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gekkousensei · 3 years

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Heyo!

Check out @takashikobayashi‘s first released track on YouTube!! As always, it’s on Spotify and Apple Music, too, but as always, the metadata has been distributed wrongly. Once that’s solved, we’ll share the links!

Stay tuned for an article written by @helpmonmon which explains what a musician who is starting out needs to know about music distribution in a lot of detail. We’re going through this nightmare so you don’t have to!

Make sure to follow us and the team for music, updates, and tips!

Much love!

#music

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gekkousensei · 3 years

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ayyy look at my first prose in english !! join sekai, we’re cool and we have competitions !

https://discord.gg/tXyWBugRgW

“Lost in Translation” || SSSC Jul ‘21: 1st Place

by Takashi Kobayashi - @takashikobayashi

1640 words

A mundane morning finds my gaze darting blankly to the ceiling. There are no signs of time passing as the curtains restrict the sunlight from breaking into my room. I get up in one quick motion and sit on the edge of the bed. I dangle my feet and sigh. Welcome to yet another day.

The irritating sound of an alarm disturbs the eeriness of the dark room. “Shut the fuck up,” my finger rests on the touchscreen for a few seconds. “Curtains. Tea.” I drowsily drag my feet across the room and dramatically pull the two curtains in opposite directions. A blinding ray of sunlight rapidly meets me. My palms rush to cover my face as my eyelids shut, “Why the hell did I do that?!”

A clock which I do not remember buying produces a disturbing noise: a growl instantaneously raising its pitch. It fills the otherwise silent room. My gaze darts to various, spontaneous corners. The echo of a countdown loudly resounds, bouncing off each of the walls once, then twice, then repeatedly, speeding up with every odd number. Random vowels pierce my eardrums as I continue my futile attempt to locate the timekeeper. I cannot. I blindly rush to the entrance of my apartment. An often-forgotten tile holds my pair of shoes which conceals the marble’s patina. In a rather indescribable motion, I put them on and walk out the door.

Every different 24 hours, I am met by familiar, robust friends. They might acquire different garments as seasons pass but I recognise their intentions. I take a moment and greet them, watching the wind rehoming their leaves. A striking wave of jealousy shakes my body. The ease with which their almost-lifeless vessels travel taunts me. My gaze follows the remains of the trees’ crowns left barely bare. A multitude of warm-colored flags standing in solitude is fighting against a much stronger force. Nothing sets them apart from the ones who have collapsed to the cold pavement — same essence. How come they didn’t share the same fate? How come some escaped, and how did they know where to land?

I take an abrupt right turn onto the main road. A new world emerges. The colossal buildings, neon signs, and blatant pornography make it impossible to imagine a different outcome to my life, casting a shadow on each dream or wish I have ever had. The seemingly desirable protective aura has ultimately helped me grow but has no intention of letting me escape its identity. I could never picture the possibility of no ulterior motives, of pure sincerity in wishing to be one of them. Even more, I could never understand the need to do so.

I was taught how to determine the four cardinal directions by reading my palm but I was never told their purpose. North, South, East, and West stand no meaning to the streets expanding like inhaling airways - tiny little cogs in a clockwork lung. My mind is lulled by the music of birds, crying to one another from all around me. Drastic forces keep pulling from all sides to eviscerate my orientation each day, as it has become a routine for me to walk in the wrong direction around the park in my neighborhood. Yet, still, I find no use for either of the compass-determined destinations; whether or not I head towards an opposite landmark, I always end up where I am meant to be. One would think that locations so close and often trodden might become familiar to me, procedural and instinctive, yet the cartographer in my brain remains asleep.

I take a moment to breathe and sit down on the sidewalk, ignoring the occasional glances from the crowd. A swarm of locusts crosses the intersection, to and fro, rushing; their blank expressions and emotionless eyes give them an apparent distance from each other. Gradually, the locusts turn into bees promptly attending to their flowers, gravely engrossed with their business. Several more judgmental looks meet my sight. How huge of a crime are different coloured stripes? I sit down and I observe. They do not see the approaching storm and they do not care for it.

