“There was truth and there was untruth, & if you clung to the truth even against the whole world, you were not mad.-G.Orwell

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  • No guns in Brixton

    The card cheat turns thief
    cupboards bare, out on his feet
    no bells ring to save the day
    the everlasting blue turned grey

    Tired of the clouds
    The crowds
    The thrills, pills and England's green hills
    In Tokyo

    The fatal heart attack
    Was the the thing he lacked
    As the dogs bayed at the sun
    For the moon was gone

    Tired of the clouds
    The crowds
    The thrills, pills and England's green hills
    In Tokyo

    Those with their gods masturbating
    A life spent with nothing but waiting
    Counting the sins out and hating
    the people they will never be
    Monochrome rainbows o'er a blood black sea

    Tired of the clouds
    The crowds
    The thrills, pills and England's green hills
    In Tokyo

    "guns out boys, there's queers about"
    bronze age brains confused as lives they snuff out
    Helpless, child trapped under the parent
    And the catholics loudly repent

    Tired of the clouds
    The crowds
    The thrills, pills and England's green hills
    In Tokyo

    White Light

    I want white light
    Like the stars at night
    Sparkling, twinkling diamonds
    Against a black backdrop which I cannot comprehend
    I want white light
    Like the full moon
    Perfectly round, bright and sharp
    I want white light shining down on me
    When all else is appears so incredibly dark.

    I want white light
    Like the white lightning my father used to make
    Secretly in our cellar
    Every fall, he would buy grapes
    Ferment the mash and haul out his still
    The copper boiler on the kerosene stove
    A blue flame burning day and night
    My mother’s warning him not to blow up the house.
    Drip by drip
    White lightning: distilled through the coiled copper tubing
    Drip by drip
    White lightning: pure and crystal clear.
    With his tester, “170 proof,” he would boast.
    My father liked extremes: for him it was either his white lighting or
    when that ran out, a cheap pint of Fleischmann's whiskey
    Always an open bottle under the seat of his pick up truck
    Which I’d steal small amounts for my weekend partying
    Trusting he wouldn’t notice.
    I was 16.
    But today I can say: He was a man,
    a product of his time, and he was kind.

    I want white light
    Not red light
    Red light is obnoxious
    Red light means “STOP” with capital letters
    Halting progress
    Dashing your dreams
    Unless she has a red light in her window
    I don’t mind paying for love
    How does the saying go?
    “It’s better to have paid for love, than not to have love at all.”

    I want white light
    Not red light
    Red light means “No Go”
    Crushing all creativity
    Stopped at this red traffic light for so long, I could rot here
    At least yellow light represents caution,
    At least yellow light allows for chance
    That you can still make it.

    However, such ego-centric bragging, “I want white light…”
    Something to take me 100 miles and hour
    Something to zoom me through these clouds
    Something or someone to take me places I’ve never been before.
    This would all be a lie

    I am like everyone else….
    I am like everyone else
    Hoping for
    Waiting for
    A simple green light….
    A simple green light
    So we can be free
    Be free to be on our way

    "At the Brink of Summer" by Ivy C. Machida

    Standing pensively
    At the brink of summer
    Awaiting the warmth
    And welcoming glow
    Of the fiery sun
    To drape me
    In its flaming glory
    Shielding me with its masterful hug

    A tight embrace
    Of fire and fervour
    A tingling sweep of energy
    A forceful hold -
    A gripping flash of memory
    Piercing the depths within
    Drowning me in its intrusive reach.

    I melt in the comfort
    Of its all-encompassing grasp
    Stoking the hidden furnace
    Long dormant and cold
    With the passing tides
    And drifts of yesteryear -
    Oh, summer me back to your heat again.


    "The Poet's Wall" by Ivy C. Machida

    Walls separate, walls shield, walls crumble
    A sprawling walled-in hideaway
    A sacred spread of greening glory
    A haven of bliss and serenity
    Away from raucous sound and sight.

    A rippling meandering rivulet
    Sedately glides around rustic rocks and trees
    Flowering shrubs and blooming stalks
    In tune with nature's wondrous hues and themes.

    Alone in the vast embrace of earth and sky
    Sheltered beneath the cloak at dawn and dusk
    He sat and mused with his rocks and stones
    And penned his mystic melancholic tones

    Reminiscing, eulogizing and bewailing
    His long-departed love
    Who left before her time
    In that cloistered garden they built together.

    Bereft of her comfort, warmth and touch
    He nursed and tended the plants
    And snugly nestled her favorite ones
    Grieving with each remembered joy and pain.

    Once in the early spring when the sun was out
    Half-hidden by a cottony cloud
    A gust of wind swirled around him
    Rustling the winsome sweet Forget-me-not

    As he knelt to caress the flowering plant
    The wandering wind gushed swiftly by his ear
    Softly whispering, "Take heart, do not fret, I am here".
    He felt her essence deep within, but the wind was gone.

    He clasped his hands as the tears fell
    And praised his caring, doting deity.

    He lingered long in his wooded habitat
    Amidst fragrant scents and chirping insects
    And song-birds zigzagging in the air
    Deriving strength to meet each dewy day.

    And it came about, one day suddenly
    When he felt the stab within his heart -
    A call to relinquish all that's stark and earthly
    And in zen-like meditative stance, take his leave.

    He felt his knees buckling as he weeded
    His legs stiffening and his chest suffocating -
    His mind spiraled toward a gliding cloud
    Hailing it as he reached out for a ride.

