0.22 |Gold Man | Delise Vann


There a goldman  stood with a watch on his arm

The traffic passing by on a bygone freeway.

The clock struck twelve .


He became a coldman

A stone man

A madman

A deadman

And all that was left was his watch on the road.

Translating English prose poems into Japanese with my crude language skills.-DV

0.21 |明日は来ない | Yoshiki Katayama | Translation | Denavious Hoover

歌詞 |「明日は来ない」






















Lyric Translation | Unrequited Tomorrow

It’s come to this, the hustle and bustle of the streets

Without their whereabouts, the youth are crying out

All carried atop racing feet

As the rusted traffic signals blink a silent dissent

Unrequited tomorrow, surely that’s the way it is

In downtown Tokyo an overweight middle-age man

Sweats as he screams out in lust

While a countryside farmer cheeks run wet over the scorched croplands

We’ve all been robbed of something we’ll never see

Unrequited tomorrow,

surely that’s the way it is surely that’s the way it is,

Unrequited Tomorrow

Before we know it the blue expanse above

Will probably be filled with missiles errantly darting to and fro

Depositing imperial black

But even so

Until the end we

Live our everyday, like none that hasn’t been seen

You, my classmate, killed by such a country

The people who live next door, killed by those missiles

Unrequited tomorrow,

surely that’s the way it is

surely that’s the way it is,

an Unrequited Tomorrow

Haikarahakuchi( はいからはくち) |

Live Performance of  Ashita wa konai 

(Unrequited Tomorrow) or Tomorrow isn’t coming

Yoshiki | @mirror_henry




Follow him on Twitter to find out about local gigs  he performs around Japan.


書いた理由 | Yoshiki | 明日は来る。そんな当たり前のような事に惑わされて本当の物が見えなくなっているんではないだろうか。明日というのは、今日、今、起こる全てによって変わる、想定する明日は必ずしも来ない。もし、戦争が起こったらなど戦争を知らない僕が言うのもおかしな事だが、人々の生活は変われども日々は変わらないのではないだろうか、笑って、泣いて、怒って、しかし、隣人や同級生が死んでも不思議に思わないそんな今じゃ考えられない事が普通になる明日になるかもしれない。

When I asked Yoshiki the intent of the song he said that he wrote the song with images and memories of  Japan’s experience first hand with war and nuclear war mixed with the current situation  of  wars distant from Japan, but might possibly reach Japan in the future.  That he  felt that despite horrors of war, humans still manage to live day by day, still laughing, crying, fighting despite no knowing what tomorrow may bring. -Delise Vann

Personal Note | Delise Vann: What I’ve noticed about many young Japanese musicians writing lyrics now, they aren’t too concerned with political or risqué topics because it doesn’t make you rise to stardom instantly like pop bands do.  Also in Japan’s sugar pop obsessed culture, Yoshiki’s  loud dirty punk style is considered to be too old school and offensive, and at times disturbing.   And that’s exactly the way he wants it, honest, gritty and as human as it gets. As a fellow writer and poet, I appreciate that Yoshiki writes his own lyrics and then sings them, because then the raw emotions are true to their words.





0.20 | On Earth as it is in Heaven | Delise Vann

Don’t take my sky away.

Like a frozen over sea

I’m too afraid to go into you.

Surely I will die,

a sharp, painful, numbing death.

The stars dim, blending in

with the black sky.

Please don’t take my sky away,

like some ruler of the universe.

You promised me the moon,

then gave the stars to another.

The sun you saved for yourself.

Don’t take my sky away.

You wanted to have the

sun and moon converge

to become one.

No, seeing this impossibility,

you knew we’d never be.

Drifting alone in an endless frozen black sea

is this Earth, Space?

Cold stars reflecting, penetrating me

leaving me bleeding and hollow.

My sky stolen,

and my love forsaken on Earth.

I loved someone too dearly, and instead after taking my love, they vanished leaving me alone broken and lost.  Be careful who you give your power to in life.

0.19 | Swirling in the Wind | Delise Vann

I remember it was in a

sepia colored dream

you said you loved me.

It was in the grey life of yesterday

that you said you loved me.

Now as I live in the vibrancy

of the rainbow filled skies

you say goodbye.

You wipe my tears and sing:

Tomorrow you’ll be fine baby.

Yesterday was only Yesterday.