There are no consequences in this polyphonic ocean. A slightly crumpled cigarette touches my lips and the fire plays against the humid air. I smoke and I observe. The previous symmetry is broken by a man with a motorcycle holding a bouquet of roses, cursed out by a taxi driver trying to drive past the other’s poorly parked vehicle. An elderly couple - a man and a woman - walks past the commotion, carrying an oversized mattress, and slowly fading away behind a patch of nature. It starts to rain.

I ignore the hood resting on my shoulders and continue to roam. The position of my cigarette is now unknown. I look back, trying to trace it, only to see it extinguished, resting on the wet pavement. Sighing, I contemplate picking it up. I look around, and then back at it. It has no use, not anymore. There is only so much water that a tiny flame can resist. I walk away, reaching for my pocket and discreetly lighting a new one - yet another illegality. I focus on my feet as the surroundings have already been imprinted to the back of my mind. They fade in the corners of my eyes as I am rushing to no particular place.

There is no clear indication of where I am. A quick glance at the street signs argues against a foreign mother tongue. I would much rather believe that I am clueless and confused than face the reality that I am lost. Regardless of whether I take the right or the wrong turns, of whether I make the right or wrong decisions, I am spiralling down the same streets. I may know where I am headed, and I may be aware of how to use a map, but my knowledge of my hometown is redundant in the eyes of a mere choice.

Another right turn brings me in front of a convenience store. I keep walking straight ahead, being guided by the sound of the raindrops crashing onto the asphalt. A left turn accidentally bumps me into a group of children engrossed with their games.

“Excuse me,” my voice gets lost amongst their innocent laughter as I get further and further away from them. I miss this carelessness. I miss this freedom. Youth does not know judgement, or at least, youth does not recognise judgement. Youth provides excuses. The sound of their commotion is playing off-key tunes to my ears but I do not look back. I am familiar with it, I understand it; I was them, so I smile and continue to walk away.

What am I trying to achieve? Where am I headed? I have once again misplaced my cigarette. The numerous attempts my sister has had at convincing me to quit smoking are echoing in my head. I probably never will. Another cigarette touches my lips with a mesmerising taste of wasted money. I light it and look away. A mocking wind blows the smoke in my face as I continue to walk so I laugh.

The trees are agitated. The poor beings are strong enough to withstand any hardships and live long enough to possess all wisdom, but they cannot understand how futile their struggle is. The wind will continue to blow and it will continue to try to sway you regardless of how much you try to shake it away… They have stopped me in my tracks with their hectic dance. I wonder just how long will it take before their movement synchronises with the current. Will it be a few minutes, a few hours, or a day? How much time will it take them to stop trying to escape the inevitable, no matter how painful that fate is? It is far more liberating to let go.

I rummage through my pocket and find a misplaced piece of paper - random scribbles of thoughts from my lectures.

“The unimportant talk, the unimportant faces with their smiles – the fact that it’s all so unimportant is the reason it’s good to be home.”

I don’t remember writing this… and it’s a bit absurd that I did. A body accidentally collides with mine and the paper drops to the pavement, instantly being stolen by the gale’s invisible hands.

“Excuse me.”

I am brought back to the absurd reality of my being. Blinking twice, then blinking again, I look around. People of all shapes and sizes are swarming around on the main street, disturbing the peace of numerous other leaves finding their forever home. With this, I slowly make my way back to my apartment, tracing the butts of cigarettes I’ve left on the ground. I try to distinguish North, South, East, or West, yet the blur of familiarity appears before my eyes. I should know how to tell those apart, I should know which road to take, and perhaps I should also know where I am headed, but I do not. I have actively chosen not to know.