    He cried to his deity
    Yielding a reality that came his way.

    He heeded the call to smash the wall
    That protected all in his secluded hermitage
    To let them fade and fall like all things archaic -
    His rocks and trees and worldly whims.

    I watched as he bade adieu to what he cherished most
    The tears oozing like his roving rivulet
    To reach the nooks and crags of his solitary realm
    Now streaming down his barren neck and heaving chest.

    The time is nigh to shed this brief temporal span
    Return to dust what once was dust assuredly
    And retreat sublime to the void of Zen tranquility
    Eternally thus entwined with the rustling wind

    In a garden anew with seeds of love and affection
    A heavenly harvest reap forevermore.


    Searching for a place to cross (tanka)

    Watch the river flow
    The river knows where it's going
    But I walk with doubt
    I search for a place to cross
    The water moves rapidly

    Tanka consist of five units usually with the following mora pattern: 5-7-5-7-7. The 5-7-5 is called the kami-no-ku (“upper phrase”), and the 7-7 is called the shimo-no-ku (“lower phrase”).

    I’m no Nostradamus

    I may wake up tomorrow
    Or at least I hope so
    You never know, I could die in my sleep.
    Like my neighbor did,
    He went out in the morning and bought his wife flowers
    After lunch he took a nap
    He never woke up after that.

    You never know the future
    And I’m no Nostradamus.
    Nostradamus or Michel de Nostradame
    Nostradamus wrote his first set of quatrains, four line predictions, in 1555
    And Nostradamus is credited with at least 14 famed predictions
    but let’s just take at look at a few.

    Nostradamus predicted Hitler:
    "From the depths of the West of Europe,
    A young child will be born of poor people,
    He who by his tongue will seduce a great troop;
    His fame will increase towards the realm of the East."

    Well, World War II, that was fucked up... when the world went mad.

    Nostradamus predicted the atomic bomb:
    "Near the gates and within two cities
    There will be scourges the like of which was never seen,
    Famine within plague, people put out by steel,
    Crying to the great immortal God for relief."

    The atomic bomb, man unleashed the means of possible planet destruction.

    Nostradamus predicted the attack of 9/11:
    "Earthshaking fire from the center of the Earth
    Will cause tremors around the New City.
    Two great rocks will war for a long time,
    Then Arethusa will redden a new river."

    After 9/11, I have to wait in lines and take off my shoes at the airport.
    Which is supposed to make me feel safe,
    In a world gripped in fear

    Nostradamus predicted the end of the world:
    He predicted that the world will undergo great floods
    Did Nostradamus mean the rising seas from climate change?
    And after which total destruction will take place
    when a comet storm reaches the Earth.
    A comet, or maybe Nostradamus meant a World War
    World War not I,
    not II,
    but World War III
    Nostradamus does not write anything about what will happen after this disaster
    Which may lead us to the conclusion
    There won’t be anything afterwards,
    This is the end
    There will be no survivors.

    Okay, we have to give ol’Nostradamus and his predictions
    some benefit of the doubt
    After all, his predictions were made, call it, some 500 years ago
    when philosophy, and not science, ruled and left little doubt.

    I figure, you don’t have to be a rocket scientist
    You don’t have to be a brain surgeon running for president
    You don’t have to be Einstein
    You don’t have to be Nostradamus
    To predict bad shit will happen.

    As Japanese novelist Haruki Murakami puts it:
    “Everyone, deep in their hearts,
    is waiting for the end of the world to come.”
    If we keep going this way,
    We make get our wish.


    There ain’t gonna be no revolution.
    Again, this revolution will not be televised
    Not then, not now
    They say, “Changing is what people do when they have no options left.”
    There ain’t gonna be no revolution — political or otherwise.
    Better bend over for some cheap grease
    Don’t bank on trickle down
    I feel pissed on.
    Get out your umbrellas, fellas
    Cuz this wind, this cold hard rain, it ain’t gonna stop.
    And I know, I know my rant… I’m just pissing in the wind.
    But I can’t shake, I can’t shake this mood..
    This burn, I’m in.

    They are fracking—cracking—the land under our feet
    CO2 – Fuck that..
    It’s not just 2?
    I’m not fool…
    It’s all fossil fuels
    The earth is warming
    Some call it alarming
    Animals becoming extinct
    Nature is on the brink
    Global warming is not a hoax
    Climate change deniers are a joke
    Rising of the seas
    Cutting down all the trees
    Making 50 inch TVs
    Crime shows for you, me and our kids to see.
    The daily news of some asshole on a killing spree.

    So did you hear? They are having an election this year
    Electing the rich to represent the working man and the poor
    Sure...tell me, how’s that gonna be?
    Raising taxes, spending on wrong priorities
    What’s important?
    Our kids can hardly read
    But video games, they are excellent at
    They talk about the 1 percent
    Yeah, I’ve got about one cent in my pocket these days
    It’s a crazy world
    Someday they are going to sell us the air that we breath.
    Just more scheme—their game of Public Grand Theft Larceny
    Politicians promising to keep us safe
    From terrorists comin’ to our shores
    One by land, two sea, three by refugee!
    I’ll let you in on a little secret…It’s all fucking simple, really
    You see, they don’t like the invisible God we believe.
    We don’t like the invisible God they believe.
    And people just believing in invisible things is fucking scary for me…
    Yeah sure, all religions as the same thing
    Love and peace
    Treat your neighbor as you would like to be treated yourself.
    That’s great until it comes to the poor, the sick and refugees
    I swear Buddha must be laughing in his grave.
    This is fucking insane.

