Monday, October 31, 2011

Happy Halloween

Punch in
punch out the freak
that glares from a dark niche
crimson canines bared tongue trickling  

morose fat toad
bluster soaked dripping cad
is quite mad drops now from rafter 
crawls on

Crawls on
past old paint flakes
reflecting on  dinner
in the old clapboard haunted house

Wednesday, October 26, 2011


I stuffed them all down
like a good little girl
urged to swallow her medicine.

Raw red meat
in a
black and white

Tender tongues 
twisted and ripped-out
like an old rubber band.

As their groans
splashed crimson
across my

distracted by my next meal
as a  mad ghoul
lunges past me,  down this dark corridor.

Sunday, October 23, 2011


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Parkia Timoriana- Fabaceae-Pea Family

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I’m moving on
the old boundaries of
I do not do that
I don’t think I can
I’m too old and
I’m afraid.

I’m plotting a new course
steering clear of old distractions
three steps forward
two back
taking the time
to listen and learn.

Pressing on because I MUST
and sidetracked
I hunger for what is comfortable
choosing safety
quelling my passion.

AND yet, I thirst
to make a difference
to leave my mark
to plant a seed, my seed
in the wild weed-ridden
misconstrued fields.
Hoping to turn wildflowers
into diamond pink petals and
lavender lined gardens
into a redolent harvest
of hybrid teas.

My arms open
willing to absorb the risk
stir in a bit of pain, discomfort.
I step up
into judgment
reaching out past the wise ones
the kupuna who have led me up to this place
the highest, most precious peaks
in the shadow of the Koolau
spreading their velvet-green robes
my self-imposed
self-absorbed limits
crowning present possibilities
seated upon this
pivotal throne.

Friday, October 14, 2011


about the day
when I am a superstar
can only take me so far
and then what?

Will I magically transform
into a superhuman being
save lives
rewire the cosmic hard drive?
How will it change our universe
suck up
expand in a meaningful way?
and to whom
and for what purpose?

Does anyone REALLY know
and see the BIG picture?
There are literally thousands of theories
bombarding us everyday
all around us
it’s amazing
that we
can HEAR
at all.
Anything viable that is
over the concussion
Medical bills
Drug addict superstars
ENABLING doctors
Food borne illnesses
Egos of giant corporations
selling us one last pull
on the MEGA BUCK machine.

Now concentrate
stay with me
This is it!
Don’t waste it
you can almost taste it
on the tip of your tongue
and then…
it’ll be gone.

In the meantime you'll pick yourself up
dust yourself off
and continue to play this amazing game of pretend.
And wait for it...there’s a Barker
with a GIANT MEGAPHONE...directing you to step this way!
let’s pretend
EVERYTHING will all work out
that all of this chaos
is insignificant
and our distant relatives
or GODS if you prefer
from heaven
are just a little late
to pick us up
for our continuing trip
on the way
to our NEW HOME
where everything is
waiting for us
a paradise of epic proportions
and everybody you ever knew
is waiting there for you
to fill you in 
on what you’ve been missing
and they are so glad you came and
the only thing you are sorry about
is that it took you so long to die.

Then they take you
to feed the machine
you know the human eater
that shiny metal object over there
with the teeth.
Yeah—the one with your name on it.
But don’t WORRY
because you won’t feel a thing
because you are already DEAD
NOPE—won’t hurt a bit
Then… you can eat all that ice-cream
and all the artery clogging shit
you’ve ever wanted
but couldn’t have
because of stupid things like high cholesterol
and heart disease.
You know…
because --like
you won’t have a heart anymore.
NOPE…you won’t have a heart
a body
You’ll just be a transparent
ground-up form
floating around in the ether
and shucks
I really hate to burst your bubble
but you know that safe ice-cream
that I was telling you about?
Well that shit ain’t real either
But it… Bitch--SLAP
sure was one
hell of RIDE
wasn’t it?

Sunrise 10-13-11

Thursday, October 13, 2011


Copy this
down but only
take credit for
what is yours
something I heard
repeatedly in school.

 Stick it
don’t pick it
on the wall
from the ground
where the moon don’t shine.

