Da gross cockroach militia stays booming in da plumbing
in da face of mass killings in Kaneohe town.
Small kine remenants was seen unda da kine drain stops.
Our leaders met at da G8 summit behind braddah Kimo’s drainpipe stay Kahalu’u.
Kimo was heard to say—“Wat and you still alive?”
Rumors have pop up dat da militant Ant Army stay invading us on account of dey stupid leader,
da kine Mack-Mood I-Stay-One–Damn-Jerk,
who won one nodda election by his bullying.
We stay on da threshold of war. I repeat da invasion stay soon.
Bans going be carried out.
It was agreed dat furda talks going need happen
maybe next month at da Cockroach U. N. behind Auntie Carol’s Pearl City Bowl.
On one nodda note, da Common Myna’s
stay spurtin tru-out da Windward side.
Dis roach reporter saw
mass sightings of bird kookai-- piles brah!
Tunnels stay being blocked.
Dey was warned…. Bring yuz guys shovels we tink dey got one pony in dea.
On one lighter note,
Da Annual Cockroach Ball stay happening mid-October, try let dem know soon
if you stay come--eh?
Lady Gaga, Janet and Cher, our hot cuzins on da mainland,
stay proud to announce da grand opening dea new consignment store
at da site of da old Arakawas in Waipahu
dea got da kine gently used gowns wit wing slits on top
plus matching roach bags, titanium jewelry and get sticky spike shoes fo grab sweets
jus in case you need dance and run. Titas--No bring da kids--eh!
Dis just In--Da human peoples in da state still no more job,
us being watched, but brighter days coming,
Ho--da deadly freakin gas nearly gone wat!
In Sports—Wings Flapporino da Flyin Hawaiian scores da winning touchdown
winning over dea arch rival, Boots Black of da Bedbugs—who defeated da Stinkbugs from Philly last year --Final score, 32-2.
Weather Alert—Partly cloudy wit remote kine showers—Highs stay in da low 80’s, Lows stay in da low 60’s Same as always—brah! Hey baboose--Try keep da storm drains closed and carry one snorkel—no need floaters, downpours stay flooding low lying pot holes-one risky bugga dat!
Try member da numba one cockroach rule, cuz--Safety First!
We stay proud to bring you dis edition of da Windward Times
Paid for wit cash by Butterfly Airlines, da junior of Monarch Butterfly
**This is my creation---using real places and an ancient ruler whose bones remain hidden today.
Kamehameha I was also known as The Great One
beneath the plumb
waits in misery
you can hear them
as you hike
up the Stairway to Heaven.
Climbing up steep
cliff ladders with
howling winds at your back
the almost imperceptible
low chanting and drums
between the undulating peaks
shrouded in mist.
to the petroglyphs
the hidden path
to the secret tomb
of The Great One
a formidable foe
even in death.
Calling up things better left alone
as an apparition appears
from beneath miles of sediment.
Larger than life
intent to lead
his army of
unlock ancient doors
between emerald cliffs
waking hell’s elite mercenaries
a foul eruption
panting in the shadows
hungry for flesh
leering in the gloom
a black widow.
is something we adopt
a bright idea that comes at the worst possible time
and stays long after its welcome is worn out
like an old pair of garden gloves
with holes in the fingers
comfortable, but they no longer
do the job.
Unable to let them go
try to fix them,
when one surely disappears
you convince yourself that sooner or later it will turn up
and everything will work out, but it never does.
Not until long after
you’ve thrown its mate into the trash
and it’s been hauled away
by that giant yellow truck
reeking of dead fish and stale beer.
nails clipped, shaped, filed.
Cuticles pushed back
calluses shaved, feet scrubbed.
Moisturizer massaged deep
into toes and calves up to knees
energizing tired feet and legs.
Red nail bed summons white hibiscus sketch.
is a serious man
who doesn’t care much for children.
He is still single
in-between women and loves his imported beer
although not quite as much as he did in his youth.
At fifty two, he wears thick eyeglasses.
Dark blond and blue eyed, his pock marked skin is clean shaven.
He wears an aloha shirt and loose tan shorts for evenings out
complete with white crew length socks and a clean pair of deck shoes
inadequately concealing his portly frame.
He hoards his money
installing razor wire fences around prisons,
this has been quite lucrative over the years.
In his spare time he looks through the real estate ads
and waits for that special parcel
in a neighboring state, not too far from his Mother,
who is eighty two now, an ex smoker burdened with emphysema.
He has many friends.
One has a Hawaiian themed backyard complete with swimming pool
around which preside Tikis which he carved by hand from oak, cherry and other hard woods.
At the intricately carved bar
blowfish twirl from suji fishing lines and swim
in the heavy air
bright with white lights stuffed into their diaphanous round bellies.
Voracious mosquitoes thickly blanket this upstate New York town
underwhelmed by the lack of trade winds or repellant
overwhelming his cousin, Crystal.