    I’d like to think differently:
    Be hopeful, be optimist, look on the bright side, things will change.
    Fuck that…
    Still in here, in my heart, there is glint....
    A flicker, on a shard, on a speck, on a pinhead
    of HOPE
    There HAS to be.
    They say, every country has the government it deserves.
    And when I think about
    Currently or historically
    I say:

    The dirtiest joke I've ever heard

    Some folks ride on fancy yachts
    For the sake of argument,
    Let's call them the 1 percent.
    Others row their boats
    Gently down the stream
    Broadcasting their slogan to everyone
    "Life is good" and "why can't you... no
    "Why don't you feel the same way as me?"
    Some just keep swimming…just keep swimming
    Fighting daily battles; they don't give up.

    All the while, there are those sinking
    the current and tide against them
    Hanging on until their last breath is taken
    No life saver gets thrown
    Only compassionate words to follow:
    "He is in better place now."
    Maybe so, after all, it had been hell on earth
    for this poor soul.

    But under water is where some day we all must go
    Six-feet under ground
    Whether we deserve it or not
    And that's the dirtiest joke I've ever heard!
    What a heartless trick!
    So who to believe
    The preacher or the voice of temptation in my head?
    They say:
    We are what we eat
    We are what we read
    Buddha said, "We become, what we think"
    Some just watch TV
    Sooner or later, we become what is around us.
    I don't know if it's the truth,
    It's just a sociological fact.

    Oh! If the kitchen could talk!

    The potatoes were divine, lightly creamed with crisp grilled gruyere

    You could not get better potatoes anywhere

    His wife was a star

    She had come so far

    In the potato stakes

    And the mistakes

    Of her cakes

    Her carrots sodden

    Were long forgotten

    And the gravy like glue

    The boiled rubber beef stew

    Now vanished from view

    He loved her again

    An oft repeated refrain

    For a marriage pissed down the drain

    But she had not forgotten the pain

    That a luke warm dinner brought

    When with visage fraught

    With the fear of being caught

    Wearing long sleeves in the summer

    Brought many questions from a Mother

    Who knew the truth through the pain of another

    And when the fridge was beer dry

    The slap and the cry

    The floor crawling screamed “why?”

    Had not been cleansed from her mind

    When with one fluttering hand pass

    She diamond sprinkled ground glass

    Into the delicious potatoes for that ass

    Who’d beaten her

    As with a whisk she’d stir

    The promises forever broken

    ‘Til death us do part

    ‘Til death us do part


    The future is unknown
    What I want to know is:
    What happens when you
    When you run out of time?
    All those lonely nights
    All those busy days
    So why….
    The world spins
    The world spins round and round
    The clouds in the sky
    The clouds float by
    The rain drops down
    The water soaks into the ground
    And the waves crash
    They crash
    Never ending
    And it goes on and on
    And on and on
    And on and on
    Long after I’m gone.
    I can only give thanks to the Sun for waking me. . .
    For waking me each day.
    I can only give thanks to the Sun for its light
    I can only give thanks to the Sun for making things grow
    I can only give thanks to the Sun for warming the earth
    And for warming my bare skin.
    The future is unknown
    What I want to know is:
    What happens when you
    When you run out of time?
    So why….
    Why do they make it only harder
    When we only have just one life?

    Points of no return

    The point of no return
    My whiskey glass smashes on the floor in a billion pieces
    Like our friend Humpty Dumpty who had a great fall
    so broken, no one could mend
    The point of no return....
    When you say something, you can’t take back.
    Like, “I don’t love you anymore”
    All the king’s horsemen and all the kings men
    And you… can’t bring love back again.

    The point of no return
    Whether it’s at Niagra Falls - you’re going over the edge
    Or falling off a cliff
    Or jumping off a bridge
    Pulling the trigger … bullets….They don’t come back
    The point of no return
    Into the abyss

    One time, a rather troubled but handsome young man – a student –
    lingered after class and asked me what I thought of suicide.
    “Well,” I replied, “you’re a decent looking young guy…
    Then continuing with my professorial advice,
    “If you commit suicide you’ll never be able to pull some girl’s pink panties down.”
    A look of confusion (or disbelief ) ran over his face,
    As my student mulled over the image in his mind I had placed
    Then he looked at me and replied slowly, “Sensei, I got it.”
    I probably saved a life.
    And in my view: where there’s pink panties, there’s still life.

    Then there’s the point of no return when your plane is taxiing on the runaway, getting ready to take off
    Your plane isn’t going to turn around….
    that is, unless someone jokes about there being a bomb on board
    Then the plane won’t hesitate and will proceed back to the gate
    Where uniformed men are waiting, swiftly escorting the person off the plane.
    I included this because I know someone - Ron - who pulled this stunt.
    Spending time in a Japanese jail for about a month
    But that’s enough of personal stories and history.
    I have more important thing to discuss.

    Our environment may be on a point of no return.
    Climate change, or global warming –
    But damn, I wish scientists would make up their minds
    which one it is
    Whether climate change, or global warming
    Which one will doom us in the end.

    Example: The Marshall Islands of the Pacific
    As the ocean level rises, these once idyllic islands are now in a losing battle
    My advice to the Marshallese people:
    make sure your kids can swim
    make sure they have a paddle.

