"tokyo" poems
By Arcassin Burnham
We could play with guns like cowboy bebop,
Slay demons like inyunasha,
The blue lights in Tokyo couldn't be anymore beautiful,
Getting a little sensual with small amounts of ******
That's pretty lame,
Kissing me with purple and pink lipstick,
And for that I'll make you anything kawaii,
You could be the crazy chick on fooly cooly,
It wouldnt be bad if you Could do me.
Jun 29, 2015
Jun 29, 2015 at 5:36 PM UTC
He misses me still, but that's old news.
He's missed me for so long now - he can do it in his sleep.
He does it while he eats alone at his desk,
while he runs for a train,
while the rain is coming down in sheets.
While a girl takes off her dress and he reaches for her,
his hands hesitate a decimal. He turns off the light,
and misses me.
It grows inside his chest, like a bonsai tree -
something natural but stunted.
Snipped and pruned carefully, but not allowed
to grow outside it's box. Not allowed to put down roots.
He hauled it off, across the sea.
Across China and the Middle East, he misses me.
Half a world apart, in Amsterdam I walk
with my eyes to the ground, all brown and grey.
Thinking of the planes and trains that bore him
away.
This has become second nature for me.
It's midnight in Tokyo, he sits at his desk
in the light from the street
thinking of trees, canals, red bricks, me
and when we sleep, he and I both,
it's with ghosts in the sheets.
Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 6:16 AM UTC
I gaze into my crystal ball, discern amidst the haze
A world so far removed from that of now, it would amaze,
Where catapulting incidents collide like billiard *****
And sense defies belief as renaissance makes the calls.
Blueprints fresh from Internet supply the suitcase blast
Where the terrorist’s, simultaneously, ignite in cities cast
From Moscow to New York, Beijing to Berlin
Gay Paree to London town then way out east again,
Budapest, Jerusalem Calcutta burning all
And Tokyo is levelled in a ghastly nuclear pall.
Kneejerk reaction triggers contrails in the blue
Crisscrossing all the continents obliterating through
An overkill so vicious that in seconds it is past
And the living cling in horror, bearing witness… aghast.
Restraints are erased as the opportunists dash
Flotillas from the Spratleys sprint to occupy and cash
In on the minerals, oil and potential food supplies
Of uncontaminated nations found beneath Pacific skies.
Hindi, Jew and Muslim settle scores bereft with years
Of resentment accrued in a flood of blood and tears.
A sudden realisation of immensity of loss
Curtails the destruction in retrenchment across
The habitable outposts, the dearth of supply
And the daunting prospects of a nuclear winter sky.
Global collapse of all electronic gear
No power, no phones, and no cars now…for years.
Electromagnetic impulse put paid to all that
And the day is as dark as the cold night is black.
And here all we sit, in the here and the now
On the verge of catastrophes’ teetering tower,
With a fools pudgy finger just inches above
The nuclear button…and all that we love.
……You fear the insanity, sense the insane
Knowing that people like this are holding the reign?
Knowing that volatility strikes
Like the shot of a gun and the ****** of a knife.
I don’t have the answers to hand
But someone out there, knows how…and can.
The sands of time are running thin
URGENTLY needed a LEADER...to WIN!
M.
Planet Earth
6 March 2019
Mar 6, 2019
Mar 6, 2019 at 12:46 AM UTC
sienna cities
sparkling saturn sunrises
sangria skyscrapers
sublime.
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
of white
and beige.
your color bleeds.
you boil
and no *** can hold you.
you speak and
wind chimes cry,
ringing into the empty night,
morose.
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
divine.
i’m hooked on your city glow
brighter than tokyo.
Nov 15, 2018
Nov 15, 2018 at 1:46 PM UTC
Shadows dance on subway walls
Through crowded bars and pachinko halls
I came equipped for fun and play
You dont have to tip but boy you pay
The night runs deep when you miss the train
After this trip you're never the same
I fell into forbidden zones
Ancient temples turned into internet shops dial for *** to her cellular telephone
Step to the beat invent your own way
If you can't dance you've got two left feet
What's the difference let your hair down its time to play and dance the...
