{1_01} SANJURO IN "YOJIMBO" understood

{1_02} the flow of power comes when there is need --

{1_03} from somewhere else than practicing moves good

{1_04} in practice, though don't render cuts that bleed, . . .

 
{1_05} . . . but only cleave the air with forceful style.

{1_06} Akira KUROSAWA looking down

{1_07} from heaven at "The Matrix" -- near a mile

{1_08} of point-of-view away -- begins to frown.

 
{1_09} MUSASHI joins him (somehow up there, too --

{1_10} apparently God's rules don't always yield

{1_11} precisely what some Christians say they do.)

{1_12} They toast the way God's mystery's concealed ...

 
{1_13} ... and slander silly scenes of samurai

{1_14} who practice hard to look good when they die.

{2_01} "JUST STOP RIGHT THERE," says Ming Liu in a snit.

{2_02} (Her martial artistry is far more fair

{2_03} than anyone, except Mike "Chat.") "I'll hit

{2_04} you ten times fast, if you do not repair ...

 
{2_05} ... your disrespect of all the hours I spend

{2_06} achieving what you could not hope to match."

{2_07} I BOW before her mastery to mend

{2_08} a little of the damage, but the catch . . .

 
{2_09} . . . is that Miss Ming has never killed a soul.

{2_10} Musashi never lost, his foes all died.

{2_11} And never did Musashi ever roll

{2_12} or flip into the air -- A simple stride . . .

 
{2_13} . . . as if to go to bed, and deadly stroke

{2_14} of blade through flesh. Then off to bath to soak.

{3_01} MING LIU SAYS "THAT'S NOT FAIR! You dropped your pants,

{3_02} revealing silly monkey-bottom shorts;

{3_03} I laughed so hard I lost my balanced stance.

{3_04} BUT I can fight from here," Ming Liu retorts.

 
{3_05} BOKE BOWS and pulls his pants up in one move,

{3_06} THEN SMILES and SAYS: "Forgive me for this game --

{3_07} for wielding your fierce face to cut a groove

{3_08} outside the normal path: involve the fame ...

 
{3_09} ... of Ming Liu's talent in the mystery

{3_10} of where this verse will go tonight ... just 'cause

{3_11} I saw her beauty on Discovery.

{3_12} Without permission -- breaking all the laws ...

 
{3_13} ... of copyright and ownership of face.

{3_14} But writing this in sonnets gives me grace." {g}

{4_01} [You knew he'd "go to church." Know what I mean?

{4_02} Let's let Boke's crazy preaching flow on by.]

{4_03} "I am the VINE," said Christ in John 15.

{4_04} If you have FAITH in Me [that means rely] ...

 
{4_05} ... you'll stay connected to the FLOW from God.

{4_06} Abundant branches -- bearing all your fruit.

{4_07} His ENERGY the source -- the fecund sod

{4_08} supplying all His FORCE/LOVE via root.

 
{4_09} "Apart from me, you can do naught," said Christ

{4_10} at His last supper in his earthly form.

{4_11} Supplying your connection was high priced.

{4_12} His sacrifice so harsh, the sky would storm ...

 
{4_13} [The sermon's over. Now we can go play.

{4_14} Boke once preached longer. This, a better way.]

{5_01} IN HEAVEN waiting for "Last Samurai" --

{5_02} a special screening never authorized

{5_03} by Warner Brothers, but some crazy guy

{5_04} named Boke who said (through God) he'd "be surprised" ...

 
{5_05} AKIRA has his popcorn by his side.

{5_06} Musashi and Toshiro said they'd bring

{5_07} some sake and some something lightly fried

{5_08} if angels who do little ought but sing ...

 
{5_09} ... would pause to cook some oriental treats.

{5_10} [The flow of heaven cannot be described

{5_11} with acc'racy, but hurry grab your seats

{5_12} before high octane sake's been imbibed ...

 
{5_13} ... 'cause then if you disturb the flow, your dead.

{5_14} How sad to visit heaven, lose your head.]

{6_01} As we await the screening, time to chat.

{6_02} "Musashi beat us here 400 years,"

{6_03} AKIRA pokes Toshiro somewhat fat

{6_04} from angel food and flown-in Kirin beers.

 
{6_05} "Four fifty," says MUSASHI with a grunt

{6_06} he learned from watching Kurosawa's stuff.