    They say “it’s never too late.” What a naïve thought is that?
    Climate change is now past the point of no return.
    Some still call it a hoax but it’s a fact
    We can only brace for the impact.
    The future is always uncertain
    Especially now for future generations.

    You see, this is not the first time we’ve gone down the wrong path
    Past the point of no return
    Letting the genie out of the bottle
    The making of the atomic bomb
    Man’s trophy of death and destruction.
    I’m not a religious person,
    But Dear God, don’t let Donald Trump near the red button.

    Sometimes, I feel I’m like spaceship
    Having gone out past the point of no return
    They say once you take LSD, the world is never the same.
    A tree is not a tree anymore, but a thing of wonder.
    And I like to look at the world that way.
    A spaceship that is lost in space
    And someday drifting out - far out…
    In lifeless darkness…Never returning, forever and ever,
    Beyond the point of no return.

    The point of no return For Jimmy

    The tired mirror image, misted by the morning shower
    His last stand against himself and the power he had not
    Electric phillishave horrors had no place for him
    He was a mans man, weak, tanned white and not thin
    He had wasted too much time, ageing as far from fine wine
    as a person could get
    His nose however, was like a fine bordeaux, in colour
    He hated those ears, FA cup to the english
    taxi doors to others
    punching bags for his brother
    landing pads for the slaps of his mother
    He was going through with it
    He thought to cut off his dick like some old Lou Reed song
    But as atheist as he felt, his nerves of a fuckless heaven worried
    He should go Bunuel style, slice open his eye
    He knew it was a sheep in the film, but it felt right
    His hand shaking raised, as his left eye glazed
    His mind the same
    He could not stand the shame the mirror gave
    They had put him up to this
    Those faceless fawning fiends wandering his life corridors
    Family they say
    Parricide was not enough, they would suffer not
    Only minutes not years
    But a one eyed son in their blind kingdom?
    That would show them
    The blood deep in the eye would be ocean black
    He knew this.
    He had reached his terminus
    He was tired of living with us
    So dripping cold red hate
    He wiped the mirror
    Wiped his eye, uncut coward like
    And sliced
    Left an Aladdin Sane like stripe
    Ladies first
    He was a gent after all
    And when you reach the sign in life
    That screams "stop, do not pass go"
    You laugh and remember your manners.
    "After you miss"

    And the lights came on

    Somewhere over the rainbow
    The superman now a shade
    the future portrayed
    betrayed by life

    Youthful voices a memory
    Something in me

    Then I saw her dance
    And it was alright

    People forgot
    Rock and roll
    Talked arty rot
    There's old wave and new wave
    No tears from I

    I saw her dance
    And it was alright

    When you rock and rolled with me
    I was never on my own
    Even when most lonely
    That only the nailed up curtains spoke
    In rustling whispers
    The electric pulse
    Colder electric blue from you than any before
    I loved that distance

    She danced, honestly
    And it was alright

    I never had the cheekbones
    Nor the clothes hanger frame
    You were our fame
    Monochrome dustbins and chip papers
    Turned bright orange electric guitar
    Hooligans in eyeliner
    Punching the stones from each other
    Time took our rizlas

    She danced young and pure
    And it was alright

    Kicked off buses, sing song noisy
    "Is gay sex wrong? If so, you be the girl, ok?"
    We were too afraid anyway
    That's why we were not famous
    Well, outside of our heads
    He never went away
    Still hasn't
    Paintings, posters adorn
    Music forever pulsing through the tawdriest dawn

    She danced in the sun
    And it was alright

    The TV played the saddest chords
    The stereo undelivered
    Typical, you never got what you expected
    There was old wave, new wave and...

    She danced, like the DJ cared
    And it was alright

    Nice to look back in wonder
    Instead of anger
    The angel came, cape torn, union Jack
    The green land will forever be lighter
    While his chords fuck the air
    and screw the normal
    Freak out indeed

    She danced as Ziggy played his final guitar
    And it was alright

    Improbably Impossible

    The impossible relaxation of death
    The breeze the only breath now
    Curling its way across waxen cheeks
    "He's in a better place now"
    The believers, really believe in their cross bought heaven?
    I see no parties for dead children.
    "Yes! He's dead! Fucking great, mate, he is in a better place"
    no, it is all tears and "he was lovely, sexy, noisy, naughty, haughty and dead"
    Why do not laugh when your friends burn?
    Or your Mom dies?
    You do not even believe your own lies
    The joy should burst your puritan minds!
    The very thought of pulling up a cloud next to Jesus
    Lord please us
    Take his soul not mine, I am not quite ready for the divine
    Fake, fraud
    Purple Bubbling anger.
    You believe in heaven about as much as I do
    I need no 10 commandments to be good
    Nor a promise of a place unreal
    a place even you believers cannot feel
    No matter how hard you wank your faith
    You cry when they die
    laugh, laugh if heaven is true
    They are in a better place than you.
    Of course Jesus was white
    Bronze age Mesopotamia was very European
    Back then
    I hope your tails grow back in your heaven
    Stop crying
    Granny is with god
    The capricious old sod
    And please do not forget you are all actually jews
    Is that ok?
    Oh I forgot, your moral code
    The commandments 10
    There are three versions of them
    In the inerrant book
    So get some kegs in
    Put on your best pink suits
    Throw away the black
    Repair the faith you lack
    And laugh your tits off at the dead
    They are happy now

    "Spider Lilies at Kinchakuda" - by Ivy C. Machida

    The chilly winds of autumn
    Are rustling the wavering leaves
    Turning them shades of gold
    Dimming their once luscious sheen.

