A Japanese Man. Mr Yamaya. Gaijin Desperation. MSG.
A Japanese man With a blinking cigarette Walking in the dark Wearing a black suit Carrying a black briefcase Glasses reflecting At home in nothing A friend of oblivion In love with sleeping Alcohol waiting Someone else’s songs to sing Hostess at the bar Wife drinking at home No baby in her belly Rival depression Suicide alone Does not answer addictions Creativity
You think you can dictate anything to me Sitting their listening to you lie to yourself Makes me sick You make me ill Hyperventilate on your grand air I don’t want to share the breath Your stench is piercing My hatred goes deeper then skin What you are I hate, not you Company slug Suck it in Be a stool for the feet of all that walk Be a yes man Be that happy little man That is all rotten inside Going crazy inside Like a bomb stuck on one If I let you make me a bitter man The explosion of you would be my triumph But I fight that bitterness I fight the poison I’ve got so much happiness waiting for me Just over the next hill I won’t let you trip me now I won’t roll back down Damn me if I don’t crawl to the top I will scream down I will scream up The shake will come And the apples will fall
Smoke machine puffing out symbolism for desperation Music mixing gospel to reggae to J-pop then repeating Other music is in-between but detailed classifications for it are not needed for the point of this poem Which is about my joy lathered in bitter poison I am the foreign king I lift my arms and they lift theirs They are enthralled by me My dancing is just energy released It is not talent or training I only try to have it roughly match a beat And to be creative and interactive They are as stunned as a backwater pub There are other foreigners about But they do nothing to match my intensity Their degree of awe is closer to what I am used to But these Japanese treat even my hair like it was some treasure Hair, what is hair? It has no value It is grown from the bodies of billions But they long for else for other for different They long for everything they think they are not Foreign is the best of everything to them Every conversation revolves around them wanting to leave But speaking English is the test they are sure they will fail What value have they in other societies What can they bring to the table in other places In their own country they have the support they have formed themselves around But away form it so very few will have value Unless they find a mate to take them So they seek us foreigners Like magic keys to the real Disneyland But only in the next life will they have the objectivity to see the lack of worth in what they so desire Facing this is the fact that back in my place of origin I left behind a world that really isn’t so different The colors are, but in many ways the shades of desperation are the same To harp such familiar topics as drugs With particular focus on the legal smoke and drink Would likely shift attentions to zero And have all thinking they knew everything I’ve to say So I’m wary but I still have this confusion that needs to be examined despite the risks Around me the drugs are so necessary And places without them so boring I don’t understand how I can feel so singular in enjoying life at night With glorified artifice Without breathing or ingesting drugs Are people really so pathetic I hate feeling so superior It is lonely and flaws my mind It sets me up for falls And distances me from the people I so need So another day begins With its necessary lies At least in this turmoil I know I live Though I’d like to at least respect someone besides myself
Ahh the reality appears And it is MSG Japan is evil They destroy that which is sacred to me with their drug My food my food They have no soul Their flavor is a lie