3 a.m Haiku

The moon shines brightly
Light reflected from the sun
Not made of green cheese

Cat contemplates world
Leaves gift for us to step on
Hairball in the night

Ice is found on Mars
Intelligent life there too?
Certainly not here

Incoherent words
Drool pooled upon my keyboard
Typing while asleep

Writing bad haiku
Great distraction from boredom
Words torture reader

Don't read my haiku
Bad poems are much like yawns
They are contagious

I write bad poems
You shudder as you read them
I laugh at your pain

Hand reaches upward
Splitting wide the rich black earth
The zombies return

Zombie bites your head
Looking for a brain to eat
He dies of hunger

Can't breathe during night
Furry monster on my chest
It's only the cat

Scuffle at the door
Cat wishes to sleep with me
But he hogs the bed

I must get some sleep
But I can not quit writing
Make the poems stop

There is quite thin line
Between genius and crazy
I cross it daily

Why bad poetry
Comes so easily at 3
I have no idea

Compelled to write more
But I really need to sleep
This is the last one:

World is full of strife
To quote Edward R Murrow
Good night and good luck