    And you, flaming fiery spider lily,
    Where's your rustling
    What's your call?

    Leafless, widowed and shorn
    You stand alone, a crest of wiry whiskers
    Fraught with anxiety and quivering
    As if in dire need.

    I see you there, a stalk forlorn indeed
    Gracing a gravestone
    Somber and cold, bemoaning your loss of old -
    Summoning spirits with your wispy claws.

    As I stoop to ignite my joss
    And meditate my own inexplicable loss,
    I sense the smoky trail of incense
    Swirling its web-like veil, wrapping you in its hold

    Lingering in the air
    Caressing us, like lost souls
    Grieving, as if you and I were one.

    And yet, and yet, at Kinchakuda -
    You reign supreme and proud with your companions
    Entwined in clusters and lost in the crowd -
    Transcending all in luminous splendor.

    Zooming crimson carpets you lay out
    Along the river bank - blazing paths of red
    Fit for royalty, nymphs and deities
    Partaking in a momentary dance

    Of infinite joy, pain and circumstance -
    Aspiring to rekindle what once consumed
    Our minds and bodies - now extinct -
    A needful reassurance of kindred ties

    That bound our hearts and souls together -
    Enshrined and emblazoned
    In the bosom of sweet repose
    Each autumn at Kinchakuda by the river.


    Another Horror Halloween Story

    I give up...
    Hands up, don’t shoot.... I submit
    aka. also known as: I don’t give a shit.
    All the juice has been sucked out
    Needle and tube in the arm
    Or a razor to the wrist
    Life-blood draining on the floor
    Has turned me into Zombie,
    A member of the Walking Dead…
    In a world of fear
    A world of indecision
    A world of gray
    A walking shadow
    A ghost
    Wandering the earth
    Groping like a blind my on a windy day
    The world has become one giant fucking shopping mall
    With shit for sale
    Piled sky high all around me...
    Sameness and mediocrity
    Everything and everyone for sale
    And everyone is a salesman
    Preachers telling us what to believe
    Algorithms that now define me.
    Making us pay
    by Easy Pay
    Your user ID and password
    Guards at the doors
    No exit

    Black Lives matter
    Police Lives Matter
    All Lives Matter!
    Are you shittin’ me?
    First, I hate to tell you, but “Nothing Matters” – not really
    Most of it is just make-believe
    Go ahead, pray to Jesus
    Go blow yourself up for Allah
    Don'' worry, the devil always has your back
    All Lives Matter must be why guns are made
    All Lives Matter – how people treat on another
    All Lives Matters must be why flowers are placed on graves
    All Lives Matter – how we treat the other creatures on this planet

    You know… I’m changing my view on guns.
    Ironically, guns are the last bit of personal power –
    A last gasp of freedom
    Whether having to defend yourself against the crazies
    Or just going on your own fucking rampage,
    before they take you out.
    Or whether to choose to blow your brains out
    When you’ve had enough.

    Yep, Freedom is on the march
    Marching backwards.
    While we are tethered to our smart phones
    Where are lives are increasingly kept
    We watch the world
    In front of the TV
    Believing what we see
    We make up out minds after getting a good brainwashing
    But I always wear a smile when I leave the house,
    When I go out side.
    I always wear a smile because I could be on
    “Smile, You’re on Surveillance Camera.”

    Naughty Sky Man

    I get angry, angered and angsty
    Sad, saddened and solipsistic
    But never capricious
    I am not in his image
    I am not of his seed
    Nor of his soil
    I will refuse to toil
    For a paradise I want not
    While a hell where souls rot
    Burns bright
    Death worship
    Human sacrifice are the foundations
    Are the awful edifice of hate
    That takes donations away from the hungry
    We will wake up
    To the lie
    As we did with Baal, Zeus and the tooth fairy
    come on, Adam and Eve, the first
    Their kiddies Cain and Able got married
    To whom? It does not fit
    This poorly written
    desert dwelling shit
    There were no other folks
    Maybe that is the greatest of god's jokes
    Cain and Able were gay
    But had kiddies anyway
    Dear Leviticus had a few words
    That rancid biblical turd
    And suddenly we have rules
    Over who can fuck whom
    And there's a mighty doom
    to swallow any who disobey
    It is sunday, do not pick up sticks?
    Who really gives a shit
    No priest nor preacher
    Nor sunday school teacher
    Yet these are the inerrant words of the lord!
    You pick and choose
    Which rules you use
    Well so do I
    They are just different from yours
    And have only one intended course
    To help love spread wider than your lies

    Lizard - 10 minutes I will not get back

    Smiling like a lizard, on a train
    Cold blood fighting the air
    The sweat
    The people staring
    Scaly fucker
    The monk shaves his head
    Shining tako yaki dome
    Cause he is supposed to
    Cause others do
    The lizard just smiles
    Rips off his own tale
    Uses it as a whip on his ancient lover
    The snake howls, spitting
    The tail grew back
    The monk started singing
    Droning on
    Orange fucker
    The christians said "good morning, enjoy your day"
    The lizard smiled a "go fuck yourself" smile
    Give christians nail guns
    Step on the ants
    Eat meat
    Indeed! Only order meat
    Do not hide it behind bacons, steaks and burgers
    "Ready to order?"
    "Meat please"
    Draw a cartoon, prophet like
    Eat bombs for breakfast
    Glue them to amazon drones
    Flying quiet to their homes
    The failed maths test
    The aftermath
    The lizard smiles and thinks
    Ningen Shikaku
    Dazzling Dazai
    "Let us jump and die together"
    She slipped
    He wrote a book
    The lizard hated the lack of art
    on his arctic walls
    white, off white, white, off white
    Smiling Lizard
    Clean scales shining
    Brooks Brothers smothers the truth
    But the scales are there
    The christian fucked the monk
    Buddha kissed some christ
    The Imam thought "that's nice"
    The lizard flicked out his noxious tongue
    and licked them one by one
    then smiled
    as the sun ran at the world
    we all knew why the moon had always looked so scared
    it knew what was coming
    the lizard?
    He was hit by a truck
    driven by a 19 year old
    on her way to college
    to shoot some "fuckers"
    with her nail gun
    "god bless"

