formalities were always a must,
you'd have to be crazy to forget your manners.
Shoes off, Gi on, Belt ready;
forget that and the push ups would **** you.
As soon as anyone crossed that threshold,
their mind, body, and spirit tuned into an ancient frequency.
We were raw potential energy encased in flesh,
the trespasses we'd endured throughout the week
our sole source of fuel.

Sifu would shout, We would listen.
Our partners would punch us
And we'd block; no thought required.
With every belt, we moved up in the art;
Educated furthermore in climbing ladders.
That was the first time I had ever been disciplined
And not solely abused,
My first real encounter with tough love.

After those classes, I guess I felt safer around my parents,
But that didn't make them good people.
I almost had to fight them once,
Yet I couldn't bring myself to defend the dignity
Already taken from me.

Maybe I should have let my instincts and not my sense
Guide my hand that night,
Maybe then I'd be a hero to myself as well as everyone's villain.

Mercury is retrograde,
reducing me to idioms:
life is the Cobra Kai dojo,
and we are the Pilates kids.

So *******, messenger boy.
i can still communicate,

if i need to.

She rushed through the door, soot covered her body from her crown down to her feet. Hands bloodied, fingernails eroded from the coal mines. The momentum from her abrupt entrance into the log cabin threw her to the floor. Her eyes brimmed with with tears of hate and desperation. She was so broiling hot that the prespiration dripping down her face could melt dry ice.

Her husband,  a grizzly bear of a man, was sitting in his bronzed shaded chair next to a stone fire place. He could feel the fire crackle, as if it was a person emoting undeniable anticipation. The flames seemed much louder now that he saw his wife covered in soot, the same by product he became so accustomed to. He was as solid as the stone mantel he sat by. Motionless, quiet, he was a stone  and just like a stone acted with the same sentiment. In his left a he wielded a glass cup with etchings of all the animals he had dominated outside his man made log cabin. Inside this sentimental possession was  some Johnny walker, neat.  Unlike his wife this grizzly bear was clean, his clothes resembled that of a lumberjack. Plagued with emotions he longed to wash all the negativity away, but the strategy did nothing to aid his discomfort.  His garments stitched by hand, his boots appear to have just been cleaned. Underneath this calm vessels exterior, under this emotionaless shell, doubt and self pity was brewing. He was so sure of himself when he was in the act, so convinced it was the reasonable thing to do. "I love her. I have to do it. I have to set her free..." he thought hours ago while he clenched a small maroon blanket in his right palm and a pick axe in the other. He was convinced, driven by the pressure and insecurity that he couldn't provide.  He worked in the mine since blemishes started to occupy his visage. And still after so many years of hard work, found it to be an extreme complication to accommodate his family.

His wife, in a panic, got up and ran to a crib made with expert carpentry. She lunged inside and clutched Dojo. A stuffed animal that no longer had a keeper. She couldn't hear anything.  Not the fire, not the wildlife outside the wooden walls. She fell deaf. It was as if her ears perceived the aftermath of an explosion. The ringing in her ears were almost unbearable next to the crying which left her lungs to struggle like a child's respiratory system when crying for their pacifier. Like a baby suffocating under the coal that her husband worked with constantly.

"We could have found a way!" She exclaimed while her black stained hands dug into the hand made stitching of the zebra. The kind gentle hands that once nurtured a child and created things of use and delight, now basks in a haze of blood, tears and soot.

"I'm selfish, I... But I did it for... For her.." The lumberjack clothed man thought. "There ain't no way she would have been something..." he explained under his breath. The grizzly bear hurled his possession bearing his dear friend  Johnny walker into the flames. The ignition singed off some hair from his untamed beard. He then sat still. Just as still when his wife barged in.  "No way she would have lived... It was the right thing to do!... It felt right.. It felt so right for her grave to be where I practically lived for that last forty years!" Self hate and rage engulfed his soul so deeply that he acquired goose bumps.  The husband attempted to reassure himself with wrongly ambitious speech. He knew only two degrees of volume at this point. Booming language and silence.


More crying developed. The soot stained woman slid down to her knees, then slumped down in a fetal position cuddling with Dojo. A pool of tears appeared quickly around her. The radiance of hate was still spreading and building within her. Her skin acted as a proficient barrier.  Heat from her violent life force alone would have brought the puddle of sorrow surrounding her to a boil.

"****!!!!" The grizzly bear yelled while clasping his dome in between his monstrous hands, he leaned forward in his bronzed shaded chair. At this point no tears were produced by this man, only more self pity.

Either way, the keeper had no chance to live.

Arise Great Britain, swell wi pride
this is no time tae split, divide,
a hero needs us on his side
a man apart
Brave Osbourne comes wi manly stride
and lion heart

When danger ca’s, he stauns and fights
He’ll haud the baddies bang tae rights
Nou in their een he sees the whites
and yells, “Attack!”
He’s got oor mojo in his sights –
He wants it back!

Let’s cheer his valour tae the roof
Condemn the wans wha’d cry him couff
And pray oor Geordie’s bulletproof
As on he flies
Then fit him wi a parachute
and wave guidbye.

