Wednesday, December 29, 2010

Surviving Cigarettes

You know maybe it’s just me

but I don’t need to walk around
with a heavy sign around my neck
that says I am a recovering cigarette smoker
that it has been twenty years since my last drag.

I don’t need to go to meetings
or confess my cravings
which I honestly don’t remember.
I don’t need the pat on the back
or the camaraderie of fellow ex-smokers
to get through another day.

I sent that bitch packing.
I buried it
said a few words
and left it to rot
where it belongs.

I didn’t look back.

Some friend
it soiled my lungs, hair
and clothes.
It yellowed my teeth
wrinkled my face, turned me into a liar
and a sneak. It made me miss out
on special times with friends and family.
It was a selfish, conceited bully.

It made me believe
all sorts of lies.

It was never satisfied
always wanting
more and more of my attention.

It had me fooled
spun me up like a top.
I forgot about food, I lived on diet soda and one meal a day.
It was the first thing I reached for in the morning
and the last thing at night.

I woke up to its trickery
I slowly learned that
I had other choices
that I didn’t have to be a victim
or a hostage
to this friend.

So I quit that habit

dropped it
for the cheat that it was
and suddenly food tasted better.
My car
and my breath smelled cleaner, sweeter
attracting positive friends
like health and fitness.

It brought things like
memory into sharper focus
reversed the damage to my lungs
gave me a life free from chronic bronchitis
made my immune system
more resistant to infection
and speeded healing.

My so-called friend
had been killing me inch by inch

guaranteeing me a
one-way express ticket
to the dirt and ash concert
but I decided to postpone
that rendezvous.
I know that time
will come soon enough.

In the meantime
I have too much to do
too many things to experience

so many doors to open

reawakening the child within
reminding me of
simplicity and common sense
of how things used to be and
could be again, if I just let it be.

Retesting boundaries
and exploring

beyond my comfort zone

way past where
any of my old friends
had ever gone
or will ever go.

Tuesday, December 28, 2010

Twelve Steps for Kicking a Bad Habit

1. Stop it.

2. Kill the fucker.

3. Bury it deep.

4. Say a few choice words.

5. Stay away from others with the same bad habits. (They can have different ones, nobody’s perfect)

6. Tell everybody, secrets are toxic.

7. Say no to Bic lighters, pipes, needles and other bad influences.

8. Find a new positive hobby. It’s your choice, decide.

9. Get Healthy- start by taking a walk and not jumping to conclusions.

10. Get a dog who will love you, no matter what other crazy shit you do.

11. Meditate.

12. Believe in yourself- know that you will drop this cheat, learn and move on.

Sunday, December 26, 2010

An Old Violin

He once knew could still remember

which buttons not to push?

He once knew how to coax a smile

elicit a wish.

Grandpa may have pondered over
the cost
long before
time’s door clamped tightly shut
before the last flames were extinguished
what they
would resort to
to get
and keep that soulful instrument.

He must’ve known
how they would
justify their crime
long into the black night
when he was rudely awoken
by the last howl of the refugees
now silent and
covered by venal snow.

Saturday, December 25, 2010


Clarence the angel
Has to earn his wings.
Raring to go
It’s been two hundred years
Since he died.
The hour draws near.
Mary and George Bailey
Are ready for a miracle.
Sweet blessings are fulfilled this night.

Sunday, December 19, 2010

Mele Kalikimaka 2010

Mele Kalikimaka 2010

Fishahman’s Christmas Tree
by Captain Tommy D.

Da night she clear
da sky be blue
I heard some tings
but neva knew
come morning brah
wat Santa wen do
to one fake tree
da kine fishing stuffs
he gave to me.
Merry Christmas!

An Inspired Tree—by Connie D.

Merry Christmas,
   Mele Kalikimaka!

