Pyrrhic

I want to give an order
to the amerity on my lips
the bitterness of cocoa
when victory fast slips

Away to hidden chambers
lost to choice or chance
and so our competition goes
from past pride to power's dance

To you I entrust a battle,
Losers and winners alike
tears and swords a rattle
wars with solitude tonight

Underneath every "win"
flows a river gold
but sometimes that water's
poisoned

at least
that's what I've been

?old.

Hearts of Amaranth

Our hearts are often fields
of Amaranths bloodied
red and everlasting,
but sometimes withered and wizened,
recalling the chill of the Sargasso Sea

Crimson like a lover's razor wounds,
a petaled, precarious sharpness
between unbridled cowardice,
between unlimited affection,

Amaranta
falling in the dancing summer
your burns are volcanic obsidian,
slicing past all recalcitrance,
recalling the end of lunar warfare

If just for an hour,
I shared your hunger
in the pollen of your loving solitude.

Pieces for Performance: Grapefruit Rain and The Twenty Years of Solitude

Drink the 子毒 of 孤独
savor the taste of blood,
a virulent isolation that runs
in your veins
in the streets,
down the drain
into sewers of disconnect,
of discontent

(World,
I love you more than anything--
that's why I curse you all the more
In and at an age
unable to believe anything but
the 'but's you've shoved up
mine)

Golden fishes are falling from the sky
and once more, raise a flaccid sword
to castrated, confused Heaven--
GOOD GOD, WAKE UP.

A solitary
popcorn revolution has begun.
Perhaps we're all just
Golden Colonels bursting with disbelief,
unable to love,
unable to trust
the grapefruit rain that falls now--
a bittersweet and burning liquid,
salty like
the rusted nails of preemptive strike.
____________________________________

Go out in the middle of a street and cry.

Cry because you're going to die.
Because these words rhyme,
because the suffocation you feel
as you bawl on the street isn't half as bad
as the the slicing you've felt inside

Once a Valkyrie,
divine battle axe thirsty for the stains of Justice
holy helmet and hellish harp
the tools of a day done right,
you've fallen on your blade

Perhaps being cleaved in two
is far better than the pieces
to which you disintegrate now,
here on the cold asphalt.

Howl and Roar,
let your tears burn
holes through wooden, wormed hearts,
let the blue marionettes fall from the sky,
and take you away with their strings of
poetic logic, prosaic justice.

Stage left,
enter
the heartless, homeless city.

骨 Hone by Amano Tsukiko

If you ever were to die,
to become just skin and bones,
to cover your back,
I'd make a coat.

the scars of burst pimples
the moles along your spine,
they were like constellations
from my cherished childhood textbooks

Why do we soon forget
the things that are so close to us,
creating a distance that can't be reclaimed.
Did we really just give up?

It's a beautiful day
even with mistakes repeated, sins committed.
It's a beautiful day,
the person who taught me
the art of washing it all away.

If you ever were to die
to become just white ash
mixing it with pretty paints,
I'd draw your picture

Why do we dispose
the things that are close to us?
did you just protect for me
that space where I slept?

It's a beautiful day
lame jokes and boring stories
It's a beautiful day
you and your belly laughs

Violent tossing and loud snores
the many nights when I'd curse you

It's a beautiful day
even with mistakes repeated and sins committed
It's a beautiful day
the person who taught me to wash it away

It's a beautiful day
lame jokes and boring stories
It's a beautiful day
illuminated by gentle sunbeams

No Dogs and Chinese Allowed

I)華人 Flower People

The sign is archaic,
The message not so.

I wonder about, I wander a bout
I work about
the translator of these
funny signs of yesteryear
this symbol of yearning
yielded
rendered to
black and white.

How were those eyes,
those beautifully dark oceans
slanted?

Me in my Montreal Modernity,
and I've forgotten
the sordid slave songs of mother Calypso's
Islands
the old chants of abolition of new
rendition
the heroes, heroines of my heart--
my candlelit, chaotic art.

To lose a song is to forget how to stand
against this myth of power
of Dog
and Flower,
"my people", my "nation".
An age of lamentation.

II) 薔薇
I'm a lonely hearts
killer seventeen.

killer smile that is.
(braces)
but inside I'm dying
for this is the price of
a culture of information
a trophy child generation
but right now I just wish
I was the next gay sensation

"Porn, porn, porn
the internet is for porn"♪
but there's something
that the FBI notice doesn't forewarn:

That flower people of the
flowery queer nation
are seldom welcome to the eyes
to the ears of modern gods

That rainbows are made from
white light
white right.

But
who am I protest
the ways of the world
a gay globalization
overly capitalistic conjugation,
Tu es, he's gay, 俺 ole!

A daily smile.

The new gay gym in Manila
(it's really just a rusty garage)
plastered with foreign nudes
beckons, beguiles,
and screams:
"This is how you be a man!"

But what right have I
to protest
the ways of the world?
I'm seventeen,
the seventies are a dream
and if you say stonewall,
I only can stay
silent.

III) Be A Man!

http://www.gay.com/membername/jasonjacob69
_______________________________________
What I'm Looking For
I'm not into the dating scene. I just like to fuck.
Hang out, shit like that.

I'm into:
WS, BB, groups, cum, suckin, the norms, outdoor, public, u name it... if its hot I'm into it. Love hung guys like me. I am a lil over 9c fat.
But I'm not really into condom sex.

MY PET PIEVE!
Just because you've added me to your hot list,
and whatever
doesn't mean I like you.
I'm into hot dudes that look good, have a nice body.

If your Asian or "Pacific Asian" keep moving.
Im into white guys, latinos, and black men ONLY!