    Remembering the Jubilee - a girl they called Albion

    as the light starts to burn
    from the bulb on the lamp
    and life takes a turn
    against a heart cold and damp
    and too many pictures swirl
    a lonely bowie tune invades
    and reminds of the girl
    a 1977 parade
    of colour and hate
    as a queen's crown is recalled
    as the blind masses elate
    fists are being balled
    with knuckles off cream white
    as the anger boils
    the born lucky shine bright
    with fear in their halls
    as the power slips
    and the girl's face shines
    her beauty does eclipse
    the unemployment lines
    and the powder wraps strewn
    begging you for a game
    and the shadows in the room
    ejaculating your name
    the razor cuts well
    as it it should that's its job
    and a snow fuelled hell
    unleashes a mob
    of neurons sparking
    and firing a mind
    that a girl so sparkling
    has left long behind
    and the truth stays buried
    in the fairytale well
    where as children we tarried
    ignoring the smell
    of the sweat and celebration
    spewed across albion's land
    a girl as a nation
    grasping for friendly hands

    "I am fucking drowning! Stop waving back!"


    When I was in high school we used an expression, “Eat me,” And then, the other person would reply “Eat me raw.” Har, har, har….

    But let me digress a bit to when I was about five years old. My parents took me to a slaughterhouse to buy meat for the freezer, before the raw cold Connecticut winter set in. The Stafford Springs slaughterhouse sold meat from white refrigerators to the side of the slaughtering area. And that day was, Kosher day. One at a time, huge all black cattle were grabbed live by their hind legs and hoisted skyward by winches. Upside-down, the animal screamed and fought with all its might. Then rabbi walked up with a huge blade, and after saying a very brief prayer, with a swift movement cut the head off the screaming animal. Its head dropped to the floor in a pool of steaming blood. The sound of torture, killing and death was unbearable. I ran out of there, escaping my mother’s attempt grab a hold of me. I threw up on the dirt parking area.

    I thought how fucked up… these men dressed in their black suits with odd hats and scraggly beards. Their killing an animal in such an extreme manner for our benefit. Though not for us, actually for themselves…. Jews.

    At Catechism were filed with ideas heaven and hell from the Catholic nuns, showing Jesus standing on pillowy clouds. The book had pages of pictures of the damned being tortured in hell: burning tar being poured on heads, naked men being sawed in half, a man standing wait deep in human excrement. We were told non-Catholics would never get to heaven.

    Sunday communion offered purification from my childish sins. We lined up waiting to be given the body and blood of Christ. At en early age, I sensed how fucked up all of this was, as I was trying to make sense of it all... make sense of my little world.

    Oh yeah…. "Eat me.” Har, har har…. Little did I know at the time, that the expression “Eat me raw” would lead to a path to where I am today - in Japan.... where eating things raw is the norm. But even getting here, Japan, I encountered many things that were raw along the way,

    I remember those long and raw cold in the Connecticut winters. Growing up, there wasn’t much raw food there. My father loved his meat. He liked his steak very rare - bloody. I always asked my mother to cook it for me…. a little more.

    Raw. Those memories of growing up. That slaughterhouse and more that I’d like to be able to forget. But let’s stay with the food theme…

    It wasn’t until I reached Saipan in 1977 that I ate raw fish for the first time. It was in the island’s Palauan bar, named the Tappa Bar. It was dark and sleazy. My new-found island friend, Jose Camacho, ordered sashimi. What’s sashimi? I thought. But this was an island…. raw fish… Sure why not?

    Little chunks of dark red raw fish were delivered on the table. He doused it with some dark soy sauce, and he waited for me give it a taste. With a cold beer, I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything so excotic – so raw.

    Eating something raw like that for the first time - well that’s not exactly true.... In college, I worked part-time in a machine shop on weekends and the lathe operator Al said to me: “If you eat her pussy, she will never leave”. Well, that wasn’t true either.

    But going back at the Palauan bar, the entertainment that night was a young lady on stage who could make smoke come out her pussy. After demonstrating that, and some other tricks with her body, she gave some guy a blowjob on stage. It was a bit in of a shock… I had never seen something quite so raw before…well, at least not publicly. In the Tappa Bar, raw fish and now this - public head. Well, today you might say… let me put it this way: I like oral sex, I just hate the phone bills.

    Where was I? Or rather, where am I? Tokyo… We eat many things raw here: sushi, sashimi, salad…. Even raw horse – basashi, and raw whale. I’ve eaten raw chicken, tori sashimi. I don't know if you remember, some six-year-old kid who ate raw beef ball a few years ago, and died – bacteria. His father, who took his son to the restaurant, was on TV. He cried.

