I've decided to write a poem on Ran again. This time, she's looking for a job (as shown in Chapter 1), assuming that the police academy threw her application away. Do enjoy.
**************
Shibuya Poetry
Chapter 24:
Unemployed
My eyes are red.
My hair has been tousled and mangled.
My makeup has left smears on my face.
I look as if I have been drinking moonshine
Since I was age 2.
My voice has become raspy
From yelling at everything
That had life to it.
The red in my mesh has faded
Into white.
My hair has turned gray.
My mood spells out,
SOS, you SOB.
My attitude towards life
Is one of dejection, rejection,
Suspended over the sands of chaos
Like monster trucks rolling over
Lamborghinis
On a Tuesday morning
In rush-hour traffic
Where everyone is scrambling
To meet some deadline
That comes and goes
Like anthrax
Through your fingers.
My face is encrusted with tears,
Tears that could not define
What the past week has been.
Once it was happiness,
Now the harsh reality has tainted
Them, and my face, once clear
With makeup and blush,
Now has become pimpled
And warted and diseased.
I look like the bitch
From Down Under.
My arms and legs have become rickety
From too much walking
From one place to the next, one place to the next,
And being denied this, that, what, who, which, how, why,
He said, she said, they said, we said, you said, I said,
Blah blah blah blah bling bling blang blob,
All gibberish and ribrabrubrobrebberish,
Someone more qualified then me…
I am underappreciat4ed.
I am broken,
Shattered,
Destroyed,
Sandblasted,
Lambasted,
Pulverized,
Hypnotized,
Kryptonized,
Neuralyzed,
Paralyzed,
And no one stands
In this crowded arena
To help me out.
No food, no drink, no clothing, no shelter, no care.
No hope whatsoever.
I wonder, I tried to be satisfied,
But ho boy, it has turned into
A mask,
A mask where inside
Lies a woman
Who curses,
Swears,
Punches,
Strangles,
Mayhemizes,
Disembowels, dismembers, discourages,
Disses in general,
The pugilist in white.
I have eyes without a face,
A tongue without a mouth,
Toes without feet,
Breasts without chest,
Fingers without hands,
Hell without heaven,
The destroyer becomes the pied piper becomes the eggman becomes the walrus becomes the enemy, becomes the
Anomaly.
I have resorted to mixing
Mushroom with crack,
Hash with vodka,
Indo with dildo,
FX with sex,
Unity with anarchy,
Moonshine with cyanide,
The dead with the rotten,
Rims with sugarcubes,
Queens with queers,
Geeks with freaks,
Bees with bums,
Rabbitsa with hobbits,
Collies with lollies,
Chocolate with chilies,
Botulism with salmonella,
Sputnik with Skylab,
Surf Riders with Beer Drinkers with High Rollers with Low Riders with Hell Raisers,
Numbness with Coldness with Vainlyness,
Brothers with sisters, cousins with half-cousins,
Incest with incense,
Respect with ridicule,
Beauty with the Beast,
Street Rats with Fat Cats,
Hound Dogs with Gonads,
Warts with farts,
Erections with elections,
Durians with whipped cream,
Fear factors with survivors,
Socials rejects with social concerns,
Happiness with holiness,
Buffalo Bill with Wild Bill,
Kit Carson with Rachel Carson,
Osama Bin Laden with George W. Bush,
The matches made in heaven
Could go on and on.
I have denied myself
A ticket to ride
To the stars
And become numb
In time.
I cast away
Everything that was me,
And now I live like a
Hobbit-hermit-hamlet,
With shaggy feet,
A holy outlook,
And a bucket of Danish cookies
In my hand.
I am getting and spending, getting and spending,
My mind slumps out of my heart,
Into my hands,
And I squeeze the juice out of it,
Like a stress reliever,
That just doesn't get the point
Of becoming intelligent,
Not does it wish
To do so.
I take a gallon of aspirin,
And wash it down with a gallon of moonshine,
And my fingers turn numb
From too much searching
On meaningless sites
That display occupational openings
That have already been taken,
And I yell at the monitor,
And grab it,
And smash it,
And stomp on it
Until my feel become gutted
With red water.
I grill myself
On a silver platter
With a silver lining,
Burning out and fading away
Like Kurt Cobain
Eating crow
While singing with angels
That have already been intoxicated
With 19000000 ounces of liquor,
Running in their bloodstream,
And I never wonder why.
I have lost the self that I once had,
The self that would prove
That it was worthy to become satisfied,
And my fingers have fallen off me.
I'm demolished
Like an amputee,
With my legs and arms
Already cut off.
I don't have much time to live,
And I don't have much to give.
But what does it all matter anyway?
I am unemployed.
And I like it.
