by Ryan Mecum
Werewolf HAIKU
Ryan Mecum
Dear haiku journal,
I think I killed some people.
That was no dog bite.
This journal contains the poetic musings of a mailman who, after being bitten by what he thinks is a dog, discovers that he is actually now a werewolf. Wreaking havoc wherever he goes, he details his new life and transformations in the 5-7-5 syllable structure of haiku?his poetry of choice.
Follow along as our werewolf poet slowly turns from a mostly normal man into the hairy beast that he cannot keep trapped inside. And watch out for carnage when he changes and becomes hungry. No toenail, no entrail, no pigtail will be left behind. And talk about wreaking havoc: His newfound claws and teeth have sent his clothing budget through the roof!
He is in love with a woman on his route, but he has never had the courage to tell her. As he fights against his urges during each full moon, he discovers that succumbing to his primal instincts will not only bag him a good meal?it just might help him in his quest for love…Or maybe not.
Ryan Mecum
Werewolf HAIKU
Copyright © 2010 by Ryan Mecum.
This journal belongs to
Dear haiku journal:
This could be my last entry
if I have rabies.
A stray dog bit me
while I delivered the mail.
Should have used the mace.
“He was a mailman
and a struggling poet
who died by dog bite.”
The dog seemed homeless.
It looked like a rabid wolf,
hungry for mailmen.
I kicked and he ran -
but not before he bit off
a big chunk of calf.
I finished the route,
hobbling to each mailbox,
and thinking of Rose.
Rose is my lady,
but she might not know it yet
since we’ve yet to speak.
I’m introverted
and I would guess she is, too,
judging by her mail.
We differ in ways.
She subscribes to Cat Fancy.
I get Dog Fancy.
I limp through her yard
and as I fill her mailbox,
she opens her door.
With her lovely smile,
Rose greets me with a hello.
I nod back and leave.
I’ve always been shy,
which is why I don’t respond
and why I’m alone.
I like to pretend
I will ask Rose out someday,
since I won’t for real.
MY STALKER LOVE SONG MIX!
1. Blondie – One Way or Another
2. The Police – Can’t Stand Losing You
3. Cheap Trick – I Want You To Want Me
4. U2 – I Will Follow
5. Backstreet Boys – As Long As You Love Me
6. David Seville – Witch Doctor
7. Screaming Jay Hawkings – I Put a Spell on You
8. The Stranglers – In the Shadows
9. Darren Hayes – Creepin’ Up on You
10. Diana Ross – I’m Gonna Make You Love Me
11. Duran Duran – Hungry Like the Wolf
12. Sarah McLachlan – Possession
13. Fleet wood Mac – Say You Love Me
14. Death Cab For Cutie – I Will Possess Your Heart
15. The Police – Every Breath You Take
16. Morrissey – The More You Ignore Me, The Closer I Get
17. Meatloaf – I’d Do Anything For Love (But I Won’t Do That)
18. Michael Bolton – How Am I Supposed to Live Without You
19. Billy Ocean – Get Outta My Dreams, Get Into My Car
20. Bryan Adams – (Ever ything I Do) I Do It For You
21. Elvis Costello – I Want You
When I get back home,
I play my love mix CD,
write haiku and cry.
What a rotten day!
I dodge the girl of my dreams
and I’m still bleeding.
Lupé my Shih Tzu
sniffs at my gouged-out calf wound
and whimpers away.
The cut oozes pus
and my whole sock is dark red
from blood draining down.
All around the wound
are many long strands of hair…
which are not from me.
Rubbing alcohol
burns as I clean out the cut,
visibly throbbing.
I’ll wrap my dog bite,
fall asleep on the front couch,
and dream about Rose.
That’s it for now, friend.
I’ll write in you tomorrow,
dear haiku journal.
Dear haiku journal,
I think I killed some people.
That was no dog bite.
What happened last night?
My selective memory
is a bit hazy.
It wasn’t a dream,
due to my lack of clothing,
and I’m really full.
