"mishima" poems
You, saying love
You, shaman's road
You, a bird
You, a yellow sun
You, Emperor
You, lovely door
You, my Walt Whitman
You, Neal
You, Sal Paradise
You, Pancho Villa
You, La Revolución Mexicana
You, navajo
You, the border
You, the river
You, chicana
You, Mafia
You, redemption
You, poetry
You, Salvador Dalí
You, Picasso
You, stereo
You, love
You, ***
You, youth
You, America
You, América
You, español
You, english
You, country side
You, cat
You, fire
You, books
You, E. E. Cummings
You, Bukowski
You, Octavio Paz
You, Coca-Cola
You, Coke
You, India
You, Mississippi
You, jazz
You, Miles
You, Davis
You, water
You, rain
You, lagoon
You, chest
You, car
You, road
You, reading
You, lines
You, Paris
You, Baudelaire
You, Poe
You, japanese
You, katana
You, Mishima
You, gun
You, rifle
You, cam
You, can
You, can't
You, Durango
You, Arizona
You, desert
You, gonzo
You, mezcal
You, alcohol
You, drive
You, crush
You, alive
You, again
Jun 3, 2013
Jun 3, 2013 at 3:16 PM UTC
Cracked in several different pieces lies
a mask bound by the school of flesh
A clever tool used to blur the lines
Between a saint and filthy wretch
Archaic would be the best word to describe
The spring snow I ought to see
And yet there's still something beautiful about suicide
I think Mishima would agree
But these metaphors are every bit as absurd
As the films you made me watch
Silent whispers never heard
And yet again I ruin the plot
In the mood for love
Yes, that's all you've ever been
Like the sudden slap of a glove
A life once hidden now is seen
Somewhere there is a man I used to know
Better yet revere
Blood stains red springs gentle snow
Giving way to flowery years
There is death before dishonour
If not of the body then of the mind
As summer winds blow warmer
So do memories fade in time
Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 12:10 AM UTC
Mishima, Plath, Arbus & Teasdale
are the sacred four of invincible silence,
alone as Isadora danced
& Martha made it w/ Noguchi
& he built sets for her all-American dance,
lifting her legs showing off her hairy ****
I love the smell of poets’ cooch
& he-man values that overthrow
the stale shoes of grandfathers
and mothers the world over
& when we arrive on the Korean Peninsula
we shall once again call it Joseon---
Don’t torture our kpop stars---
(ironically called idols but treated like slaves)
The women we love
have had extensive cosmetic surgery
To make them beautiful
& worthy of near-religious devotion---
Suicide is a viable option
when ur depressed & in the limelight;
Where do u go after dark,
to some smoky ***** den---
It’s been days, months, years since I saw u last----
after the sinking of the Sewol
that destroyed an entire generation
of innocent lives---
Come home to me where I will love u
like a newborn puppy & make hot cocoa for u
In winter & ice-cold lemonade in summer---
It’s been months since I saw u last
& we showered together
washing away our sins to be reborn as angels
after our mutual suicide---
Dec 22, 2017
Dec 22, 2017 at 5:08 PM UTC