Tokyo Tokyo Tango oh no no no
Don't dance the...
Tokyo Tokyo Tango oh no no no
Down the street there's a ceremony on
It's a cinch when the pink lights on till dawn
Get to grips with a ancient kind of street dance
Kissing cherry lips or grape or mango
Do every dance but NOT the Tokyo Tango
Tokyo Tokyo Tango oh no no no
Tokyo Tokyo Tango oh no no no
Zakuza dance
Tokyo Tokyo Tango oh no no no
Tokyo Tokyo Tango oh no no no
D. Clare
written in Tokyo
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 1:37 PM UTC
~
*Lipstick to void. She is a race against time. The beveled past a disruption in her lines of influence.
Travel is dangerous, and tonight it darkens the highway of blood vessels coursing through her extremities. She wants to be luminous and under the skin.
While Dorothy dreams of tornadoes in Kansas, she dreams of remote climbs in lesser Glasgow, of party drugs in Tokyo. How many lights does she see?
In her hair are sixty circuits. But she waits, religiously inclined on the hotel bed. She drove through ghosts to get here wearing nothing but Las Vegas.
So strange at this hour, in a city full of sleepwalkers for the taking, she now dreams she's a bulldozer, she now dreams she's alone in an empty field.*
~
Dec 26, 2022
Dec 26, 2022 at 4:36 PM UTC
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
Aug 22, 2018
Aug 22, 2018 at 11:25 PM UTC
I purchased a trademark a few weeks ago...
I am developing a Intelecutual Property
Called IP
Tokyo Surf
Have fun. Ttyl
Nov 18, 2016
Nov 18, 2016 at 12:12 PM UTC
started wearing surgical face masks
in public to hide zits
i dig the tiny apartments and the drift
of tokyo skylines
i dig the anonymity, paper thin walls
you can hear a neighbor
playing his guitar
sometimes i wish i could fly back
and live there forever
quit living with an abusive boyfriend
Oct 30, 2017
Oct 30, 2017 at 12:57 AM UTC
There is pleasure's sigh, there is despair's sigh,
Adorned with a sweet smile or a sour cry,
Screaming both in the night with no reply,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.
All places of Tokyo change at night,
Streets are flowing rivers of gleamy light,
Lit-neon signs glowing at every sight,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.
More footsteps have been set in these lit-streets,
Than the words have been said in these lit-streets,
Or the numbers of debt in these lit-streets,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.
Glamorous in the busy night like pearls,
Hostess girls show to men a sight like pearls,
With smiles and teeth who're white like pearls,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.
Girls who're shining like jewels are adored,
Who quickly by empty wallets get bored,
By the men who these sweet gems can afford,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.
As long as bars shine with signs of neon,
The crowds in this city are going on,
Until they are put out at times of dawn,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.
Lights are reflected as blurs in each pool,
Who distort the sights like the alcohol,
Who is served in passionate bars as cool,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.
Water's flowing in the water business,
Who's to the old days a reminiscences,
Where the thin rules of the night are boundless,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.
Unlike the tradition of the flower,
Here they paint faces to take a powder,
And then embrace the ones with much power,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.
The alcohol is poured down like the rain.
How hide drunkenness from whiskey and champagne,
They put powders on the face to look plain,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.
Adored, desired and loved is every star,
Who strolls around or drinks in every bar,
By each man with a luxuriant car,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.
Mâhî's still to Tokyo a stranger,
Both to its pleasure and to its danger,
Where the eyes at night only see a blur,
Under the glamorous buildings up high,
Who are standing under the blue night sky.