I woke up naked,
sprawled in a stranger’s front yard.
Rough start to a day.
You hate alarm clocks?
Try automatic sprinklers
with you in grass, nude.
“Looks like you woke up
on the wrong side of the bed”
should now be retired.
From now on, I’ll say,
“Looks like somebody woke up
outside, nude and wet.”
My mind starts to fill
with memories of chaos
and eating neighbors.
The woman next door
with that huge mole on her neck -
I think I ate it.
It’s an odd feeling
when realization hits -
that now I murder.
Sprinting to my house,
while covering my privates,
through suburbia.
Kids at their bus stop
are not sure how to react
as I run past them.
“Bus driver, guess what?
We just saw some naked dude,
covered all in blood!”
I’m not wearing pants,
which means no front pants pockets,
which means no house keys.
Banging on my door,
knowing only I live there,
hoping I answer.
The “Three Pigs” story -
a wolf screaming, “Let me in!”
seems applicable.
I check the back door,
which I recall kicking down
when I left last night.
I run in my house
and go straight to a mirror
to see who I am.
I stare back at me,
but I remember the face
that stared back last night.
I transformed last night
from my normal timid self
to the beast within.
It was a werewolf.
A monster – somehow, still me.
I am a werewolf.
Painful cramps woke me
and I rolled down off the couch
when I turned last night.
I knew things were bad
when I could feel skin ripping -
and could kick down doors.
Out in the backyard,
I felt my whole body break
under the full moon.
Mailman to werewolf.
Takes the phrase “going postal”
to a new level.
Unfortunately,
“Man to wolfman” movie scenes…
painfully dead-on.
Wolf transformation
is as rough as you might guess
but also itchy.
I’ll try describe
werewolf metamorphosis
without throwing up.
Changing first tickles,
followed by increased pressure,
and then you puke blood.
Your muscles and bones
both rapidly stretch and grow,
but your skin doesn’t.
Your skin everywhere -
and yes, I mean everywhere -
is stretched ’til it bursts
Underneath your flesh,
new growing muscles peek out
and start to sprout hair.
It’s around this time,
you realize that your clothes
won’t get worn again.
Both your eardrums pop,
then quickly grow back stronger
as your ears sprout up.
All your fingernails
are pushed off of your fingers
by claws underneath.
Your large soda gut
goes from a few two-liters
to hairy six-pack.
Your nose, mouth and chin
tear open as a wolf snout
pushes through your face.
Teeth fall to the floor
as new canine incisors
cut your old ones out.
It feels like fingers
pushing on both your eyeballs
from inside your skull.
Your eyes don’t fall out
but you kind of wish they would
once they start growing.
Your pinky fingers,
as your hands become wolf paws,
shrivel and fall off.
Toenails start to split
as claws pierce out of your toes
and rip through your shoes.
That pain in your butt
that feels like constipation
is a tail growing.
smell here
Your new fur is damp
from random moist secretions
and smells like wet dog.
There’s throbbing, tearing,
tight nauseating cramping,
and piles of dead skin.
***
***
You see yourself change.
You feel yourself get hungry.
You hear yourself howl.
You tear through your house
and watch yourself going wild
out into the night.
You become primal
and all night you act so bad
and it feels so good.
The beast inside you
that you always thought was there
has come out to play.
You run from your yard
as a beast into the night,
looking for some fun.
You want to find food,
you want to tear things apart,
and you want your Rose.
Howling at the moon
never makes much sense to you,
but it feels so good.
Now, for some reason,
all you want to do is kill
your next-door neighbors.
The first thing you eat
is a cute little rabbit
who lived in your yard.
The next thing you eat
is a cute little old man
who lived down the street.
You kill a pet cat
and go straight to Rose’s house
to give her a gift.
Nothing shows true love
like a pile of dead house cats
left on her front porch.
Everything’s a blur
mixed with dirt, hair, pain and blood
until the sunrise.
The next thing you know,
you’re normal, naked, outside,
and your stomach’s full.