*********************
End Chapter 24
Review, but flames will be used to turn to ash the people who make them.
Really.
**************
Shibuya Poetry
Chapter 24:
Unemployed
My eyes are red.
My hair has been tousled and mangled.
My makeup has left smears on my face.
I look as if I have been drinking moonshine
Since I was age 2.
My voice has become raspy
From yelling at everything
That had life to it.
The red in my mesh has faded
Into white.
My hair has turned gray.
My mood spells out,
SOS, you SOB.
My attitude towards life
Is one of dejection, rejection,
Suspended over the sands of chaos
Like monster trucks rolling over
Lamborghinis
On a Tuesday morning
In rush-hour traffic
Where everyone is scrambling
To meet some deadline
That comes and goes
Like anthrax
Through your fingers.
My face is encrusted with tears,
Tears that could not define
What the past week has been.
Once it was happiness,
Now the harsh reality has tainted
Them, and my face, once clear
With makeup and blush,
Now has become pimpled
And warted and diseased.
I look like the bitch
From Down Under.
My arms and legs have become rickety
From too much walking
From one place to the next, one place to the next,
And being denied this, that, what, who, which, how, why,
He said, she said, they said, we said, you said, I said,
Blah blah blah blah bling bling blang blob,
All gibberish and ribrabrubrobrebberish,
Someone more qualified then me…
I am underappreciat4ed.
I am broken,
Shattered,
Destroyed,
Sandblasted,
Lambasted,
Pulverized,
Hypnotized,
Kryptonized,
Neuralyzed,
Paralyzed,
And no one stands
In this crowded arena
To help me out.
No food, no drink, no clothing, no shelter, no care.
No hope whatsoever.
I wonder, I tried to be satisfied,
But ho boy, it has turned into
A mask,
A mask where inside
Lies a woman
Who curses,
Swears,
Punches,
Strangles,
Mayhemizes,
Disembowels, dismembers, discourages,
Disses in general,
The pugilist in white.
I have eyes without a face,
A tongue without a mouth,
Toes without feet,
Breasts without chest,
Fingers without hands,
Hell without heaven,
The destroyer becomes the pied piper becomes the eggman becomes the walrus becomes the enemy, becomes the
Anomaly.
I have resorted to mixing
Mushroom with crack,
Hash with vodka,
Indo with dildo,
FX with sex,
Unity with anarchy,
Moonshine with cyanide,
The dead with the rotten,
Rims with sugarcubes,
Queens with queers,
Geeks with freaks,
Bees with bums,
Rabbitsa with hobbits,
Collies with lollies,
Chocolate with chilies,
Botulism with salmonella,
Sputnik with Skylab,
Surf Riders with Beer Drinkers with High Rollers with Low Riders with Hell Raisers,
Numbness with Coldness with Vainlyness,
Brothers with sisters, cousins with half-cousins,
Incest with incense,
Respect with ridicule,
Beauty with the Beast,
Street Rats with Fat Cats,
Hound Dogs with Gonads,
Warts with farts,
Erections with elections,
Durians with whipped cream,
Fear factors with survivors,
Socials rejects with social concerns,
Happiness with holiness,
Buffalo Bill with Wild Bill,
Kit Carson with Rachel Carson,
Osama Bin Laden with George W. Bush,
The matches made in heaven
Could go on and on.
I have denied myself
A ticket to ride
To the stars
And become numb
In time.
I cast away
Everything that was me,
And now I live like a
Hobbit-hermit-hamlet,
With shaggy feet,
A holy outlook,
And a bucket of Danish cookies
In my hand.
I am getting and spending, getting and spending,
My mind slumps out of my heart,
Into my hands,
And I squeeze the juice out of it,
Like a stress reliever,
That just doesn't get the point
Of becoming intelligent,
Not does it wish
To do so.
I take a gallon of aspirin,
And wash it down with a gallon of moonshine,
And my fingers turn numb
From too much searching
On meaningless sites
That display occupational openings
That have already been taken,
And I yell at the monitor,
And grab it,
And smash it,
And stomp on it
Until my feel become gutted
With red water.
I grill myself
On a silver platter
With a silver lining,
Burning out and fading away
Like Kurt Cobain
Eating crow
While singing with angels
That have already been intoxicated
With 19000000 ounces of liquor,
Running in their bloodstream,
And I never wonder why.
I have lost the self that I once had,
The self that would prove
That it was worthy to become satisfied,
And my fingers have fallen off me.
I'm demolished
Like an amputee,
With my legs and arms
Already cut off.
I don't have much time to live,
And I don't have much to give.
But what does it all matter anyway?
I am unemployed.
And I like it.
*********************
End Chapter 24
Review, but flames will be used to turn to ash the people who make them.
Really.