Wednesday, March 19, 2008

Forum: "Reflection" from Discussion Board Mar 13 2008 7:58am)







The place, we are now is not with the moment, which is absolute present.

Where is it? If there is nothing we can think that it is reality, what are we seeing?
Don't you think we are something that are reflected by eternity? If so, we are everlastingly going to be a few of stars in the universe or illusion of another world.
Then the world is pure blue. Pure blue, how beautiful it is!
There is a only melancholy song you sing for me.

Who are you? If you live somewhrere where is bounced the world, not 'here', you has shown me who I am and who you are.

I am in one of reflection of you. And everyting expect the melody of blues reflects our world.

An Innocent Suicide

I was nine. I failed to kill myself.
I couldn’t die when I really wanted to die.
So, I’m still here.

I loved portraying my world with imaginations, though, one day,
at the critical moment, my sweet little enjoyment was destroyed by people who are so-called well-balanced hypocrites.
Then I lost the way of being a child who was looking for the map to future.

I am hungry now.
I don’t remember I had been hungry before I tried to suicide anyway.
I can’t catch me sometimes as if I am not myself.
So I’m still chasing for the reflection of mine and lost toys in my memories.

Incomplete Portrait of Chaos (Japanese)

君たちが愛してやまない青い空は
血色のない僕の顔色より
さらに乾いた青ですっかり人工的に染まった
未完成のカオスの肖像画

98、99%まで減少したピュアな犠牲虫が天を舞う
コモンな殺虫剤のスプレー缶に新しい偽と清を詰めて
空に向けて吹き上げれば あとは風がスプレッドしながら仕上げてしまうだろうか?

空は、シュールなベールに包まれた

夜霧に隠れて 僕だけの秘密の場所へ駆ける

子供が大切なおもちゃを誰にも見せずに 一人きりになった時にだけ
そっと秘密の箱から隠した宝物を取りだしたり
才知ある少年が生涯陰間を貫いて 舞台を至極個人的に神聖化しようとするのと
少し似ているのかも知れない

空を仰ぎにいく

反ガリレオの法則に従って真空のアーチを越える
僕は右手でんだ僕の魂を空に掲げて眼をつぶる

月夜の照らす深緑に囲まれた湖の
まるで静止したどこまでも澄んだ水のような感触

空は限りなく海に近い
けれど海のような終わりのない悲しさはない
できる限り高く腕をのばして
できるだけ長く一瞬という間のピースを繋ぎあわせて
ずっと天の波間を指で愛撫し続けたいけど 今にも誰かが僕を見つけてしまうかもしれない

僕はアーチからジャンプした
その瞬間、空を大地に沿って蹴った気がした

空は、永遠を清流のような淑やかな流れにまかせている
終極の極限は始まりと紙一重にある そこから新たな混沌が生まれるんだ

創造主の神力がまだ僕の中にほんの少しだけ残っている
それは、愛されるために必要な全てと引き換えに手に入れたもの

僕は真偽を大悟徹底して
本当の空だけが持つ永遠を僕と君のものだけにしたい

死を除くすべての運命から義務を担うモロンの君
そして僕 君と僕だけが知っている本当の空とその仰ぎかた

空は、カーバメートで覆われている


Hear the Echo of Your Song through the Open Sea ( Act1-1 Intro)


Mr. Seaway: How many people know how to listen to the song of phrase called ‘Oneself ’?

Pierrot without Art (hereafter Pierrot): That’s one of fantasies in your own. Nobody must remember even a short passage from the song. (Pierrot ridicules for his question. P even doesn’t see his eyes)

Mr. Seaway: And you don’t remember even how you should sing your song.

Pierrot: Leave me alone. (Pierrot is getting demonstrative. P looks down to hide P’s emotion.) Who cares someone but me? Who knows how to sing a song that is composed by anonymity? (Pierrot’s face fall when image of the gods flitted through Pierrot’s mind) Don’t say Jesus. I hate to say the name and cannot endure listening to even the lingering sound! (Pierrot cries in pain, hurting P-self.) You want me to howl like a loser fall to his knees under God’s truth, don’t you? I already have a strong confidence with my identity. That’s all I need to realize my dream.

Mr. Seaway: You have to listen to me. (I can see he is in a hard by Pierrot’s anger.) I am talking about ‘pure human being’ not Jesus. Just answer with yes or no if you don’t want to discuss. You have to do it to connect us by sharing and assimilating our presence together.

(An awkward silence)

Pierrot: What I think about ‘Oneself’? Nobody knows about the song of ‘Oneself’ if there is no rhythm of soul and heartbeat. Don’t let me think about others including myself such as I make myself up as a clown or something makes me silly. (Pierrot doesn’t notice that P runs in clear contradiction to P’s words.) I have tried to be a semi-realist like Magritte since I lost my voice. Don’t think I will answer your question in the active even if I am one of yourself.

