Friday, April 13, 2018

Buy Now...Die Later!

I’m hanging on the corner with my pants a sagging, disobeying the rules of my political Grand Dragon, all the racist faces destroying different places, dividing countries and different races....

 Full blown liars in business attire, playing savior but just another gun for hire, a naïve country that as already spent, a mass consumption of ignorance that benefits the one percent......

Believing in the safety net......

That doesn’t exist and is easily dismissed with a clenched fist
And all of these so called terrorists 

You're free, just watch what you say, as the world goes in to total dismay, while we all look the other way....

You’re just a pawn in a game you will never comprehend...

Waving your flag blindly with all of your family and friends Singing together loudly “Proud to be an American”

For generations, keeping the same people in power

Looking up to a superman that charges by the hour
Patriotic slogans are needed for good marketing

Selling freedom at the cost of the world darkening

A fallen economy, needing to be restored, your peace sign was their preparation for war....

A lost society woes on freedom of speech and defiant leadership roles.....

They will burn your books and shred all amendments
While you obey another marionette for president

What is war, we have the right to know
Is it for peace or population control

It’s time to question more about these issues....

You're just another number son, nobody is going to miss you......

 


 

Friday, April 6, 2018

Lompoc is a great place to visit but...

 
A young man slouched in his chair...

 
The first period bell rang, he wished he didn't have to be there

Over the P.A., his principal sang a good morning to his nightmare

As the girl in front of him, shuffled through her bag for her compact mirror


Young in mind, and doing time through the public school system

Criticized for not being hypnotized, his teachers would diss him


A worksheet had found him, that had traveled from the front

Questioning his future, he read the bold headed font, it said....


After you graduate, what do you want.....

To do with you life?

A fancy car, a career, a trophy wife?

 

He paused and thought...

And then with a grin....

He put down his pencil and picked up his pen


Because he knew he could write with out making mistakes

And that, he could use this as an excuse when his teacher

Would demand that he rewrite after he erased


And so he wrote and scribbled his rebellious note

That would get him detention, before his parents wringed  his throat

 

And when he finished, the class came to an end

He picked up his books, and began to descend


Passed the teachers desk and to the front door

As sneakers and sandals scuffed up the well polished floor  


He handed in his paper getting ready for the attack

And that's when his teacher stopped him and asked....

And he replied, to be as far away from here as possible

And never come back.



Through the eyes of nonconformity, his soul wanted to drown

He had a deformity that needed to escape this town


And the rest of the crowd, that would just shoot off their mouths

At football games, barbecues, drunken parking lot boxing bouts


Blue collar slobs, and shitting sports bars

Two dollar hand jobs from grade C strippers, treated like rock stars


Debt collectors and authority figure child molesters

Preying on the weak and failed methamphetamine inventors


Hanging with guys clearly older than he was

Slinging burgers and fries, and smoking weed at the back of the bus
 

There was no need to discuss, in what this boy wanted

Dead hero's and low life zeros is what this town flaunted


So, the moral of this story is that there is so much more....
 

Than settling for a shitty pay check, and another jaunt to the liquor store....


 I grew up in Lompoc, California ever since I was six years old. And before that, since I was an air force brat, I had lived in various locations such as Los Angeles, Puerto Rico, and Ithaca, New York. But, since I was pretty much a baby during this constant moving, the memories have washed away.

Lompoc though still remains and as much as I disliked the place when I was younger I still find myself going back to visit every now and then.

Last year, I took my daughter to America for the first time and as much as I warned her that nobody speaks Japanese where we are going, and that she prefers to constantly speak, it will be a long five days for her.

Her reply was, "Shinpai shinai de kudasai!" (Don't worry about it!")

So we went. And as soon as we arrived at my buddy Rays house (In Lompoc) her happy go nature self shut down as soon as she met my big scary American friends, but then, my friend Steve showed up with his six year old daughter and four year old son and every thing turned around. The two girls hit it off and an hour after showing up (and hiding behind me) my daughter came out of her shell and returned to her chatter box self, but in the new and improved English version.

"Hey, you could speak English all along! What the hell?"
"I told you not to worry about it , Father." She responded in this weird 1950's television show accent.
"Okay, stop it. You're freaking me out."

