Nikhilism is <br />apparently like a horse <br />of the wrong colour. <br /> <br />It is always those <br />who write the lousy poems <br />that scream the loudest. <br /> <br />My dear Aunt Hulda <br />always said that misery <br />is bottled envy. <br /> <br />She also said to <br />not go out and play with them <br />too many bad boys. <br /> <br />So what I did is <br />put on my Lederhosen <br />played with Aunt Hulda. <br /> <br />She had the wisdom <br />that all those boys were missing <br />but played poor checkers. <br /> <br />One day she looked out <br />and saw the gang beat one boy <br />she let them have it. <br /> <br />She stripped them naked <br />and tied them to the school fence <br />so all could see them. <br /> <br />Then something happened <br />the boys got smaller, smaller <br />until they vanished. <br /> <br />And it was clear then <br />that little people always <br />have shrieky voices. <br /> <br />And shrieky voices <br />go with small appendages <br />Aunt Hulda sayeth. <br /> <br />This is a Haiku <br />and should convey the spirit <br />that it was writ in.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/haiku-2005/
