And their bodies fell like ashes
His hair

Like ravens nesting

The wind blew by

cold and sweet, filled with spring
But no spring would come

His hair fluttering
Cold skin

Cold eyes

but not dead

by William Hull
Quit your bitching, fool

You cannot criticise us
Unless you submit

There is something green
It looks very Unpleasant
It hangs from your nose

I trip and fall down

The big man kicks my ass
good

Idiot Ball rules

I am a ‘good friend’
My tongue is six inches long
I breathe through my ears

No one will read these
My haikus all suck a lot
They are just filler

I've shortened your life
One hundred two syllables
Aren't I a prick?

he al