{6_07} "Toshiro in Yojimbo," BOKE (who'll punt

{6_08} his nose into a circle 'till "Enough!") ...

 
{6_09} ... now brushes in a line where talk might flow.

{6_10} The room goes silent. Does Boke's head still rest

{6_11} above his shoulders? Or will seeds we sow

{6_12} grow into conversation God has blessed?

 
{6_13} "Good film," MUSHASHI says, "Sanjuro knew

{6_14} the way to kill. And I have killed a few."

{7_01} MUSASHI drinks some sake, then resumes:

{7_02} "Consider how Sanjuro flows: A fight.

{7_03} No wasted motion. (Not cramped wars in rooms

{7_04} but in the open street.) Slice left to right ...

 
{7_05} ... while striding through his enemies. They lose

{7_06} their body parts and lives as he walks past.

{7_07} No flipping upside down. No monkey ruse

{7_08} does he require. His daily walk, their last.

 
{7_09} The stillness of his power. Nothing lost

{7_10} in frantic showmanship to calm his nerves.

{7_11} True samurais know jumping will exhaust

{7_12} your energy for slicing straight and curves.

 
{7_13} And when the fight is over, rest and drink.

{7_14} A smart man knows that sake helps him think.

{8_01} AMIDST GOOD SAKE Tom Cruise rides right through

{8_02} on horseback batting cannon balls with swords.

{8_03} Such honor and stupidity, "boo hoo"

{8_04} we cry in unison. The sight affords ...

 
{8_05} ... much laughter and more drinking to the dead

{8_06} who, unannounced, have slipped into the room.

{8_07} TOSHIRO asks, "Did someone make a bed

{8_08} for all these vis'tors who we may assume ...

 
{8_09} ... are not dead yet, but L.A. working stiffs --

{8_10} film extras and screenwriters who slipped in

{8_11} without an invitation? WHILE T. RIFFS

{8_12} good naturedly, AKIRA starts to spin ...

 
{8_13} ... some commentary with some more respect

{8_14} than samurais on sake can project.

{9_01} CONSIDER TWO MEN PRACTICING their form.

{9_02} A discipline of body and of time.

{9_03} TOM SAYS: It took 8 months 'fore I was warm --

{9_04} a near 'nough 'proximation of sublime . . .

 
{9_05} . . . true martial-artist quality, equipped

{9_06} to hold the screen and simulate the chi {chee}

{9_07} of real life fighters -- made my body ripped

{9_08} not just with surface contours but a tree ...

 
{9_09} ... of strength that's anchored in what lies beneath.

{9_10} Eight months of life consumed with growing roots.

{9_11} Habituating flows that give the teeth

{9_12} to graceful movement. Knowledge that transmutes ...

 
{9_13} ... time passing into something you can feel.

{9_14} A body that can sublimate cold steel.

{10_01} "That's nice, and sounds like... BULLSHIT." BOKE resorts

{10_02} at last to what these sonnets are supposed

{10_03} to be directed at. Not cool reports

{10_04} in sonnets to get done with .... but composed . . .

 
{10_05} . . . "to "clear the air" of that which Boke just cracked.

{10_06} Of course the complication is "to live" --

{10_07} and living means we sometimes must contract

{10_08} our faithfulness to truth ... for "what will give" ...

 
{10_09} ... (when pushing comes to shove) some solid ground

{10_10} to plant our feet and say: "On this I stand.

{10_11} Bushido code is something you can pound

{10_12} life into shape with 'midst the shifting sand ...

 
{10_13} But there are better things to shape your life

{10_14} than learning how to kill to handle strife.

{11_01} AND HEARING BOKE, WES CLARK pops through a hole

{11_02} in heaven's space-time matrix to debate

{11_03} the concept that a warrior has the goal

{11_04} of "focusing on death." BOKE says, "You're late, ...

 
{11_05} ... good gen'ral, I'm too clearly drunk to fight

{11_06} a man as smart as you, unless you'll catch

{11_07} up with my drunkeness. Don't strike a light,

{11_08} or I'll burst into flame from just one match ...

 
{11_09} ... like napalm-covered villagers. I hear

{11_10} you thought that Vietnam was something good

{11_11} and necessary. Covering your rear,

{11_12} sweet fellow former Baptist? What's that hood ...

 
{11_13} ... you keep in your breast pocket? Thinking cap

{11_14} for planning how to wipe folks off the map?