Mr. Seaway: (He is composed like receiving both death and new born at the same time and then he is getting red with a dazzling sunset reflecting the sky.) You will not know anything about yourself without the outer world. Look. There is nothing can be existence by itself. The sky of shade reflects wind orbit round the earth, ocean makes us look at the real sky by reflection and your voice reverberate through the hills.

Pierrot: (Pierrot seems to be quite calm, but a little sorrowful. P looks to Mr. Seaway seriously.) I can draw myself-portrait on the sky by myself. Mr. Seaway: Who will know the portrait is yours and drawn yourself? (He is going to say something after that, but halted at the verge of next words because Pierrot begins singing softly.)

Rainbow Mushroom #1/3


Make your days distinguish from pieces of a complecated puzzle.
Life is still unfinished symphony without your tragic ending or dramatic irony.

Welcome to the Paradise Called HELL! (introduction of the most important issue facing our environment today)


How many people do care of others who are going to die?
How many friends of yours do help you when you are in trouble?

I wonder why people are acting hypocrites all day long even when they are in bed.
Why do you wander around a town which is independent from nature?

You want to be loved?
You want to belong to the society, our fool ancestors and we have built?

You want to forget you are one of the destroyers who raped our mother, Earth?

Seven selected poems from “A Rhapsody of the Blue Bird”

Dear Holden Caulfield,


“The World”

What we are seeing is everything in the world,
What we hope is true quietness,
The boundary of the sky is where empty in heaven and the turning point of the hell,
And there is cloudy haze.


見るはこの世の総て、
望むは真の静寂、
天国と地獄の分かれ目は空の境、
そして雲の濁り霞。


From one scene in the story, ‘Love’ bounded with joy in the sky and the girl gets wings for journey to the hell.

Four miracles begin to sing for wind quietly.
I am sometimes soft like the storm, is magnificently kindly.
While there is little it, I say by an instant of the eternity, and shut in me in your world.

I soak myself in a lingering sound and hide the impression that does not finish cooling down from the town of the toy.
The isolated investigation to echo is played until the end at this moment.

I got a wing.


4つの奇跡が、そっと風に歌いだす。
倉皇な嵐のように優しく、時には壮大に柔らかく。
少しの間、永遠の一瞬でいい、私を貴方の世界に閉じ込めて。
余韻に浸り、冷め切らない感動をおもちゃの町に隠しておく。
響き渡る孤高の調べは、この瞬間の終りまで奏でられる。

私は翼を手に入れた。


From one scene in the story, when only her eyes misted with tears, the girl see despair in her shadow.

I long for delicate, cold eyes with transparence.
Because my eyes are heavy like the bottom of the tire which I painted over with a crayon and are black.

That is maybe only I cannot see.
My figure that it cries to be reflected in the broken mirror subtly.

While a wave goes the sky, the sun casts light to me, and a cloud continues drawing a shadow on the ground.
It is attacked by severe nothingness, and a thing losing it, the things which should lose it decrease.

I become extinct.
I want to die fluttering about in the wind like the ash of the cigarette.


冷たくて、透明で、繊細な瞳に憧れる。
私の眼は、クレヨンで塗りつぶしたタイヤの底みたいに重くて真っ黒だから。

私には見えないだけなのかもしれない。
壊れた鏡に微かに映るのは泣いている私の姿。

雲が空を波行く間に、太陽は私に光を落として地上に影を描き続ける。
酷い虚無感に襲われ、失うもの、失うべきものが減っていく。
私は消滅する。
せめて煙草の灰のように、空に舞って朽ちたい。



From one scene in the story, the ruin of hope makes the girl know ‘how to feel the end’ and ‘how to be broken’.

Something was cut.

Way of feeling at the end and the way of breaking of the one which does not have even the touch, a cotton thread, the inseparableness that it gets caught and tore off of the spaghetti which passed ‘al dente’ distantly.

That I feel despair at the end of a dream is taken in the imagination of the interval to dream of, a desire to hit it.

Actually, though when I merely collect fragments desired, without great despair, I am confused by a false dream and walk over the wreckage of the brown late circle.
I weaken a feeling of irritation with ammonia, and I throw the body to the spring of God.


何かが切れた。
アルデンテを遠く通り越したスパゲティの感触、噛んでちぎった木綿糸、
やりきれなささえない1つの終わりの感じ方、そして壊れ方。
夢の終わりに絶望を感じるのは夢みる間の想像、願望にうちに取り込まれる。
実際は大した絶望もなく、唯、希望の欠片を集めては偽りの夢に惑わされて、
茶色い故円の残骸の上を歩いているだけなのに。
焦燥感をアンモニアで薄めて、今から私は神の泉に身を投げる。


From three prose, Setting Sun, Spins, and A Broken Juke Box.