After all… what is to be perpetually lost other than a choice? There is a moment, a specific aching in your bones, an instantaneous haunting nightmare, in which you stop trying to find a way out. Uniqueness is an illusion. Strangeness is an illusion. Mere details and mistakes - they all get lost in translation. The seducing gestures of comfort embrace your soul. You give in. The consequences of yet another day passing should not hurt. The consequences of yet another week passing might not hurt. The consequences of yet another month passing might hurt, but no one is counting.

I open the door of my apartment and place my shoes in that one corner. It’s good to be home.

#short story #short fiction #writing #writers #creative writing #lost #loss #tokyo #discord #Discord Server #writing competition #short story competition

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gekkousensei · 3 years

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Watashi wa a victim of cyberbullying. Everyday someone online calls me a "horny boy" desu. Watashi won't stand for this. 26 percent of bullying victims are chosen due to their kinks or sexuality desu. I may look like a basic anime boy, but deep down I am not horny desu. Watashi religion is anime. Anata wa bullying me because of my kinks and sexuality desu ka? Disgusting desu. Anata should be ashamed of yourself, kinkshaming pig. A baka gaijin like anata is probably jealous of my kinks and sexuality, cause hentai is more sugoi than your shitty kinks desu. Watashi pity anata. You'll never be horny like watashi. I'm a horny boy? Pfft. I AM A DADDY DESU. Educate yourself on nani a "horny boy" is before anata try to insult watashi desu. I WILL NOT BE CYBERBULLIED ANYMORE. REPORTED.

#copypasta

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gekkousensei · 3 years

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prism // a poem by takashi kobayashi & kiyūkō

there are two sides to each coin; why does my heart flutter just as much when it lands on heads, or tails, on its edge, or on any point? not every garden is divine, yet I worship all the flowers or trees of all powers, that I discover growing in mine. how did it happen that I program my soul with not only 0s and 1s, but all the numbers - negative, complex, or whole? I roam, ignoring the warnings; so how come that my soul is seen whether it is day or night, afternoon or morning, or any moment in between? how come I used to quiver and fear the thought of the day in which someone would linger on the stained-glass windows of my being? how come i was made to question mistaken punctuation in my paragraphs, and minus signs in positive equations? how come I believed them? why was I afraid? how come it took a foreign hand reaching out from an unknown realm, a Heaven of all kinds, for me to accept myself? how come my mind wrote endless interrogatives until I had the courage to end its statements with a full stop? I am who I am. I am myself. I am valid. I am loved. I am valid, as I love the heads, tails, or the edges of a coin, flowers, trees, 0s, 1s, or 104.7s, days, nights, afternoons, mornings, or any second of any day, him, her, them, or you. as long as my heart is content and deserving of this passion - pieces in a puzzle, drunken laughter, cigarette ashes, and cold flames - I will continue to love, with no question marks or commas, but with a full stop simply because I can.

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kiyu's blog kiyu's twitter my insta

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gekkousensei · 3 years

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首筋の痣 (kubisuji no aza)

i pour myself a glass of dark red wine - sanguine liquid rushing through my veins, a forceful repeating desire for closure in a pumping casket, endorsing how you pour me another glass of red wine. i use it to quench my heedless thirst; my fingers wrap around its solid base and so my mouth swallows it whole. perhaps i am one wild animal and no manners are thus needed; dripping from the corners of my lips is residue of the love liquid. your wet words wipe my face clean, racing their way to my exposed neck; a punctured trail flows with red wine so you savour it right off my skin.

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gekkousensei · 3 years

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月光 (gekkō)

under the moon’s hue, a parabola of starlight houses echoes of harsh breaths. they call each other’s names, locking their fingers with warmth, satisfying selfish needs only if one knows what it means to need. the puppeteer plays the game with black ropes in crossed patterns and tight strings waiting to be pulled, all tied around his straw doll - his trembling toy used around the edges. the earth shakes to their rhythm, faster by the minute. faster and harder the purple stains on his porcelain grow in luminosity with every pull and fight for power. a mental flame ignites and melts all coherent thoughts, eruptions of ecstasy, contained by the anticipation of heat. the grip is loosened on the leash and the doll bends at his will. with a conscious evil grin, his lips bend around his subject:

『愛しいの夢、月が綺麗… ですね。』

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『月が綺麗ですね』(tsuki ga kirei desu ne) translates to "the moon is beautiful, isn't it?" it means something else tho lolol you can look it up if you are curious (^-^)

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gekkousensei · 3 years

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complementary

linked by an unlimited series of timeless events yet parted by the breathing of their respective air, a pair of lungs forgets about the functions of life, fantasising about love languages and affairs. red and green, blue and orange, violet and yellow, sun and moon, good and evil, perhaps fire and air, one hundred thirty minutes repeating to infinity at the promiscuous will of whomever cares. many miscalculations and misunderstandings of the alluring once-in-a-lifetime experiences matter not for the soul whose turn it is to breathe and fantasise about the essence underneath. none of the amorous words known by dictionaries speed through the medium as they perhaps should; as the regulating of one’s pneumonic half varies, their ability of judgement is blissfully obscured.

#poets on tumblr #love poetry #new poets society #poems #poems on tumblr #short poem #short poetry #love poem #poets corner #love #original poetry #spilled poetry

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gekkousensei · 3 years

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one and above

brutal gasps for air grant you temporal release from the pathetically incomplete little affair… the silence amplifies i am displeased and i know you can do better than this. your one begging breath rests on my thigh as my aching palm holds your head still; while your knees’ blushed dye i can’t deny, be certain that i praise your skill. i control your rhythm and you relish the flavour as i skilfully synchronise our carnal desires; since you know i cannot change my nature, your humble rainy eyes are pretty little liars. your locks race right between my fingers like glimpses of sand through an hourglass - a slipping memory to desperately cling on as my sanity surpasses its limits at last. my selfishness overwhelms my mere being while i force your gaze into following mine. i abuse the second of your devilish grinning and thus supremely a renewed task i assign. your leash gets tightened at my feral will and my will wishes not to show you mercy. your piercing nails cling on to my pale skin on parts of me you each crave perversely. your voice cracks as you beg me to take you so i pull you to my level and pin you to the wall; of all known reasons in the world to love you, i stupidly lost count of how many i can recall.

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gekkousensei · 3 years

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from the opposing team

my fingers linger between her trembling thighs and the pace of my breath is such a wreck, a gasp - she is tugging on my two red ties so my lips can rest in the crook of her neck. the light bulb in our overpriced hotel room flickers above us with each of her soft moans; she’s not meant to be here, a secretive doom encloses and owns the echo of our groans. “let me make you mine…” my sweating palms guide her legs to my waist, my eager tongue travels to welcome her breasts, a brief meeting of our gazes stops time in its place before she rolls back into her conscious space. our rapid collisions help remind me of my name; to make your voice break, your breaths speed up often is a foolish, pointless, yet personal aim - an aim that is perhaps too high of a jump. my eyes open to the mundane reality around my being. there is nothing to do to change the way she’s feeling about me. she will never want me in the way i dream about her. it’s all a game and she’s chosen her team ---

> thank you @kiyuukou for helping with punctuation and formatting lol

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gekkousensei · 3 years

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cw: death / guns on today's edition on

how do people write prose ??

brilliant !!

The Red Awning

“Of earthly learning, I feel I have lost more than I can recount, yet I am certain that those who are ignorant of their inexorable fate are in some way blessed. They would only think it empty and malign. I do not care to educate them, still, I beg those who wish to frolic through their days in ignorance to continue no further. I promise, there is nothing for you here. Whoever finds this letter, these words aren’t for you. Do what you will with it.”

He scrawled in a scared fervour. Time crawled, still – unnoticed. Willem held the pen with all his strength, exerting what energy remained to keep his hand from shaking. He tensed, flexing his forearm muscle.

Like strangling something small and feeble, isn’t it?

