"shogun" poems
All weapons of
the fates you've sealed
Are no match for
this pen I wield
The power to
articulate
Ticking rhyme bombs
to detonate
The conflicts waged
gambling mankind
My perfect hand
is treaties signed
Hellbent hounds pray
like dogs, I hunt
Frontline this notebook
battlefront
With metaphors
of mindless drones
Like similes
to brainwashed clones
Whose C4 booms
and IED's
Can't build bridges
like ABC's
Or tear them down
with death regimes
By rusting through
the war machines
Flamethrowin’ my
verbal grenade
With ****** noun
scorched-earth tirade
On militant
cold-blood elite
King cobras know
I'm packing heat
Seeking missile
resolution
Winged raptor
devolution
Prehistoric
barbarism
Literacy
cataclysm
Stockpiling
extinction bones
We're cavemen carving
fallout stones
My Hiroshima
prose explodes
With nuclear
bushido codes
Released from my
katana's ward
To free my press
from shogun lord
Oppressing haiku
imagery
And samurai
epigraphy
Expressions of
my ronin soul
Omitted by
the daimyo
Satsuma is my
poetry
My final draft's
Nagasaki
Ink cartridges
strapped 'round my neck
I print no charge
or background check
And ****** every
live round free
Of innocent
blood elegy
And killing sprees
of gunned-down news
Domestic violence
black and blues
A Number 2
pencil dependent
Obsolete
lead-head amendment
Open carry
shoots a blank
Empty shell case
at my think tank
So grip this peace
then **** and pull it
**** my diction
write the bullet
Oct 8, 2016
Oct 8, 2016 at 2:10 PM UTC
a million men rushed in,
one walked out.
his blade like a red candied lolly.
in his wake ,the silhouette of the grim reaper
has the apocalypse arrived?
if so is this man death himself?
more rushed in,more were swatted like flies
the shogun cowered in fear
the army was in disarray .
out of the chaos walked a mere child,
walked over to the red mist.
pulled out a katana,
tempered from the blood of a god .
swung,popped the mans's head like a pimple.
the child turned to the shogun and said,
'he aint death.he's dead.'
Mar 16, 2014
Mar 16, 2014 at 1:36 PM UTC
the words have lost their meaning, put down and forgotten
the ink is old and hitting refresh, flesh is rotten
the love of doves is for the birds, love of forgotten
words, buried deep unearth on Earth, what has brought this on...
short tempered phrases
Viennese masked faces
road rage that displaces
where words that disgraced
the root that spawned their meaning
and thinkers were able to be gleaning
to drink the rich and full in leaving
pride at the door and no deceiving
what we are all here for
not a geo-politico hidden agenda
not a plan within a plan within a plan
like some Shogun in a Clavell novel,
not to be a notch whelped on Evils' belt
size 365 days a year,
equal spaced holes like stepping stones
tighten around a neck stuck out too far
risk taking and all in isn't a sin, groan,
who am I to judge, I am so marred
am I poeticizing how to live,
no, how write poetry and be so alive,
I have so many words they
roll like boulders, in my head
and off my shoulder across the floor
the neighbours complain of the
noise and I lie, say-
ing it is my dog with her toys,
so go write your poetry,
no one else can, please
may it cure you as mine
cures me of my disease
so you can do what you were born to do,
what are you waiting for ** I can't tell you!**
Apr 5, 2015
Apr 5, 2015 at 12:55 AM UTC
what about that "strange, mortal" coinage of: i just don't want to be here?!
i just can't imagine why
i landed among you depressed rejects -
i really can't, i wrote
poetry, and i guess that's
my excuse, but i like emotional
retards - it makes me feel
alive, i can feel like i can have a beer
and talk Pamplona and Hemingway
and **** oh yeah, they mentioned
go easy on them,
there's me and my blabber mouth,
or as the n.s.a., make new friends that aren't
required extras for the new Hobbit Movie,
jokes aside, i am actually making a investment quote,
no new movie, New York and all...
hmm? what a ****** question,
certain words should never be a question,
rather... what a ****** word to leave a question with;
i mean, what word is imbededed with nuance? oh, right,
the underlined one, robotics microsoft
villa and the twenty two toilets... hmm,
too many guests taking a **** i guess;
i mean (i can say this with a hardened expression
learning to be my father while he un-buried his to
be a father to me made only welcome to a mother,
and no celebrated deity of flesh worthy of **** and whatnot.
it's not fair given the 1990s and Bon Jovi,
and Ghost, and Swayze... it's, just, not, fair!
so agonising to be the choirmaster, you get me?!
no, of course you don't, cos you're Harry Potter.
i know your benevolence,
and it's truly a Ronin tale, all i know is a no toward
Samurai of your idle heart to save a beat, my heart a Shogun,
that was to be - yet more verse i wish to write impaled
worth the pain, for your eyes to sleep entombed
missing spring - as you are, unknown to me, Greek,
because i know no other love worth a mention.