{12_01} AKIRA scowls at such a nasty blow

{12_02} that Boke struck Clark with, then returns his mind

{12_03} to "The Last Samurai" so he will know

{12_04} what he will say to God about this find.

 
{12_05} God lacks the time to watch each film that's made,

{12_06} so Kurosawa helps to thin the stock

{12_07} of what's worth God's attention. What will fade

{12_08} away inconsequentially, not rock . . .

 
{12_09} . . . the public mind of all society

{12_10} that's flowing through the air ... well, wires and stuff.

{12_11} The chaos calculation God will see

{12_12} depends on knowing what will stick. What's fluff.

 
{12_13} (Ed Zwick would be upset if God just read

{12_14} the cov'rage of this film for which he bled.)

{13_01} BOKE HELPS GOD watching TV: click click click ...

{13_02} Boke tapes the shows that -- for God -- are "Must See!"

{13_03} (That's why there was that note about Ed Zwick,

{13_04} and why Boke sometimes uses royal "we.")

 
{13_05} Then God and Boke watch TV --- just those shows

{13_06} that Boke thinks God might find some value in.

{13_07} The ones that make up "everybody knows,"

{13_08} and help define the lastest fads in sin.

 
{13_09} If you think Boke is crazy, get in line.

{13_10} Ask God, and God will say, yes, Boke is nuts --

{13_11} BUT when it comes to TV, Boke's DEVINE.

{13_12} (Yeah, really. Just that word. Not "monkey-butts!")

 
{13_13} And if you're wond'ring, yes, God is asleep

{13_14} and CANNOT be disturbed, or "Y'all will weep!"

{14_01} GOD KNOWS that Paris Hilton must be watched.

{14_02} You never know when she will show her ass:

{14_03} The crack or "whole nine yards." (That tape was botched!)

{14_04} "THE SIMPLE LIFE"? OK, but so low class. {smile}

 
{14_05} There's cheeky Paris. Who cares where's Nicole?

{14_06} To be Miss Ass-Crack's side-kick sure must suck.

{14_07} To know that if they ever took a poll

{14_08} no one would give you votes, unless you'd pluck ...

 
{14_09} ... sweet, high-haired grandma's chicken in the nude.

{14_10} A naked chicken plucking! Y'all stay tuned.

{14_11} Yeah, I know that I'm gettin' mighty rude ...

{14_12} This ain't a show to get God un-cocooned ...

 
{14_13} But I made lots of pictures, so there's more

{14_14} conclusions we can reach. Yep, there's galore!

{15_01} A BABY KILLER! Surely God must wake

{15_02} and stop this child's conspiracy... No, wait,

{15_03} the chickens! Yes, the chickens. My mistake.

{15_04} BUT WAIT, AGAIN ... Sweet politics of fate!

 
{15_05} The child's admitting we all bombed Iraq.

{15_06} It's not just looney Dubya's evil work,

{15_07} but each of us is guilty. God should smack

{15_08} us sideways ... down two notches. "What a jerk!" ...

 
{15_09} ... I hear some saying, but that's just the truth.

{15_10} An ugly truth well-spoken by a child

{15_11} who understands from toe to tiny tooth

{15_12} that as for chicken's, all the fam'ly's filed ...

 
{15_13} ... as guilty of the crime. But let's go eat!

{15_14} (Boke goes too far, but ain't that baby sweet?)

{16_01} A COUNTRY BOY. "A THREE-SOME." Oh what fun.

{16_02} Some playful drama for our wealthy girls.

{16_03} I somehow doubt that pa will get his gun

{16_04} and shoot their buns with buckshot. Not those pearls ...

 
{16_05} ... of rich-girl bottoms. Who would want to stare

{16_06} at buckshot-wounded butt crack? And for what?

{16_07} It's just some TV mischief, never fair

{16_08} to any of its victims. What you've got ...

 
{16_09} ... is class-bound situation. That's not new.

{16_10} And no, God won't be watching this with me.

{16_11} Rich girls don't go to heaven. Just the few

{16_12} who hand out ALL their money on TV.

 
{16_13} I somehow doubt the show will end this way.

{16_14} (But who knows, "country boy" may get some play.)

{17_01} SEE "RICH GIRLS" watching TV on TV.

{17_02} Quite horrified by lives not like their own.

