The High IQ Haiku Collection

I’ve been thinking about creating new poetry in 2022. It’s been out of my league for a while now and I am excited to have in my sights again. One style has been my favorite more than any of the others. The Haiku offers a unique challenge, but there’s more to it than that: a great feeling exists when it’s done right, both for the writer and the reader.  Maybe it’s the way it brings nature and humanity together as they should be. Maybe it’s the way it makes the writer pack giant ideas down into a very small containers. And, the reaction when the tiny gift is opened and the reader gets to watch as the surprise opens and unfolds.

Rules?  Only a few.  17 syllables, three lines of 5,7,5, written about nature. mention something about a season, add in an anthropomorphic generalization, and you’ll be close enough to say you did it.  The magic is in how you present your idea.

But, the “Liberal” Haiku is one where anything can be written about in anyway. It’s fun to write and read.  Here’s a quick one.

 

Some Say: I’m a Hiaku Too,

If writing three lines,

Seventeen neat Syllables,

seems easy? Well it ain’t

 

 

 

But honestly, most of the liberal style of Haiku I’ve read doesn’t feel right. They seem to be imposters.  But, if done with enough thought and precision, I’m sure the feel of high poetry could be there.

 

 

 

 

 

Haiku Twenty Twenty-Two

From Page Number One
Haiku: Number: Two Zero Two Two
Thaddeus Maximus
__________________________________________
Whoa! And Wow Wee Wow
We’re all Willing Witnesses
To our Promises
We Are Constructs
Painful wrecks carefully chiseled
From God’s Own Image
Ring Ring Tinnitus
Musical Gift That Keeps Giving
I hear you, clearly
Click, Pop, Magic Knees
You are amazing, thank you
for everything
Patience, I see you
Growing, silently, But True
The things we will do
Gratification
The Great I… Always Me… Me!!
Get A Grip!! Grow Up!!
Elusive Story
My American Novel
I know you’re in there
Instability
Mental Chain Reaction
Chemical Spirit
Our Lives Read Quickly
‘Though Your Character Lives
Your Fable Will Fade
Great Shepard, My Lord
I am your littlest sheep
Please remember me.
________________________________
First Words Written in
the year 2022
Thank you for Reading

A Low-Life at High Tide

 

A Low-Life at High Tide

by Thadd Presley

 

Breakwater Town
Out on the prowl
A million waves crash with one sound
To a short, fat light house

East-End friend
Best of the best of times then
Out on the point
Just more of my kind
That chick was way out of joint
I was a low-life at high tide

The battery at dawn
A quick shot across the bow
Is this soul for sale
or is it a pawn?
For cryin out loud
It’s far too late for that now

Sudden movement of the crowd
Left with no soul of my own
Everything, not lost, is for a sale
For crying out loud
It’s too late to save me now
A low-life from a small town

No fool like an old fool
Super cool dude from the old school
I’ve been like this a long time
Lived my entire life at high tide

Introducing Carl Gaskin

 

In the coming months, our goal here at Fiction Weekly will be to introduce Carl Gaskin to the literary circles of the world.  Not only will we get to know the characters and the worlds created by his original fiction, but also through live readings where he so effortlessly brings his craft to life.

So, join me, my friends, as we close our ranks around and rally support for a new voice in writing, a true creator, and architect of the human experience. Help me as we get behind Carl Gaskin and lift the words and voice of this talented storyteller into lives and the hearts of readers around the world.

Thank you in advance for your responses.

Join us for this adventure.

[UPDATE]

you can now visit,  subscribe, and soon be able to submit your own writings to Carl’s Blog

Home | The Cask of Diogenes

French Toast Tots

Open Letter to the industrial leaders of the world,

Dear Mr. Musk; Mr. Bezos; and Mr. Branson,

Please consider the following advancement to our civilization before continuing your heroic endeavors into space and points beyond Earth. The fast food industries needs you now and the people will forever be changed and grateful.

The establishment through which you chose to distribute this culinary delight is not as important as the availability it must have. Strictly speaking, it must be available to everyone all the time, especially during future pandemics.

I would humbly suggest McDonalds, Sonic, or Hardees be highly considered as a point of sale. However, you your own judgment, for it is imperative you act quickly and protect our incredibly valuable product.

There will be many fly-by-night operations which we shall not name (including IHOP, Huddle House, Waffle House, and definitely not excluding Starbucks, Panera Bread, Subway, and Duncan Donuts). These places will move heaven and Earth in an attempt to maneuver their way into this very lucrative space. Of this information, I am sure you are aware, due to your expertise in business, finance, and social customs.

I shall leave the design and exact dimensions up to you and your team of engineers. My confidence in your abilities to find and delegate experts to this project is overflowing. I have no doubt, either one of you or all of you will look back on this letter and this product as a watershed moment in your life, indeed the life of our civilization. I’m sure, as you also must be, that we can’t venture any farther into space without securing a ready and steady outlet for this product.

The Product is Trademarked as: French Toast Tots; other patents will include the “product” filled with Cream Cheese and Boston Cream

The Slogan shall be: Chicken Sandwiches might have started the Food Wars, but French Toast Tots finished it.

Thank you all for your time and attention,

Inventor. writer, musician,

Thadd Presley

Thadd Presley’s Terrible Two: Issue One

You can help support an independent writer by purchasing Terrible Two: Issue One for $1.99 Also share the link with someone you think would be interested. Anything you do goes a long way in the digital world. Any thoughts of kindness and motions of support is appreciated.

 

Reader Review: “These action packed short stories are surprising. They piqued my interest from the start with their onset dialogue and quick moving plots. In short order the writer brings to life the terror of drug lords and back alley thugs, and a military lineup gone horribly wrong. The flash fiction stories are believably sorrowful. The author employs vivid descriptions and dreadful characters; or those who are experiencing dread in a relatable and engaging way”.

