Greg Mote
Hub Summary Folio Stuff Mechanical Reference
Haiku I wrote for you
I look left and right
frantic for safety as the
stranger approaches.
My work, my life where
will it be when I am gone
from all that I know.
Woof at the neighbor,
Spring after moths, what will be
next from this cute dog.
Polyvinyl and
obtuse in design on these
desks which we recline.
Round, round the hands do
fly, with relentless gestures
of moments gone by.
Dollars and seconds,
commodities each which we
ration in pinches.
The sky is blackened
and our breaths stopped short, as we
succumb to the fire.
Striving for more power
and control humans can cause
others destruction.
Books are for reading
time is all it takes and the
reward is great.
Through thorns and thistles
nothing withstands the torture
better than steel boots.
A pen in the hand
of a fool is as useless
as no pen at all.
A reference book is
worth a thousand people who
know nothing.
Experience is
the next best thing to learning
from a trusted friend
Even though a box
has a detailed list of parts
it could be empty.
A single switch can
set a device with boundless
power in motion.
The slime that oozes
from the pink blob eats through the
hard concrete flooring.
A barometer
on the wall is worth more than
a sensitive knee.
When a phone rings, you
should answer it, else you will
not know who called.
Trust all that you read
and someday you will get a
job in government.
If one mouse in a
house is inauspicious, then
what about ninety.
A debt is when one
person forgets to pay one
bill merely once.
A clock on the wall
is worth sixty-six in the
back of a cave.
Just as a hill is
a small mountain, a job is
a small occupation.
A pencil without
lead is a good as a desk
without an tenant.
Checking craftsmanship
before distribution saves
time in abundance.
Monsters that reek come
from the deep; but the good guy
always comes from Japan.
A large clipboard is
worth ten-thousand hands and is
a whole lot cheaper.
If a cat were a
dog, then it would understand
why all the chasing.
A bookmark in place
is worth more than a perfect
A barrel full of
monkeys is not so bad, a
house full is trouble.
five seven five is
the pattern which i used to make
these words alive
floating and drifting
on life's many fold rivers
is something i do
the sky may be clear,
but there is still something out
there which is called air
haiku is a fun
sort of reciting that forges
my thoughts to writing
more, more is all i
ask, what else could i think of
wanting beyond that
the enlightenment
was tickity for them and
tockity for me
if you ever figure
out what i am saying, then
tell me, i don't know
the format, the lines,
the rythmn and all the rhymes
are the modern times
do tell, do tell if
i have become excentric
do tell, if it's so
more words, more letters
that's what i like! give 'em up
'cause there mine. alright?
my mind is wafting
in contemplation's fields
of mystery and awe
from down here it's high,
but from way up there its seems
even higher still
all of the people
and things they have; i don't
want to understand
bits by the billion
exist before me each a
part of this story
a perfect rhyme is
nice, but being slightly off
will give me justice
while in warrenty
most problems will be fixed
absolutely free.
one part per million
is a lot when that part is
instantly deadly.
margins and borders
all white space that contains these
letters i'm writing.
this is on my
paper, it exists right here
and that is not all.
my mind contains a
copy, it is just as
real and useful.
if one were gone then
the other would still be there
though not as useful.
a fire hydrant
is to a dog like tacos
are to frying oil
a nap is to cats
like a tree is to a leaf,
not to uncommon
like like like like like
like like like like like like like
like like like like like
my mug is nice, my
mug is neat, my mug won't fit
on my big big feet
today is thursday
and i feel that my teeth are
not quite clean enough
twenty-two days late
my calendar page was turned
that would be to late
work is a force which
creates pressure and tension
on a real machine
five leaf clovers are
not particularly what
one expects to find
what's so dynamic
about a subject that's so
wholly static
pickles for me and
mustard for them, does that make
any sense to you
piece by piece a pile
of stuff takes form into a
creation of mine
order is chaos,
chocolate loves the ocean
and words are not thought
the edge of the world
the brim of consciousness and thought
the halucination is
reaching far beyond,
extending without reason;
to find a foothold
arlo san grompus
bag a boochumpchump erp yule
nada nuda beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
add a word and stop
look at the word and begin
add a word and stop
monk fall down - ker-plunk!
monk sit down - ker-plop! monk down!
monk get up - hurrah!
around, around! breathe...
can life be a game as such?
no, so stop asking!
inside my feet i
feel the outside of my feet.
do you feel the same?
my ears! my ears! oh!
it must be that time again...
my must it be so?
most of the time i
write slow, but now i am fast.
i know it won't last...
i'm gonna be. yah!
your's gonna be. yah! yah! yah!
i'm gonna be. yah!
can i own my words?
can you own my words? maybe.
how much will you pay?
Dee-Dee and Stevens:
here comes Miss Olive, howdy!
and all the kitties.
Pickles, Munster Cheese,
Hammer, Chicken, Alfredo
too many kittens.
Born in the jungle,
brought up under the forest,
set free to the moon.
If I were to add
just one more word to this bit
it wouldn't be right
Skeletons of things,
skin and guts not here or there
so don't look for them.