{17_03} An Ethiop'an village -- poverty.

{17_04} Their feelings are sincere despite the loan ...

 
{17_05} ... of tape that seems quite "usefully" supplied

{17_06} when cam'ra's will be 'round to catch the looks

{17_07} upon each rich girl's face. Their casu'l pride

{17_08} subverted by the guilt that eas'ly cooks ...

 
{17_09} ... inside sincere, good rich girls who still feel.

{17_10} At least in Democrats. (I think these are.)

{17_11} No Paris Hilton's here. But still, appeal

{17_12} in pleasant, nat'ral ways. Could say, they're par ...

 
{17_13} If they were not so rich, they'd be next door.

{17_14} But without but-cracks will these sweet girls bore?

{18_01} BUT ONCE YOU'VE WITNESSED NEED, what will you do?

{18_02} THE "RICH GIRLS" probe ideas, and make a list.

{18_03} They live the life defined as "lucky few"

{18_04} who, once a plan is made, have never missed ...

 
{18_05} ... achieving what they aim for. They don't doubt

{18_06} the means to ends can always be acquired.

{18_07} From birth -- the confidence installed about

{18_08} the possibilities most have retired ...

 
{18_09} ... before they ever try. The parents' gift

{18_10} to their next generation. Yes, and means:

{18_11} Connections and resources most will sift

{18_12} through time and miss forever. Rich girl gleans ...

 
{18_13} ... from fields well strewn with diamonds and pearls.

{18_14} Accoutrements for all good wealthy girls.

{19_01} I DON'T KNOW IF THE "RICH GIRLS" saved "the world."

{19_02} But when they'd finished, peace arrived at home

{19_03} with yoga mats for each ... their bodies curled --

{19_04} caressed by well-trained specialists that roam ...

 
{19_05} ... from rich to richer houses in "their world."

{19_06} A truly diff'rent planet, yet the same

{19_07} rock-solid world beneath ... but much less hurled

{19_08} into that hard cold surface. They don't blame ...

 
{19_09} ... "the others" for their failing to achieve

{19_10} this wondrous independence from the fall

{19_11} awaiting, oh so many. They believe

{19_12} they have been granted blessings. But the call ...

 
{19_13} ... for help may fade into a distant space.

{19_14} Then they'll write checks, but never see it's face.

{20_01} CHRISTINA AGUILERA, "STRIPPED," on fire!

{20_02} A concert demonstrating all she's got.

{20_03} The will to make each soul and groin perspire.

{20_04} (Erase all words upon this line but) Hot!

 
{20_05} A tiny little body -- works it well.

{20_06} A spirit thrusting out to fill all space

{20_07} within her vision... casting her "wild" spell

{20_08} with black-haired gypsy flavor. Painted face ...

 
{20_09} ... Perhaps it's Paris Hilton under there. {g}

{20_10} SOMETIMES you have to break a spell to see,

{20_11} but even with that laughing breath ... aware

{20_12} that her rare gifts are not the ones for me.

 
{20_13} The power she transmits requires her flow

{20_14} be well-constrained in tunes -- I must let go.

{21_01} BUT WAIT, who is this girl in T and jeans

{21_02} appearing on the stage without a net

{21_03} of instruments and backup ... her voice cleans

{21_04} a layer off my heart ... We had not met.

 
{21_05} AND THEN she turns the microphone around

{21_06} and tear-filled voices sing the perfect song:

{21_07} a role for repetition ... in the sound

{21_08} of everybody singing right along ...

 
{21_09} ... with one accord, for justice of a kind.

{21_10} Unpunished pride in your identity.

{21_11} The tears stream down again as my thoughts find

{21_12} some sentimental chords... Just let it be.

 
{21_13} No clever frame of words can make me cry.

{21_14} But rarely can one song upend a lie.

{22_01} THE BOTTOM LINE FOR CONCERTS: it's a show.

{22_02} The microphone may turn 'round once or twice:

{22_03} a friendly gesture aimed from high to low.

{22_04} But only for a moment -- for the price...

 
{22_05} ... of concert tickets you breathe in the air

{22_06} of someone famous flowing their learned hooks

{22_07} within a context that is not aware

{22_08} of your identity ... Accountants' books ...

 
{22_09} ... are measuring your coming, but that's all.

{22_10} NO, concerts should not change, but we must learn

{22_11} of other possibilities that call

{22_12} within the matrix if we can discern ...