It stands tall all decked out
with hooks and different colored skirts
hanging from its fake branches. Mr. Blue
                                              Marlin swims
                       at the top sticking up his nose
                         at the tempting banquet.
Not today Captain,
says he,

     Jason is doing well. He has a job and is in a relationship. Mr. Bruno died suddenly much to our dismay on Saturday December 17th 2010 seven days shy of his seventh birthday. He is deeply missed. Tom is regularly published in Hawaii Fishing News; his poem above was published in the December issue along with another photo of his fisherman’s themed christmas tree. He continues to stay active and is a constant source of inspiration. Connie published Saturdays with Lillian and launched it in October at the writing retreat at Windward Community College to a surprised and delighted Lillian Cunningham. Lillian is our continued inspiration and we dedicate this book to her as well as to the Writing Retreat. Connie extends special thanks to her good friends, Alice Folkart, Anne Miller and Ken Burtness for editing assistance and moral support. Connie was recognized in Rain Bird, W.C.C.’s 2010 Windward Style journal, with the Kolekolea Honorable Mention for her poem “Writing Retreat” pg. 94. They published three of her poems.
Connie visited family in New York in August. She also traveled with family to Old Orchard Beach Maine and had a wonderful time. Tom and Connie went to Las Vegas in October, and saw five shows in five nights. We highly recommend the Cirque Shows, especially Love, Believe and Zumanity. We are planning a trip to Italy in September 2011;in the meantime we are learning Italian using an instant immersion system similar to that of Rosetta Stone.

Her latest book, Letters to a Prisoner by Connie D., will be available on, January 2011.
For more info go to my blog:
OR watch the video: Connie speaks to Habilitat
This video will also air on OLELO, our local TV channels 49 & 52 on Jan. 11-14th 2011.

Wishing you all a safe and happy holiday season—we love hearing from you!

Aloha from Hawaii--Tommy and Connie

My Shadow

My shadow left
last night. He fell
heavy down the stair
bent the frame of my life
and lay
eyes glazed half shut
on top of the damp cement.

He left
waiting for me
to pick up his peaceful sleep
heave it into the back
of my pick-up
and deposit it
without ceremony
into a dumpster.

The loss crushes
down my ambition
leaves it to drown
in a surge of regret
searching for logic
in a meaningless well
of recent history.

He left me
to find my way alone
through the green valley
now gray from a traveling flood
deep within the Ko’olau range.

I am sleepless but not defeated.

I am empty inside
without your wet nuzzle.

I will remember you warmly
throughout these shadow less days
to come. I will recall

you pitching your chew bone

high into the clouds
and then catching it firmly and
gently within your canine grasp
your muscular frame racing to meet me
following and inspecting my
every move, I am lost
right now without you, my loyal shadow.

Friday, December 17, 2010

Preview: Letters to a Prisoner by Connie D.

Preview: Letters to a Prisoner by Connie D.

Loose Optimism

Cool sun
dries dark tear stains
red tea roses climb up
a gray wall barricade dead house
dreams crushed.

Black couch
leather harvests
mold spores, dead insects mass
along border, red spiders head

Red rose
rescues spirit
blackness leaves horizon
pregnant with well-fed deceit
black hole.

House waits
for new owners
to repaint ruddy walls
black fish jump, swim pond’s boundary
life peaks.

Red sun
trails moon
lifts morning’s black cover
chasing loose dreams like a lover
best prize.

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Habilitat Presents: Cornelia DeDona: Letters to a Prisoner

Happy Holidays!

I will be on local TV in Hawaii in January, put this on your calendars and thanks for watching!

Habilitat Presents: Cornelia DeDona: Letters to a Prisoner

1/11/11 Tue 6:00 pm FOCUS 49

1/12/11 Wed 1:00 pm FOCUS 49

1/13/11 Thu 8:00 am OAHU 52

1/14/11 Fri 3:00 pm FOCUS 49

Friday, December 10, 2010

Bumbucha Dreams

Bruno and Zeus stay howling.

Da blast
skyrockets me towards Pluto
where I crash land.

One blue-tongued plutonian
points at
plenty kanes, all named Lars
in der bebadeez.

Dey ski past.

Shoots, I follow dem.

Seconds pass, I ripped
from da blue tundra
by one nodda wail.
I spock da ambulance
speeding from da North Shore.
I stay talking Italian
to one Russian tita
wit one blue smile.

I drink one beeg Slurpee.

Da siren no’moa.

I ski to da fewcha
wea ereteeng blue.
I jettin wit Willie K.
on top da ocean.


Wat dat mean cuz?

Monday, December 6, 2010

Christmas Scent

Pine needles leave trail

carpet stairs with fresh clean scent

boosting sapped spirits.

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

Red Sunrise



blazes hot before your eyes.

Drips sublime

from its climb

trade winds leave

scarlet weave

crimson blush

dazzling brush.

Featured Post

Spotlight Exhibition: Mohonk Preserve Volunteer Photographers

"Baxter" by Cornelia DeDona