 

I Can’t Remember

I Can’t Remember

by Thadd Presley

Frantic urgency pushed his failing memory into action. Who was the young woman in the faded photograph? The pictures were placed strategically to help him remember things and people from his past. Why couldn’t he remember this woman? She was in many of the pictures.
For a long moment, he stared at the small, pale face inside the brunette bob. She wore a cloche hat and a fluffy shawl. “Who are you?” he wondered aloud. Then louder: “Am I supposed to know you?”
“Dad?”
“Albert! Be a good boy. Tell me who she is and I promise not to forget this time.”
“That’s your wife, dad. My mom.” He waited and watched, hoping to see a glimmer of recognition in his father’s face. “You remembered her yesterday. You told me she used to…”
The old man raised his hand and waved his son quiet. “I can’t remember.”
Albert took his dad’s hand. “I know.”



Copyright Thadd Presley — All Rights Reserved

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

GI Joe Cellphone Camera Proof

I have been revisiting my past by watching old cartoons. I found out quickly that I still enjoy the Hanna Barbara characters, but the Loony Tunes episodes fall flat. Eventually, I began to remember some old favorites like the Thunder Cats, Blackstar, He-Man, Silver Hawks, and Smurfs. That’s when I landed on a website that hosts enough cartoons to keep me and anyone busy for years.

So, I come to the reason for this post.

Last night I was watching “G.I. Joe: Operation Dragonfire” which is a two season series that aired in 1989. In the Episode “Kindergarten Commandos” (Season 2: Episode 5) one of the Joe’s pulls out a cellphone with a camera. You will see it for yourself at 3:33, if you can believe that.

Yeah, I know… I know. They rub the truth in our faces and dare us to question them.

I couldn’t believe how much it looked like the cameras we have today. It’s placement on the cellphone is right on and it makes me wonder just how much farther ahead technology is than we know? I’m sure we have no idea unless they give us hints like this.

The official release of the first camera phone was in 2002, but some say it was 2000. No matter which is accurate, someone knew about them and gave it to the G.I. Joe’s in 1989.

Take a look at the screenshot for yourself.  The video link is above.

Changing Realities

Imagine how much our perception has changed in the last five years. Most of us have seen undeniable Mandela effects. We’ve faced the reality of our childhood memories being wrong, contemplated the obvious changes to the past, noted things we know that are now different, and we just write it off as a thing that happens now.  Accepted it as if it’s not that strange anymore.

The past is changing right before our eyes and the future is changing by the decisions we make. So, why is it so hard to grasp that NOW is just as flexible?

You can change the future right? 

The past is changing right? Atleast, something is changing it.So, think about it. There is a way to change your situation, your role, your everything.

People say and we read: Become who you want to be, become the greatest version of yourself, visualize what you want and you will attract it.

These are true and they work. But I want to add or change one thing:

Be who you want to be… Right Now.

You want to be a writer? Then, get a pen and write. Publishing doesn’t make you a writer, writing does. You want to be a director? Then, shoot a movie. Use a VHS camera. Use your phone. Be the director you imagine yourself being. You want to be a musician. Get the instrument and play it. You’re not going to be good at it. But, your not supposed to be. You’re just  supposed to be at it.

So, get at it.

Still Alive

My dad told my mother that it was not the right time in his life; that everything was happening too fast and he wanted to wait a few more years. So, when she started crying, he knew he had her convinced. They went together.

The small office was in a house on South Laughter Street, right downtown next to the municipal swimming pool.

Outside, a few feet from the road, was a white sign with red and blue letters, sticking out of the lawn like a cheap campaign slogan. Written in Old English font, fading in the sun, the first line was written in red:

“Cash only!” —

The second in blue:

“Your privacy is our priority.”
S. Laughter Street Clinic.”

Mother cried when she read it.

Inside a man took them into a surgical theatre and asked my mother to relax and lay on the table.  My father didn’t want to stay in the room, but the doctor ordered him to stay with her and hold her hand.

“Murder is not easy, Mr. Frente.” He put on plastic gloves. “Your wife will need you to support her and take some of the blame once she realizes what she’s done. To stand at the morning mirror tomorrow, alone and before God, will not be like it was this morning. I hope you understand that.”

My mother started crying again.

“Why do you cry?” The doctor asked perplexed.

She said nothing, sobbing.

“Why is she crying?” He asked my father.

My father looked at my mother. “She doesn’t want to be a murderess.”

“Do you blame her?”

“No, but we can’t have a child now. We’re not ready. There’s too much at stake. My job, the money. There’s just to much to do before…”

The doctor nodded his head and went to his cabinet where he brought back a bible. Inside he had a page marked. “will you please read from the highlighted area before we begin?”

Pushing the bible away from him, he yelled. “What’s this?”

“Just read the last rights. At least you can do that much.”

“No. I will not. Now, you have the money. So, do your job, will you?”

“I’m afraid you don’t understand. sir. I’m not going to do it. I’m going to explain the instruments to you and you are going to do it. Anyone can do it once they are shown how.”

“What?” He couldn’t stand it anymore. “I paid you to do it. What do you think? I’m no doctor.”

“You don’t need a doctor. Doctors are for healing people. You need a clean room, clean instruments, and secret place to commit murder, which I have provided for you. You need me to stay quiet once you are finished killing this child and, since you have paid me very well to do so, I will. But I am not a murderer. No amount of money could persuade me to kill an innocent child.”

My mother was off the table and through the door before my father could reply. She did not return to the car, but instead called a taxi and only left the S. Laughter Street Clinic when it arrived.

She divorced my father and has never seen him again.

The first entry in my journal is this: my mother was convinced to have an abortion, but in the end it didn’t matter. I was still born.