Stream of Haikuciousness...When Matt-Man Develops His Spontaneous Asian Side

Yesterday on the IWS website, Jayman posted an exquisitely done stream of consciousness post.  I mean…

It was so damn well done, that while the tears of James Joyce were falling from Heaven, Jayman was receiving a call from the Ted Cruz organization begging Jayman to be their filibuster writer from here on out.

So?  I thought I’d do a little stream of consciousness writing myself, however…

Just to mix it up a little, I thought I’d stream my consciousness in the form of haikus.

So here ya go, Matt-Man’s Stream of Haikusciousness…

This winter drags on
Will it end anytime soon?
I seriously doubt it.

This Steel Reserve
Is quite tasty and so warm,
Fuck Mother Nature.

I’m off this Sunday
Facebook friends better beware,
Ima gonna drink.

Sausage, toast, and eggs
That sounds incredibly good.
So much effort though.

I just lit a smoke
I take a deep drag, and smile
Newport Reds taste swell.

Lent is almost here
I need to give up something
Bread and pasta…Gone!!

My zipper is down
I find that extremely odd
Hands were typing keys.

I bet Kate Upton
Is really awful in bed
Not allowed to bite and mar her picture perfect tits.

My last Kate haiku
Did not follow haiku rules
Oh well…suck it, Kate.

Chicken nuggets, not eggs

eggs?

Nuggets are much less trouble.
Eggs may have to sit.

I just touched my dick.
No, I didn’t have an itch
I just wanted to.

Why do people judge?
Schmoop is sound asleep in bed
And I am horny.

Thank you, and have a great Thursday…I shall spend mine saying “5-7-5” to myself.

Today’s drawer at the Beer Mine is gonna be so fucked up.

Cheers!!

Matt-Man

mattmaniws@ymail.com
@mattman_iws
My Facebook Page

Ulysses: The Making of Irish Stew

In the spirit of James Joyce’s quasi-mythological and somewhat stream of consciousness novel, Ulysses, I give you…

“Mattlysses:  Thoughts While Sitting on the Toilet at 2:47 A.M.”

Holy Cow, my stomach hurts.  I guess I shouldn’t have eaten that taco or drank that last Mickey’s Malt Liquor so late.

I haven’t felt this bad since years ago when I woke up the day after I had drunken sex with that chick with the birthmark shaped liked the boot heel of Missouri on her ass, and a mustache that said, “Pet Me!!”

Oh man!!  C’mon, bowels…Don’t just lay there all gassy n’shit.  Let’s feel some movement.  I’m very tired and want to go back to bed.

Oh what’s this?  Wow.  Merle Haggard is dying and Chaz Bono wants to be, “The Bachelor.”  How does anyone not take a shit without reading, The Globe?  I love it.

And speaking of taking a shit…

“IT WOULD BE NICE TO BE DOING SO, RATHER THAN JUST SITTING HERE GETTING PORCELAIN IMPRINTS ON MY ASS!!”

Was that a spider?

Oh hell…I have to remember that after my colon evacuates its contents, IF IT EVER DOES, I need to get the coffee ready to brew for the morning, which is technically already fucking here.

God forbid that I don’t have the coffee ready for Schmoop.  And God forbid on my behalf that I forget, as I wouldn’t want forgetting to put eight cups of water and five scoops of ground Arabica beans into said coffee maker to be the reason that I don’t get laid this weekend.

Jesus Christ…Oooooo.  Oh boy here she comes…I feel some rumblings.

Ahhhhhhhhh.  Ewwwwwwww….Man, it was like it all rushed out…as if I was pissing from my ass.  Who does that?  I’ll tell ya who!!

An idiot who can’t lay off those God Damn energy drinks, like me.  Aside from the caffeine, those bottles full of a month’s worth of B Vitamins turn any type of food into a frothy chocolate milkshake.  Oh man…

Oh dear God…that is just wrong.  Holy Cow, I only had a taco and drank a couple of beers, what the hell is still coming out of me, my freakin’ soul!?

Why is the cat pawing at the bathroom door.  It can’t be as though she is drawn to the smell in here, unless she smells death and wants to see me before I die.

Fuck…it IS a spider…Ha…Well it’s a dead spider now.  Even while on the shitter, arachnids shouldn’t mess with me.

Ahhhhhhhh….I feel better.  No pain, no gain, and man when it’s all done, it’s better than sex.  Huh?  I find shitting better than sex?

That’s just fucked up.  Eh…

I guess it’s because of that, “the pleasure given, is equal to the pleasure received, school of thought.”

I guess my body and I work in harmony.

I abuse it.  It abuses me.  And in the end…we both feel better.

Cheers!!

Matt-Man

email:  neshobadude@yahoo.com
Twitter:  @mattmaniws