Paste your words
and your turds
on a visible sheet
separate the wheat
from the chaff
and laugh
don’t frown
lift your chins
stretch your neck
because heck
it just ain’t
pretty anymore.

don’t tire
or get stuck
in the quagmire
of   forlorn
and unglued.

don’t faint
from that beer
or good cheer
staring at the belly
of jelly
in the bottom
of your glass
fat bass.

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

The Difference is ME

The difference is ME
not some world
that you hang on a chain
your neck
stiffly smiles

Friday, October 7, 2011

Don't Suck-- Spit

You know the spiel.
Get inspired
Write about something that moves you
Paint using vivid images
And if you can’t
at least have the good sense
to make it short.
Sell it
Show some cleavage
Leave them wanting more
And If you are lucky enough and talented enough to get noticed
go to the awards ceremony, celebrate
But don’t let it get to your head
Stay humble
afterwards go home and
write something else.
Stick with what you know
stick with what works.

Scratch that,
It really doesn’t matter
what subject you choose
it isn’t even the style you use
all that really matters is if
anyone else cares
or can relate to your
drivel, I mean
take spit for instance.
Yeah—you heard me….SALIVA.

Now let’s show what would happen
 if I spit on the sidewalk…
Or—if you’d rather go first
I’ll wait.

it wouldn’t be as interesting though
as if I spit in your face
now would it?

I mean
think about it
what  could you create with spit
maybe take a stick
a little paint
some canvas
an old T-shirt
It might translate into something unique
It might even parade around as ART
and pretty soon EVERYBODY
would have to have it
and it might even come in different textures
and tongues—LONG WINDED ONES
AND before you know it
there would be a MOVEMENT
And people could follow your BRAND

and you could get a Twitter button

It would be so COOL and like
maybe the Kardashian’s would
design some spit fashions
for Sears
and well
the rest...
is still unwritten.

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

Just This

Love means
I’ll help you pack
then prepare your dinner
but stress me out and I will eat
your young.

Red Dawn

The sun winks red-faced
on its upward climb
chased by sultry hounds
slobbering wet kisses
drenching the cracked brown earth
snaking a path to the sea.

Two dendrobiums snatched
by teething pair

The culprits
soon jailed
by a critical gust
curling hot on their
red heels.


Perky banks minutes
pens animated haiku
time for pedicure.

Monday, October 3, 2011

Pregnant with Possibility

Mother Earth 
orbits the Sun
pregnant with the seed of life.
Papa Moon glows
rocking the vast oceans 
flexing his muscles
at the growing
he has considered 
since the ancient of days
in this vast playpen growing, multi-hued and
littered with the debris of self absorbed toddlers.

Time passes filling the void

pressing against the outer limits
stretching, kicking, gurgling and cooing
Until...Uncle-- Papa cries, finally
shaking his head
fixed on  a yellow star
as it transforms into a red dwarf and explodes 
ripping a black hole
into the silk wall 
silhouetting space time 
inhaling all, including Mama and her afterbirth 
extruding still, new dimensions
on an infinite cycle 
alive with possibility.

Sunday, October 2, 2011

Love in the Time of Compost

Love allows that even a clothes horse 
can have an off day
and knows when to put the blinders on.

Love bows at the sacrificial altar
of burnt beyond recognition
with a branded tongue.

Love relaxes with the Kama Sutra
inhaling a strawberry soufflé
sensually whipped.

Love lets you have first dibs
on the massage chair
kneading and pummeling your
way to RELIEF---
then hands you a post hole digger
to plant a 3' tree.

Koolau Vew

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Saturday, October 1, 2011

Coconut Palm

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My Memoir

I feel something impossibly small
that might be pain

as I slide a piece of paper
under everything
my mother said.
*from Curses and Wishes by Carl Adamschick—Winner of the 2010 Walt Whitman Award

My Memoir
offers no salve
only a shrug
and logic.

Everything hangs
the dawn.

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It occurs to me That I require an ideal To summit these peaks. Something more than a patch. My tenacity shouts above my perception Shooting ...