    And I’ve even heard of a bar that serves raw pig liver. But there are some things where I draw the line. Actually, I’m quite conservative. Politically, I may be so far left that I’m off the map. But I’m quite conservative…. about sex -- where to stick my dick. You see me and my little Richard… we’ve been best friends for a very long time. And you’ve got to treat your friends right. Kabukicho can be pretty raw. Been there…. The mind was strong, but the flesh was weak.

    Buy the way, what is your favorite sushi? There are so many tastes that come around in a kaiten-zushi. Fishy raw things - at least most are eaten raw: maguro (tuna), tako (octopus), uni (sea urchin), I like raw ika (squid), call me weird but it reminds of …… it’s fishy sweet taste and it’s smooth texture. Speaking of such things raw, who doesn't like raw oysters? I like to touch my tongue on the wet mollusk while not touching it’s shell. Moving my tongue around pretending to hear it giggle.

    But what I like most raw… The thing I like most that’s raw is… the raw truth. Don’t sugar-coat it. Don’t pack in it lies. Let it be painful. Let it be true. Because I’d rather have the truth and be unhappy... than be happy….. with the lie.

    Death on the shore

    I just saw a picture of a child
    Flat, dead and grey on a beach
    She looked like my daughter
    It hurt like glass in my eyes
    A disastrous juxtaposition
    The holiday sand
    Rendered cruel by the hands
    Of us
    All of us
    Blame the politicians
    Blame some capricious god
    Blame, the game we play
    to keep the truth at bay
    that every filthy fuck
    sitting in their gilded chairs
    have us to thank for putting them there
    the shame is burning my eyes
    as tears crawl down a face
    that is wrinkled with their salt
    like the child's skin
    mauled by a sea
    as without feeling as most of us
    And I write words
    I write words
    And do precisely nothing

    You The man

    No, I am not, not today
    The clouds in the eyes, stoney grey
    the lids blink, broken indicator like
    No light

    Feeling sicker than a jackpot machine
    Just spewed the last coin
    A mean and cold despair
    Is knocking, knocking

    Watching the planes
    Silent, moving across the sky sea
    Sunless, wishing away
    Fingers crossed 'til white

    The bomb that turned a desert green
    The beheading video
    The silly crucifix fixated
    Pain for sale

    Wanna buy some?

    You the man


    Melancholy Mind by Joe Zanghi

    Bad news sinks the heart
    But there is no reason to ask "Why?"
    Every road is built with accidents.

    Some days promise gold
    Other days lie beneath a dark roof
    Today is like that.

    Saturday hangover dribblings

    A thought popped into his head
    It died of loneliness
    So he decided to run for mayor
    People screamed it was unfair
    That a dolt with so little to offer
    Could get his hands so close to the city's coffers
    But they voted for him anyway
    Animal farm
    Baaa Baaa Baaa

    "Come over here darling!"
    The group attraction line
    Works every time
    Until their Mom opens their curtains
    And says "time for breakfast son"
    I should say the same to their Mom
    Let the festivities begin
    Fists swinging
    "Momma I just killed a man"
    God save the queen

    "After you miss"
    Vinegar and piss
    Is the reply ejaculated
    Better spoken than spattered
    As if courtesy matters
    In this PC world
    Don't hold the door for that girl
    Punch her
    We are equal
    And then there's the sequel

    "A Good Man Is Hard to Find" by Joe Zanghi

    "A good man is hard to find." Are you shittin' me? It’s practically impossible!
    Of course, I’m not including any of you good men here in this room
    I’m talking about all the others - outside
    A good man is hard to find
    First off, all men want to do is fuck
    Now, I don’t think fucking is so bad
    After your horny testosterone years - full with idealism, confidence, rebellion, and walking around with a boner all day - you know...the age just ripe for the military - the age when you either want to fuck it or kill it.
    One day, reality sets in and you get some lame job that finally zaps all the piss and vinegar youth out of you.
    A good young man turns into someone else - a Republican or worse, a redneck.
    And a “good” man gets even harder to find.
    Yep. each year life gets a little worse
    Your hair goes gray and/or goes away
    Wrinkles appear, your face gets saggy
    After decades of beer, your body gets flabby
    You look back and remember the good old days
    They were the good old days only because that’s when you were young.
    Each year life gets a little worse
    Until, one day all you have is a dangling short piece of rope between your legs
    That’s why they created Viagra
    But, did you know that the oldest man on record to father a child was 92
    A good old man is hard to find.

    How about a good woman?
    A good wo-Man is hard to find.
    Or as Flannery O’Connor put it:
    “She would've been a good woman," said The Misfit, "if it had been somebody there to shoot her every minute of her life.
    Or as my Uncle Louie used to say, “People are no damn good, but women are worse.”
    Yep, A good wo-Man is hard to find.
    First, women, the good ones….
    Good women get gobbled up quick - high demand, low supply
    I’m talking statistically here, not individually
    They get fucked - and fucked over - mainly by men
    "Women are the Niggers of the World. Yes they are."
    I didn’t write that - the "N" word, and neither did John Lennon
    Actually Yoko Ono wrote most of the song. It takes a woman to write that.
    And nobody liked that song.
    Even banned on the radio. A song about gender equality
    Gender equality, how's that progressing?
    Racial relations, how’s that going?
    And, at the time, nobody liked that Jap bitch Yoko supposedly for breaking up the Beatles.
    Dear John, who art in heaven, if I had to write pop songs or just another silly love song with Paul MaCartney, I’d rather go solo, or be dead.
    Wait, John is dead -- Shot by some fucking lunatic
    Evidence, a good man is hard to find
    And a great man is hard to stay alive.
    Kennedys, Gandhi, Martin Luther King. They even killed Jesus and look what that started.
    I guess it’s just better to stay an inconspicuous asshole.