If I don't reply to you, it means I'm not interested. No offense. But also this new chat stuff screws up so don't email with your drama your all upset because I wouldn't say hi to you. GROW UP AND BE A MAN!
______________________________________


Dear Jasonjacob69,
I think your pictures are terribly beautiful.
but you're probably just as horrible
as you are handsome,
with your character flaws
as numerous as your spelling mistakes.

"Be a man!" you say
and yet it's my simultaneous castration
How many crimes have been committed
in your name, how many hours of
sexual, racial, manly frustration

"If you don't like the way I act,
go back to where you came frome"
Where is home? I grew up just like you
going to ballgames at the skydome
playing street fighter, not knowing it probably
turned me gay
(you know, it's the muscles,
or so they say)

Go ahead, make me your bitch
to fling around into some Nazi ditch

make me your dog
cut my head off just like a log
while you wave the meat in my face
taunting me about the "yellow" race

Ever hear about Inugami?
Idiot, not origami.
Paper cranes
won't haunt you


or bite off your head.
Careful--
(I might just aim lower).

NO DOGS OR CHINESE ALLOWED.

Polite Punk Penelope

I want to write
a kick ass work
about a kick ass woman running
an Izakaya in Ithaca,

New York, that is.

She lives in the village
full of butt pirates who pillage
not so modestly
plates of yakitori and sashimi
while making disparaging jokes about "fish"
in a tone rather too queeny
for my tastes
at least

I want to write about anger
forged in a love
galvanized in the veils
of a colored
invisibility

Every plate is her tapestry,
for she is a polite punk Penelope
fighting for every Telemachus
for every person who's tired of being a food
a single, sordid
sorted word

I am not a fucking chicken
korma
I am not the sushi between your chapsticked lips
I am not the slave between your legs.

Xenia? Quit the hospitality
bullshit,
because I am Xena.
Hear me roar as I say
Irasshaimase!

How dare you eat my food,
how dare you drink my ale.
You've overstayed your welcome--
get into those taxis that you hail

When you think "Japan" at least,
I want you to imagine a human,
and not a kimono or your PS3,
and definitely not our goddamn tea

Everyone is beautiful,
and so are you,
for I love you dearly, terribly too
but not the terrible things you often do

Please do not silence
do not eliminate
the beauty of others just as great.

For if my advice
you choose to ignore,
I hope you do adore
the effect of ex-lax green tea ice-cream
working right as you leave this
very
door.

Sorry, we're closed!

沈黙に負けないように

For those who read Japanese, the below is the first rough draft of my entry to this year's Speech Contest. Wish me luck :D.

沈黙に負けないため

初めて愛の告白をした時、フランス語で相手からの「さようなら」というメールしか残らなかった。自分の気持ちはとても純粋なものだったので、私はあの返事で完全に潰されて、強烈な恥と罪悪感で１年間のうちにフランス語を口にすることさえできなくなった。私はもう一度、沈黙の深淵に沈んでしまったのだ。

１２歳の時から高校を卒業した時まで、優秀なフランス語の学生だったが、本当は今でもフランス語を喋る自信はなく、いつも喋るときに正しい言葉を探すのも恥ずかしくて、時々ケベックとフランスの人に話すことも恐ろしい。自分が作り出した沈黙で、私は潜在的な友達を失い、不要な距離と孤独で苦しんでいた。

アメリカから引っ越した後、友達に話すことを恐れた時も、大学の教授と話すことを恐れた時も、心底から同様に苦しんでいた。でも同時に最低の臆病者になったと言ってもいい。

去年、日本語の勉強の場合でも同じような事件もあった。ある日、日本語の先生に相談しに行かなければならなかった。彼女は深く尊敬してる人で、失望させることも怖かったので、先生に喋ることは何よりも恐ろしかった。結局、沈黙を抱くことで作文を書く時に同じような間違いを繰り返して、問題になっていた。

彼女の前でストレスで自分の泣きだしたことをいつまでも忘れられない。でも彼女が言った言葉、「どうして日本語を勉強してるの？」という質問を泣くことよりもよく思い出している。そしてその質問は自分の命を変えた。

今は、毎日日本語を習う理由を考えながら二つのことに気づいた。まずは、私は一生、沈黙に支配されたということ。そして日本語でその沈黙を倒す力を求めているということ。

成長しながら、慰安婦問題を引用して、私はよくまわりの台湾と中国の人にもある親戚にも「日本人を憎め」という激しいメッセージに攻められていた。日本を庇う人は一人もいなかった。沈黙しかなかった。

個人的に反対のない会話が凄く疑わしいと思っていた。そして、過去に激しいいじめを経験してきた私はそう簡単に人を恨むことなんて想像さえもできなかった。逆に、私のいわゆる天敵を必死に理解したくて、日本語を勉強に飛び込んだ。その結果、日本人からの沈黙が消えていった。日本人の友達を作ることで、その人の意見を聞くことで、同じ歌を歌う事でも、日本人はシンボルではなくなり人間に生まれ変わった。

言語を勉強するというのは、気持ちを伝える力、心を繋ぐ力、人を思い出す力、そして沈黙を倒す力だ。言葉という奇跡で、一日間のうちに我らは感謝と愛情を伝えたり、人を感動させたり、記憶を作ったり、友達を作ったり、命を変えたりする力を持つ。

逆に、ある人と関係を切って沈黙と距離を作る時、その人や絆や思い出を殺して侮辱することに等しいのだ。

今だけは、様々な沈黙で失ったモノの価値を理解してる。

だから今、ここ戦いに、この沈黙に負けないために、私は勇気を持って、口を開いて、頭を開いて、心を開いて、ここに立って、話してるのだ。

ありがとうございました。