His entire world felt confined to the soft glow of a candle, struggling to illuminate the spare contents of the table, Willem’s damp parchment, a small revolver pistol and a few spare coins. The light couldn’t stretch to the four rotting wooden walls he had retreated within. Dim, foggy moonlight barely crept past the doorway. Willem snapped with his offhand at his ear, forcing all his scattered, spiralling thoughts back to the task at hand.

“I write this letter to the two who hunt me. Please show me mercy for being stolen away from you. I declare myself rightfully yours and ask only for what was gifted to me upon my death.”

Gifted?!

A voice half-remembered spoke in his thoughts, cutting through the deafening static. It felt like Willem’s, but it sounded like a stranger.

Ignore him, you can shed that one now.

Everything from the moment he opened his eyes was like a fever dream. Willem had screamed blue murder in his cold box, his brain boiled and rampaged within his skull. Some terrible barbaric power had come to him, the lid of his prison smashed free from the brittle iron nails that were its guards. Dirt and dried blood hid under Willem’s nails, evidence of his scramble to the surface.

“I heard seductive calls and songs while at your doorstep. I was stupid, trying to resist the pull, trying to slip away from your hold. I was too deaf then, but now I know they were you.”

Willem shuddered at those lunatic dissonant scratches, they remained like a scar on the wrinkles in his brain. The sounds stamped and imprinted inside his head.

Don’t linger on your troubles little one,

accept what you do not understand.

“The instinct to protest is deadly, our senses are blind to your radiance and our knowledge is vacuous.”

Willem remembered the halls as if he still lingered in them, their unbreakable silence and infinitely stretching space, undulating like a breathing creature. Emptiness everywhere but for their treasure. Human treasure, half a body each.

Too greedy to share, perverse and sick.

The stranger insisted. A hoard of desolated husks. He recalled the two beings, unseen and unknowable – looming presences like cloaks draped over his back.

You are loved.

“Love on earth is a mirage, an infatuating lie. Love is yours alone, belonging to two.”

The words sounded right to Willem but writing them felt like sticking a dagger through his own heart. The thump of his chest pounded heavily in his head.

“I do not know why you separate us; I do not know if the siblings call for each other. It is not my place to know. I trust you with all my heart, no questions. My purpose is to be kept and protected from suffering. Free from pain, free from feeling.”

A face tried to find its way back to Willem, distinctly feminine but otherwise abstract. The face had perhaps been important once.

Soho, Garrick theatre, a little café with the red awning.

He tried to focus, but her visage was elusive as something refracted through water. Detail simply faded away in wisps of smoke.

Let it slip away, I promise you will be happier.

“Yet, I was brought back. Two halves stitched back together into one form. I know I did not intend or try to come back here; you see that too – right? So why now deep in my bones do I fear that your wroth is directed at me? I sent you a present to try and make up”

Willem cranked his neck to the still fresh corpse. Viscous black blood met the undertaker’s long drenched hair like a dozen tributaries. The rain soaking the man might have even been a natural cover if not for the shovel head planted five or more inches deep at the back of the neck. Willem felt compelled to cry, a shrill giggle came instead.

The body had stopped its fits of twitching. His butchery lay next to him casting a trance. Willem’s gaze carefully traced the carcass, its discoloured still hands, dirty ragged trench coat and an empty leather pistol holster.

The stranger was sobbing – a faint whisper in the dark.

Truly lost.

Burying his face in his hands, Willem tried to conjure some better memories. His mind tried desperately to recall the little café, a red awning, her, something.

Time lingered in place.

No… nothing. Shaking and numb, lost and confused, Willem wrote again.

“I’m your rightful fief, nothing more than twin prizes in your collection.”

Clever human.

“I am sorry, I’m sorry for my unworthy breath. I feel the eyes of your servants stalking my every move, every second I steal.”

Always with you.

“It was not my unnatural necromancy that awoke me from the ground.”

Beg for mercy.