Mar 21, 2017
Mar 21, 2017 at 6:43 AM UTC
Tokyo
By Anthony Caceres
Flashing lights, Flashing people
Blurs of the past come to haunt
Blurs of the present come to taunt
Blurs of the future come to flaunt
Sitting here by the bus stop
Watching people fly by like the airplanes above
Everybody set their bodies to fast forward
While I’m rewinding as slow as I can
Reading the latest manga as I get ****** into the lights
Like some late night ramen
I feel like I can walk on air
A skywalker
I can’t escape the death walkers
I know
But I can slow them down, to a point
With a late night text
and the horns of rampaging cars
Busses and Bikes
Awkward mannerisms
and long hikes
Tokyo is far away
But as long as your still here with me
Tokyo will forever stay
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 9:02 AM UTC
...
Mystery;
Such that you were to me
But nervously I swayed in your direction
Curious;
I couldn't help but catch
my breath as you spoke of this
dismal city and your photography
So caught
in your wishes to escape
back to your summer adventures
to the hustle and bustle of Tokyo and Seoul;
it was then you felt such anonymity
So it was then you had felt free.
I look to you again,
piecing you in these things that you
dare share with me; so easily,
eagerly.
Quiet now, you look to me but
I apologize, I didn't know quite
where to begin.
Mist and fluttering snow
Clouding over our concrete city,
We walked below the looming
Buildings until pausing,
to take a picture of me.
It seemed, in this hour, it was
only us who
chose to walk through these
deserted snowed-in streets
You suggested something then,
offering to take me up to the top
of the sleekest buildings,
to your rooftop sanctuaries I longed
to see
until it was only in my view-
small specks of life below me
where I could only see my sodden shoes
dangle down
to nothingness, to air, weightlessly as I
taste the mist upon my shoulders and
frozen hair.
In awe I would laugh
at the beautiful sight before me- to
Skyscrapers that cut above clouds
in the glint of the sun reflecting back to
our eyes, and
our cheeks who also felt the bite of
winter's winds.
Shivering,
Soaked in hair and feet
and
Again I turned to face you
but here,
with glittering eyes,
... wondered where
You would then choose to
take me
on our second date?
P.K.
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 3:31 PM UTC
There is a certain romance of incomplete stories
and unrequited passion....
A certain heroism , in unfulfilled ambitions and sacrificed wants ...
(There is also
Selfishness in altruism,
Mockery in humility...
Fragility of pretenses,
Deception of senses,
Armors of sensitivities...
all those nitty gritties,
paradoxes that haunt
etc, but then...)
Sometimes this happens,
love stays and we go.
Sometimes this happens,
there is no beginning, nor end:
through “ifs” and “buts”
priorities distend
the space between, what is seen and what has been.
I picked your hopes with my eyelashes
and thatched together a shade for us
You caught my fall in the web of your thoughts,
softening for me, the landing, and thus,
we built a dream.
Sometimes this happens
the stars are buried in the desert sands
the lines dissect though you’re holding hands
but for the heart that understands....
it’s all divine. Not yours nor mine.
Sometimes this happens
one understands, but it’s not enough
one knows, but accepting is still pretty rough
You may have all ingredients
but you still need a “here” and a “now”
no question of why? or what? or how...
Sometimes this happens
the wait becomes unbearable
so remember that you know....
time is deceptive
and it’s already tomorrow in Tokyo
Arshia.
