34 months in Hiatus: Word Play #1

Several words from Hiatus:

It has been long since I’ve touched on the topic of poetry as a poet. And I am in a sense getting back on my route by handling the same materials that moved me, similar to what K did in remembering who he in MIB. This would come out as word play, but in a sense i’m trying to feel my way back to that poetry dip. Well, here it is:

Word Play #1


Comma intended

like reading poetry

and seeing

pauses in the line

breaks, and clinch

in every joke,

the drama it ensues

in pauses


So there we have it. Word Play #1. These are not poems, but from these words some can be poems. My hopefully poem or part of a poem. 34 months in hiatus. 


Time to polish my bad poetry. 😛 😀


Silence in Oriphino Jazz Pub


So, it’s not a Jazz Pub, but it often was full of 9-15 musicians all in one room, sharing the twinkle of liquor, the smell of smokes and japanese food. It just so happened that they were about to move that week.

I met my Japanese Neighbor, Mr. Sacho years before when I slipped a letter through under their door. I could not bring myself, a stranger, to ask to come in and listen to them play Jazz. But I had spent more afternoons outside listening to them play. I could not say what songs they were playing, but I was sure it was Jazz. What with all the trumpets and the trombones, the electric bass guitar, the pianist who had by coincidence had the same surname as mine, the Growling Drummer who reminded me of Louis Armstrong, the singing ladies who were Mr. Sacho’s Secretaries, the percussions which looked like bowling pins with rough edges, and the Japanese Man’s favorite instrument, the Saxophone.


There were three of which he had, and one which he owned for his entire life. He both had the Soprano, the Alto and the Tenor, but it was the biggest that he had loved the most. Getting back to the Sax Man, he had been delighted to have a neighbor who enjoyed his type of music. Once, he even invited me to learn to play his saxophone, the biggest which I would always get a sore thumb from. After jamming with his entire group, he would all ask them to eat from his table. Everyone would get a bottle or two of beer and a sip of liquor from Mr. Sacho. So, it’s not a Jazz Pub, but it often was full of    9-15 musicians all in one room, sharing the twinkle of liquor, the smell of smokes and japanese food. It just so happened that they were about to move that week. If he had the whim to do so, he would try to teach me the basics of the saxophone, or ask me to play with the band if one the key players were gone. Sometimes he would even want me to bring several pieces, usually the saxophone, home with me. I was just across the street, and he’d want it so much that I learn his intrument which I could practice all afternoon when I get back from school. I declined politely since I was not musically inclined like my siblings and could not the difference between the subtle changes in sound. I COULD, however FEEL the way the musician’s play their music.


In their own words, a musician had to be horny and imagine as if they were making love with their instrument. I could go on with the details but I choose not too. *laughs* There were a lot of rowdy jokes and boisterous laughter, i’m not sure which ones the other neighbors complain from, the Jazz or the laughter. I would roar, if I could, like the drummer especially when they sing ..mmm.. Louis Armstrong with the Umph! I can only sigh in memory how it was. I remember my siblings who were more musically inclined to note the subtle, which to me was, errors in their playing. But, it didn’t matter much. It is a different experience all together to watch the musicians’ reactions as they play with the Umph!, how it felt like when the lead trumpet would “riff” and how the bass player would …mmm…. *laughs I especially loved the trombone solo with the Pink Panther song. I can feel the chills in my spine and would love to hear from them again.


But, it is sad, that it was only when they were about to move that I was able to get a camera with the three big capital letters. *laughs* I was not able to get hold of pictures from which I could always look at from a photo album, but I had carried often the memory of those moments where I could literally feel the bump in my heart wish that I could play with them, and I did, even if it was only the bowling pin-like percussion. I loved how, I could not, remove, that smile, when, I, had, played, with them (Comma for Intended Drama). Think of Po the Fat Panda in Kung Fu Panda when he had that smile when he was in the middle of his idols. And we could hear him say in sloooow motion “I looove yooou Guuuys”. Well, I too had the same feeling even if it was that one moment. I felt like a child in their company. Like the sense of child-likeness or child-minded. I’m sorry, haha, i think music is just one of those cases, well several if you do know me, that I do. hahaha. Or maybe just genuine enthusiasm. 😀


The percussion box – D300



Banjo – D300


The Percussion Box II – D300


Oriphino Dining Table – D300


Liquor Bar – D300


Kanji Text – D300


Piano and Drum Set – D300


Before Moving – D300


Side Note – D300


Moving Out II – D300


Silence in Oriphino – D300

By Sukoshiyama

Dated 19 April 2013

In Response: To Maggie Mae

First, I want to thank Maggie Mae, a poet who I am currently following. I hope that you could find this discussion interesting, she really does write provocative poetry that will sure ignite your lost sense of curiosity and wonderment.