When you transform back,
it’s not nearly as painful…
you just shrink and shed.
Your nose, ears, eyes, teeth,
pinky fingers, nails and gut
all grow back in place.
You must then decide:
Do you first wash off the blood
or cover your junk?
Your next dilemma
is how to make it back home
without being seen.
Once inside your house,
you find your love mix CD
smashed into pieces.
And now here you sit,
with a neighbor-filled stomach,
writing poetry.
…I didn’t make it.
Writing those last few haiku
made some puke come up.
My dog is missing,
but he must have found those bones
and brought them inside.
I’ve got that all wrong.
Those bones were inside my dog.
I remember now.
When one loves one’s pet -
typically, eating that pet
is not considered.
If one can get past
all the desperate barking,
raw dog tastes awesome.
His meaty dog thighs
were like eating chicken legs
but with bloody hair.
I’ll miss my Lupé,
but with this indigestion,
I might see him soon.
A terrible stench
is seeping out from my pants.
I think it’s Shih Tzu.
I should call in sick
and do some work on my house
and on my colon.
Don’t worry, my friend.
I will write you again soon,
dear haiku journal.
Dear haiku journal,
Are there three full moons a month
or is there just one?
Do werewolves transform
more than just one night a month?
I’ll find out tonight.
Not taking chances.
I should drive way out of town
to not hurt people.
Out in the country -
late afternoon, in my car -
wearing a sweatsuit.
Praying clothes don’t rip.
Praying not to kill again.
Praying I don’t change.
Prayer didn’t work
and neither did the sweat suit.
Now, where did I park?
Naked once again.
Therefore, no keys once again.
Hope the car’s unlocked.
A distant farm house
with four parked ambulances
brings back memories.
All those EMTs
won’t be needing those stretchers.
Maybe some baggies.
I find my car locked,
but that’s not a big problem
since the windshield’s gone.
Naked on the hood,
I climb through the broken glass
and find my car keys.
As I drive back home,
I’m glad I have sunglasses
to help block the wind.
A few cars pass me
as I try to look normal,
windowless and nude.
Why is murder wrong?
The more I think about it,
the better it sounds.
That soul inside you -
it’s what is inside that counts.
I want your outside.
Souls are eternal
and don’t need bodies to live,
so why the upkeep?
Souls go to heaven.
Bodies are just part-time homes.
Let me help you pack.
***
If heaven sounds nice,
I’m doing you a favor.
/> Have fun. I’m eating.
With all this killing,
it helps to justify it
for guilt-free dining.
Please do not judge me.
It’s not my fault I’m this way,
dear haiku journal.
Dear haiku journal,
A third full moon is coming.
I need to prepare.
I wait in my house
and sit on my couch naked,
so I don’t rip clothes.
The werewolf in me
can’t care less about our stuff.
I keep losing doors.
I take down the screens
and prop a few doors open
to better my odds.
The morning after
a night of eating people
can be a bit rough.
You feel hungover
after a werewolf evening,
but with more remorse.
That guy I ate last,
I need to get out of me
and in a toilet.
When people eat corn
and spot them in their feces -
teeth are that way, too.
The full moon peeks out
above the horizon line.
Here we go again!
Is it terrible
that I am so excited,
dear haiku journal?
Dear haiku journal,
Sorry I haven’t written.
It’s been a few months.
That werewolf problem
where three days a month I kill…
it’s still going strong.
For the past eight weeks,
I have delivered the mail
like my life is fine.
Though mostly normal,
I have werewolf tendencies
that last through the month.
My new unibrow
is not as embarrassing
as my new tongue hair.
My curved fingernails
are perfect for back scratching
but bad for wiping.
All of my senses
seem about five times stronger -
which has pros and cons.
I can hear better,
even though both my ear holes
are clogged with whiskers.
Spiders have eight legs,
each of which I hear stomping
on my hardwood floors.
With heightened hearing,
current pop songs hurt my ears
more than they used to.
Nothing is blurry.
I no longer need glasses