Lompoc is pretty small so when it comes to doing stuff your options are limited. Luckily though we are both big fans of barb b cue and nature (which is pretty much the only thing this town specializes in) but after a day and a half we were ready to go (mostly me). I am like a shark, so I have to keep moving. This little town is lovely and all but still I don't want to live there. Even living in the hustle and bustle of Tokyo I get antsy but this is just me.

My son has been bugging me about taking him to America because he thinks its a giant toy store. He is still too young to understand what exactly a country is but since all of his favorite YouTube toy videos comes from the states, he put two and two together and looks at Old Glory as a Super Toys R' Us., which I guess it kind of is without the foreclosure sign.

We will probably stop by my hometown while we are there, but since he has by DNA, six hours after wandering around Lompoc, he'll be ready to move on to where the action is.
 


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Thursday, April 5, 2018

My Children are Assholes (Raising mixed kids in Japan)


 My Buddy.....

Being spider man is awesome....

Especially, when you're a fireman as well.
With a monster truck playing mosh up, under the faucet, looking for the underwater mothership Scooby Doo lunch pale...
He goes off the rails with his super hero tales. Exploring adventurous trails Stomping over monster bodies and oozing entrails Blood and guts feeds his fire and puts wind in his sails

From making shit or breaking shit ....

To collecting bugs and snails

Prevailing over evil and chopping through dragon scales

He's a mama's boy and the end of the day
She calms  him down from his fantasy play
But, as soon as the sun rises and washes away the morning grey

It's back to work for more zombies to slay ……



   My sons first day of school was today, and the last six years of knowing him, he reminds me of myself everyday. Man, what a little asshole! For example, two years ago he expressed an interest in arts and crafts, and we as stupid parents thought, "Oh, how cute. He's creative." But he doesn't want to do any of the work. He wants you to spend two hours constructing something totally bad ass, so that he can destroy it in two minutes. And then, after the dust has settled, he'll demand for you to build something else.

I made the mistake, and still do, by always yelling back at him, " I don't negotiate with terrorists!" This quote just makes him more of an asshole by firing up his remote control tank that fires BBs.

"The hunt has begun father." he always says with a demonic six year tone.  Plink! Plink! Plink! Plink!...Plink!

"Stop shooting me you little prick!"

And after the tank assault, he likes to follow up with a good old fashion dick punch. That's my boy.

   But, I love him and that's why I give him his daily beating. His mother doesn't approve. She thinks I'm just being mean to him but I'm just letting him realize that I'm the king and he will always be just the cub.

 My daughter, other than her interest in school and the ability to do math in her head, is just a female version of yours truly. She has two asshole qualities that I can't do anything about because its a part of her female DNA, which is, one, always talking, and two, making you and everyone else wait.

  She gives no fucks if you have to get to work or losing blood. The world revolves around her. And when she finally is ready, you get to listen to her ramble about nothing of no importance for the rest of the day. I blame Disney for this shitty princess attitude. This corporation has made mens lives hell for too long. Fuck Disney.

  Oh, and to make this relationship even more difficult with these two, our daily battles are in Japanese, so they get away with saying fucked up shit to me because they know I only understand fifty percent of whats coming out of their little pie holes.

 But, as much as they contribute in making my hair fall out, at least they are not pussies. Their faces are not buried in video games, they enjoy sports, and book time is always looked forward to. And the reason why they are well adjusted little adults is because the wife and I demand more. We are far from perfect, we make mistakes, but we keep trying to keep them on the right track.

 Raising kids no matter what race they are is the same. It's all trial and error. So keep doing your best. And when it comes to putting up with their "personalities", all you can do is just grin and bear it because they are a reflection of yourself. So, suck it up.

Anyway, here is her poem I call Chatter Box




She views me as security....

I view her as royalty...

.
That I escort to school, and deals with her nasal tone whine


Her world is alien to me....
But sometimes, our realities align


My world might as well come from Salien
Because our communication is on the decline


She wants to make pretty things with me
And, I just want to teach her how to fight


Wearing fairy wings, she sings witty things to me
And, I just want to teach how to ride her bike


She likes to draw princesses, under rainbows of every hue
I like to draw her my best Iron Maiden "Eddie"
She say's it's scary....
And would prefer a bouquet colored pink and sky blue


She skips everywhere she goes
Which, I have to admit is adorable
She picks roses for my throne

So, I showed her the stars from our apartment rooftop.....

