discovered on my search today
how murakami and itoi
wrote short stories together
and daydreamed of the corners
in tokyo i might never see
again all while amazed and longing
for someplace nifty to myself
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 **** 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 **** 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
sparkling saturn sunrises
you are kaleidoscoped
through and through
with window blinds, bed sheets,
and street signs.
they call you modern art
and hang you on a wall
your color bleeds.
and no *** can hold you.
you speak and
wind chimes cry,
ringing into the empty night,
a ballerina can only hope
to move as gracefully
as you do.
your eyes light up
like tuscan sun cities
sizzling sirius sunsets
school bus skyscrapers
i’m hooked on your city glow
brighter than tokyo.
andromeda’s got nothing on you
ETO ako, miktinig ay kukuhanin
At sisigaw ng "Pagkain!"
Ang alimusong nalalasap,
Oh, pagkaing kay sarap!
'Di ko na alam kung ano na ang mga pinagsasabi..
Utak ko'y supil na ng kagutuman ko,
Kaya wawakasan ang walang kwentang tulang 'to. Tabi!
Tulang patungkol sa aking nararamdaman araw-araw.. (Eto = eto yoshimura) See what I did there? Pun.. oho
the pictures all move in silent circles
forming messy representations of
thoughts, feelings, reality
turning mere images into
real art, like paintings
but it has taken over
everything around me
from a mile up,
peering from a window seat
lights of tokyo beneath us
and we're sat, soaring
amazing, isnt it?
like a looking glass
this little round window
on a way-too-big airplane
I'm where I want to be
The happy place
I've returned after two years
Much has changed
Many things have not
The sights of skyscrapers
The scent of green tea and fumes
All seems like home to me as I walk through the city
Yet I cry
Smiling comes from time to time
Fake it until you make it comes into play as I'm asked how I am
Silent screams of loneliness
Tears of yearning
For things just beyond my reach
I'm falling into the darkness while in my happy place
When I return 'home' it will be worse
All this fills my mind as I wave goodbye to Tokyo
Kyoto is to come
A spark of joy and excitement
Yet why am I dying when I'm in my happy place
Tokyo & Kyoto
Thoughts while on the Shikansen from Tokyo to Kyoto
''O streets of shining Tokyo, at night
You do become a lovely masquerade,
In different kinds of shades covered in light,
Until the times comes when the colors fade
Away into the magnificent dawn,
Who smears the sleep upon the nightly eyes,
And fills the lips and mouths with a deep yawn,
Calling the sun, its golden rays and rise.
You blow to me melancholy who is
Away from happiness, between a sorrow,
Like an inevitable parting kiss,
Who's filled with lovely love and woeful woe.
Because to you I cannot turn my face
Away, I keep on walking on your ways.''
I have this idea for a love story in Tokyo. I am still wondering if I should write it in verse or prose.
A tune of future funk does play,
Perhaps from a dreamy city.
A soft, a smooth voice does narrate,
Perhaps bout a gleamy city.
I do hear stories about much:
Before my eyes I see the lanes,
The cute couples walking around,
The neon-lights and falling rains.