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Ming Mar 29
My shoes **** as I trudge down a seamlessly cemented road. The floor, only slightly lighter than the colour Black. Launching into the wide road where the sky more daringly shows itself, the sun, too, exhibits its colour hue. I can see the reflection of orange in you. The sound of cars are not evident but they exist. The traffic light goes green and the rhythm of its beeping escalates in what seems like less than its promised seconds. 5 steps into the humble gantry I have reached Yomiuriland Station. I buy my morning beverage for 100¥. I think of nothing in that repeated moment while fixing my eyes on the orange-reflected clock.
How I remember Tokyo's Yomiuriland Station
cas Apr 2020
Tokio desu, wearing a dress
Feel like a mess, making a mess
Wearing a dress, I was the best
vanessa ann Mar 2020
i want to go back to tokyo,
somehow the city always feels like home, even when
i’m always a foreigner;
a touristy tourist with a camera on my hand,
snapping polaroids and selfies with a thousand filters
layered on top of each other,
to enunciate the beauty of the city and at the same time,
reinforce my place as a touristy tourist.

i want to go back to tokyo,
to feel the night breeze kissing my face,
or the scorching daylight next to the vending machine that sets my soul
ablaze;
hot and cold, cold and hot,
i don’t know whether to take my jacket or leave it at the bnb
but i know how cold i’d be,
at night when the sun’s asleep,
and i should be too, if i weren’t too busy loving tokyo.
to my favorite city in the world,
i know i'm seeing you in sakura-tinted glasses,
but i do love you. and i hope you can be my home someday.
David Hutton Dec 2019
Black ties, collar shirts, a sea of black hair.
All operate the same, nothing is rare.

A heap of bleak faces,
holding briefcases.

Forming thoughts like a system software.
Kat Oct 2019
nothing will be sold today. the rain comes and
no one will see the neon signs in the mist.
the cities of steel and glass
are merely sandcastles at high tide.
helplessness, our human nature.

still, no worries,
in the minds of children, soothed by
their mother's sing-song,
or strangers sharing their first meal –
yi is cooking ramen for everybody,
while the finnish girl just finished her story
about her grandfather and his eleven siblings.
it's a beautiful day.
GREETINGS FROM TOKYO!
Starry Aug 2019
Trick or treating in tokyo
Better watch out for
Them yakuzas
As you enjoy collecting Canda
And go for a relaxing
Walk in the night.
I know that Japan doesn't have alloween... It's artistic liscence.
Zywa Aug 2019
Tokyo city

blurs what's dark with lots of light –


Is heaven like that?
The concept of heaven
Thinking on “Subduing” (“Het dempen”, 2019, Ellen Deckwitz)

Collection "Mosaic virus"
Mitch Prax Jun 2019
Even Tokyo
could never come between us
after all this time

11:39 PM
19/6/19
Markus Russin Feb 2019
discovered on my search today
how murakami and itoi
wrote short stories together
in nineteeneightysomething
and daydreamed of the corners
in tokyo i might never see
again all while amazed and longing
for someplace nifty to myself
S O P H I E Dec 2018
a bird ***** its wings in Rio and there is a tsunami in Tokyo.
there is a tsunami in Tokyo and your father takes your mother to bed, calls her beautiful, does not raise his voice at her, does not leave her alone in a ***** motel room. she unpacks her suitcases and never leaves Missouri.
you do not form in her womb and she stops screaming.
a tsunami occurs in Tokyo and you do not exist and there is a break in the violence of our bodies. you disintegrate before me and I melt back into the earth where I belong and you never stopped loving me.
we unbecome the casualty of our own flaws.
we were never here. we were never gone.
a bird becomes road **** in Rio and you crawl into the womb of your mother, you are the 7th of 7 and the cause of your mother's stress. there is no tsunami in Tokyo and your mother packs her suitcase and leaves for Texas, she unhappily marries your father and stays with him to the bitter end.
there is no tsunami in Tokyo and your mother dies of lung cancer, your father leaves you in may, does not kiss you goodbye, does not look back at you, you pack your stuff and he sends you away.
the birds in Rio do not sing, Tokyo bay does not roar to life.
you are here. you cannot leave.
i got the inspiration from another poem although i do not know who it's by or what its called. if you know comment down below
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