I loved you then.

I loved you then.

But tomorrow came

and my love did change.

So goodbye baby,


I wrote this on a grey and rainy day. I wrote a slow blues/jazz song for the lost love so many have known. When you’re old, and time has passed you by, and you find yourself sitting alone in a chair wondering what went wrong all those years ago. I want to live life so that I won’t be a sad old man alone and bitter with the world.

0.18 | Child of the Damned | Delise Vann

Want to rip my eyes out of my head.

Stab myself repeatedly

till there’s nothing left but a bloody stump.

Self-hatred raging in me

Telling myself to die already, just fucking die already.

I can’t do this anymore

I can’t, I can’t…

So very tired….


Just let me die…

“When the body traps the mind

The soul is lost in its hell.”- DV

0.17 | Untitled | Delise Vann






Under the moon, I remember your promise.

I believed in your lies then,

When you said you’d  always wait for me.

Yet now, why do I alone fly, in this empty dream of ours…

Nothing worse than making a promise you never intend to keep.


0.16 | Closing in on me | Kinsey Herzog

Please love me

 I’m sorry

Open my ribs up, dig into my entrails, eat me whole

I’m sorry, I must be a bad kid

 I do not deserve anyone’s love

 Don’t look away from my collapsing body please

 I know it is disgusting but I can’t bare to be alone

 I’m sorry, I’m sorry

Eat my heart, eat my liver, it hurts but I deserve it

 I am a bad kid

 Peel off my skin eat that too

Uncle please

 Suck up all of me

 Please love me

 I’ll give you everything I have

 Please forgive me

 It hu…u…r..t..s

 I’m h..a..p..p..y

 Uncle Uncle Uncle Uncle Uncle Uncle Uncle Uncle Uncle Uncle Uncle


It’s not right…not…right


Motivations of writing: I had a pedophilic uncle and an abusive ex boyfriend that often toyed with my emotions. They both haunt me to this day. My ex often spoke of wanting to eat me. I felt often it was my fault they were doing bad things to me. I was desperate for love. This poem sort of tells the things I was thinking, a combination of love and fear.


Intentions: Nobody is alone when they love someone hurting them. That mixture of fear and love is quite common. The desperate feeling of wanting love, even if it comes with a price to pay. People knowing this is important.

Author bio

     Kinsey Herzog is a creative writing major at Columbia College Chicago. She enjoys dance, writing, and film. In the future, she wants to be a young adult novelist.


0.15 | Untitled | Delise Vann

Can you hear it? The echoing in the leaves?

The ending day turns dark and cold

the heavy fog makes it impossible to see

loneliness creeps in.





This is my first poem that I wrote 11 years ago when I was 17, and it was inspired by my spirit mother Sena. He does photography and  one day he showed me a photo he took of a misty pine forest, and his hand was outreached out of focus with the grey misty forest beyond and immediately I had to write. It was then that  he became my muse, and stirred within me beauty for life with intense love and in turn poetry began to flow out of me and has never stopped since.   Everyone should find their muse…


0.14 | The Cost | Delise Vann

To portray two sides at the same time;

an array of love with a mix of rage, a dash of shame, and a pint of bitterness.

Hate you for accepting my frustration. Love you for bending to my will.

Why must you be so fragile?

Yet, I cannot live without you. Who else would accept my violent love?

Do I remember the first time I struck you,

the first time I laid eyes on you,

made love to you all those decades ago?

Has it  instead melded into my graying memory?

Sepia dreams  do I remember more vividly instead,

Passionate romances, complacent betrayal

My lack of power and inability to change

and express the outrage in my heart

towards the bitter injustice of my time.

My weak flesh.

My woman my queen, you gave me power,

gave me someone to order around, as I was ordered around.

And as broken as our family became because of my drunken pride,

truly you have absorbed all the destruction reserved for me.

Instead, now you are in disrepair.

Can I accept my role in the aid to your decrypt state?

I dreamed of you as you were before



clear witted

absorbing the suns rays, creating a warm haven, comforting, embracing your  honey brown colored folds…..scent of clover on your hands… after scent of bleach and blood…

Awakening to the sound of gritted teeth.

and the ever ringing tones; echoes of bombs long since passed,

after affects of a  war in which I refused to fight.

Bedroom dark. Bed cold.

