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  • The point of no return For Jimmy

    The tired mirror image, misted by the morning shower
    His last stand against himself and the power he had not
    Electric phillishave horrors had no place for him
    He was a mans man, weak, tanned white and not thin
    He had wasted too much time, ageing as far from fine wine
    as a person could get
    His nose however, was like a fine bordeaux, in colour
    He hated those ears, FA cup to the english
    taxi doors to others
    punching bags for his brother
    landing pads for the slaps of his mother
    He was going through with it
    He thought to cut off his dick like some old Lou Reed song
    But as atheist as he felt, his nerves of a fuckless heaven worried
    He should go Bunuel style, slice open his eye
    He knew it was a sheep in the film, but it felt right
    His hand shaking raised, as his left eye glazed
    His mind the same
    He could not stand the shame the mirror gave
    They had put him up to this
    Those faceless fawning fiends wandering his life corridors
    Family they say
    Parricide was not enough, they would suffer not
    Only minutes not years
    But a one eyed son in their blind kingdom?
    That would show them
    The blood deep in the eye would be ocean black
    He knew this.
    He had reached his terminus
    He was tired of living with us
    So dripping cold red hate
    He wiped the mirror
    Wiped his eye, uncut coward like
    And sliced
    Left an Aladdin Sane like stripe
    Ladies first
    He was a gent after all
    And when you reach the sign in life
    That screams "stop, do not pass go"
    You laugh and remember your manners.
    "After you miss"

    And the lights came on

    Somewhere over the rainbow
    The superman now a shade
    the future portrayed
    betrayed by life

    Youthful voices a memory
    Something in me

    Then I saw her dance
    And it was alright

    People forgot
    Rock and roll
    Talked arty rot
    There's old wave and new wave
    No tears from I

    I saw her dance
    And it was alright

    When you rock and rolled with me
    I was never on my own
    Even when most lonely
    That only the nailed up curtains spoke
    In rustling whispers
    The electric pulse
    Colder electric blue from you than any before
    I loved that distance

    She danced, honestly
    And it was alright

    I never had the cheekbones
    Nor the clothes hanger frame
    You were our fame
    Monochrome dustbins and chip papers
    Turned bright orange electric guitar
    Hooligans in eyeliner
    Punching the stones from each other
    Time took our rizlas

    She danced young and pure
    And it was alright

    Kicked off buses, sing song noisy
    "Is gay sex wrong? If so, you be the girl, ok?"
    We were too afraid anyway
    That's why we were not famous
    Well, outside of our heads
    He never went away
    Still hasn't
    Paintings, posters adorn
    Music forever pulsing through the tawdriest dawn

    She danced in the sun
    And it was alright

    The TV played the saddest chords
    The stereo undelivered
    Typical, you never got what you expected
    There was old wave, new wave and...

    She danced, like the DJ cared
    And it was alright

    Nice to look back in wonder
    Instead of anger
    The angel came, cape torn, union Jack
    The green land will forever be lighter
    While his chords fuck the air
    and screw the normal
    Freak out indeed

    She danced as Ziggy played his final guitar
    And it was alright

    Improbably Impossible

    The impossible relaxation of death
    The breeze the only breath now
    Curling its way across waxen cheeks
    "He's in a better place now"
    The believers, really believe in their cross bought heaven?
    I see no parties for dead children.
    "Yes! He's dead! Fucking great, mate, he is in a better place"
    no, it is all tears and "he was lovely, sexy, noisy, naughty, haughty and dead"
    Why do not laugh when your friends burn?
    Or your Mom dies?
    You do not even believe your own lies
    The joy should burst your puritan minds!
    The very thought of pulling up a cloud next to Jesus
    Lord please us
    Take his soul not mine, I am not quite ready for the divine
    Fake, fraud
    Purple Bubbling anger.
    You believe in heaven about as much as I do
    I need no 10 commandments to be good
    Nor a promise of a place unreal
    a place even you believers cannot feel
    No matter how hard you wank your faith
    You cry when they die
    laugh, laugh if heaven is true
    They are in a better place than you.
    Of course Jesus was white
    Bronze age Mesopotamia was very European
    Back then
    I hope your tails grow back in your heaven
    Stop crying
    Granny is with god
    The capricious old sod
    And please do not forget you are all actually jews
    Is that ok?
    Oh I forgot, your moral code
    The commandments 10
    There are three versions of them
    In the inerrant book
    So get some kegs in
    Put on your best pink suits
    Throw away the black
    Repair the faith you lack
    And laugh your tits off at the dead
    They are happy now

    "Spider Lilies at Kinchakuda" - by Ivy C. Machida

    The chilly winds of autumn
    Are rustling the wavering leaves
    Turning them shades of gold
    Dimming their once luscious sheen.

    And you, flaming fiery spider lily,
    Where's your rustling
    What's your call?

    Leafless, widowed and shorn
    You stand alone, a crest of wiry whiskers
    Fraught with anxiety and quivering
    As if in dire need.

    I see you there, a stalk forlorn indeed
    Gracing a gravestone
    Somber and cold, bemoaning your loss of old -
    Summoning spirits with your wispy claws.

    As I stoop to ignite my joss
    And meditate my own inexplicable loss,
    I sense the smoky trail of incense
    Swirling its web-like veil, wrapping you in its hold

    Lingering in the air
    Caressing us, like lost souls
    Grieving, as if you and I were one.

    And yet, and yet, at Kinchakuda -
    You reign supreme and proud with your companions
    Entwined in clusters and lost in the crowd -
    Transcending all in luminous splendor.