Jun 19, 2016
Jun 19, 2016 at 10:20 PM UTC
perhaps the europens conducted
anthropological studies on the Amazonian
tribes, niche pockets of
a quirky corporation ethics -
perhaps...
but when one european looks
at another european,
and conducts his own anthropological
study?
who says i'm not conducting an
anthropological study of the English -
who are more deluded
as islanders than the ******* Icelandic
people, with regard to shared
roots...
traveled the world a bit too much...
brought back the elgin marbles
and several minor mummies...
but then... the Pakistani **** gangs...
whoop whoop! choo choo! train a' coming.
what? reality is not some brick
wall you get to impose with
what 19th century romanticism movement
was... a bout of nostalgia...
to me?
the english are...
collectively solipsistic - esp. in the south,
i'm sure it's different in the north...
but the southern english?
a strange breed of ego-bloating -
megalomania,
collective solipsism,
a shogun complex...
solipsism?
just a fancy word for autism...
i've seen flies congregating
on a **** appearing more sociable than
these people...
an englishman's home
is his castle...
yet when i own a castle...
they think i live in their castle's
dungeon, rather than my own home....
weird people... truly odd...
i'm pretty sure the english didn't
expect a covert anthropological study
to be taking place,
from behind a velvety almost see-through
curtain...
it's not like they have much
to feel proud about...
perhaps the minor instances
of selected sports at the olympics...
and all of this based on one example,
but of course, outside the proximity,
there's the multiplication factor,
i.e. it's most likely replicable elsewhere...
perhaps not football...
but anthropology is certainly coming home.
Aug 6, 2018
Aug 6, 2018 at 11:23 AM UTC
Never understood
How to write a full
Sentence,
But did figure out
How to put down
Random silly syllables
In just a minute,
Never figured out
How to play the flute,
But i did learn how
To pick fruit,
Caught a cricket
Never understood
The game cricket,
To my dearest
Never meant to make you
Cry or break your spirit...
That was my younger self,
I've grown and have learned
New ways to carry myself,
I know you'll never rest your
Eyes on this...
This being a poem i wrote
Well
More typed on my phone
While you was in the back
Of my dome,
I know I'll never aton
For the actions i have sewn,
Just know my shoes
I walked in
holding your hands
I've out grown,
I have became a different
man,
I'm sorry for not telling you
That ever time i looked
In your eyes i drowned,
They where so blue they
would remind a pirate
Why he loves the ocean,
That Sunday nothing
but loud lust moaning
this Sunday nothing
but silence,
I do regret the
choices I have chosen,
I'll end it there
For my memories
found a way
through the catacombs,
But my bowman took them
Out thank goodness,
He who took the shoot
Shall be my
yeoman,
Honor killed the Shogun
Snowman left in the snow
Was abandoned,
Young girls heart was stolen,
So much stress took a
Nap fell asleep on
the cushion,
I'm living the life of a
foreigner,
Cant understand no one
Working for a dollar
Selling my so called freedom,
Thinking of home..
Falling in love with a woman
Often,
Fortune lady try to tell me my fortune i said
" no thanks for you
can not tell me my own future"
If you did it would
just be a rumor,
Woke up late cause the
Cougar killed the rooster,
Didn't see it so i guess that
Makes me the accuser,
Gotta find it put her in
The scope and remover,
But if a shark did it
I guess I'll have to harpooner,
Get blood on my carpet
I'll have to shampooer,
Either way I'll have to
**** the evildoer,
But probably offer her
A job and interviewer,
Fall in love and Honeymooner,
Find a cloning factory and
reproducer,
But i got a better manoeuvre,
I'll go to church
and scream Hallelujah,
Hopefully that'll be one
Step closer to get the doors
To heaven to open,
Dose this count as a poem??
