The Rage Haiku: An oxymoron, or just moronic?

What, you may ask, is a rage haiku? It’s a wonderful thing which, yes, yes, I invented. It recently came to me in the shower (the crucible of all brilliant ideas) that the haiku, though long-reputed as a poetic form best suited to the subtle, rosy-hued observations of intellectual gurus, would in fact be the ideal form in which to express unalloyed, vitriolic anger. The kind of anger that would vindicate your long-repressed misanthropy, redeem you in your father’s eyes, and finally pay off all those pesky student loans. I mean, think about it: by definition, haikus are:

  • Brief: just 5 syllables, then 7, then another 5; YOU’RE DONE!
  • Vivid: sunsets, delicate petals, and dewdrops are all popular subjects.
  • … according to intellectual guru Natalie Goldberg, textual gems that should contain a “hint of epiphany” in which something powerful and unexpected is revealed about the subject.

Wouldn’t it be amazing if you could channel your righteous anger about subway etiquetteorange juice, or criminal trial verdicts, into something with the thought-provoking, bone-crushing CH’I of a fucking haiku? Your enemies would fall like flabby mall walkers to your dragon-veined, 17-syllabled katana! Faster than a zinging comeback, more powerful than a made-up curse word, wittier even than the Drunk Hulk twitter steam, a hail of meticulously-crafted poetry would stun the most seasoned nemesis into a shocked stasis, allowing you to slip away unnoticed or exit to rapturous applause from the assembled crowd.

Allow me to demonstrate, via a series of common, everyday situations:

You buy a newspaper at the local bodega and the gentleman behind the counter hands you change for a five dollar bill when you clearly paid with a ten. You object. He insists. You skool him with a little 5/7/5:

“Dishonoring me
Will mean a holocaust for
Your Chifles* display”

*For the uninitiated, “Chifles” is a popular brand of plantain and cassava chip, which according to some, “tastes like cardboard.” Me, I love them.

Your ex-husband’s birthday party. It’s been a while. He’s remarried; you’re not. You look hot, there’s no denying that. But there’s also no denying you’ve had four martinis. Your index finger is suddenly on his sternum.

“You know your problem?
You could never loosen up!
Yo Chex mix LET’S DANCE!!”

A tense situation in an abandoned building ends with the drawing of guns in a Mexican Standoff. Your tummy rumbles.

No one gets hurt if
You motherfuckin’ get me 
A Royale with Cheese!!!

See? RAGE HAIKU. Try one. Keep a few in your pocket. And leave those anger management classes to the proletariat.

3 responses

  1. Katharine Houston

    Haiku of Chifles vs. Their Cardboard Taste

    Chifles are not bad
    When blitzed and drunk in the head.
    A buzz calls for stale.

    Haiku of Subway Rage

    Chicken bones are trash
    Not subway decoration!
    Fucking throw them out!

    July 7, 2011 at 12:43 pm

  2. sabrinav

    Windsong I

    Wind dances through the trees
    My stomach is empty, man.
    Where MY Chifles at?

    Windsong II

    Star Wars Pajamas
    Only come in small sizes
    Where my CHIFLES at?

    July 7, 2011 at 3:24 pm

  3. graylex

    Your haikus? Humbling.
    I feel no rage, merely awe.
    Let the Chifles RAIN!

    July 13, 2011 at 9:51 am

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