Grimm Expectations

I touched death's hand
and peeled back my crying skin
ready for death’s inspection
prepared to barter.

Take me instead.

I stroked death's supernatural chin
my screams
locked in the dead zone.

Death's white corpse
hovered before me
swilling foul fluids
noting my soft edges
hinting at frogs
and Biology.

I shrank
as death peeled back my lover
sliced by hot steel
selected without warning
on a haunted road
black as pitch
black as a bottomless pit
my love dead
by the splash.

I slept through my dark daze
a zombie
clasping
death's calling card
a calling card that read
Superboy is dead
long live Lex Luthor
Your life,
your journey begins here.
The card was signed
by a Mr. Grimm.

Hawaiian Time

climbs the Stairway to Heaven

taking in the view

finding plenty time fo breathe, cuz!

...

Hawaiian time

leaves Honolulu

on a late plane

to New York

it will arrive bumbai.

...

New York time

is waiting

on Hawaiian time

and promises

to chill

in due time.

New York time

thinks Hawaiian time

has two speeds

slow and stop.

New York time takes

a long minute

to change its

mind about

Hawaiian time

but Hawaiian time

doesn’t care

it expects New York time

will catch up bumbai.

Bumbai: otherwise; or else; later; later on

Hilda

was such a bloody bore

not cancerous

but a royal pain in the butt

I tried to quietly endure

Shush now Hilda.

The stress is almost over.

So dramatic

always gushing

apparently, she didn't have enough color in her diet

such a flood from one

so dehydrated.

In fact, Hilda refused to stop

her anal ways

felt attacked

when the doctor told her to cut back

on the ice-cream

cheese

groan, chocolate.

Poor damaged Hilda

so emphatic

cited the colonoscopy

as the final straw

causing her to spew

so profusely.

Doesn't she understand

that Doctor knows best

now he has to operate

to get her to stop

being so damned bloody.

I suppose the surgeon

and she will tie it together

finally,

giving her a chance

to sit pain-free

perhaps have Dr. Oz inspect her

bowel movements

enabling her to alter her condition

take new pride

in scribbling her S's.

Her flare-ups

soothed briefly

by the unflappable

Hazel, a witch,

who comes highly recommended.

The Unwanted

and destitute
crouch in a huddle
gasping at the dreaded discard aisle
as we sort through
the endless stacks of
brown, yellowed
and dusty volumes.

Some hide
dead cockroaches
insect poop.

Written on their title pages
are inscriptions to family, friends and fans.

A few hide old photos.

Delightful old bookmarks
are relegated to a particular box
later transformed into artfully decorated cards.

Now and then
we discover
a single bill
forgotten
between sticky pages.

We hunt to find a first edition
Hawaiiana
or any needy rare books.

We wipe away the grime
mend the tears
unfold corners
as I try to digest a mountain of data
intoolittletime.

The orphans
are then carefully priced
counted and packed into labeled boxes
their character
further noted
by the application of various colored masking tape.
Later carted away
by the truckload
to sit inside a warehouse
where they will wait
to be rediscovered
at the annual book sale.
The lucky outcasts
polished and poised
ready to converse
with us
again.


**Original version of my poem, printed as "Book Makeovers" Honolulu Star-Bulletin July 2, 2008.

Bonticou Crag

Becoming Me

I am the half full cup
dark chocolate freak
sometimes friend to a bathroom scale.

I learn
that my obscurity is a good thing
that as I trip and fall
no one will see or care.

I am a notion,
a shadow,
a spot on the frame,

moving past old belief,
sometimes haunted,
driven,

alone.

I learn
that my existence is more
than filling your square pegs
coloring inside your lines
I am seeing
that you will never understand or care.

I deserve to move beyond the mess
I have become.

I have decided to heal myself,
love myself,
protect me at all times.
My eyes are wide open
my ears can hear
the snide careless whispers,
your thoughts when no one is near

I feel your doubt
it is the shroud of past judgments
wrong attitude.
I can taste your fear.
it is an acid that burns inside me
mutilating my mind.
secret places.

I existed before for your praise
as a child of a lesser god
but I am not less.
I am a miracle.
I am more than your dogma.
You do not define me.
I am free to speak
and I don’t have to make up lies
or explain me
because I am a strong woman
and I can do better.
I will not settle for your whims
your trickery
your reckless ways.


I will walk away whole
I will leave this place better
I will win
because I am not a quitter
because I know I can learn
that I will survive
I will thrive
because I deserve
to dream
laugh
love.

I deserve my birthright
to become who I am meant to be
I will be me.

Sky Top

Pasta Italiana

http://www.blurb.com/b/3697761-pasta-italiana


 
   

 

Ko'olau Tears

Volcanic cliffs emerge from the mist
exposing
lush slopes
a sow with her squeakers
nursing
under a thick emerald canopy.

Tropical tears

pelt the 'aina
saturating
vine-laden limbs
spilling into streams of sticky sap
fields of yellow fruit.

Breathing new life into
the wrinkled pores
of the ancient banyan
as the Kolea wade through muddy puddles.

The goddess invoking the mana cleansing remains
cutting offensive passages,
conjuring a rainbow.

I am home.

...


"In Polynesian culture, mana is a spiritual quality considered to have supernatural origin—a sacred impersonal force existing in the universe. Therefore, to have mana is to have influence and authority, and efficacy—the power to perform in a given situation."

Autumn in Peters Kill

New York Botanical Garden 1

Where Is The Biggest Garbage Dump On Earth?

The Pacific Garbage Patch

should scare the hell out of you.

Originating somewhere in between Hawaii and California
it is one of seven garbage islands
spread across the world’s oceans
funneled and trapped by planetary rotation
converging ocean currents and wind, garbage that impacts all of us, garbage that can hitchhike to other parts of the globe.
Imagine barnacles attaching to floating garbage
not found in your area, infecting our native species.

 Plastic washing up on Hawaiian beaches
growing wider, thicker and more toxic every day. Containing billions of plastic pellets called nurdles commingling with phytoplankton,
mistaken for fish eggs and krill.

Plastic Confetti choking whales
seabirds
and other animals.

Toxic plastic lasting 500 years into our future
causing hormone disruption, and most likely cancer, consumed up the food chain
by fish and ultimately humans.


Clean up is too costly.
The answer is to control the amount of plastic we produce.
Recycle
Limit consumption.
What will you do?