My Reply:

Wait, before anything else, i’ve got to say wow, nice layout! (it’s been three years since i’ve written poetry and what my lit prof kept telling me was that i should find a better word than nice for expression, but i still couldn’t find a word. hahaha)


Just as a writer of filipino fiction and essays, Butch Dalisay once said it, a writer’s block is a state of fermentation that an idea is not yet ripe for it be used, perhaps we are still lacking in experience, wisdom, and enough vocabulary to cover every word. :D (yeah, i dig this blog, i can totally feel your experience brewing with well grounded black coffee).

yep, a poet is only as good as his last one. hahaha, my last one mind you was ‘Profundity’…was it? See? I don’t even remember what date i wrote it! hahaha :D


Yeah, after I lessened my time training in Karate and Arnis, most of my free time went to that i guess. I found out that I missed having a good conversation about books, a pinch of philosophy, a batter of spiritual foundations (or any spiritual values you follow which keeps you sane in a cut throat work place :D :D :D ), anime, manga, anything that could be discussed about. I missed that part there. Although I’m sure that the physical aspect would have slower progress, i find that it is more balanced, think of it as having fullness, as opposed to focusing on a few things which I would just do, i think I like to keep my whimsy once a week after 5-6 days of schedules. if you know what i mean sister. :D :D:D


hmm…it’s actually conversing with people, about books, or just pretty much writing about anything, aaaaand the whimsy. I am more of a rainbow than a laser. :D :D :D
And i want to thank the poems that i liked in your collection that inspired me, wait, that is an inappropriate word for the experience…the poems in your collection reignited, yes that’s THE word, REIGNITED. :D Thank you for being one of those people. :D :D :D

let’s all not get too much preoccupied with our work to forget what scientists and children both have, curiosity and the sense of wonderment.


Wow, i can almost have this posted as a response blog and have it linked to your site. I do hope that it reignites more followers, eh?


Seriously, thanks Maggie Mae.

Now that you’ve read it, well,  i might analyse her poem for the sake of doing it since I do SO MUCH ENJOY reading her work.  “The Only Hands I Want To Know”  Please check her poetry out.

– Sukoshiyama

Mmm…Finally, i found how i can categorize my poetry analyses for the fun of it, entitled “As the Mountain Moves…” Followed by the following words as needed:

  • Poetry: Title
  • In Response: To Name – a long response with interesting (at least to me 😀 ) ideas I might like to expound or elaborate on.
  • Poetry Analyses: Author’s Name, Apostrophe “S” & Title of Work.

– Sukoshiyama

On Flinching in Karate Class


Three weeks ago, was the first time after a very long while that I practiced Karate with our Shito Ryu Master. And the whole training part was a little less than an hour. I was just on my way home from work which is more than 14 kilometers away from home.  The security guards at our village’s gate pointed up towards the basketball gym and said, your friends are up there training.  And I thought really, at this day? It’s not even sunday. You see, I have this neighbor who presently works as a chief engineer in Taisho, a Japanese construction company. He’s presently 60 years old and has been retired from teaching karate for almost 25 years. He had spent time teaching Karate in Tokyo, not sure which university though, but he said he was part of a club. And just like the first Karate Kid, it just so happened that he taught karate to me 2-3 hours a week every sunday. So, seeing them practice Karate off sundays was unlikely but then i thought, it is a holiday after all. I remembered how he invited us to train with him last December of 2012, I could not come though but my sparring partner (and also best friend) was free. He has been taking extra lessons ever since. He has more free time than me. Since he only focuses on his thesis defense for the month of march. I’m sure that if he gets back to work we’ll pretty much have the same busy schedule.


So, the first thing I did notice when I went up was how my sparring partner improved in two things. One was the ferocity of his punches which were all aimed at the head, second was his damnable footwork. Damnable in a good and positive sense, think of it as a healthy and friendly competition. Wow, a month and a half (6Ssundays plus 4 holidays a total of 10 days advanced than me). I praised him when I entered, but only after gaping my mouth. That was when he started to grow conscious and his attacks faltered. It looks like I distracted his concentration there. I hurriedly went home to change to join them in their last hour to train spar. I jumped right into the fray, which is my good point, the bad point was I don’t know enough ways to attack. Our master’s attack defense seems so formidable. I could remember all my punches being quickly deflected. And he gave me a combination of punches, kicks and some techniques when i get cornered. This time though, he rested first and I was left with my sparring partner, Isagani, I found myself flinching, though i tried to stop it, whether in trying to deflect his punches or having my punches connect with him. Now the problem was that when I sense that my punch is about to connect, I flinch again. Our master yelled at me, don’t Flinch a lot of times, monitoring my reactions, punches and kicks thrown.