Located Venus and Mars with an old scope
Propped up with a boot string, tied to a crude mop

 Taking out a compass from my jacket
While shaking my head about the traffic down below making all the racket


Introduced the mechanics to her with excitment
Hoping that she would listen long enough
To gain some knowledge and enlightment

" To the East of here is where I was born. I was a sworn warrior from California, molded and worn from its shores. The red tailed hawks soared above me, as the waves carved  the warm sands. Leaving the beaches crippled and torn. To the North is where your grandparents still reside. Make sure you spend time with them when they are still alive. Thier stories will make your mind healthy and wise. To the South, is where the birds fly when it gets colder. Us humans follow suit, when we grey and get older. And to the West, is where the sun dips, so the moon can take over. And be the beacon of light for the poor crossing man made borders. But, where ever you go, respect where you are. And the world will take care of you like its own very star."















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Growing Old With Your Partner

Our daily rituals involve picking up beer cans and dog hair....

Finishing off uneaten vegetables from sun bleached lawn chairs....

Bitching is so typical with retirement and un unused timeshares...

Decades of marriage habituals is like baking rice krispies squares...

It's fun in the start, but soon turns to boredom and tempers flared
But, no matter how bad it gets, I hope you know I always cared....

I can remember the day, when I heard you fart for the first time.

You were so embarrassed, and my bellowing laughter was probably out of line

But now, you have no problem with you ass saying hello and goodbye
And when I cover my nose and wipe the water from my eyes
I'm still amazed by the sound that's created from such a petite size
The years have passed us by, and things have begun to sag….
Our wrinkled faces now resemble crumbled grocery bags
Gravity has taken over, in all the important parts
Your boobs hang past your belly
While my balls droop out my shorts

But, if it was wrong getting married , I don't want to be right
I love our 12 ounces of knowledge, we consume every night

And if we were younger, and I was stronger....
I'd climb on top of ya, I swear

But, I'm not, so before you go to bed.....


Please clean up the beer cans and dog hair


 
  I wrote this one originally for a friend I made in cyber space. She liked my little poems and asked if I could write one geared around her marriage. I accepted the challenge with the information that she had given me, and boy, it was a difficult write since I don't really know her from squat.

But, the more I wrote, the more I thought about my own marriage and the person I've been with for the past fourteen years.

We met at a bus stop in Brisbane, California. I had just moved there from Los Angeles, and she had arrived a few weeks prior from Tokyo. We were both escaping the high rent from San Francisco but after living in this dinky little town and having to commute every day, we had decided after three months of dating to get a place downtown. We had our ups and downs like every other couple but for the most part it has been smooth sailing.

And now, two kids later we are still going strong.

Life has seemed to fly by this last decade and a half, which I can only look at as a good thing. I think this has to do with our complete opposite of personalities and our open mindedness in trying things we would never consider doing, so both parties stay happy and interested.

So, if you have found that some one special, consider yourself lucky and grow old together. It's worth it.



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Wednesday, April 4, 2018

How to live in San Francsico Crack Head free

This is a story about a thief named Billy....
That gave grief to the TL peeps
by making every room chilly
He was a downer, that would steal the shoes off your feet, and then act willy nilly....
And this is why the towns people
planned for his death lilly....

He got his first taste, at the local liquor store,when he was eight, craving for entertainment....

Stealing, while his friends
cheered with amazement
And then enjoying the aftermath booty of fruity sugar snacks
Englazed from front to back, while their parents slept off their grave shift....

He liked to shop for clothes at the dime store
With his crack head street whore....

And when the staff were not looking
They'd stuff their pockets to the galore
Until stolen trinkets over flowed
And fell to the floor....
Security always considered watching them a chore
When she died, he swore that he wouldn't live this lifestyle anymore
But an old dogs learning curve is like paddling without any oars

He liked pressed shirts tucked inside his tight pants
Flexing his chicken chest with a limp wristed fight stance
Loving a drug addict romance, while covering up his arm tracks
One hand on a stolen gat, and the other on his stash

He considered himself a baller....
Standing tall, and hanging out of windows as a ghetto cat caller.
Running with the knuckle draggers, and street hustle braggarts. Getting by on lies and low standards....