Nov 26/27, 2017
Nov 27, 2017
Nov 27, 2017 at 2:17 AM UTC
Certainly not the intention
Nobody wants this rodeo
Sudden crisis intervention
Apologies to Tokyo
Like most things it started out small
I now feel like Pinocchio
Seems like things ran into a wall
Apologies to Tokyo
Now perhaps we did overfeed
Seems to enjoy finocchio
That doesn't explain the stampede
Apologies to Tokyo
Next time we will take it slower
try use less braggadocio
keep close by a grenade thrower
Apologies to Tokyo
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 10:55 PM UTC
he rides his bicycle in the the
torrential rain
plowing a froth quick and fierce
through the rivers created
the cycle once bright orange
has patches of rust the size
of cantaloupe
and has a blue hoodie wrapped
round the seat which smells musty
you can feel him panting
bathed in sweat
as each hill retains more and more of
his hard earned pace
but mother nature is kind to her
strangest son
and every hill has a
fly by the seat of your pants
whoop whoop laughing
breeze in you hair bugs in your teeth
downhill
shift to vision miles distant from
that smile
the cycle lay in the weeds by the river
broken
the night obscures
the riderless iron steed
its form twisted
it has expressions of pain in appearance
that paint cannot contain
pain for its own lost
freedom of the road
but pain for its rider
the years count on and on
from that downhill smile moment
that lives on in the heart
Jul 30, 2013
Jul 30, 2013 at 8:57 AM UTC
Arriving in Japan
the clouds were
Sparse and peaceful,
all resting on the
invisible flat barrier
that divides earthy
from divine,
The sun set in
a deep orange glow,
changing the white
peaceful clouds to
powerful black shadows,
Behind the vista of Tokyo city
lay a pristine,
lone peak,
one that evokes
a specific wonder
in the simple form
of Triangle
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 8:05 PM UTC
On late nights like these, days when I don’t have dates, I rest on my balcony and smoke my life away, reliving the memories of my childhood. Feeling myself drift away into the cloud from my cigarette. I watched the thin wisp of smoke trailing away, up into the polluted 21st century air before reaching the tiny patch of the clear night sky amongst all the buildings and dissolving.
Molding myself into the body of a child, and trying to retrieve, to reach out and grasp, my pure innocence from seventeen years ago. I close my eyes and imagine that all my childhood memories will wash up right here in my mind as I stood on my balcony.
I used to have a life. I had parents, I had a name, I had friends; I was a someone. But as you grow older in Tokyo, you become a noone. My father was a no one, as well as my mom. My father had always been a businessman, and every morning he would change into his business suit. He was impossible to distinguish amongst thousands of other buisnessmen that made up the sea of Tokyo. He wore the same suit, like thousands, day after day, life becoming more dull as each day passed. Hour after hour, he sat in front of the soft glow of the computer screen, mersemized; brainwashed. In the world where everything were made of pixels, nothing was real anymore. It would become dark, and he would go to a bar alone, drinking his life away. He sometimes arrived home from a taxi, being sent by someone for being so drunk.
One day, he jumped in front of a train and killed himself- didn't even leave a note. I don't even remember what day it was when he commited suicide. In a place where you have no position, you stop keeping track of days.
And I remember my mother crying and saying, "Kaori, don't ever do what your father did."
My mother was in the same position as my father, not much better than him. She was an office lady, leading the same life as my father had. She left 1000 yen on the table for me to buy dinner at the convenience store. She came home late.
School was not much different, and I asked myself, "Why am I getting an education only to end up like my mother and father, the people of Tokyo?" I could see myself in the future, a figure exactly as my mother.
I stopped going to school and decided, why not get an early start? I got into hostessing, where I received a new name: Akiko.
I don't have a name anymore.
I am not recognized by anybody.
I do not know who I am,
nor do others know that I am.
Jan 21, 2014
Jan 21, 2014 at 9:33 PM UTC
On the day Liz Taylor died,
CNN called Larry King
out of retirement to
eulogize her during
the mornings
breakfast segment.
Tears were shed.
On the day Liz Taylor died,
TEPCO stated that one
of the Fukushima nuclear
reactors was on fire.
Tears of cataclysm
were shed.
On the day Liz Taylor died,
government officials warned
that Tokyo's water was
contaminated with
radiation and was not fit
for infants to drink.
Tears of anguish
were shed.
On the day Liz Taylor died,
the crew of the
USS Ronald Reagan
scrubbed the deck
clean of TEPCO
radiation.
Tears of worry
were shed.
On the day Liz Taylor died,
Oregonians rushed out to
buy potassium iodine
tablets to counteract
radiation poisoning.
Tears of affliction
were shed.
On the day Liz Taylor died,
NATO forces continued
to fire missiles and drop
bombs on Libya.
Tears of agony
were shed.
On the day Liz Taylor died,
a terrorist bomb exploded
in Jerusalem, killing one
and injuring many.
