Construction

Give this one to me.

Your pain, your anger.

Let me replace them with joy.

Give this to me.

Your hunger.

Let me give you food.

Give me.

What you want.

And let me give you what you might need.

Give what you do and take what you feel.

Go to far. Go overboard.

Feel these moments as eternity and forget them, when they pain.

If something is too much, it is never enough.

So, if it just is, it is alright.

You are a gift.

To me.

Stay free.

As related to Deconstruction and Reconstruction

Birthday poem

Trough a vail I have seen you.

Hidden from sight.

Figures dancing kissing laughing.

The vail was thick.

Until one day I lifted the curtain.

And saw us there in day light in moon light in star light.

Flowers arranged windows flung open, a view to a lake.

And I understood the freedom it gives, the life time it takes.

Beauty amassed.

The picture remains where words end to exist.

I addict myself to you

I addict myself to your scent.

I addict myself to your eyes.

I addict myself to your laugh.

I addict myself to your touch.

I addict myself to your kiss.

I addict myself to your skin.

I addict myself to you.

Until we wake up from this nightmare and find we are still free to come and leave as we please.

I don’t addict myself to you.

But.

We explore one another.

Lake view

Laying down at the side of a lake.

Considering life’s options.

Wind goes through the grass around you, clouds decorating the sky.

The sun shines lightly.

Alone you have come, alone you will leave.

Thoughts thought, nature seen, sun felt, wind tasted.

Nature has shared its riches with you.

The view on the lake, the view on you.

Far away, in a memory, alive and shared.

An old woman in Chinese garbs walks down a street in Tokyo.

She mutters to herself.

She looks neither happy nor unhappy.

She just exists in her own world.

Most will see madness passing by.

But I see the beauty in her mind.

From the gutter to the stars,

I find pieces of myself.

Scattered around,

By past encounters.

Waking up has its merits

And it’s pains.

I wish I was good,

at making people feel good.

But to whom I bring happiness,

I also bring pain.

Loving myself is a skill I possess.

So I can bring sunshine and take love

where I go.

Words are fragile.

Words are strong.

Believe my words,

Taste my looks.

My smile is strong.

Where we meet,

Is the best place.

Non-encounter

A sex worker just smiled and waved at me.

I smiled back.

I would like to talk to her, learn her story.

My wonder is what she feels like.

How is her job.

What makes her happy?

I have never talked to a sex worker before.

And I cannot tell if her smile was genuine.

But I know I could not be her customer, here in Japan.

Which makes walking through pink towns and smiling back at sex workers even just more fun.

And maybe one day I will meet one I can ask, how the air she is breathing tastes to her.

Lunch memory

I want to take one of your fingers and kiss them.

Not to induce lust, but to show you affection.

As I sit in front of you, listening to you telling me bits of your life while freely cursing and saying what you think, I feel a deep tenderness.

It is hard to explain, but yet in this moment you are as beautiful as a flower that has decided to bloom right in this moment, in this shadowy place, us sitting together, feeding on chai.

As if it is a rare occurrence and maybe it is.

I want to capture and remember this moment and cherish it.

Even when you cannot.

You are amazingly beautiful and it brings me to tears, I am so happy and thankful I could see you there.

Radiating. Bringing love, as you said.

You do.

Mirrored

I have got a lot to give and nothing to offer.

I have independence, but not yet freedom.

I have hopes and dreams and yet know to destroy them.

I have an old soul in a youngish body, but still react child like at times.

What does all this make, but me.

I get deep,

I blend into you.

Shirt of, pants of, dancing.

You with me, I with you.

A dance with words and wild gestures.

A play on thoughts and drips of emotion.

We go deep, we go low and high above the fray of natural lights.

In candles we burn fires.

In glasses we swim.

Oh I enjoy you.

I climb the hill from which you look out.

Your view is unique.

Shout it out.

Mesmerised by the beauty of you.

Skating on your coldest eyes.

We’ve come here till we leave.

It’s peace.

Let me dare a closing happy thought:

I like you.

A mad encounter

Today someone greeted me, as if she knew me.

This happened last many years ago in Sakuragicho.

She looked at me a sweet smile and made a pattern with her hands as if to say, I see you, I know you.

This remains funny to me.

It always reminds me, my insanity connects me with interesting people, who are just as mad as me.

Cigarettes littered on the street.

Unsmoked, untouched.

A waste, on the floor.

The faceless dolls in the shop watch me passing by.

Maybe they wonder what I do this late at night.

I think of you, and hope you do well.

The pianist (v1)

Somehow my poetry feels like a drunken pianist fell off a chair.

Wildly in love, yet unable to express a single note.

Every tone send in one direction, yet smashing into the walls.

Growing impatient to see a reaction, grabbing a bottle of wine of the piano, sipping and more and more slipping.

Whatever he has to loose, is not his soul.

So when he falls, he gets back up and plays again, knowing he might not win, the soul he’s targeting.

It’s not a game, but an art of sorts.

It’s lusting after what he might never get.

And hey, self irony is also ok.

I’m in a peculiar mood today.