    Zooming crimson carpets you lay out
    Along the river bank - blazing paths of red
    Fit for royalty, nymphs and deities
    Partaking in a momentary dance

    Of infinite joy, pain and circumstance -
    Aspiring to rekindle what once consumed
    Our minds and bodies - now extinct -
    A needful reassurance of kindred ties

    That bound our hearts and souls together -
    Enshrined and emblazoned
    In the bosom of sweet repose
    Each autumn at Kinchakuda by the river.


    Another Horror Halloween Story

    I give up...
    Hands up, don’t shoot.... I submit
    aka. also known as: I don’t give a shit.
    All the juice has been sucked out
    Needle and tube in the arm
    Or a razor to the wrist
    Life-blood draining on the floor
    Has turned me into Zombie,
    A member of the Walking Dead…
    In a world of fear
    A world of indecision
    A world of gray
    A walking shadow
    A ghost
    Wandering the earth
    Groping like a blind my on a windy day
    The world has become one giant fucking shopping mall
    With shit for sale
    Piled sky high all around me...
    Sameness and mediocrity
    Everything and everyone for sale
    And everyone is a salesman
    Preachers telling us what to believe
    Algorithms that now define me.
    Making us pay
    by Easy Pay
    Your user ID and password
    Guards at the doors
    No exit

    Black Lives matter
    Police Lives Matter
    All Lives Matter!
    Are you shittin’ me?
    First, I hate to tell you, but “Nothing Matters” – not really
    Most of it is just make-believe
    Go ahead, pray to Jesus
    Go blow yourself up for Allah
    Don'' worry, the devil always has your back
    All Lives Matter must be why guns are made
    All Lives Matter – how people treat on another
    All Lives Matters must be why flowers are placed on graves
    All Lives Matter – how we treat the other creatures on this planet

    You know… I’m changing my view on guns.
    Ironically, guns are the last bit of personal power –
    A last gasp of freedom
    Whether having to defend yourself against the crazies
    Or just going on your own fucking rampage,
    before they take you out.
    Or whether to choose to blow your brains out
    When you’ve had enough.

    Yep, Freedom is on the march
    Marching backwards.
    While we are tethered to our smart phones
    Where are lives are increasingly kept
    We watch the world
    In front of the TV
    Believing what we see
    We make up out minds after getting a good brainwashing
    But I always wear a smile when I leave the house,
    When I go out side.
    I always wear a smile because I could be on
    “Smile, You’re on Surveillance Camera.”

    Naughty Sky Man

    I get angry, angered and angsty
    Sad, saddened and solipsistic
    But never capricious
    I am not in his image
    I am not of his seed
    Nor of his soil
    I will refuse to toil
    For a paradise I want not
    While a hell where souls rot
    Burns bright
    Death worship
    Human sacrifice are the foundations
    Are the awful edifice of hate
    That takes donations away from the hungry
    We will wake up
    To the lie
    As we did with Baal, Zeus and the tooth fairy
    come on, Adam and Eve, the first
    Their kiddies Cain and Able got married
    To whom? It does not fit
    This poorly written
    desert dwelling shit
    There were no other folks
    Maybe that is the greatest of god's jokes
    Cain and Able were gay
    But had kiddies anyway
    Dear Leviticus had a few words
    That rancid biblical turd
    And suddenly we have rules
    Over who can fuck whom
    And there's a mighty doom
    to swallow any who disobey
    It is sunday, do not pick up sticks?
    Who really gives a shit
    No priest nor preacher
    Nor sunday school teacher
    Yet these are the inerrant words of the lord!
    You pick and choose
    Which rules you use
    Well so do I
    They are just different from yours
    And have only one intended course
    To help love spread wider than your lies

    Lizard - 10 minutes I will not get back

    Smiling like a lizard, on a train
    Cold blood fighting the air
    The sweat
    The people staring
    Scaly fucker
    The monk shaves his head
    Shining tako yaki dome
    Cause he is supposed to
    Cause others do
    The lizard just smiles
    Rips off his own tale
    Uses it as a whip on his ancient lover
    The snake howls, spitting
    The tail grew back
    The monk started singing
    Droning on
    Orange fucker
    The christians said "good morning, enjoy your day"
    The lizard smiled a "go fuck yourself" smile
    Give christians nail guns
    Step on the ants
    Eat meat
    Indeed! Only order meat
    Do not hide it behind bacons, steaks and burgers
    "Ready to order?"
    "Meat please"
    Draw a cartoon, prophet like
    Eat bombs for breakfast
    Glue them to amazon drones
    Flying quiet to their homes
    The failed maths test
    The aftermath
    The lizard smiles and thinks
    Ningen Shikaku
    Dazzling Dazai
    "Let us jump and die together"
    She slipped
    He wrote a book
    The lizard hated the lack of art
    on his arctic walls
    white, off white, white, off white
    Smiling Lizard
    Clean scales shining
    Brooks Brothers smothers the truth
    But the scales are there
    The christian fucked the monk
    Buddha kissed some christ
    The Imam thought "that's nice"
    The lizard flicked out his noxious tongue
    and licked them one by one
    then smiled
    as the sun ran at the world
    we all knew why the moon had always looked so scared
    it knew what was coming
    the lizard?
    He was hit by a truck
    driven by a 19 year old
    on her way to college
    to shoot some "fuckers"
    with her nail gun
    "god bless"

