Okay, so there's apparently already something called Neo-haikus. I don't care. I bet they aren't as cool and challenging as these Neo-haikus. F 'em.
The rules of Neo-haiku are loosely deduced from the original, unintentional neo-haiku, by maat. Which is also a very informational little piece.
Regular haikus consist of three lines with 5, 7 and 5 syllables, as so:

So much work to no avail

the pearl now lies crushed

Usually you also have to use a word in the final line that relates to one of the four seasons.

However, Neo-haikus consist of 3 textblocks, containing 97, 173 and 97 syllables. As you'll notice, they are all primes.
The original actually went 93 : 172 : 118, if you want to be really old-school. But the rules are funnier when they allude to mathematics.

Alternatively, 7 divided by 5 equals 1.4, and if you want to maintain some Haiku-ness you can go for numbers of syllables that have the same relationship. But keep in the primes, just go for the best approximation. Like 127 : 173 : 127 or 97 : 137 : 97.

Looking for a rule to mirror the one about the seasons, the only thing that really stands out about maat's final textblock is that he mentions a lot of media brands. So that's a rule. Drop loads of brand names in the final textblock.

There you go! The rules of the Neo-Haiku, for literary pioneers! Feel free to post some in this write-up, if you make one.

The worlds first ever intentional Pioneering Neo-Haiku!

I wake from a long and pleasant dream in which I was just reaching second base with internet celebrity Julia Nunes, to a world of all sharp edges.
There is music blaring from Raffs room... “Municipal Waste”, if I’m not mistaken.
I curse the light that burns my eyes, and my idiocy, in leaving my cell-phone halfway across town.
Most of all, I curse the Christmas Schnapps.

“Hey, what’s the molecular weight of salt?”
Raff walks past my door. Our flat is small enough for relaxed conversation between any two points inside it. I sit up.
“Well... It’s sodiumchloride. I think chlorines is 35-45. Can’t remember sodiums.”
I get up, spotting my chemistry book lying on the bottom shelf of my bookcase, flip it open to the back. The periodic table.
“Sodium is 22-99, so that’s 58-point...”
“44. Thanks.“
“I’m gonna shower, you eating here tonight?”
“Might crash my parents.”
“So, why’d you need to know the molecular weight of salt?”
“I was gonna make some isotonic lemon juice”
“Sounds disgusting.”
“Save me some.”

I skip the shower, opting for a timely arrival at work, and get into my uniform. The world looks Panasonic picture-perfect this morning, but the Timex-thermometer is reading a negative 4. Not mailman-friendly. The experimental isotonic lemon juice goes down like a Glidden-barb-wire smoothie spiked with seawater.
Clearly not the right amount of salt.

This Neo-haiku contains direct dialogue, which was a bold move on my part. Untraditional, to say the least. Or traditional, it being the first ever.
Maybe there should be a “No dialogue” rule...
I have wasted four hours of my life.