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27 April 2013 – Freedom day – haiku

Freedom day

Are we really free?

It has been nineteen years since

We are still A-part.


Nonsense cut up poetry. Beware! It might shock you!


Yeah I like it hard


I whipped my foster children.

Social Services: “Oh the drama!”

Police dived in, sprawling

principal screwing his mother’s car,

shouting hoarse voice,


“Just let me in!”

Wrote this in one of my Creative Writing classes in my third year at Uni. Lecturer gave us each a ripped out piece of paper from a mysterious book. We had to choose words from the pages and write a poem about it. The more absurd it sounded, the better the result!

Somehow I could never understand the last four lines of the poem. But now I got it!

This job will be the death of me I swear!

I’m having trouble sending my pictures to my editor. Hopefully dropbox will be able to sort that out. It’s still syncing to my dropbox and might take a few hours. Fingers crossed.

Now they decided to move the deadline to the 23rd of April. That means I’m going to have to write one more article during the weekend. And I was hoping to send it tomorrow, everything would be over and that I could rest on the weekend. 

Actually they want more than eight articles before next week Tuesday! Gee thanks, but I think that’s just not going to cut it for me. It’s kinda short notice, don’t you think? I’m still working on my third and fourth article. 

So far I only have one more idea for one more article. But I’ll worry about that tomorrow. Today I want to finish up with the articles I have and editing my pictures.


True to my ranting, here’s my haiku for today:

I cannot keep up

The job of a journalist 

is never done. So


many things I should

know of- what’s going on plus

writing articles.


Technology cursed

us journalists – social 

networks galore. Must


check everything.

news constantly updated 

I cannot keep up.

A small part of me wishes it was still the early days: lying around hoping for a job to come around.

P.S the colour pink makes me think of shock or pressure. 

Protected: Poem inspired by all the fairy tales

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Protected: My dinosaur poem

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