    Remembering the Jubilee - a girl they called Albion

    as the light starts to burn
    from the bulb on the lamp
    and life takes a turn
    against a heart cold and damp
    and too many pictures swirl
    a lonely bowie tune invades
    and reminds of the girl
    a 1977 parade
    of colour and hate
    as a queen's crown is recalled
    as the blind masses elate
    fists are being balled
    with knuckles off cream white
    as the anger boils
    the born lucky shine bright
    with fear in their halls
    as the power slips
    and the girl's face shines
    her beauty does eclipse
    the unemployment lines
    and the powder wraps strewn
    begging you for a game
    and the shadows in the room
    ejaculating your name
    the razor cuts well
    as it it should that's its job
    and a snow fuelled hell
    unleashes a mob
    of neurons sparking
    and firing a mind
    that a girl so sparkling
    has left long behind
    and the truth stays buried
    in the fairytale well
    where as children we tarried
    ignoring the smell
    of the sweat and celebration
    spewed across albion's land
    a girl as a nation
    grasping for friendly hands

    "I am fucking drowning! Stop waving back!"


    When I was in high school we used an expression, “Eat me,” And then, the other person would reply “Eat me raw.” Har, har, har….

    But let me digress a bit to when I was about five years old. My parents took me to a slaughterhouse to buy meat for the freezer, before the raw cold Connecticut winter set in. The Stafford Springs slaughterhouse sold meat from white refrigerators to the side of the slaughtering area. And that day was, Kosher day. One at a time, huge all black cattle were grabbed live by their hind legs and hoisted skyward by winches. Upside-down, the animal screamed and fought with all its might. Then rabbi walked up with a huge blade, and after saying a very brief prayer, with a swift movement cut the head off the screaming animal. Its head dropped to the floor in a pool of steaming blood. The sound of torture, killing and death was unbearable. I ran out of there, escaping my mother’s attempt grab a hold of me. I threw up on the dirt parking area.

    I thought how fucked up… these men dressed in their black suits with odd hats and scraggly beards. Their killing an animal in such an extreme manner for our benefit. Though not for us, actually for themselves…. Jews.

    At Catechism were filed with ideas heaven and hell from the Catholic nuns, showing Jesus standing on pillowy clouds. The book had pages of pictures of the damned being tortured in hell: burning tar being poured on heads, naked men being sawed in half, a man standing wait deep in human excrement. We were told non-Catholics would never get to heaven.

    Sunday communion offered purification from my childish sins. We lined up waiting to be given the body and blood of Christ. At en early age, I sensed how fucked up all of this was, as I was trying to make sense of it all... make sense of my little world.

    Oh yeah…. "Eat me.” Har, har har…. Little did I know at the time, that the expression “Eat me raw” would lead to a path to where I am today - in Japan.... where eating things raw is the norm. But even getting here, Japan, I encountered many things that were raw along the way,

    I remember those long and raw cold in the Connecticut winters. Growing up, there wasn’t much raw food there. My father loved his meat. He liked his steak very rare - bloody. I always asked my mother to cook it for me…. a little more.

    Raw. Those memories of growing up. That slaughterhouse and more that I’d like to be able to forget. But let’s stay with the food theme…

    It wasn’t until I reached Saipan in 1977 that I ate raw fish for the first time. It was in the island’s Palauan bar, named the Tappa Bar. It was dark and sleazy. My new-found island friend, Jose Camacho, ordered sashimi. What’s sashimi? I thought. But this was an island…. raw fish… Sure why not?

    Little chunks of dark red raw fish were delivered on the table. He doused it with some dark soy sauce, and he waited for me give it a taste. With a cold beer, I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything so excotic – so raw.

    Eating something raw like that for the first time - well that’s not exactly true.... In college, I worked part-time in a machine shop on weekends and the lathe operator Al said to me: “If you eat her pussy, she will never leave”. Well, that wasn’t true either.

    But going back at the Palauan bar, the entertainment that night was a young lady on stage who could make smoke come out her pussy. After demonstrating that, and some other tricks with her body, she gave some guy a blowjob on stage. It was a bit in of a shock… I had never seen something quite so raw before…well, at least not publicly. In the Tappa Bar, raw fish and now this - public head. Well, today you might say… let me put it this way: I like oral sex, I just hate the phone bills.

    Where was I? Or rather, where am I? Tokyo… We eat many things raw here: sushi, sashimi, salad…. Even raw horse – basashi, and raw whale. I’ve eaten raw chicken, tori sashimi. I don't know if you remember, some six-year-old kid who ate raw beef ball a few years ago, and died – bacteria. His father, who took his son to the restaurant, was on TV. He cried.

    And I’ve even heard of a bar that serves raw pig liver. But there are some things where I draw the line. Actually, I’m quite conservative. Politically, I may be so far left that I’m off the map. But I’m quite conservative…. about sex -- where to stick my dick. You see me and my little Richard… we’ve been best friends for a very long time. And you’ve got to treat your friends right. Kabukicho can be pretty raw. Been there…. The mind was strong, but the flesh was weak.

    Buy the way, what is your favorite sushi? There are so many tastes that come around in a kaiten-zushi. Fishy raw things - at least most are eaten raw: maguro (tuna), tako (octopus), uni (sea urchin), I like raw ika (squid), call me weird but it reminds of …… it’s fishy sweet taste and it’s smooth texture. Speaking of such things raw, who doesn't like raw oysters? I like to touch my tongue on the wet mollusk while not touching it’s shell. Moving my tongue around pretending to hear it giggle.

    But what I like most raw… The thing I like most that’s raw is… the raw truth. Don’t sugar-coat it. Don’t pack in it lies. Let it be painful. Let it be true. Because I’d rather have the truth and be unhappy... than be happy….. with the lie.

