Fukushima Daiichi

You told us about the samurai ***** that day,
why the child-emperor drowned, how folklore affected the shore.
The thinnest male I’d ever seen pulled out a blunt and smoked.
Everyone else focused on you, Kasa Professor,
but I trailed over the class with his breath, kept
my eyes on the clipboard you passed around, “For
relief efforts.” You never spoke. Only explained.
As an English major, I knew you would be an exclamation mark.
As an English major in the History of the Samurai, I didn’t know you would be studying the I.R.S.
The swords were scarier than the men, yet their ghosts were on a crab’s back.
I imagine my ghost as cigarette smoke flogging over an enamored classroom until I leave – only glancing back when the clipboard is returned.
We both knew it would be empty.
We both admitted it when we smelt the smoke.
The sinking ship already burned, and your dying wave is the confusion behind betrayal of a tradition to quench approaching starvation.
That final bite – the moment we are full – is where all history is lost. In the future, they will wonder where the ***** came from. But I won’t wonder about you.
You are not an exclamation mark. You were a question mark all along. But a mark, nonetheless.

I have always called
myself a wandering knight.
I still don't know why.

I always wanted
a sword I can call my own.
It's pretty odd I know.

Is it the romance
in various media?
I couldn't say really.

Maybe the freedom
is what really gets me.
Why did they choose it?

Honor? Truth? Rad swords?
The women? The blood? Nah.
Perhaps the title.

To be known as one.
To be lightning, and fire.
To be Samurai.

Step by step ,
my sword feels heavier,
the rain a billowing distraction,
your face in my thoughts,
a crime I always tend to commit,
instrumental skill is needed,
my wits stay sharp,
a forest full of noise,
my presence is known,
seven pairs of eyes watch,
my steps and actions,
the silent face,
before death,
I kneel to slow my motion,
eyes closed,
the rain falls,
eyes open,
they appear,
seven deadly distractions,
I move fast with intensity,
ten slashes,
bodies fall,
I stand breathing alone,
my motion ceases,
the rain washes the blood,
each **** an expression of you,
your eyes my true weakness,
you may never know this,
my sword is drawn back,
the stroll resumes,
you sleep silently,
the rain falls harder,
my heart follows in parallel….

With gestures increasingly erratic with every strike
And punts as constant as ink gliding across ivory
Our vigilant artisan gathers his wisdom on combat's eve.

You know it’s a cold world
with hearts even colder
So few heroes ­seen
Evildoers get bolder
No choice, but to step up
and prepare f­or the fight
Not many other men
will stand up for your rights
It’­s time to think with your own mind,
to walk your own steps
Hold y­our head high, yes,
but, please, protect your own neck
There’s no­ need to stress
Just attempt to do your best
cleaning the world’s­ mess
Don’t forget to take a rest
It’s a lifetime achievement
A p­ath you walk alone
There’s little time to settle
when there’s so ­much to roam
Don’t become sidetracked by attacks
or distracted by­ a side kick,
though it’s rare to find
a good friend or a nice ch­ick
Still, remain focused,
stay true to the cause
Know how much t­ime you lose
when you choose to pause
May your name become a lege­nd
and strike fear into foes
May life become better
with everywhe­re that you go