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Shanghai First Kiss

Give her your bright, your enriched, your kempt,
and she will make sloven creatures of them.
She cares not for your ancestry nor history-
she seeks the bold, the flowering, the illustrious.
Shanghai swallows all those who come
by way of that first kiss that ruins
any innocence that still remained within them.

I believe that my first kiss with Shanghai
matters most since I
have kissed so few other cities so passionately.
Four years on I still remember that first time-
we met in the lurid darkness, her streets alive.
She wore a flowing gown of silky red, her legs reaching to the sky.
She whispered in my ear, “Welcome mister.”
She grabbed me, held me, embraced me,
hit me, beat me, shook me,
jostled me, kicked me, threw me
and left her indelible taste on my tongue.

All I could do was fall in love with her,
and all I’ve done since is looked for reasons to stay with her.
But I’ve been ravaged and savaged by her,
and I’ve been taken for a ride by her.

Yet, the addict has his candy, the tasty treat.
I’ve gotten to sucking on Shanghai’s sweet teat,
and I can’t ween myself away- I can’t.

The look she gives me, the potential to save me-
I opened wide and let her ruin me.
And I’m still by her side.

Dzemma ban

Let us indulge.
Let us allow ourselves to indulge.
The finer and basic aspects of our lifetimes require indulgence.
They wouldn’t be there otherwise.
Let us eat cake and, from the Earth, make a sacrifice to the lords of life.
It is not for us to decide whether or not we may survive.
So, therefore, let us enjoy what little cake we have before our mighty, short-lived stars explode and disperse.

Dzemma ban

Hey.  Hey!
Whatcha got these days?
You feeling on the up,
on the mend?
But what’s that around the bend?
Oh- it’s that time again.
It’s Christmas come early, m’boy.
Oh, yes it is.
It’s the Big D, m’boy.
Oh, yes it is.
It’s the D-lightful,
D-lovely D of all D’s.
It’s Depression!
The celebrated razor’s edge of all human condition.
The looking glass, though distorted every which way we try,
shows us everything we never wanted to see but knew to be.
You want to know what I see?
Do you want to know what I see?
I’m asking you a question,
something worth some reflection.
See, the signs are all there,
all the time,
but everyone outside can’t see to the inside,
nor can you grasp the lift from the topside to the downside.
And the hardest fucking part,
which to you I will impart,
for soon I may depart,
is that I’m such a good liar and you’ll never know it
because I wear this, and that is what you’ll miss, for I’d hate if, rather, you had to miss this.
So be grateful and be selfish,
be happily employed,
be lovely and be kind,
and be so overjoyed
that the Big D never smashed
its ugly face into yours nor dashed
the great potential everyone thought you had.
This isn’t a plea for help- I’m beyond it.

Dzemma ban

Be Sober

Be Sober.
Be sober?
I once heard to be always drunk (here) and that that’s all there was to it for it was the only way to make it through the day.
I don’t believe that.  I don’t, I don’t, I don’t.  I don’t want to believe that,
For there is something to be said about being sober.
Am I burdened, Charles Baudelaire?  Am I hell-bent on being burned, Charlie Bawdy-lair?
Now, now, now, you may look and say,
“Why the long disposition?  What’s this manner of inquisition?  When did I make this decision?  Who slandered me with this derision?
Where is the path to Righteousness and soulful exploration?  How do I find this lonely road to salvation?”
Are Wine, Poetry and Virtue what I should be aspiring to,
the only things to get me through my days?
Are there not other ways to get me through my days?
Do I need to look to the wind, the wave, the star, the bird, the clock and everything under the sun to find the answers so that I may be not undone?
Fuck that.
I’ll look to myself.
I’ll look to my beautiful, sober reflection,
This 27 year old bag of memorable collections
Who has not, and will not, and shall not be a slave to anything, or anyone, at any time.
I will not be complicit to this woeful, spiteful, “mournful solitude” bullshit.
I will be sober.
I will be happy.
So here’s a salute to you, Charlie.
Be in tune.  Be in touch.  Be involved.  Be here.
Be drunk?
Be sober.