    Death on the shore

    I just saw a picture of a child
    Flat, dead and grey on a beach
    She looked like my daughter
    It hurt like glass in my eyes
    A disastrous juxtaposition
    The holiday sand
    Rendered cruel by the hands
    Of us
    All of us
    Blame the politicians
    Blame some capricious god
    Blame, the game we play
    to keep the truth at bay
    that every filthy fuck
    sitting in their gilded chairs
    have us to thank for putting them there
    the shame is burning my eyes
    as tears crawl down a face
    that is wrinkled with their salt
    like the child's skin
    mauled by a sea
    as without feeling as most of us
    And I write words
    I write words
    And do precisely nothing

    You The man

    No, I am not, not today
    The clouds in the eyes, stoney grey
    the lids blink, broken indicator like
    No light

    Feeling sicker than a jackpot machine
    Just spewed the last coin
    A mean and cold despair
    Is knocking, knocking

    Watching the planes
    Silent, moving across the sky sea
    Sunless, wishing away
    Fingers crossed 'til white

    The bomb that turned a desert green
    The beheading video
    The silly crucifix fixated
    Pain for sale

    Wanna buy some?

    You the man


    Melancholy Mind by Joe Zanghi

    Bad news sinks the heart
    But there is no reason to ask "Why?"
    Every road is built with accidents.

    Some days promise gold
    Other days lie beneath a dark roof
    Today is like that.

    Saturday hangover dribblings

    A thought popped into his head
    It died of loneliness
    So he decided to run for mayor
    People screamed it was unfair
    That a dolt with so little to offer
    Could get his hands so close to the city's coffers
    But they voted for him anyway
    Animal farm
    Baaa Baaa Baaa

    "Come over here darling!"
    The group attraction line
    Works every time
    Until their Mom opens their curtains
    And says "time for breakfast son"
    I should say the same to their Mom
    Let the festivities begin
    Fists swinging
    "Momma I just killed a man"
    God save the queen

    "After you miss"
    Vinegar and piss
    Is the reply ejaculated
    Better spoken than spattered
    As if courtesy matters
    In this PC world
    Don't hold the door for that girl
    Punch her
    We are equal
    And then there's the sequel

    "A Good Man Is Hard to Find" by Joe Zanghi

    "A good man is hard to find." Are you shittin' me? It’s practically impossible!
    Of course, I’m not including any of you good men here in this room
    I’m talking about all the others - outside
    A good man is hard to find
    First off, all men want to do is fuck
    Now, I don’t think fucking is so bad
    After your horny testosterone years - full with idealism, confidence, rebellion, and walking around with a boner all day - you know...the age just ripe for the military - the age when you either want to fuck it or kill it.
    One day, reality sets in and you get some lame job that finally zaps all the piss and vinegar youth out of you.
    A good young man turns into someone else - a Republican or worse, a redneck.
    And a “good” man gets even harder to find.
    Yep. each year life gets a little worse
    Your hair goes gray and/or goes away
    Wrinkles appear, your face gets saggy
    After decades of beer, your body gets flabby
    You look back and remember the good old days
    They were the good old days only because that’s when you were young.
    Each year life gets a little worse
    Until, one day all you have is a dangling short piece of rope between your legs
    That’s why they created Viagra
    But, did you know that the oldest man on record to father a child was 92
    A good old man is hard to find.

    How about a good woman?
    A good wo-Man is hard to find.
    Or as Flannery O’Connor put it:
    “She would've been a good woman," said The Misfit, "if it had been somebody there to shoot her every minute of her life.
    Or as my Uncle Louie used to say, “People are no damn good, but women are worse.”
    Yep, A good wo-Man is hard to find.
    First, women, the good ones….
    Good women get gobbled up quick - high demand, low supply
    I’m talking statistically here, not individually
    They get fucked - and fucked over - mainly by men
    "Women are the Niggers of the World. Yes they are."
    I didn’t write that - the "N" word, and neither did John Lennon
    Actually Yoko Ono wrote most of the song. It takes a woman to write that.
    And nobody liked that song.
    Even banned on the radio. A song about gender equality
    Gender equality, how's that progressing?
    Racial relations, how’s that going?
    And, at the time, nobody liked that Jap bitch Yoko supposedly for breaking up the Beatles.
    Dear John, who art in heaven, if I had to write pop songs or just another silly love song with Paul MaCartney, I’d rather go solo, or be dead.
    Wait, John is dead -- Shot by some fucking lunatic
    Evidence, a good man is hard to find
    And a great man is hard to stay alive.
    Kennedys, Gandhi, Martin Luther King. They even killed Jesus and look what that started.
    I guess it’s just better to stay an inconspicuous asshole.

    A good man is hard to find?
    I figured that one out early on
    And is one of the reasons to date women.
    I like women. Like my uncle Louie used to say, “Women, you can’t beat’em.”
    It’s really a game, isn’t it? Relationships.
    A game I mean - you all know the game jun-ken-pon
    Scissors beats paper. Rock beats scissors. Paper beats rock
    But nothing, nothing beats a blowjob.
    Actually a bad girl is hard to find - you know, one who swallows

    A good man is hard to find. A good woman is hard to find - Sac le bleu!
    These days, it’s not PC to single out one gender
    That would be sexist. And fuck I wouldn’t want to be called that.
    A good hu-Man is hard to find
    So if I said I hated the entire human race, would that still make me a racist?
    Men or should I say people aren't just needy they are also greedy.
    The history of MAN has 4 Gs: Greed, God, Guns, and Glory
    On this note, Donald Richie wrote:
    “The world does not like nice guys. Not really. They always come in last, says Western wisdom. And Eastern wisdom acts as if they do. They are charming, fun to be with, absolutely trustworthy, and so what? So says the world.”