I cannot be here.
I am nobody if I lose something ‘I am looking for’.
The tomorrow's sun has set in the Hell.

You should throw away the silly talk.
The words should spin it beautifully.
The act that the choice is ignominious.
I wander about idly and sing.

Is ‘truth’ be a thing made with the process of the delusion?

Bad prose, the hula of childish words.
The reason why it came to see you is that it forgets it, but the reason is not because it misses you.

‘A mere whim’

The forest of the building which does not change and the gentian which do not die are different from now by that time and are seen.
I continue a trip.
I look into you over the window,
You are veiled in the sky,
and who never arrive in interval of the same world.


此処にはいられない。
求めていたものを見失うと私はもう誰でもない、
何処にもいけない、これからもない。
明日の太陽は奈落に沈んでしまった。

戯言は捨てるべき。
言葉は美しく紡ぐべき。
選択は醜い行為。
私は虚しく流離い歌う。

真実は妄想の過程で創られるものでしょう?

酷い文章、幼い言葉のフラダンス。
逢いに来たのは、忘れる為でも懐かしいからでもない。
唯の気まぐれ。
変わらないビルの林や枯れない竜胆も、今とあの時とでは違って見える。
私は旅を続ける。
同じ世界の狭間で、決して届かない空に霞む君を窓越しに覗き込んで。


“A Child of The Suns”

There is not the wall separating us in the world that two sun bring up at all.

The sunlight engraves a new love song into the sea while occurring at the same time to dozens of and a burning sunset invites a wave and gives a newborn child of the sun a beautiful purple cloth.

The new life will play a tune of love at any moment.
And be wrapped up in only love, and there is our soul as love itself.

The moment when the sun lets light intersect.
The sound of the sea flying in the bank to wave in.


2つの太陽が育む世界には、私たちを引き離す壁は一切存在しない。
陽光は何十にも重なりながら海に新しい愛の歌を刻み、燃える夕焼けが波を迎え、生まれたばかりの太陽の子に美しい紫の衣を与える。
新しい生命は今にも愛の調べを奏でるだろう。
そして私たちの魂は愛にのみ包まれ、愛そのものとして存在する。

太陽が光を交差させる瞬間。
波打つ岸に舞う海の音。

My Blue, must be deep


Before I came to New York, I had lost my identity to awaken who I was. I no longer felt a relationship between life and time. The only river which reflects the moon light could not flow down into my part of blue.

I found my lost poem as a fragment of memory in a broken juke box.

Freedom is found on the inside, not the outside.
Everything might not be forcibly accepted
You only have to fall in the sky

There is nothing without the sky.

I thought there is already no past and future, though, still, the time goes by. I still ask myself however.

‘Does the sky need to be blue?’

When I arrived at New York, I saw the sky in the deepest shade of blue. Deeper than ‘the blind man’s meal’, which Picasso drew in his blue period. I am sure it is the deepest blue in the world. Nothing really can come close to his sadness, even if the sky should fall to an abyss.

But, only in that moment, when the abyss reaches into eternity, I, myself am closer to the deepest blue, which doesn’t change to purple and can penetrate through sunset despite the fact that it never changes. Blue, ‘Kind of Blue’. You know, it is the title of one of Miles Davis’s albums, too. How would he have expressed the blue if he was still here?

I took a bus to go to the city from JFK at roughly 5:30 pm. I looked through the window and also inside of my heart. I was immensely excited about everything that I could see, though, I was very tired because of flying in the sullen iron bird for half a day, and carrying a lot of baggage.

I’m in New York, the place I will establish my presence, and meet my friend, lady liberty. "At last I came here!" I shouted like Little Richard, and played a harmonica, while looking at the sky melting through gray forest. Then I started creating a new poem which will be verse having a rhyme of white wind drops and must be colored by the deepest blue.

I reached the first destination, before the sky dyed red by sunset was overspread by darkness. I eventually met my beautiful and lonely friend, whom I had never seen before. She always has to light a fire in people to dream of freedom.

My first night in New York, I didn’t dream about anything. I didn’t feel that I missed my country or anything I really loved. Here and now are my present. The only moment that I was sleeping very deeply, I was higher than the sky looking towards tomorrow.

There is nothing without the sky


There is nothing without the sky

This is the main philosophy of my life which will never be changed.
I don't believe in unchangeable things such as God, but I know this phrase is the only one, which is an exception to the rule, and "truth" for me.

Since last semester, I have been thinking what the best way to create my arts and portrait myself and I finally realized that is to combine with poem and photography.

As the beginning of this blog, I put a few poems and essays in my recent writings, which are the foundation of future works. If you tell me what you see in them, it will be great resources for me.

Hope you have wonderful days! See you.