    A good man is hard to find?
    I figured that one out early on
    And is one of the reasons to date women.
    I like women. Like my uncle Louie used to say, “Women, you can’t beat’em.”
    It’s really a game, isn’t it? Relationships.
    A game I mean - you all know the game jun-ken-pon
    Scissors beats paper. Rock beats scissors. Paper beats rock
    But nothing, nothing beats a blowjob.
    Actually a bad girl is hard to find - you know, one who swallows

    A good man is hard to find. A good woman is hard to find - Sac le bleu!
    These days, it’s not PC to single out one gender
    That would be sexist. And fuck I wouldn’t want to be called that.
    A good hu-Man is hard to find
    So if I said I hated the entire human race, would that still make me a racist?
    Men or should I say people aren't just needy they are also greedy.
    The history of MAN has 4 Gs: Greed, God, Guns, and Glory
    On this note, Donald Richie wrote:
    “The world does not like nice guys. Not really. They always come in last, says Western wisdom. And Eastern wisdom acts as if they do. They are charming, fun to be with, absolutely trustworthy, and so what? So says the world.”


    Normal headstrong mildy, never ate carrots
    Killed his family with an old iron
    Kept his Mom's old head in a new washing machine
    A zanussi, he liked their adverts
    Back in the day
    He remembered the yellow colours

    Blew up a safe to tamper his school reports
    Everyone was so proud
    Back in the day
    It got him a new bicycle
    Made him feel like a Syd Barrett song
    Almost famous, always hoping

    He found jesus at a bus stop
    Inside a plastic bag of solvent
    He asked him his thoughts on the third Reich
    He could not remember the answer
    But he liked the smell
    Back in the day, his jesus smelled of glue

    Woke up, leather jacket gone
    Wearing an old nazi helmet
    felt like a new haircut
    Back in the day, straight sides
    Swore off mandrax after that
    The old gods spoke too much

    He liked all races equally
    "All shit tasted similar"
    He knew his subject matter well
    He smiled at the moon
    Because it felt the same as he
    Back in the day

    Before the moon fell
    Before the moon fell
    before the moon fell
    afore the fell moon
    back in the day

    Time to sharpen your axe boy
    There are wolves out there
    With political masks
    Daring you to ask
    That one honest question
    "Who the fuck are you?"

    Do Not Accept
    Do Not Accept
    Ad infinitum
    Ad Nauseam

    Unwanted Dead or Alive by JZ

    I turned on the TV
    To scenes warning...
    A warning that the scenes could disturb me
    Me? Disturb me?
    Now that's seems a stretch, don't ya think?
    A black boy shot dead lying on the street
    Video of a big man being choked by the police
    A bomb goes off in a far off land
    It's an exclusive report
    The camera zooms in on the blood
    The reporter points and says "See"
    Should scenes like these bother me?
    Have I become accustomed, numbed?
    To all these faces wanted dead or alive
    In the mirror, I ask, "Does all this bother me?"
    Staring back, a face on a poster
    A face that looks just like me!
    With the words in bold below

    I figure mostly we are Wanted Alive
    At least for a while
    Now born to produce and buy
    Shop til you drop - it's good for the economy
    Certainly we're not Wanted Dead
    When you're dead…
    You and me
    What good can you be?
    Maybe we are not really wanted at all - not really
    Once upon a time, the air was pristine
    What have we done to the air, land and sea?
    Life is breath
    A soldier's last breath
    Who dies fighting others for reasons
    For reasons that frankly are beyond me.
    Life is breath
    Those dying of old age...
    Of natural causes - the cruelest joke
    Our lives smothered by time
    Maybe no one is Wanted - not really

    So while I still have breath
    Just leave me alone
    While I try to make my way.
    Just let me be
    Just let me be UNWANTED
    Dead or Alive

    "Aflame" by Ivy C. Machida

    An emptiness waiting to be filled

    Almost all the pieces in place -
    Robust and broad-framed
    A confident swagger
    A friendly grin so eager
    To please and tease the ailing heart -
    A stir, a stiffening
    A cry lost in the breeze.

    An emptiness waiting to be filled

    A shudder, a thudding
    A streak of lightning
    A flash from above -
    Thunderstruck and struggling
    I shifted my glance
    And looking askance and about-face,
    I found you once again

    A brimming vessel of resplendent grace.

    On my TV

    There’s alien abductions
    Volcanic eruptions
    Tidal wave destructions of the poor and oppressed
    Distress beacons with no bulbs or batteries
    These are the headlines
    Mine’s a double whisky with earplugs
    And drinkers made of lead
    Half a million dead
    No bread on the table for the widow and paralysed son
    Buy a gun to shoot the breeze
    Knees chaffed from praying for something
    Nothing on its way
    No one wants to pay
    Land mine assault courses on the way to school
    Man from the States shot himself in the face while working on his new stool
    How we laughed
    Under staffed talk show hosts with Ladybird questions to the VIPs
    Multiple choice
    Just multiple choice
    The voices of billions crying out for change
    Crying out for a wider range of choices
    But not today I’m sorry
    Not until the moon explodes and roads are built
    Odourless guilt pouring out the screen.

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