    Normal headstrong mildy, never ate carrots
    Killed his family with an old iron
    Kept his Mom's old head in a new washing machine
    A zanussi, he liked their adverts
    Back in the day
    He remembered the yellow colours

    Blew up a safe to tamper his school reports
    Everyone was so proud
    Back in the day
    It got him a new bicycle
    Made him feel like a Syd Barrett song
    Almost famous, always hoping

    He found jesus at a bus stop
    Inside a plastic bag of solvent
    He asked him his thoughts on the third Reich
    He could not remember the answer
    But he liked the smell
    Back in the day, his jesus smelled of glue

    Woke up, leather jacket gone
    Wearing an old nazi helmet
    felt like a new haircut
    Back in the day, straight sides
    Swore off mandrax after that
    The old gods spoke too much

    He liked all races equally
    "All shit tasted similar"
    He knew his subject matter well
    He smiled at the moon
    Because it felt the same as he
    Back in the day

    Before the moon fell
    Before the moon fell
    before the moon fell
    afore the fell moon
    back in the day

    Time to sharpen your axe boy
    There are wolves out there
    With political masks
    Daring you to ask
    That one honest question
    "Who the fuck are you?"

    Do Not Accept
    Do Not Accept
    Ad infinitum
    Ad Nauseam

    Unwanted Dead or Alive by JZ

    I turned on the TV
    To scenes warning...
    A warning that the scenes could disturb me
    Me? Disturb me?
    Now that's seems a stretch, don't ya think?
    A black boy shot dead lying on the street
    Video of a big man being choked by the police
    A bomb goes off in a far off land
    It's an exclusive report
    The camera zooms in on the blood
    The reporter points and says "See"
    Should scenes like these bother me?
    Have I become accustomed, numbed?
    To all these faces wanted dead or alive
    In the mirror, I ask, "Does all this bother me?"
    Staring back, a face on a poster
    A face that looks just like me!
    With the words in bold below

    I figure mostly we are Wanted Alive
    At least for a while
    Now born to produce and buy
    Shop til you drop - it's good for the economy
    Certainly we're not Wanted Dead
    When you're dead…
    You and me
    What good can you be?
    Maybe we are not really wanted at all - not really
    Once upon a time, the air was pristine
    What have we done to the air, land and sea?
    Life is breath
    A soldier's last breath
    Who dies fighting others for reasons
    For reasons that frankly are beyond me.
    Life is breath
    Those dying of old age...
    Of natural causes - the cruelest joke
    Our lives smothered by time
    Maybe no one is Wanted - not really

    So while I still have breath
    Just leave me alone
    While I try to make my way.
    Just let me be
    Just let me be UNWANTED
    Dead or Alive

    "Aflame" by Ivy C. Machida

    An emptiness waiting to be filled

    Almost all the pieces in place -
    Robust and broad-framed
    A confident swagger
    A friendly grin so eager
    To please and tease the ailing heart -
    A stir, a stiffening
    A cry lost in the breeze.

    An emptiness waiting to be filled

    A shudder, a thudding
    A streak of lightning
    A flash from above -
    Thunderstruck and struggling
    I shifted my glance
    And looking askance and about-face,
    I found you once again

    A brimming vessel of resplendent grace.

    On my TV

    There’s alien abductions
    Volcanic eruptions
    Tidal wave destructions of the poor and oppressed
    Distress beacons with no bulbs or batteries
    These are the headlines
    Mine’s a double whisky with earplugs
    And drinkers made of lead
    Half a million dead
    No bread on the table for the widow and paralysed son
    Buy a gun to shoot the breeze
    Knees chaffed from praying for something
    Nothing on its way
    No one wants to pay
    Land mine assault courses on the way to school
    Man from the States shot himself in the face while working on his new stool
    How we laughed
    Under staffed talk show hosts with Ladybird questions to the VIPs
    Multiple choice
    Just multiple choice
    The voices of billions crying out for change
    Crying out for a wider range of choices
    But not today I’m sorry
    Not until the moon explodes and roads are built
    Odourless guilt pouring out the screen.

    I watched the video of Eric Garner's death on TV

    I watched the video of Eric Garner's death on TV
    But I didn't see any black man forced to the ground
    Five Men in Blue wrestling one large unarmed man to the pavement that day
    Five of NYPDs finest holding one guy down
    One having him a chokehold
    Another pushing his head on the concrete.
    I didn't hear Eric Garner call out "I can't breathe"
    I didn't hear Eric Garner call out "I can't breathe"
    11 times
    While a few other police officers looked on.
    I watched the video of Eric Garner's death on TV
    But I didn't see anything wrong because my TV screen was white
    And I believe the police have a tough job to do.

    I watched the video of Eric Garner's death on TV
    but the TV speakers went mute so didn't hear the news reports
    How Eric Garner sells loose cigarettes for a living on the street
    From my perspective, it seems like a tough life, don't you agree?
    Enterprising, but doing it without a license
    And that's a crime, you see
    That's a crime on a Staten Island street
    I guess, selling loose cigarettes would be a crime on any US city street
    Hell no, Eric Garner! You can't do that!
    Everybody knows that.
    And now, Eric Garner 43 is dead

    I watched the news but I didn't see the tears in Esaw Garner his wife's eyes
    when it was announced that no policeman will be indicted
    And I didn't see the tears in his widow's eyes calling for justice….
    calling for justice "until her last breath."
    I didn't see Eric Garner's six grieving children
    and his grandchildren he left behind
    You see, I didn't hear or see anything
    Because my TV screen was white
    and I believe the police have a tough job to do.

