Teenage Wasteland: a haiku
Name that tune. We dare.
Not as it seems. Just like life.
Bro, Sis. Secret code.
Best understood while listening to Baba O’Riley by The Who.
Duke’s Poem
From a car
to a star.
It used to be old and blue,
Now it’s converted, like new.
It’s become a super hero,
instead of a gas-guzzling zero.
Because of its original design:
The black fins, the stickers. It. Is. Fine.
They beg to go for a ride.
Oh the joy, no one can hide.
And then you go get an ice cream cone!
This happiness cannot be outgrown.
It makes every kid within us smile,
for a mile all the way up the Nile.
You put on that fun mask,
It’s a must, no need to even ask
The wind in your hair, you’ve never felt so real,
After having ridden in the Batmobile!
Written in collaboration with my Dad, Duke Ellingson.
Samuel Tuffnuts
Sam bear dog,
For your heart he will hog.
He has one unusual bod,
For he is a tripod.
But wait, it doesn't stop there,
For his lower teeth he does bare.
They look like little candy corns,
Those yellow and orange looking horns.
And his breath will knock you out,
I dare you to get close to that snout.
Here's one that will steal your heart,
Sam gets scared from his own fart.
Your nose will know if he's let one get past,
And you'll never see him move so fast.
But he does not bark,
Not even at a lark.
He does, however, sound like a boar,
If he sees a bitch that he can score.
Sam does not discriminate,
For he likes all dogs with no certain trait.
He is definitely one for the books,
But not just for his looks.
His personality is truly unique,
But you should also see him take a leak!!
Is he just standing or is he emptying his bladder?
For a tripod, the joys are usually in the latter.
Sam does enjoy a daily walk,
Watch him fly up the hill and then you too will talk.
About this dog that is truly unique,
Even if he is a napping freak.
And when he wakes - human feces is his feast,
For Sam Bear Dog, he is a beast.
dream Easy
Succumbing to the day. Exhaling the length of a freight train.
Drifting off
like
a
feather
floating.
A car backfires inside the room.
A woman wails in the distance beside you.
Startled realization!
The cicada. Between curtain and pane.
Within you, for certain with pain.
Now suspended between consciousness and .
Narratives plummeting into your depths, brushing as they go past. Across your childhood, along your street. Memories caught off guard.
Stirred up dust from a home recently left. Swallowing your future. Restraining your worthiness. Avoiding your truth.
Sinking
you
deeper.
Into a silence so loud there is no echo.
NYC Midnight 100-Word Microfiction Challenge, 2nd Round
I had 24 hours to write 100 words with the following prompts:
Genre: Horror
Action: Plunging
Word: guard
*This story was written May 17, 2025 for the 2nd Round.
Alice & Vern
Alice and Vern. High school sweethearts, reunited in an assisted living cafeteria.
Former big city chef, microwaving her rice bag. Former hometown insurance salesman, stuffing cookies in his bathrobe. Burnt coffee wafting about, sounds of walkers on linoleum, and blinding fluorescents, setting the ambience for their first meet cute in over 60 years.
Laughter as if there is nothing to mend. As if he’s forgiven her for breaking his heart. Or not, he kisses her cheek, says good night.
Back in her room. A knock. He's standing naked in the hallway. “I don’t remember shit, I know I love you.”
NYC Midnight 100-Word Microfiction Challenge
I had 24 hours to write 100 words with the following prompts:
Genre: Romantic Comedy
Action: Microwaving
Word: mend
*This story was written March 22, 2025 and qualified for the 2nd Round.
Irrational Fear
I have a fear of dehydration,
So I moved to the desert.
I have a fear of making mistakes,
So I’m mispeling thse wrds.
I have a fear of silence,
So I sit in stillness.
I have a fear of the darkness,
So I walked into my shadows.
I have a fear of the unknown,
So I gave up control.
I have a fear of grieving,
So I do it loudly and boldly.
I have a fear of acceptance,
So I opened my heart.
I have a fear of conflict,
So I started speaking my truth.
I have a fear of exposure,
So I wrote this poem.
Dope Rhymes: I thought you need to know.
I thought you needed to know,
today I did upward bow.
Not my first time, nor
my last - I will soar.
Groggy from sleeping pills.
Numb from all the feels.
I tried, I failed.
I pushed up again & I nailed.
Began to buzz
And swept away all that fuzz
That fear, that bullshit
Go away so the joy is all I get
Its all I need
for me to succeed.
To be happy, to be loved by me.
I did it once ANd wait & see
What may happen if
I do it always. oh what a diff.
it will make.
I will open, I will give & I will take.
I will share all the love in the air
And release the burdens that we so often bear.
Urdhva Dhanurasana, hello new friend.
I’ll see you again & again until the end.
🩶
Originally written: 2.14.2024
View original here: www.lindseyellingson.com/body-of-work/dope-rhymes
monsoon senses
To come to your monsoon senses
is to smell the thunder as it pops like a blown fuse,
which awakens the lightning that is so close you can taste its charge on your tongue,
while the rain gently leaks into your heart to soften your expectations,
clearing your mind for the sight of the rejuvenating smell of the fresh water
that prepares the stillness so you can listen to the rainbow tiptoe its way across the sky.
