I s’ppose rattlesnakes can’t be
ninjas. Yes — they got
the striking and the stinging
part right, but they
are not really masters
of subtlety; they make
too much noise and take
a considerable amount
of time to make a **** and
they can never hold katanas and
hurl throwing stars. I guess
rattlesnakes are doomed to
crawl and rattle on, announcing
Hey, I carry venom, as
the rats would thank their ears and
the hawks circle above.

I think of honor, and pride
And the clashing of swords
The Heart that beats inside
Master my weapon, an art form

I will protect my land and master,
At the cost of my own life
Arrows and katanas only come faster,
And I'll slip in to the light
The code I've lived by, do or die,
A samurai

The ship rocked-
Back and forth,
The village ablaze,
It would burn for days,

Bandits and yokai-
Stood in my path,
Katanas and claws,
No love, nor laws,

The shrine-
Kodama singing,
An otherworldly light,
Only for some's sight,

Fallen souls littered my path-
Their power aglow,
I'll leave it at the shrine,
What's theirs is now mine,

I'll board that ship-
Kusurigama in hand,
And inside the hold,
Release the demon's  soul.

Dodging aside-
The yokai furious,
I remain undefeated,
And claim my amrita.

was the sort of kid who would have enjoyed dissection
in high school, savoring in the permission to cut
a once-living creature open and scrutinizing the
parts that made it function,

would draw swastikas on furniture and his toys and his
body not because he was an Anti-Semite but
because he thought that maybe it could start
a conversation or two,

mixed different sorts of alcohol in his bedroom and claimed
to have brewed them himself because he
thought he could impress the friends whose
palates discerned the lie,

wore heavy black clothing even in the drought of August
or red-colored contacts and a black eye
eye patch because he thought this made
him intimidating,

carried an immense duffel bag packed so tightly with
dull-edged katanas and worn flasks
and umpteen lighters and extra shoes
it could not be fastened,

always smoked two cigarettes in succession as if
to say to everyone: smoking is
cool and now I am twice as cool
as the rest of you,

was so captivated by explosions that he poured
drain cleaner into bottles filled with *****
of tin foil and claimed to be creating a
recipe for ******,

did not believe in moderation and always ate until
his gut distended or drank until his pallid
skin greened or smoked until the bag was
empty and the room a thick haze,

never cared that his name was simply Rob and his
ever-changing group of friends insisted
upon adding the ‘Crazy’ since he had been young,
never hesitated to share his time or money
or material possessions with every person he knew,
never made apologies for his outlandish and
off-putting behavior because he was comfortable as
himself and was committed to enjoying
every moment of every day with unabashed gusto.

While My former instructor
Yuan
And I  asked if I could
Play with one of katanas
I then went and licked the blade
Trying not to cute my tounge
Slowly while he watched
He complained
That the sword should be him
I then did the same to him
All over him
But slower and more affectionate
I pleasured him
And loved him.
Soon love poems
Started to come up
When I slept in
When realized Yuan was
With his crime family
I kept writing love poems
And hide them all over the appartment
We were together
Until
I felt the need to go home
Matsumoto promised that we
Would stay in touch
When I got to upper Manhattan
To live with a friend
And mother my children
I took the time to sand him steamy
Love letters.
Which we responded with more steaminess
After a while I wrote back
And never heard from him
Until one of his associates
Wrote back saying that
Oyabun Yuan Matsumoto
Died in peace.
Then I learned that you killed your self
Too much hallucinogenics
I died cherish you as you
Deserved
But instead fell for my karate instructor
Yet again.

A sharp love is keen
The heart cuts as easily
Katanas nature

I’m in Love and regret
It’s a new retrospect
So much sorrow and gloom
As life lessons they bloom
In Love when upset
You forgive and forget
While regret makes no sense
You just cry in contempt
My soul it bleeds sadness
while pain heals the wound
The nightmares of death
Came to play all to soon
The pain that I felt only you understand
A void that is gone was not part of my plan
I have yet to cease weeping
My heart grated to shreds
As the guilt cuts me up
Like Katanas in hand
I look in the mirror
with no one to blame
Not a spark in my pupil
My eyes filled with shame
Yah tells us no lies when you feel what I feel
A Love that’s worth fighting for
A Love that is Real.

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