    And I'm not going to do anything when these kinds of things happen
    When unarmed black men are killed by cops
    And I'm not going to say or do anything about the racial situation
    Stop and frisk (or some version of it) is a good idea
    if I think... it makes me feel more... safe
    In my book, we should all just follow the rules:
    Stay home
    Watch TV
    Own a gun
    and eat
    Hey, the New England Patriot's football game is on tonight

    I watched the video of Eric Garner's death on TV, but I didn't see a thing.
    I have other things on my mind...
    For example, I'm fightin' in the War on Christmas
    A Christian soldier yelling "It's Merry Christmas" and not fucking "Happy Holidays."
    And damning all you atheists to Hell.
    So as you can see, I'm already feelin' a little stressed out
    Because I've still have a lot more "CHRISTMAS" shopping to do
    So forgive me, while I put my head in this wet sand
    In the bucket under my real "CHRISTMAS TREE"
    keeping my perfectly decorated "CHRISTMAS TREE" green for a few days.
    I watched the video of Eric Garner's death on TV...
    But I didn't see a thing.


    I know
    I'll probably go...
    go to hell
    but my last night...
    My last night, I want…..
    I want to go to Kabukicho
    Kabukicho…. is where I want to go

    Where Tokyo's night is carnival lit
    And hawkers ask if I want sex.
    In Kabukicho
    That's where to go….Kabukicho
    Lose yourself for the night
    Lose yourself for a night of sin in Sinjuku

    All my senses are stirred
    A mixed cocktail of shop signs and lights
    a blur of alcohol, desire and thrill
    A wild night of mizuwari
    Where anything goes
    and everything is alright
    In Kabukicho….

    If this town could talk.
    it would scream the bombing of Tokyo in 1945
    Kabukicho was razed to the ground.
    And out of the rubble….
    a kabuki theater was planned, never built
    But the name Kabukicho stuck.
    Instead, they built the "Sleepless Town"
    of mizu shobai and the like
    where the yakuza rule
    rule over playful minds
    all looking for some touch

    Its hostess and host clubs, brothels, strip and sex shows.
    Love hotels and massage parlours
    Sex shops selling lingerie, dildos, vibrators and other sex aides.
    Hey? How about taking in a drag show?
    Under the red lights of Kabukicho

    Oh darn, my last train is gone
    I'm left behind here in Kabukicho
    Oh my…. my shoulder & lower back seem tight
    and feel in need of attention
    Oh look! the shop's name: Asian Feeling
    What goes on in secret behind that opaque door?
    "Harro harro," a bubbly Ayumi greets my entrance
    Minimal conversation comes with a massage
    and a happy ending… saving the best for last.
    Leaving me with rubbery legs and shoulders
    from the looseness she provided.

    Someday I'm probably going to hell
    but my last night
    I want….. I want to go to Kabukicho
    My last night in Kabukicho
    That's where I want to go

    Thought Crime...Close your ears Jesus, here come a doozy

    Back from the cold, raisin sack, shrivelled and old
    And the mould from which Syphilis was cured
    Makes me think of you
    The dope in the iphone box
    The pipes with half burned rocks
    The powdery ghost mirrors are cracked
    All razor blades are lost
    And the smile of the crucified son...
    "Thanks Dad"
    And why is Wednesday's child filled with Woe?
    We can add "Day-ist" to the political correctness map
    "Mixed race, lesbian, hermaphrodite born on a Wednesday shocker!"
    And physics finally proved that god, vampires and good beatles songs exist
    yet no time travellers turned up to Hawking's party, so what does he know?
    He's so slow, texas instrument man
    clever though, so I am told
    If I may be so bold as to say
    "thanks dad"
    Caesar salad, named after a hotel not an emperor
    Croutons for Caesar
    His Mother had an awful abdominal scar mind you
    Said the camp guard to the Jew
    and history is skewed
    So the losers always lose
    And when did FUCK become rude?
    "Thanks Vicky"
    How's the prince albert?
    The piercing, yes the piercing screams
    Of royalty diminished
    Religion crushed and finished
    and the gods of today
    wander on their totalitarian way
    holding hands with the shades of their fathers
    "thanks dad"

    Dark Halloween Poem

    I live in a dark corner where people don't want to go.
    Where light can't come in but I can see out.
    I can reach out and snatch you one by one
    or wipe out an entire town... just for fun

    My job has gotten easier over time
    These days I often put up my feet up, relax, and just watch
    I especially enjoyed Apocalypse Now
    The scene porting my face of Horror, "The horror…"
    It was a tribute to my craft

    Blood and guts spilled on the ground are my art
    And I take great glee in your emotional response
    A big bomb hare, a little mass murder there
    Your asking "Why?"
    My answer is: "I really don't care"

    And if you think you can go down to the Crossroads to make a deal
    I'll let you in on a little secret, it's all in your head.

    I am ignorance and hate
    I am jealousy and greed
    I am a needle, a razor
    I am torture and pain
    I make no apologies
    It's just the way I am

    In the end…perhaps not today
    your pursuit for fountain of youth is in vain
    Trust me, I cannot be beat.

    I live in a dark corner where people don't want to go.
    Where light can't come in, but I can see out.
    And If there's one thing you can take to the bank
    It's that I can guarantee...
    I can guarantee that one day we will meet.