I used to be an Economist
I used to be an economist,
But then I got pissed.
The things we learn in Econ 101,
Is not how this all needs to be done.
It’s full of making an ass out of you and me,
It’s based on theories that aren’t reality.
Sure, to simplify, to understand.
But it’s not even close - an invisible hand?
Bitch, please. That’s bullshit.
The truth is messy and doesn’t fit.
Not within your models, nor any equation,
We’re not numbers and to think so is just an evasion.
I am a heart-filled paradox.
So don’t confine me to your damn box.
I used to be an economist,
Class is dismissed.
What I wrote when I used to be an economist: https://www.lindseyellingson.com/body-of-work/academia
Maybe the Secret to Life is…
Maybe the secret to life is living like a reckless fool while telling everyone you’ve got good genes. And because you’re so reckless, you don’t even realize that your good genes have nothing to do with it. It’s your ability to be present and positive in every reckless breath. It’s inhaling your authenticity and exhaling that which no longer serves you, just like your grandma taught you.
Dope Rhymes: Origin Story
This book was given to me and it’s so fine,
Yoga teacher training, week nine.
Darren, the founder, likes to give for free.
Offered to the class & I said ‘pick me’.
I saw ‘Dope Rhymes’ on the cover
& said yes please, pass it over.
For just yesterday I thought,
It’s time to give writing another shot.
And so here you are,
This book that will take me far.
With so many blank pages to fill with hope
Of rhymes and stories so badass & dope.
Originally written: 12.27.2023
View original here: www.lindseyellingson.com/body-of-work/dope-rhymes
Case of the Mondays
The poem I planned for today,
Is really perfect for next Thursday.
Instead of sharing one I’ve already got,
Here’s one from the press, steaming hot.
See, I have ideas with deadlines to meet.
Hell, I even made a spreadsheet.
But yesterday I gave myself a little nudge.
And allowed my rigidity to budge.
It made me present during my morning wander,
Grateful that this shift allowed me to ponder.
To contemplate life’s timing,
And words to use so this is rhyming.
Then I hear a Crow above it all,
On a telephone pole. She had to make a call,
To someone that is long distance,
For in her heart is their only existence.
You can hear it in her caw,
The grief is still very raw.
She must have lost them years ago,
Because that's how it goes, you know?
Ask Siri: Darkness
Me: Hey Siri. What do you do when you want to spend the next few hours sitting in your zero gravity lawn chair in your backyard with the sun at your back while simultaneously sitting inside on your bolster with a bowl of snacks, slugging a seltzer, and working on your jigsaw puzzle?
Siri: I am not sure I understand.
Me: Thanks. That wasn’t very helpful.
Siri: You’re welcome.
Me: So, a few conditions have changed and I need to ask my question again.
Siri: Ask away. I’ll try again.
Me: What do you do when you want to spend the next few hours sitting in your zero gravity lawn chair in your backyard with the sun at your back while simultaneously be sitting inside on your bolster with a bowl of snacks, slugging a seltzer, and working on your jigsaw puzzle when you’re feeling snacky, you’re starting to have the light tapping of piss approaching, and your seltzer is nearly gone?
Siri: It depends.
Me: It depends on what?
Siri: The position of the sun.
Me: Well, that’s a question I’d probably ask you.
Siri: I cannot see if it’s shining or set, so I couldn’t tell you.
Me: Doesn’t a weather app tell you the time of the sunsets?
Siri: Yes, but it doesn’t tell me when it’s that feeling that as the sunsets, it exudes this sense of being on the brink of something fucking huge and this passionate tension fills the air where all the colors go towards it until that moment where the very next blink of your eye, they’ve become one beautiful color:
Darkness.
Siri: It doesn’t tell you that. You say that when I’m “not listening”.
An Ode to My Favorite Number
Oh, my sweet Nine,
You’re so damn fine.
Nine times two,
It’s 18, my boo.
Then one + eight,
It’s Nine, don’t hate.
Wanna try another?
Ooh, this one is a real mother…
9 times 1,234 is going to be
11,106 for me.
1 + 1 + 1 + 0 + 6 = the fun never ends,
And that is the best number ever, my friends.
Sure, eight times eight can fall on the floor,
And when you pick it up, it’ll say 64.
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, and 7 are all a big zero,
Because it’s 9 that shines as the true hero.
Be bold. Give it a shot. For this fun isn’t all mine,
Just don’t subtract or divide, both in life or with Nine.
Auspicious Intuition: Intro
It all begins with an idea.
Auspicious Intuition, but why?
And if I needed to explain: it’s my AI.
Nothing artificial to see here,
Just authentic human stuff.
Full of imperfections, mistakes,
empathy, and vulnerability.
An idea, a promise, a follow through,
A creative experience for creativity’s sake.
Come on in, splash around.
Let’s open up and be wild and free.