“Regardless, my absence has been noted. The life I lived once was bought and paid for. I’m just a thief now. I write this knowing that once I’ve returned to you, I will have no thoughts or words to explain myself. Please, have mercy. Please.”

Every thought on his mind melted as it began. The stranger’s voice had given up. Willem was trapped within a moment in the eye of a storm. His sole companion was the glow of the candle.

“I’m coming back to receive my judgement.

Your loyal property,

Willem Everly”

Willem tried to picture the quaint, little café with a familiar woman, blurry but beautiful. They were drinking coffee, sheltered from the soft summer rain by a red awning.

Goodbye.

Aching and alone, Willem grasped the pistol with his offhand… and pressed it firmly against his temple.

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gekkousensei · 3 years

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random writing prompt

Person X walks into a café and sees Person Y quietly sitting alone. They want to intervene, but after imagining various scenarios and how they’d play out, they don’t. The same incident repeats itself for several weeks, and Person X is starting to get suspicious. Person Y is a time-traveller, desperately wanting to change the tragic future of them and their soulmate.

#writing prompt #creative writing #writers #tumblr writers #writeblogging #writing society #oc prompt #short fiction #writing ideas

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gekkousensei · 3 years

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no meaning

i glanced and i glanced and i glared and i spoke the words of the unspoken. all buttered up yet unprepared now out in the open

#poets corner #original poets on tumblr #original poem #my poem #original poetry #spilled poetry #love #poems #poems on tumblr #short poem #short poetry #love poem #love poetry #poets on tumblr #new poets society

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gekkousensei · 3 years

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perfect territory

your glistening soul awakens a lion in letters, words, and light touches i am air but you like to breathe fire oh, but to ignite your matches… let’s forget the june of '97 and every moment passed since then darling, i can feel you tremble as my fingers glide upon your skin you know my name and i know yours what a dirty little melody i kiss the sweat off of your pores and conquer you, my majesty

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gekkousensei · 3 years

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i know that one day i will smile brighter than ever before, i will hug my friends even tighter than i do now, and i will finally wake up in the morning filled with hope

today is not that day but i am waiting patiently

#spilled thoughts #beautiful quote #inspiring quotes #inspiration #inspire #motivation #motivational quotes #motivateyourself #motivating myself

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gekkousensei · 3 years

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a letter right beside my head said ‘I do not love you; i left’ and your picture on the stand dried the ocean down to sand i blinked and then witnessed the scene of your smiles and their lovely routine ‘love, i don’t know what you mean’ and your kiss wiped my soul clean no one else sees you but me i can almost set you free your presence lingers for the fee of my heart and your old cup of tea i cry myself to sleep again i drain myself of all the pain with your handwriting i lay since to the darkness you fell prey @kiyuukou

writing prompt #3

Despite being in a loving relationship, you wake up one morning to a letter from your partner saying they have packed up their bags and left. To your surprise, you see them in the kitchen, following their routine. They don’t appear to know what you are talking about, so you don’t think much of it. However, that changes when no one else appears to be aware of their presence.

If you use any of my prompts, please tag me! I'm curious to see what masterpieces you create! Much love. <3

#love #poems #poems on tumblr #short poem #short poetry #love poem #love poetry #poets on tumblr #new poets society #poets corner #original poets on tumblr #original poem #my poem #original poetry #spilled poetry #loss #writing prompt

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gekkousensei · 3 years

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“You need someone that loves your soul more than your body”

— Unknown

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gekkousensei · 3 years

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おやすみ (oyasumi)

lay down and i’ll kneel beside you close your eyes and dream ahead darling, know that i will guard you among the stars we wearily spread call my name as you wake up and think of it drifting to sleep honey, your night i will rob and exchange the day for cheap remember! i will hold you tight so you cannot forget my love i kiss your rubies from above good night.

#love #poems #poems on tumblr #short poem #short poetry #love poem #love poetry #poets on tumblr #new poets society #poets corner #original poets on tumblr #original poem #my poem #original poetry #spilled poetry

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