    "Once Upon a Time"- by Ivy C. Machida

    Once upon a time
    Snow enthralled and captivated me
    With its dazzling symphony -
    Spellbound and forsaking all
    I trailed along, sublime in its hold -
    Snowy illusions -
    Visions of purity
    Simplicity, magnanimity
    Swirling in powdery sheets
    Of glistening whiteness.

    Now, four decades on,
    A similar blizzard came this way -
    An historic happenstance they say.
    It called again on me -
    To mock - claim victory - glory?

    A sad, sad story, you say -
    Your youthful heart is heavy
    Your eyes drip tears for me.

    Why do I stay
    Can there ever be an answer -
    Can one break free?

    A sad story, you persist -
    What story?
    That fateful tale of snow-draped Kyoto
    Four decades ago -
    That illusive chance enslavement
    By dazzling sheets of fleeting glory
    That shrouded all in magical garb
    And hid from me the dregs below.

    Held captive in its sway
    I perceived all as neat and pure
    Sweet and simple as life could be
    The good old Nippon way.

    Was it an escape,
    A withdrawal?
    A dread to meet reality -
    A reality if I had stood my ground
    And headed home instead to serve
    Where I belonged -
    But stayed too long
    To play and drift along
    With the chummy snow -
    Subtly thrusting its mystique
    Upon the unsuspecting psyche.

    The flying snow - this time around
    Stayed and hardened into icy blocks
    Like treacherous rocks -
    Can one break free
    And claw a way out?

    Ah, only the heat of summer
    That final home
    Can thaw you out
    Make you whole -
    And set you free!

    Look back, you press on,
    To the land of your ancestors
    Where once upon a time
    You belonged -
    A sojourner nevermore!


    Fucked-up Blues

    Life is fucked up – I’ll tell ya.
    Let’s start off with it’s aches and pains
    A headache
    A toothache
    A stomachache
    Then you never know
    when you are going to be hit
    by some nasty disease....
    You wake up one day and find out
    that you're fucked.

    happen unexpectedly.
    Fucks you up

    Life is fucked up – I’ll tell ya.
    It’s bad enough that we’re all chasing a buck to pay the bills
    Always with some asshole with his hand reaching in your pocket
    trying to extract whatever you have in your wallet

    Then there’s heartbreak
    I can still draw her naked body
    in my mind from memory.

    Keep On Shoppin' In The Real World

    There's bargains in the malls
    In Wal-Mart, the Dollar Store and so many, many more
    People standing in cashier lines
    Wallets open and shiny gold credit cards
    Ready to buy
    Adding to their debt
    Debt - that’ll keep people in check
    But what the heck? We

    Keep on shoppin' in the real world,
    Keep on shoppin' in the real world

    Most of the stuff comes from China
    It says so on the box.
    How does that familiar old song go?
    “Nothing could be finer that comes from mainland China”
    Look in my shopping cart
    Look at all this stuff
    Look at these fine plastic knives I’m gonna buy. We
    Keep on shoppin' in the real world,
    Keep on shoppin' in the real world
    We are baby boomers
    We are the millenias
    We are those in betweeners chasing after a chunk of pie
    Hey, what ever happened to all those 60’s hippies?
    Flower children with their anti-establishment protests
    Their psychedelic colors have faded
    Grown old with wrinkled faces
    Their drugs must have wore off
    Becoming what we once criticized. We

    Keep on shoppin' in the real world,
    Keep on shoppin' in the real world

    But there's a warnin' sign
    Climate change ahead
    There's a lot of people sayin'
    A lot of people are gonna be dead
    Lack of basic necessities - like water
    Shrinking resources causing wars
    For now we try to forget it,
    Any way we can. We

    Keep on shoppin' in the real world,
    Keep on shoppin' in the real world

    I see a homeless man on the street
    Maybe he is a veteran
    Maybe he is a she – Can’t tell…too dirty to say
    0r just someone just down on his luck and in need
    People pass by…On their way to work
    On their way to lunch at Hooters for something to eat. We

    Keep on shoppin' in the real world,
    Keep on shoppin' in the real world

    They say, “The more you know, the less you need”
    So look around… at all the stupid shit
    I don’t want to bitch
    That’s not my schtick
    We all know Life is now on the internet
    Profiling us
    Telling us what to get
    Order it on line
    Free shipping
    Hurry up
    It’s 8:30. If I order now it will arrive by 9.
    I want it now. We

    Keep on shoppin' in the real world,
    Keep on shoppin' in the real world

    World Cup

    World Cup
    I like this football thing: the World Cup.
    Apparently other people do too.
    Football - call it soccer - if you prefer
    If you call it soccer, I won't call you a wanker - just an American
    I like this football thing: the World Cup
    Rooting for your national team, the colors, the flags, the banners, the noisy fans, and their noise makers.
    True the scores aren't great.
    Sometimes after 2 hours ending in a disappointing nil nil draw.
    Then the winner is decided by PK
    PK? I say Puck Kyou!
    Like the Stanley Cup Playoff games
    Play to the death! A sudden death
    Take out the goal keeper. The next score wins!
    Finally, something would add some excitement to the match.