Tears of vengeance
were shed.
On the day Liz Taylor died,
the Syrian Army fired on
demonstrators
calling for reforms.
Tears of hostility
were shed.
On the day Liz Taylor died,
The USA Today reported
that during the past decade
the population of Detroit
declined by 25%.
Tears of loss
were shed.
On the day Liz Taylor died,
a dilapidated brownstone
in Philadelphia collapsed;
city officials expect
many more to occur.
Tears of distress
were shed.
On the day Liz Taylor died,
President Obama cut
short his Latin American
trip by skipping a tour of
Mayan ruins.
Tears of dismay
were shed.
On the day Liz Taylor died
the Dow Jones Industrial
Average closed
up 67.39 points.
Tears of joy
were shed.
On the day Liz Taylor died,
Elton John dedicated the song,
Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me
to the memory of his departed friend.
Tears were shed.
You Tube Music Video:
Elton John,
Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me
Lewes DE
3/23/11
jbm
Feb 27, 2013
Feb 27, 2013 at 2:23 PM UTC
Footstep earthquakes are
Walking toward Tokyo
Charting his progress
Nov 5, 2012
Nov 5, 2012 at 8:20 PM UTC
dented but not broken
in the demon dark
the deep chasms
of the wilderness
and the forgotten recess
silence from tender slumber
has awoken
the synergy of temptations
on their merry dance
sip divines peach nectar
the naked flesh and heaving chest
unleash thy sporadic vital spark
the impressed intent
of thy chosen scent
fuels the interactive nodes
neon infused electronic spasms
that echo in the dark
a subtle jowl in latent jest
as twilights nimble fingers
unbutton what remains of carefree days
and the fallen angels
with such sweet caress
to touch the mystic
unfurl the arc of your rainbow
and shine your rays
on cobbled memories
of Paris in the rain
and Tokyo Blue
hustles in the backstreets aroma
blow the cobwebs a gentle kiss
on days like this
left unchecked and laid to rest
gathered in momentums voice
and uttered as a sensual breath
the nakedness of emotion
the arcane interventions
should not be left to fade
to fill the empty space
they call the void
these technicolour moments
we've made
stumble on the waves
the fragrances of youth etched
in unedited stop motion
the contours of discovery
sparkle in the ether
the azure eyes
and the open arms
of the ocean
Feb 10, 2013
Feb 10, 2013 at 10:39 AM UTC
A photograph, taken at dusk, of Tokyo & Mt. Fuji looming behind,
a line, running horizontally across the middle of a photograph;
below it, the city: a field of lit buildings & streets,
buildings: blocks & cylinders of rock, metal, glass and light—
streets: human rivers of car-lights,
the glowing orange Tokyo Tower rises like a great sword to fight the sky—
above it, the mountain: great, wide cone of rock & soil, with a cap of snow,
wisps floating up its ridges,
the cold, purple sunlight kissing its backside;
his peak is looking down at the city.
It is waiting,
like a grandfather,
while the wild, excited boy, pours Elmer’s glue on orange construction paper,
ruining the rug,
the mountain is waiting.
The mountain is stronger,
and when the children move out,
he will rock in his chair,
as always.
Nov 9, 2013
Nov 9, 2013 at 8:38 PM UTC
Boston Sydney Oslo London Berlin Montreal Ibiza Stockholm Lisbon Dublin....where are you?..Chicago Madrid Turin Liverpool....I need you home!....Tokyo India Rio Helsinki Milan Botswana....please come home....Gibraltar Alice Springs Zurich Tel Aviv St Helier Jerusalem....I really miss you x
May 24, 2016
May 24, 2016 at 7:50 AM UTC
apocalypse heat
i flee from black streets
my wife bathing still
.
Oct 19, 2012
Oct 19, 2012 at 10:59 PM UTC
Tokyo burns bright
fault lines gaping asunder
So much still to do
Oct 1, 2012
Oct 1, 2012 at 10:02 PM UTC