This GM perfect Tory clone
need not rely on un-manned drone
He’ll tackle ISIS on his own
their fight dissolve
His pores squirt pure testosterone
his eyes, resolve

Just watch the baddies turn and flee
as George, wi patriotic glee
wreaks vengeance for democracy
a one-man dojo
And cries, “Come, Britain, flock to me,
and feel my mojo!”

Or mibbes we should check this twice.
Although the image may be nice
The blood we risk on his advice
may never stop -
But Geordie will not sacrifice
one ****** drop

These profiteering pinstripe ******
wha ken no life but politics
Are no the first tae play these tricks
while deals are made
Why no just wave a crucifix
and shout “Crusade!”

So hooses burn and horror grows
A stream o misery outflows
While braggard Geordie struts and crows,
"Ye want a fight?"
I’d dump him on Damascus road
tae see the light

Ye plot the death o innocents
Tae score yir points in parliament
Yir fascist mocking o dissent
it suits ye well
George Osbourne, ye're a proper gent
**** ye tae hell.

The world is so small babe,
I’m running through my life
All this cardio killing my vibe
I was high but now I’m low,
You’ve gone too far away from me,
All this distance, these miles I can’t take it no more,
Let’s go on a trip, I’ll buy you a flight to Tokyo, we’ll hit the dojo, I’ll show you my mojo,
We’ll walk around Yoyogi, I’ll show you all the arigato I learned just to impress you fondly,
I’ll rent the most expensive hotel room to make some love,
We’ll use it,
Trash
And break it,
I don’t care about money, besides, having you is priceless.
I’ll love you to Mars and Jupiter,
I’ll name some planets maybe make some up to pretend I’m a genius,
I’m definitely not the greatest,
But fake it til you make it, apply that to us, pretend you love me and I’ll kiss you softly.
My life has been broken, ripped and thrown, away in the trash but you pieced it with some voodoo,
Now let me pay back the favor back and say I love you,
Forever and ever I’ll text you at night,
I might miss a day but maybe I’m lost within my words all because you left me speechless,
Your body sculpted by Michelangelo,
Your smile painted by Picasso,
But don’t be mistaken you can do much better I’m just fighting to convince you I’m the one.
But even after all this time,
I regret not holding you, not kissing you not loving you,
I had you within my reach
Now I’m left apart from love and hope
But every text is like a take back, I scroll through our pictures and wonder, why we didn’t take more,
Maybe skinny dipping or giggling,
Don’t care never did, just need you back,
I’ll fly you back to, where paradise is set,
We’ll stop by LA, I’ll meet your friends I’ll buy some clothes to reach your level, maybe will even break a sweat ‘cause after all you are my: deepest love my queen so beautiful.
I’ll fly you to Texas, I’ll meet your family, introduce me as the super tall, ******, don’t care what you say ‘cause just driving you around is my pleasure and dreams I had of.
Don’t be mistaken, I loved swimming, within our convos, but maybe now we can settle down and agree that down down very deep down, I love you and maybe you love me,
Or maybe not I’m prolly just tripping, not in space but within your beauty, I want you, be mine,
Forever high,
On the clouds I’ll lie, I’ll lie lie lie, and I’ll say whatever childish line, comes out of my mouth, don’t be surprised if, I just freeze and stare, because every glance you ever gave, just now assure me you could be mine, but baby I’m sorry poor choice on my part,
Just let me make it up to you, I’ll take you to Lake Whitney, we’ll chill and read,
“I got this poetry book here,”
And I’ll pretend to know every line,
Understand every word,
Whatever it takes for you to be mine.

Warm to the touch,
this unsheathed steel
remains tempered.
And with smooth strokes,
I ****** in deep
from all angles,
slicing to the bone
on bone,
practicing
our beautiful
martial
body arts
to the tenth degree.

Claudia was awakened
By her punk lover
Kissing her ear she giggled
Think he was like a puppy
She coupes his face
And said good morning my sweetheart
Sensei my rose
I want to runaway to Tibet
And I would love if you spent that life with me.
“Boris Romanov as that sounds romantic... I just can’t.
Let me think about it
I have a life here”
She said getting away from him
Quickly
“Claudia Patrick” he pleaded
But she walked out.
Went she walked to her friends appointment
In Manhattan she though she only had her karate,
Her Boris
And three friends
She had nothing else
To lose.
The friend saw Claudia
Coming
And greeted her
Claudia broke down and told
Her friend
About the loving
Yet creepy relationship
And where he wanted to take her
When the friend said that you could email
Them they will still be friends.
That gave some comfort to Claudia
Claudia was allowed to spend the
Night at her friends
Unless it was class or when the friend had to work.
The wealthy friend
Drove her to the dojo keep an eye out
For Claudia’s creep
But he never showed.
She told her the owner of the dojo
That she might be leaving to teach the art
In another land
He understood
Then she spent the night with her
Friend
Not going to class
Until she was safe and made up her mind.
When she started to miss
Boris
And confident enough to deal with him
She came back
To him
Saying that she wanted to be with her punk lover
Even if meant leaving.
Boris felt joy from her words
And they made love.
Her red hair
And complimented
Boris’s blond and blue hair.

