Free Verse on Japan from Kelly Flushboy
Nothing about Japan makes sense.
That’s what you gotta get in your head straight first.
You may think you have a handle on things; been around.
Seen things.
You have no shit on Japan.
It’s everything you think it may be …
Then multiply that by 10.
You’re still not there yet.
Really.
14 hours of stale air, bad movies, and plastic food and you’re not there yet.
You know that sound the fridge makes, or the ac when you can’t sleep?
That’s what Japan sounds like.
The loudest white noise on earth is Japan.
The kind that would make you confess your deepest likes and sins just to make it stop.
And bright.
Like photo-mart bright.
Like jail on tv bright.
And you- you do alright in your own country, with the looks.
But not in Japan.
You might as well be a ferris wheel, covered in cheddar & chilli in Japan.
Green eyes and modest don’t apply.
Beyond the freak show, you be.
You are the tallest, blondest, square peg in round slot there.
Even the barflies in Japan’s best version of a crap USA bar fit in more comically than you.
But you get over it.
You learn this the first night badly that room service fridge bar tabs and jet lag do not mix.
Your hotel- immaculate. Scary clean.
Massive tile bathroom. Sunken tub.
Water is religion in jJpan; is currency. More so than a suit and the yen.
Over friendly staff to the point of game show is Japan hotel mgt.
You can’t sleep.
That’s the real joke.
Some do-but I think they’re lie.
You watch Oz; American cable; the series on prison; in Japanese and catch up on a series in a week you’re never seen in your life.
You relate- your room is a cell and sanctuary at the same time.
And yes-there are gardens, there’s cod, robes, sake, drunk business men, girls, doesn’t matter ..
There is actual quiet. You have to face. And monks.
Real deal freakin’ monks.
What do you say?
Where is your inner monologue then?
Honestly? It’s shogun, you’re a tourist-and you say _______________?
But it’s twilight zone.
Every thing looks right and tastes right, and once again your trolling the city zoo and museums like you would in any other big city.
Hoping someone thinks your cool has bias. It doesn’t. never does.You’re a faker. even here.
You cannot read or understand anything- so you end up smiling-a lot.
more than you allow yourself in your own state.
as a means of currency.
Japan has all the steps-the style,
but no soul.
Or more so- Tokyo.
There’s jazz, whiskey in cans, sex with vacuums.
I mean-let’s say it—it is Blade Runner.
Pretty. Hard. Weird. No ending.
Everything that reads as right.
But it’s off-there is no backbeat in Japan.
And they know us-they copy us down to a tee-but it’s like having a pet robot.
It’s the body snatchers.
There’s no dirt or funk or gross.
If there is-it’s been staged or copied.
Like teenagers is Japan. Making dear what is the next to be true or valid.
There is no chance of getting into trouble other than the usual in Japan.
But I did. White trash and all. And here’s how…
That’s what you gotta get in your head straight first.
You may think you have a handle on things; been around.
Seen things.
You have no shit on Japan.
It’s everything you think it may be …
Then multiply that by 10.
You’re still not there yet.
Really.
14 hours of stale air, bad movies, and plastic food and you’re not there yet.
You know that sound the fridge makes, or the ac when you can’t sleep?
That’s what Japan sounds like.
The loudest white noise on earth is Japan.
The kind that would make you confess your deepest likes and sins just to make it stop.
And bright.
Like photo-mart bright.
Like jail on tv bright.
And you- you do alright in your own country, with the looks.
But not in Japan.
You might as well be a ferris wheel, covered in cheddar & chilli in Japan.
Green eyes and modest don’t apply.
Beyond the freak show, you be.
You are the tallest, blondest, square peg in round slot there.
Even the barflies in Japan’s best version of a crap USA bar fit in more comically than you.
But you get over it.
You learn this the first night badly that room service fridge bar tabs and jet lag do not mix.
Your hotel- immaculate. Scary clean.
Massive tile bathroom. Sunken tub.
Water is religion in jJpan; is currency. More so than a suit and the yen.
Over friendly staff to the point of game show is Japan hotel mgt.
You can’t sleep.
That’s the real joke.
Some do-but I think they’re lie.
You watch Oz; American cable; the series on prison; in Japanese and catch up on a series in a week you’re never seen in your life.
You relate- your room is a cell and sanctuary at the same time.
And yes-there are gardens, there’s cod, robes, sake, drunk business men, girls, doesn’t matter ..
There is actual quiet. You have to face. And monks.
Real deal freakin’ monks.
What do you say?
Where is your inner monologue then?
Honestly? It’s shogun, you’re a tourist-and you say _______________?
But it’s twilight zone.
Every thing looks right and tastes right, and once again your trolling the city zoo and museums like you would in any other big city.
Hoping someone thinks your cool has bias. It doesn’t. never does.You’re a faker. even here.
You cannot read or understand anything- so you end up smiling-a lot.
more than you allow yourself in your own state.
as a means of currency.
Japan has all the steps-the style,
but no soul.
Or more so- Tokyo.
There’s jazz, whiskey in cans, sex with vacuums.
I mean-let’s say it—it is Blade Runner.
Pretty. Hard. Weird. No ending.
Everything that reads as right.
But it’s off-there is no backbeat in Japan.
And they know us-they copy us down to a tee-but it’s like having a pet robot.
It’s the body snatchers.
There’s no dirt or funk or gross.
If there is-it’s been staged or copied.
Like teenagers is Japan. Making dear what is the next to be true or valid.
There is no chance of getting into trouble other than the usual in Japan.
But I did. White trash and all. And here’s how…
posted by Daemon Flush Boy at 9:12 PM
2 Comments:
How does she get into trouble? Is this a serial drama?
I think it's autobiographical in certain senses, fictional beat poem in others. But original material, so consider using it as lyrics for those of us who have trouble commiting to words? I might remix this into something, at least a mashup...
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