Thinking about the play spar after a five minute break, I recalled Sun Tzu’s note of wisdom. War is a battle of deceit not just strength. When weak, retreat. When strong, attack. Well i could not remember all of those techniques that flowed out of my head, but in a sense, i knew i could not yet win over Gani’s attacks, so I have to find a way to disrupt his combination. I did so by calming myself, since I get rather jumpy when i’m excited, like a dog who haven’t been outside for a long while. I get that, i calmed down and my hyper focus began to dissipate allowing me to sense his attacks better. I was able to time my kick as a feint quickly followed by a punch or two. I kpet doing that since I had a longer reach, and i was able to get a second from him allowing me to stop his attacks altogether. I was like “Wow, I actually did it.” Then our master praised my quick thinking, he saw through my feints and thinking. I actually stifled a laugh, but found that i couldn’t. I really did TRY to swallow a laugh or two…but couldn’t. Now talk about humility. That didn’t work much with my master. He knows how I tried to do it and ended up flinching. At least in when i control my hyperfocus, dropping it for that higher sense thing. I could somehow observe him more, and watch and time my defense. Also, i could not yet attack as often, so instead I opted for defense and really observed how he does his. At the end of the blog, i’m really going to have to summarize all the lessons that I learned.


(from the artofmanliness – face it, isn;t there a greater sucker for one fights women?)

Even though i sucked in play sparring class, I was able to learn more than from the past lessons. Think of it as combining all the other lessons I learned in my classes before, to the amount of revelations I got during the 45-minute play spar were higher. Maybe, for one, i learnt how to be calmer in attacking. In being calm, you get to sense your surroundings better, you not only focus on a way to enter his attacks, you try to observe how you can deflect his attacks (I was thinking that since he was way beyond my level and also because our master was in that flow). Also, I learnt how to execute my attacks using feints. Although master taught me that I still have a lot to iprove with my legs, it was a good attempt to try to control my opponent with my feints. Still the reason it didn’t work on him was because my kicks were slow, also my punches were weak since I flinch. Now the tendency to flinch in a way does affect my punches. Especially when I connect, I still flinch because I’m afraid of hurting myself as well as hurting others. When I do flinch whenever I punch I end up pulling my fists restraining them in order to control the thrown punch. I tried to control this instinct, I tried to tell my master that I was aware that I am flinching but could not control it yet.  I do try to swallow this instinct to flee, perhaps doing so would help me have a better grasp of the battle situation. Perhaps if I do, I would be able to control my punches more and time my attacks with accuracy better.


Reflecting on what I learned during this experience, I could summarize it in hopes that I could always remember them better. It is always advisable, at least to me, that in fighting, one has to calm down to better sense your opponents reactions. It also helps you to better time your attacks. In my experience calming down helps you clear your thoughts. It can also help you with overcoming fear. The breathing in and out deep method of Sanchin helped out a lot in maintaining control and regulated my reactions. I tried it a lot of times, when excitement gets the better of me, I waste a lot of movements, unlike when I’m calm, I tend to get my punches to connect accurately as I wait for openings in my sparring partner’s attacks.


This blog entry may be more therapeutical rather than written to inform or entertain. Think of it as a diary on your learnings. Something like that. – Yeah, I’d like to thank the other martial arts blogs that I’ve read for the past few months. What really helped was the noting out the lessons learned as to having to relearn them after a few months of a consistent training hiatus. Don’t worry; this ain’t part of reasons dot com. Really, sometimes you find yourself getting into recurring situations for several months or even years. I’ll explain it in a different post though, perhaps as a Flinstones Chewables to keep the thought running before I build it up as a full blog post on my The Morning Bath Post. Anyway, I’m done for today.

Sukoshiyama, The Morning Bath Post

– 16 APR 13

* The Morning Bath Post – General informal essays, Flintstones Chewables – lines of thought for future blog entries (one to two short paragraphs), Poetry – simply posted as poetry and poetry analyses, Ooh…Crafty! – Essays on cosplay

On getting back to poetry writing

it’s been two years since i last wrote a poem or even attempted to write one. Now comes the hard part, recognizing which experiences to magnify, retelling it in a way that seems natural, and working out the works. Pretty much, most of my writs are conversational essays. Well in a way, pieces that were talked about with friends and later elaborated in text. Sort of self-expression but in a way that answers your needs.