When we met you said life had broken you
It started in childhood, what he put you through
And now you felt shamed because you were homeless
Abandoned by society, drifting and rudderless

You told me as though it was a ***** secret
And thought I'd walk away

You told me how you washed in the railway station
Fighting for work to improve your situation
Never giving up and never giving in
The very epitome of "Who Dares Wins"

And you thought I'd walk away?

You looked in the mirror and saw a loser
I cried and wished that I'd met you sooner
But you just said you'd learnt a lot
Sleeping rough on Christmas Day

You looked in the mirror, hated what you saw
But I looked at you, seeing so much more
Where you saw a loser I saw a hero
A samurai stood where you saw a zero

Knocked down 9 times you got up 10
If it wasn't enough you just did it again
Shotokan Tiger, in potentia
Noble, brave, strong.

Living proof that birth can't dictate you
That a ruined childhood needn't  break you
You overcame all, yet I never pitied you
Forged in flames and born anew

Vicious abuse from a cowardly father
A little half man who claimed to be a soldier
So "brave" he beat you black and blue
But he could learn to be a man from you

In you I see a Pilgrim, bold and free
Longing for mountains and glittering seas
Always going farther, one peak more
You'll  find your Mecca at the Dojo door

So walk beside me on the Golden Road
Let me share your honour code
Be my Sensei and guide my hand
While you light our way to Samarkand

I did not go back to the dojo
Again
But the love letters
Kept coming.
I ended up only teaching you
And then you
Taught me your Tantra and karma sutra
I could feel love and pleasure with different poses
That we were linked spirituality
We did this every day
And normal making out.
One evening
You were out
I know were confronting
My sensei
And came back with a severe black eye
And a **** on your arm
From a katana
Thank god it was just skin deep
And the hospital was not involved.
“That guy threaten to cute out your heart and cute off my head
I am calling the police and tell them he’s Japanese mafia”
You said
We spent the night
At the police station
I had the letters
As evidence
And where he lives.
A few days later ended up with the dojo to my self and my instructor turned lover was in prison
And being deported back to japan.
In a way my dream came true
Thanks to human stupidity.
The appartment up top
Looked like someone was still
Living there
And the weapons he
Taught me to use
Frightened me to death.

The next morning after their morning loving making session
After whispering sweet nothings to eachother
Boris said that he going to announce that
He at a young age had found enlightenment
She thought her scronny tattooed lover was going to do that
Claudia said that she loved him
But since they came here
He went insane
Yet was still loving
She realized that she had missed her period three months in a row
Could she still teach
While carrying their child.
Could she take care of them
Here in this waste land
She thought know and she
Called her tattooed monk that
She was carrying his kid
Claudia then she she was going to open up a dojo in
Upper manhattan
To make a better life
For her and the kid
She kissed him farewell
Feeling those piecing for the last time
And turned her back
On the punk Lama.
When she arrived Claudia left
Her beloved
In Tibet
And wished him well
She also found out that she was having multiples.
When she got to a doctor
Claudia stayed with her friends
Until she gave birth
Made a name for herself again
Every night she cried herself to
Sleep
And dreamed of Boris
And in the day she took her
Sketch book out and
Started drawing tantric art
Who involved her and Boris
The friends asked
What happened to him
And she said
That he was happier in the mountains
And she couldn’t live there
For the sake of the children
When it came time to give birth
She had for daughters
To whom she promised not
To breathe a word of their
Father.
Over the years
She got stronger both emotionally
And physically
And the girls grew up
Like wild flowers
When the daughters whent to school
She opened her own dojo
And found another
Who her daughters called
Dad.
She never told him about Boris
Trying to pretend like they
Never met in that alley
Once a upon a time
Then her new husband saw the tattoos and the name
Who was Boris
He asked her
And then as the children slept
She said that she
Was once in love with a street punk
Who dragged her
To Tibet
And he lost touch of reality
She said that he was called Lama Tashi Surya
But she knew him as Boris
Claudia cried and then tried to move on with life
Until her one of daughters
Discovered in the mail
A letter in what she called Egyptian
And normal
It said that her husband
Lama Tashi Surya
Killed himself
The letter in tibetan was both a love letter and suicide note.
Her and her new husband
Got the others around and
Told the daughters
Of their real father
Lama Boris as Claudia called him.
She found the only suitable sketch of her beloved
And showed it do her daughters
Claudia felt like it was her fault
That the love
Of her life was dead.
She closed her school
And went to be a secretary
First she was a martial arts expert
And mistress
Then some insane punk’s lover
Now a mother
And wife.
She had to leave her passion karate behind along with Boris.
She framed the sketch and
Hung it up
Above the tv so when her daughters
Watched cartoons
They knew where they came from.
From time
To time
Claudia still had feelings
For the Russian punk
Who rocked her world.

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