Sep 1, 2016
Sep 1, 2016 at 12:24 AM UTC
the lord confronted—
strikes with aimed ferocity
the shogun repels
Mar 7, 2019
Mar 7, 2019 at 12:08 PM UTC
the daimyo then falls
to screams of the thirteen—the
shogun cleans his blade
Mar 7, 2019
Mar 7, 2019 at 12:25 PM UTC
thirteen warriors
the battle scarred shogun chose
pledge dedication
oaths of loyalty—
the thirteen professed each one
ride to meet their fate
on the battleground
the daimyo taunts the thirteen
our heroes clasp swords
the afternoon sun
baked the blood spilled in Edo
battle cries still ring
the clash of steel from
darkened plain quiets—as the
shogun flouts his lord
the lord confronted—
strikes with aimed ferocity
the shogun repels
blow for blow the lord
persists but the shogun stands
and wont relinquish
the righteous eyes of
the shogun meets the anger
playing in the lord's
as the thirteen watch
their shogun locked in struggle
the final blow slips
the daimyo then falls
to screams of the thirteen—the
shogun cleans his blade
Mar 7, 2019
Mar 7, 2019 at 12:29 PM UTC
blow for blow the lord
persists but the shogun stands
and wont relinquish
Mar 7, 2019
Mar 7, 2019 at 12:12 PM UTC
the clash of steel from
darkened plain quiets—as the
shogun flouts his lord
Mar 7, 2019
Mar 7, 2019 at 12:02 PM UTC
as the thirteen watch
their shogun locked in struggle
the final blow slips
Mar 7, 2019
Mar 7, 2019 at 12:20 PM UTC
Far away from any other land a kingdom arose from ocean sand
Their hearts of steel and armor of wood
They defended their people for no appeal and sought honor where they could
A warrior of the Shogun and the Emperor of the divine winds and fallen spirits
Far in the future when the blade was almost out paced
500 warriors stood in the face of an imperial rise
Sword to gun, surely to be overrun, one last charge
To preserve their way at shiroyama
There the warriors of old died, but not completely
For nothing dies eternally
And far in the future a group of warriors Known as Sakurakai
Under Hashimoto thousands of chests stood ready to die, for their emperor
A clash and battle
Chests scattered like cherry blossoms
And when the dust settled Hashimoto was gone
For in Sugamo he was forced and there he died.
Sep 18, 2018
Sep 18, 2018 at 11:40 AM UTC
the righteous eyes of
the shogun meets the anger
playing in the lord's
Mar 7, 2019
Mar 7, 2019 at 12:15 PM UTC
thirteen warriors
the battle scarred shogun chose
pledge dedication
Mar 7, 2019
Mar 7, 2019 at 11:08 AM UTC
When the spirit of the ancient Korean
Princess in her wooden armor
comes through the fog; Jeun-ye comes
back to me in Dan Gun's dreams
of the hills of the Spirits; | | |
Ronan at eternal war with their Shogun
Overlords - - she burns when she returns to me
from Ultima Thule through the stratosphere,
into where you & I wonder - --
Jan 1, 2019
Jan 1, 2019 at 2:40 PM UTC
a cold snap froze the world & Medusa,
overlooking the park turned to a skinny hag---
astonished at the loss her fruit,
visited everyday by Kyunghee the intern
who liked to collect her leaves
take them home & bathe in them,
the soothing water smooth as glass cutting
the yellow skin like red-ribbon---
I was there w/ her once a month,
Kyunghee in the swirling pungent
smelling tub of hot Medusa tea/rs---
I loved Kyunghee & could easily again
if she will deign accept an errant shogun---
on her island off Joseon---
there was the time I threw her out -
it was too late & the stars glittered
frailly as she wept, sorry about old man blues;
I ran out of the apartment,
going to the park---where there, there & there
Medusa's seeds had spread
& a before me stood a naked forest of her kin; her daughters really,
Sisters under the skin;
patrimony strictly mechanical,
call me the architectonic doctor of her being;
her living geometry
waving their naked branches
and forgotten fruit
shriveled like loving mothers spitting **** spent milk---
imagine butter made with spicy eggnog on pancakes
watered w/ her own sap
or oily on a young mother's pouting belly,
wrinkled like memory;
all but untouched I leapt
grabbing the low-hanging fruit----
& biting the bitter hell out of its squishy tit-like skin---
pulp filling my mouth like her mother's red tide---
the best kind, Arab blood, the tastiest---
Dec 25, 2017
Dec 25, 2017 at 9:27 AM UTC