Billy was found, face down, in an embankment....
Blood stains dried to brown on his Nike made face lift....
A make shift shank finished the engagement
"I'm sorry...Don't kill me!" was his last statement

 He was placed in his early grave...
Releasing him from his glass pipe enslavement
And now he haunts the Tenderloins alleyways
And cardboard covered pavements...
Wondering how he could have changed this fate
That was placed at his arraignment....

This is just another story of a lost soul debasement
Never rising, crawling with the roaches and baseheads
Another life wasted....
A walking corpse in search for a replacement
And now his memory is getting faded

On a street pole, duct taped and pasted…..

 I had lived in San Francsico for four years, and the one thing that had stood out for me was the heavy drug problem this town has. Everybodies high!

My place of residence was in Knob Hill which is downtown SF, right above the main drug area called the Tenderloin. If you know anything about this town, you know that it was pretty much constructed on a very steep hill, so the higher you get up the hill, the less you have to deal with the drug addicts because they are very, very, lazy.

   The Tenderloin starts at the bottom, and the first three blocks is...um...disgusting. I've seen people take shits on the sidewalk like dogs, pimps (with the 70's hats) fight each other, and naked crack heads running amok in this neighborhood. I never had a problem strolling through this lovely section of town because all of the locals thought I was an undercover cop, so when I set foot in the land of the speed freaks, I'd hear...
"One time, ya'll! One time! You best jet!" and they would scramble like cockroaches.

So, if you ever decide to live in this crazy town, take this advice....

1. Be clean cut and walk down the street with your best Dirty Harry face.
2. Live in Knob Hill or higher
3. Have a lot of cash because rent is expensive!




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Tuesday, April 3, 2018

The importance of having your grandparents in your life.


She seemed like a nice old lady...

Late, into her eighties...
With a smile that would light up the sky

I was eight years old...
Stepping out of our vacation motor home

Wiping away the sleep from my eyes....

Livingston, Montana...
Is where my crazy family had landed
Stiff and tired from a three day ride....

She greeted us from the porch....
White and gangly like a stork
Then hugged my mother with a loving pride...

I looked at my surroundings....
The muddy ground....
And the sound of the Yellowstone River pounding, near by....

The old Conway farm, was worn down
And uncharmed....
But, had a beauty that would make you cry.....

After a couple of minutes talking...
The mother/daughter team came a walking
And called me over, to their side....

Grandma had a problem....
And she wanted me to solve it....
A feathered terror that was two feet high....

It was a little red chicken.....
That had escaped into the forbidden....
And the freedom had turned it shy....

I was assigned to the mission....
And if a failed, I'd never be forgiven
With out a victory, I'd surly die....

So, for the next two days...
I wore my best hunter gaze
But, my prey left me mystified....

I felt like Rocky Balboa...
But, moving like old man Noah....
Trying to save a feathered friend from the rising tide....

I finally captured the stupid chicken....
It was caught slipping, eating bugs happily, double dipping...
When a tackled it, giving my best war cry....

I carried it back to the house....
And dropped it on my grannies blouse...
With a greedy hand out, awaiting my prize....

And that's when I realized Grannie was senile
When she only awarded me with a spacey smile

While the bird ran out the door and vaporized....



  My children don't realize how lucky they are to have their grandparents in their lives.
And not for the simple joy of being spoiled with gifts and ice cream, but to have to this vas of knowledge at their disposal. Grandparents are walking history books that you can learn a lot from. They lived it. They experienced the victories and failures that life deals to everyone, and by listening to their stories and advice, you'll be better prepared.

I wasn't so fortunate with this because I was only able to meet my mothers mother once, and the only thing this old bat said to me was, "You see that chicken? I want you to catch it for me." And since I was just a dumb kid, I just nodded my head and said, "Yes, ma'am."

And just like the poem stated, as soon as I brought her the bird, I had realized that she wasn't playing with a full deck of cards.

But, if your grandparents are still healthy and alert upstairs, listen to them.
They can teach many things about life that you could never find in a classroom.
(But, if they are assholes, just visit during the holidays)




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Talking Shows in Tokyo

The title pretty much says it all.     If you like the content here, go check out my books on Amazon and throw me some nickel...