 
{22_13} ... new forms where our true presence is required.

{22_14} (More in that vein when I am not so tired.)

{23_01} THE WEDDING OF THE CENTURY! (Yeah, right.)

{23_02} What drama can producers interject

{23_03} to keep us in suspense? Let's make 'em fight!

{23_04} SEE Ryan/Fireman/Poet now bedecked ...

 
{23_05} ... with hookers who were hired to make him play

{23_06} their wicked bad girl games. No spoil sport,

{23_07} he goes along until they've ruined his day.

{23_08} "Reality" required that he comport ...

 
{23_09} ... himself in ways that he would never choose.

{23_10} This is not Ryan's wedding, it's a game.

{23_11} Now Ryan, follow hookers .... Else you lose

{23_12} our confidence. We made you, gave you fame.

 
{23_13} It won't be long now, just a few more tears.

{23_14} As Ryan wipes his eyes, the cam'ra leers.

{24_01} What can I say of SETH and his two femmes?

{24_02} It all depends on what the writers tell

{24_03} the three to do. They're game. Like living Sims,

{24_04} they'll play out clever lines toward grace or hell

 
{24_05} They're in a loop that can't be satisfied,

{24_06} although it can be fun to watch them run

{24_07} around the loop with spirit. I'll abide

{24_08} the stupid stuff for them ... Because they're fun.

 
{24_09} Please get them in another show, away

{24_10} from Romeo and Juliet who died

{24_11} a long, long time ago. This, Lord I pray

{24_12} ... facetiously. (Hey, I reused "abide!")

 
{24_13} That is the writer's problem -- same few frames

{24_14} must be recycled. Seth, good luck with dames!

{25_01} REMEMBER at the end of "Men in Black,"

{25_02} where galaxies were carried by a cat

{25_03} and, like ours, just a marble ... With one clack

{25_04} changed "hands" to some un-God-like funky rat.

 
{25_05} Well, not a rat, but gray, and funny-nosed.

{25_06} It might as well have been one... Oh, who cares.

{25_07} These BULLSHIT sonnets should have now proposed

{25_08} clear, warm and fuzzy linkages ... but tares ...

 
{25_09} ... or tears (or tears), you see, I can't make sense.

{25_10} This is too many sonnets at one time.

{25_11} Although I could pretend there is a fence

{25_12} around the boundary (and make that rhyme), ...

 
{25_13} ... it's better just to say, hey, YOU'RE real smart:

{25_14} THE KEY WAS GIVEN, you know in which part. {smile}

{26_01} IN HEAVEN, KUROSAWA shows me out:

{26_02} "I hope you get to come here when you die.

{26_03} I dare say that you take a stranger route

{26_04} than anyone I've seen. How 'bout some pie ...

 
{26_05} ... to take back with you?" Laughing in my sleep.

{26_06} (That Albert Brookes' film 'bout how when your life

{26_07} has ended you're compared to Merryl Streep.)

{26_08} "You sure you never plan to get a wife?"

 
{26_09} "Not on the schedule, Kurosawa-san."

{26_10} I bow, but can't remember for how long

{26_11} I'm s'posed to stay bent over. Like in "Ran"

{26_12} (pronounced like RON, but hey, I could be wrong) ...

 
{26_13} ... I don't remember what I had to say,

{26_14} but didn't get to see this film, today.

{27_01} IN PARIS, there's a letter from my femme

{27_02} who's aching for adventure... "Time you write

{27_03} some tales that leave me hanging on some limb,

{27_04} but I've heard news you won't begin tonight ...

 
{27_05} ... because you've burned out all the new brain cells

{27_06} I gave you when you did this once before.

{27_07} In two days, all these sonnets? Something tells

{27_08} me that you're rushing now to close the door ...

 
{27_09} ... on BULLSHIT sonnets 'fore the new year turns.

{27_10} Perhaps you're right, I'd argue either way,

{27_11} or something else than argue. My heart burns

{27_12} for Paris time with you ... If that's OK?"

 
{27_13} Yes, she pretends to ask, but she'll return

{27_14} the moment that she wants to. That, you'll learn.

BABELFISH
HAIKU REVIEW (NOT)

Aucun William Shakespeare

ine pourrait avoir terminé   
ces travaux

But not on my tail,
         That's a decoy. {smile}