

Even as a tenured elder bugman, salt and pepper beard and pubic flora, I am unsure exactly what I mean by this. (I do not have salt and pepper hair yet but i hope i will roll it out soon. We hope to be fully operational by 2024.)

Every piece of technology we ever interact with now is profiling us and taking high resolution scans of our facial structure to unlock our phones and looking into every text message we ever sent and taking in GPS data and just analyzing the fucking shit out of our everyday lives. Mostly useless information. For the comings-and-goings of our lives, this doesn’t need to be. How much worse would your life really be if you couldn’t type in “tacos” on your phone when you are barrelling down the interstate at 80 miles per hour and see a fucking promoted ad for Taco Bell in 5.3 miles

What are we doing

Yoncho chirps then jumps
Her fat belly finds my lap
I am not insane

You cannot be sure what parts of you are genuine innate desires or what parts are good ad campaigns. “Cotard’s syndrome comprises any one of a series of delusions that range from a belief that one has lost organs, blood, or body parts to insisting that one has lost one’s soul or is dead.” Chill out, I don’t think that. However, (the however kind of sucks, too) I think given the current superstructure of society, it would be damn near impossible to decide if you were dead or completely subsumed and placated.

So just think in a way that’s not dead. That’s a call to action. Don’t let your brain get fucked up by fluoride and beer. Hug your kitties. If you don’t have a kitty, you should get one. There’s lots of them out there. Get an ugly one. Name it something tough like Bruno or Stinker.