Your indentation still remains, your scent barely so,

Reserve for the closet where your dresses faded with the dirt and grime of time still hang.

Her mind collapsed and yet mine will not leave me, nor my body.

I wish she were as she once was…

My Marion.

I wrote this about my grandmother and grandfather, they were young Black Americans, met in Evanston, IL. Fell in love or close to it, married till death do us parted and broken.

I love them, now only my grandfather is alive and despite all his past mistakes and flaws,  I’m glad I have him in my life. Born in 1923, he  has lived through so much, survived the 30’s depression, WWII, segregation and being second class in his own country. He still does things his way stubborn and prideful. “I pay the cost to be the boss.”  He never said how high the cost was though, all this time, I see now though, that it was quite high.

I have a chance to do anything with my life that he didn’t have. From his mistakes, I’ve learned not to repeat his and he’s helped me become a better man for it.

And sometimes, if I’m lucky, my grandmother comes to me in dreams, looking like she did  when she was young, full of life and we dance together arm in arm to some swinging Big Band  tune till twilight passes and dawn comes and I wake up knowing I’m loved.

0.13 | American Dream | G.O.M.C.

Had a nightmare. Something, some phantom of malice and rage was in my room whispering sick things into my ear. He or It, was clinging to my back, trying to get into my mind like needles pressing steadily into a gourd. This is what he said to me:

“We don’t have a death system in OUR country. We have a torture system, a rape system. By the time we’re through with you, you’ll be brainwashed and good as new. Even if we have to break every single bone, self-will and respect inside of you. You will comply. We’ll make you wish you were dead, but of course you won’t be able to take your own life. We have a prison system/mental institution for that. Which also includes our rape and torture policies. See how it all comes together to make sure your life is only yours till we see fit to take it?”

We men who rule the world, have it all planned out. We convince women it’s as it should be. God forbid they realize they’re more powerful than us. We must have them feel pampered so that they won’t want to fight. Girls should stay soft and pretty and easy and stay out of big boy affairs.

I wrote the nightmare down after I woke up terrified gasping for air, and I could still feel on my back that hot heavy presence left behind from what ever was haunting me in my sleep. I was 20 when I had this nightmare and it’s changed me to focus more on the problems in the U.S. because it needs fixing. I don’t think women in the U.S. have any right to judge and pity another culture when rape gets brushed off as boys will be boys, and the victim whether male or female, was asking for it and should have known better and the law doesn’t punish sex offenders with severity especially when pedophiles are concerned. They are allowed back into society to harm, abuse, destroy and traumatize  children. Why are people in prison longer for doing drugs or stealing money. So honestly material things are valued over human life in the U.S.?

I was raised to feel shame for wearing makeup and wanting to wear revealing clothes. I was raised to be afraid of American men, usually white or black men, and that I had to make sure I didn’t do anything that would set me up for rape, so that in court no judge or jury could point a finger at me and say, why were you wearing that, why were you out late at night? You brought this on yourself. The man gets no jail time, or does a year and can get out of a longer jail time with good behavior, while people caught selling or doing drugs get put away for the entire sentence with out pity.

I’ve been around a lot of American women that talk about how oppressed other women are in other countries, but when I went to Japan and saw how freely young girls could walk around in hooker heels and fishnets at 3 am with relative safety and no anxiety towards men, laughing hanging out with friends. Seeing old elderly women at 1 am going for walks without anxiety and fear.  I realized the bullshit I hear about Asian women being dominated by men is outdated in Japan. There’s still shame and silence in Japan towards rape, but I could go out dressed in whatever I wanted at 3am without men screaming I’m a slut, or whore and going to hell. My Japanese friends didn’t understand the intense paranoia and fear I was raised with to not wear certain things at night unless I wanted to get sexual attention from men. Good clean girls don’t hang out at all hours of the night.

In the U.S.  judicial system, rape isn’t taken seriously, pedophiles are let back into society, where they can live near schools and possibly prey on children again. American women need to fix America first, before going on a crusade telling other women in different cultures how oppressed they are, and try to help them so you can feel good about yourself and appease your savior complex.  Until the laws are changed and the mentality of our culture towards women’s/men’s bodies  and rape change so that people can wear what they want and be where they want and still receive justice when assaulted instead of blamed , I’m not going to talk about how bad other cultures are.  That would make me a hypocrite.