Dzemma ban

i’m standing in the rain, again.  it’s beating down on my head, my back… it’s been raining a long time.  it’s got me going down.

it pounds and pounds and pounds on me- fuck!  i’m losing weight.

i don’t know why i’m still out here when all my friend has to do is bring me inside and tell me it’s going to be alright.

i think he has a torture streak in him, like those prison guards who play Dress Up and Beat Down every so often…. this year, too, probably.

somewhere else, maybe really near, someone’s spine curves that much more with the beating of the rain.

even when it’s sunny it rains on me.

it’s a new dusk, it’s a new night, it’s a new life for me, and i’m feeling down.

Dzemma ban

there lives an ogre, who, unlike all the other ogres in the region, is mean, nasty, obstinate, pig-headed, loud, obnoxious, lecherous, smelly, a wretchedly vile form of shit, and, above all else, a liar and a thief.  This particular ogre preys on the hopes and dreams of the many who wish to see a more colorful world.  He sinks his obtrusive spikes that he calls teeth into the flesh of the good-willed so that he, himself, may bring his own desires to fruition.  He’s something of a bully, having been bullied himself, and he makes it a point of getting what he wants, however many people stand in his way.  His thievery is legendary, and his impact is resoundingly awful.  He’s a master manipulator; his salesmanship is uniquely friendly and approaching sincere, while his intentions are selfish and demanding.  When it boils down to it, he’d be someone you’d want on your side.  BEWARE YE WHO COME NEAR:  THE OGRE WILL DEFY YOUR LOGIC AND PROCEED TO BLEED YOUR EMOTIONS UNTIL YOU HAVE NONE LEFT.

I speak from experience and pain.  And what now?

Dzemma ban

When it comes down to it, we don’t know anything, and that’s what causes all of life’s problems and fears.  It’s the irony of it all.  What’s more, if one takes the time to really think about oneself, one may realize that one doesn’t know oneself.  Or, it may be, that after taking that time one may not want to know oneself.

So what does one do?  One may become two, and then two may try to know each other, but how can that succeed if one does not know or want to know oneself?  And then two may become three, and so on, and then what happens?  Disaster (if you turn on the news).

As for me, all I know is that I know nothing, and that’s hard to process.  I also know that I don’t want to know because the truth is that it’s a scary proposition to know.

Dzemma ban

rebirth (?)

Woo-hoo-hoo, Wah-ha-ha, I just can’t believe what I heard.

Woo-hoo-hoo, Wah-ha-ha, it turns out the Phoenix has returned.

Woo-hoo-hoo, Wah-ha-ha, it’s got new wings to fly.

Woo-hoo-hoo, Wah-ha-ha, so hopefully it will survive.

Woo-hoo-hoo, Wah-ha-ha, but here’s the most interesting part.

Woo-hoo-hoo, Wah-ha-ha, we’re not sure if it still has its heart.

Woo-hoo-hoo, Wah-ha-ha, the operation’s success is unclear.

Woo-hoo-hoo, Wah-ha-ha, but that’s neither here nor there.

Woo-hoo-hoo, Wah-ha-ha, for right now, at least, it’s alive.

Woo-hoo-hoo, Wah-ha-ha, and that’s what counts, right?

Dzemma ban

Roll up, roll up, Medi Ocre is here to stay.

She’ll barely play her fiddle, and she’ll lacklusterly piddle your diddle- she’ll leave you just sopping away.

She’ll lovingly bemoan and pummel, and she’ll convincingly royale your rumble- she’ll never ever lead you astray.

Medi Ocre is certainly here to stay!

She’s been coerced here out of our fear- she’s been invited to come that much more near.

She’s been offered a throne of our rose petals and resignation.

Thank you, Medi Ocre- you are just what The Doctor prescribed, you are just what was never needed or wanted, but yet you are here!

Roll up, roll up, Medi Ocre is here to stay.

Dzemma ban

Lose your mind

Lose your hind

Lose your will

Lose your thrill

Lose your soul

Lose your hole.

Dzemma ban