1993 Battle Chess and more Chess

While I was having a shower, I thought about a lot of other things. Mostly it was my past:


When I was still a little boy then. I grew up with the battle chess. I still remember the huge pixelized characters fighting to the death. They had the lowly pawns in full battle gear; a shining grayish silver like those in the Cecon Vitamins advertisement. The pawns were equipped with a long spear that they use for attacking. The rook was just one big tower that looked like a pile of bricks and when captured or moves turns into the brick golem. One would imagine either a red brick or blue brick ‘thing’ from fantastic four that moves irritatingly slow. The knight carried a short sword with a four checkered shield for parrying. The bishop had a spear but with large blade on top. The queen had magic powers, while the king, an old and bearded guy who wears a gemmed fur coat and a scepter has a hidden dagger. Of course, as a young kid I didn’t find any difference between chess and checkers (dama and perdigama). All I thought chess was about was material superiority which later changed throughout the years. I could always turn back the time with the replay button which gave me a demigod status. Watching in delight the animations that take place, the king flattened by the rook, the king cornered by a bishop and sliced in a whirling tornado-like motion, and even the opposing queen seducing the king, Battle chess was surely a delight then. It was enough for a start.

When I had my nth birthday back when I was a kid, I was surprised to get a chess board. It was such a delight, at least now I don’t have to wait until physical education to play chess. I do think that it was strange to include Chess in P.E. classes; really, you don’t use physical exertion when playing chess except if you’re moving a 50 kilogram knight to capture a pawn. Hahaha. I remember back then in my hometown in _a_ _i__s. We still lived in a small subdivision; I used to bring my chess board around, walking through other villages as a young boy looking for an opponent to play with. Seriously, i walked around under the heat of the sun with only a few pesos in my pocket or sometimes even without anything with me except for my chess board; I would scour two or three subdivisions via the friendship route. I always kept three rules in mind when playing chess and that is first that I would never surrender no matter how bleak the circumstances are. Second, that I would always, always have a touch move rule, and lastly, a third rule which is I would never ever bet my money. One is that my parents forbid me to, while second, gambling can be addicting. Whenever I think about all these things, about how I would wander around villages with a chess board to play chess I would just laugh to myself. I don’t care what people think, and if they ask me why I laughed I just tell them I remembered a funny thought I just had.

On Haruki Murakami’s Dance, Dance, Dance

morningbathpost-murakami, gloc 9 rapper

I skipped merienda reading Murakami’s ‘Dance, Dance, Dance’ possibly a sequel to ‘a wild sheep chase’. And it is though he didn’t add number with the same title or the main character’s name; “No, of course not”, I thought to myself. Instead, he would name his books accordingly to what the story may be said is about. It’s the theme or more of the plot in big bold letters to catch attention. Now I’m eating butter bread as an appetizer before a large meal of fried chicken and chopseuy. Delicious.

Have any of you read or even have heard of Haruki Murakami? Well, I can say he writes brilliantly and is my favorite writer. I’m tempted to justify why I like him even though no one’s asking. And I do think of that a lot especially if someone comes up to me and asks why I like reading his works or why I do think he’s a great writer. So far, no one’s asking yet. But still it keeps bugging me. And as a writer myself I feel that somehow in a few years or so a professor critiquing my work would ask and I would be required to answer back in a most intellectual sense. Or to put it simply how to answer someone asking what the book is all about. I can go in great lengths to narrate what I just read or I could simply tell him what the whole book talks about, meaning what I thought the author intended. Somehow it all boils down on me that I do have to make a point of what I am saying. Please bear with me.

Well that’s enough introductions, I guess. Now I have to realign my thoughts about Murakami’s ‘Dance, Dance, Dance’. Observing the book’s cover art published under Vintage it had an all white background with the author’s name in bold ink, perhaps using the arial font. It has a half of its space for the illustration of a broken record piece as if torn apart and not cut in a straight line. Just above the illustration is the book’s title ‘Dance, Dance, Dance’ in red ink with the last ‘Dance’ word emphasized. This brings us to an earlier part of the book where the Sheepman tells the main character which I think was not even mentioned.  I’m not sure. But anyway, the sheepman tells him to keep on dancing no matter what happens. Pondering on this thought, I remember Gloc  9’s song about dancing. And it tells you to keep on dancing whatever life throws at you. It’s a catchy song, funny even and truth to his words. That’s why I like Gloc 9. So to put on simply, regardless of the plot the book tells you to live, no matter how pointless it may seem, just continue to live, live, live. As the Sheepman says, keep on dancing even if the record’s broken, just keep on dancing.

This is perhaps going to be a long essay about the book I just read. I always get those “hangovers”, the good kind, from the books that I’ve enjoyed reading. Usually they leave me spaced out and pondering on the words of wisdom that the book is filled with. Anyway, let’s move on to the next thing in mind. Murakami does make poetry out of what he writes. Now it’s really hard to explain especially what poetry is. All I can say is that I am a poet myself and understanding poetry is sort of similar to the experience I have reading Murakami’s works.

There’s this whole atmosphere that he writes about in the two books. There’s the larger part which is isolation. The character is isolated, not like a hermit or something, but more of a wallflower and somewhat…– But i’ll continue writing about it in another post.