    I know, I know...The World Cup in Brazil has attracted much controversy.
    Spending money on stadiums instead of schools, hospitals and services for the poor.
    A piss-poor exercise of priorities to be sure
    I'm no economist. I'm not sure of what will trickle down.
    On the other hand, there's so much bad news out there
    maybe I, we, all need a break.
    What would you prefer?
    Money spent on football and a fleeting World Cup dream
    or spending billions on bombs and war?
    In fact, we have little voice in this world
    unless our voices swell into a frightening roar

    So right now in 2014, I like this football thing.
    It's not like real life
    In football, get too aggressive and what happens?
    A yellow card is given.
    And when someone gets real rough and tough, a red card is handed out.
    Not like in real life when someone takes out a gun.
    Imagine, if you can, the armies in the world
    millions of boney-kneed soldiers in their shorts
    Their only offense - their speed and agility
    Armed with only shin guards for defense
    I know, I know. So how about women in this army?
    First off, two equal wrongs do not make an Equal Right.
    Second, in this army, I'd prefer seeing women wearing a little skimpier attire
    like that of Maria Sharapova.
    Some say that war has always existed
    What about soccer? (Again football if you prefer.)
    Some suggest that the history of soccer dates back as far as 2500BC,
    the Greeks, Egyptians and Chinese all appear to have partaken
    in feet-based games involving a ball.
    For example, in China “Tsu-Chu” or “kick ball” as it translates.
    Records of the game begin during the Tsin Dynasty (255-206BC)
    But I don't mean to bore you with such football trivia.
    But the ball really seem to got rolling (pun intended) in modern Europe from the 9th century onwards, when in England entire towns would kick a pig's bladder from one landmark to another.
    To me, that explains British football fans in a nutshell.
    It seems that we humans have always liked
    to have a little friendly competition from time to time.
    So how did we get so violent?
    It seems that football is a uniter and not a divider
    For example in America: Americans love their brand of football - The Superbowl
    Where oversized men with low IQs and pumped full of steroids
    slam into each other with helmets and suits of armor.
    The objective of the game is to put the pig skin across the goal line
    and inflict concussions
    But look what happened the other day!
    When America won a World Cup game.
    Suddenly. the country embracing the round-ball version of the game
    Chanting USA USA USA.
    Just like they yelled after US special forces took out Osama Bin Laden.
    I like this football thing - The World Cup
    It just seems to me, instead of our fighting over oil and God,
    and the glory of killing
    We should all get on the ball
    (And you know I'm all for balling)
    Maybe life all like football
    And maybe it's all meaningless:
    Whether we win, lose or draw
    The only thing that matters is happiness
    the feeling of ecstasy that happens
    when someone on the team (maybe even you)
    puts the ball in the goal
    Puts his thing in that hole.

    At the Community Center by Ivy C. Machida

    Here I sit
    With two teenage girls
    By my side, sharing a desk
    At the city's community center
    Serving citizens' needs.

    First we breathe
    Then we chat
    To get a feel of each other.
    They were rote-learning for a test
    When I took my seat.

    I tell them
    I'm 'gai-jin' -
    Wide-eyed, they feign surprise
    For I seemed so much like them
    In color, skin and tone.

    But then the details
    Begin to spill
    Across the great divide
    In shades of temperament
    Traits and traces

    In aspirations, schooling
    And many things else – mine spanning
    Continents, oceans, moons, galaxies -
    Theirs fresh greening saplings
    Of these quiet isles, ready to bud

    And bloom, if only they knew how
    To set aglow and spark
    The glimmering flame within
    Flickering like the morning sun
    At dawn, heeding the call to journey forth

    Steadfastly on the road ahead
    Earnestly grasping the gems of truth and light
    Riding the trail of the ever-blazing sun
    In brilliant shades of crimson and gold
    Glittering with individual hopes and dreams.

    I strive to spur and prod them on
    To search their souls and set their goals -
    Reach for the stars
    Pluck them from the skies
    And make them their own.

    They cast a doubtful eye at me
    Incredulous as it might seem -
    Soon they'll know- and plod on down
    The well-trodden paths, savoring the fruits of life
    As I have done, long before their time.

    I take my leave
    And journey on -
    Tracing paths beyond the far horizon
    On a voyage they too will embark upon
    Inevitably, at journey's self-fulfilling end.

    Late Spring Song by Ivy C. Machida

    The spring winds roared
    Swaying the laden cherry trees
    Scattering blizzards of falling petals
    Flurrying like dizzy fragments
    Flickering ghostly patterns
    Across the void and vast expanse of sky.

    They billow and blow -
    Where are they scurrying to?

    I trace a blurry vision of your face
    An essence of you wafted by -
    A whiff of you, a momentary thrill,
    A prick of remembered loss -
    And then they flickered out, fleeing
    Like an unbidden glimpse of eternity

    Gone with the wandering wind -
    Oh, what will bring it all back?

    Ah, a new dawn awaits
    A needful awakening -
    A greening glory of fulfillment
    And boundless virility
    To adorn the barren heart and trees
    In woods as thick and warm and luscious

    Until summer comes -
    Summering you back again!


    Long after he has gone, I have him. Still. On the tips of my fingers. I don’t want to eat, wash my hands, brush my teeth. I shouldn’t talk. I want to wrap myself in Gladwrap and slowly suffocate in his scent. Draw arrows on my neck pointing to his teeth marks. I delight in the marks he leaves on my body. But he is always late and I am never his important date. So I set my watch to Daresbary time and wear it to bed. I dream that Miyazaki’s Totoro comes to get me in the cat bus. I’m eating marmalade on toast and working out a difficult mathematics equation. The cat bus dips and I fall out and am swallowed by a rabbit hole. Distorted hands claw at me as I fall. I see a glimpse of his waistcoat forever ahead of me. The tick of a pocket watch grows louder until I wake up. Alone. I won’t cry when he leaves me. I’ll know it’s because I have outgrown him. As he always said I would. I won’t argue when he closes the door behind him. We will have come to the end. I knew that we were temporary. He told me long before we started. I won’t follow him when he leaves me. I’ll just watch him leave and scurry down his rabbit hole. Back to Alice.

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