Pic 73: 汐留 - Shiodome, Tokyo

Pic 72: 鎌倉 - Kamakura

Dead on Zero

Like weighing machines

we stand tall and straight, or

lie flat and low,

taking on weights and stresses

transduced by the load cells

within us.

We are read as correct or as

needing adjustment, which can be a

simple process of fine-tuning or

complex calibration.

We can be tough and hard-wearing, or

delicate and easily damaged, stand in

corners, or are displayed conspicuously.

We generate hope and mirth, disappointment

and pain.

And when we have served our time

we move on, superseded by our

successors, who are more sophisticated,

more conscious of the exigencies of the

ambience around them.

We are remembered, revered, or put on the

scrap heap, reduced to the base chemicals

of our constituent elements.

When out time is up we stand motionless,

with our readings dead on zero, and then we

become something else.

Pic 71: 後楽園 - Korakuen, Tokyo

Pic 70: 銀座 - Ginza, Tokyo

Pic 69: 銀座 - Ginza, Tokyo

Pic 68: 靖国神社 - Yasukuni Shrine, Tokyo

Pic 67: 銀座 - Ginza, Tokyo

Clouds

I know you're there
behind the white cloud
Mount Fuji

frosty morning

white cloud

from the kettle

Pic 66: 大崎 - Osaki, Tokyo

Pic 65: 鎌倉 - Kamakura

Pic 64: 渋谷 - Shibuya, Tokyo

Pic 63: 代々木 - Yoyogi, Tokyo

The Pampered and the Wild

Omotesando Stroll

pet poodle

reflected

in her shiny boots

Southampton Station (England)

on the disused platform

showering in the rain

a pigeon

Pic 62: 六本木 - Roppongi, Tokyo

Pic 61: 中井 - Nakai, Tokyo

Pic 60: 墨田 - Sumida, Tokyo

Our disappearing trees

土土土土土土土

苗木　苗木　苗木　苗木　苗木

木木木木木木木木木木木木木木木木木木

森森森森森森森森林森森森

林木林林林木林林林木林林林林

木木木木木木木木木木木木木木

木　木木　木木　木木　木　

木　木　　木　木　　　木

木　　　　木

木

木

土土土土土土土土土土土土土土土土土土土土土土

Pic 59: 六本木 - Roppongi, Tokyo

Pic 58: 墨田 - Sumida, Tokyo

Moon over mountains

     

                                       月

　　　　　　　　山　山山

　　　　　　　　　　　　

Pic 57: 六義園 - Rikugien, Tokyo

Pic 56: 梅島 - Umejima, Tokyo

Colour Haiku

Drains clog
with yellow leaves
What a beautiful mess!

                                       

                                       Red maple 

                                       green moss

                                       smell of incense

Above the pond

black branch

white heron

Pic 55: 田端 - Tabata, Tokyo

Pic 54: 六本木 - Roppongi, Tokyo

Pic 53: 銀座 - Ginza, Tokyo

Me and me

Give us your profile,

tell us who you are,

your good points, your bad points,

they say

A game: putting the pigeon in the humanhole;

the pigeon chuckles and coos

A description, an outline, about;

psychometric blank filling,

to know, and to know better,

and better to know something

I know where to start, but

I don’t know where to end

me, me, mE, me, Me, me, mE, me,

Me, me, Me, me, me, me, me, me

I can give you a me, but not the me;

this me is already different from

every me in the list.

The me that stands now was

lying down a while ago;

the bad of that me does not

exist in the good me of now, and now gone.

Pic 52: 駒込 - Komagome, Tokyo

Pic 51: 駒込 - Komagome, Tokyo

Pic 50: 大塚 - Otsuka, Tokyo

The OR Shines

       As per most days, the OR (office robot) boarded the 8:51 on the Odeo Line. It had been a bit of a hurry this morning; its metal body was not wearing the familiar glistening sheen. The OR looked worried. Better do something about it before reaching the office. What would the others say? More of the same old gossip about appearance; but one has to remember how beautifully the other ORs sparkle, how well they maintain their metal complexions. Yes, there’s a lot of pressure to compete with the others, and to look good at all times.

       The OR put its hand into its tool box and rummaged deeply and blindly through the comprehensive collection of tools and materials, now considered de rigueur by respectable  ORs. The fingers squeezed through the contents, through the reassuringly familiar feel of the miniature planishing hammer, the small screwdrivers, wrenches, assorted abrasive compounds, buffing powder phials, and polishing pads. The finger sensors recognized the sensuous texture of the quick-shine durable super-pad, and out it came to implement its task. Rub, gentle rub, slow rub, quick swish, delicate circulating motion, tap, dab, tap, dab.

       The others in the carriage sat perfectly still, except for their eyes, which betrayed a hint of disapproval, but at the same time were careful not to express their irritation too explicitly. They were all thinking the same:

No sense of shame, never heard of politeness, decorum, thinking of others. These kinds of cosmetic ablutions should be carried out at home.

Eventually, an elderly passenger dared to rebuke the inconsiderate miscreant: You don’t have to do that here. Do it at home. Makes me sick to see this kind of thing in public. It was different in the past.

The OR ignored this outburst and completed its final touches to its all-important appearance.

       The OR got off the train at the next station. As it climbed up the stairs and headed for the exit, it was just about noticeable that some sort of enhancement had been carried out on the smooth sheen of the silver body. It looked a little cleaner, a little younger than most of the other silver bodies beneath the bobbing silver heads rushing up the stairs and escalators at the same time.

Pic 49: 池袋 - Ikebukuro, Tokyo

Pic 48: 浅草 - Asakusa, Tokyo

Pic 47: 中井 - Nakai, Tokyo

Waves

  

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