I should be happy not snappy
a clown
instead I drown in
the stroppy sphere
of tears
sliding bleakly down my
cheeks
a
danger
sign
in the Eden
of my mind.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Cleaning Day II
The Craftsman Wet/Dry vacuum
inhaled a yard of dirt and grass
from the garage floor on a sucking rampage
leering at the treadmill and weight equipment
freshly wiped down with ammonia
baying at the bottom
of two mirrors sprayed with Windex
dried to a streak free shine.
It howled inside the gold Hyundai
leaking soapy residue on the chipped cement floor
then pulled me to the Studio
where it jumped at the dusty cobwebs
spiders and centipedes
dead and alone.
Napping
this afternoon
now that it
has had
its fill.
inhaled a yard of dirt and grass
from the garage floor on a sucking rampage
leering at the treadmill and weight equipment
freshly wiped down with ammonia
baying at the bottom
of two mirrors sprayed with Windex
dried to a streak free shine.
It howled inside the gold Hyundai
leaking soapy residue on the chipped cement floor
then pulled me to the Studio
where it jumped at the dusty cobwebs
spiders and centipedes
dead and alone.
Napping
this afternoon
now that it
has had
its fill.
Friday, October 8, 2010
Poetry Slam
I smell the sweet ginger
lei hanging from my office door
another birthday gift
from my son.
It makes me proud to be his mom
proud that I went last night
to something W A Y
out of my comfort zone
a poetry slam
where the average age in the room
put me into the mold category
sweet mold
but mold nonetheless. I loved meeting Kealoha
waiting in the wings
having my name called out, I loved that I was spot-on
my delivery, my timing.
And guess what
they gave me a 10
and some eights
and a seven point something or other
but H E Y, I did it.
I got up in front of
total strangers; the hot, and the self-righteous
the chubby and the unprepared.
and I delivered my lines and I forgot about being nervous
because I O W N E D that stage
I owned my poem
I owned my precious three minutes and
ten seconds and no one booed or hissed
Or said get off the stage Auntie.
And there was real talent in the room
Real honest-to-Jesus talent and it lifted me up
enforcing my belief in my new religion
A warm and fuzzy peach in the eye of the storm
And I saw Liz Soto of Youth Speaks
and I thanked her for being my inspiration
Mentioned her name on stage and she thanked me for that.
And we hugged.
My husband Tommy even said
He was proud of me.
That you poets are C R A Z Y
but that I showed spunk, that in spite of everything
I did get up and perform my poem
that I had practiced for weeks, polished like a diamond.
I think it caught him off-guard.
He said, that ten o’clock was way past his bedtime
that was why we had to leave before the end.
Before the esteemed author, Karen Finneyfrock, had
completed saying what she came there to say.
I heard her first three poems though.
And I was glad I did.
Because I K N O W I heard
what I was supposed to hear.
And well the rest will come soon
because I am a champion
not a quitter.
And free styling or practiced
It is MY TIME.
So step aside slam poets
plan to perform paperless
because I am here now
and my strong words
are dangerous.
lei hanging from my office door
another birthday gift
from my son.
It makes me proud to be his mom
proud that I went last night
to something W A Y
out of my comfort zone
a poetry slam
where the average age in the room
put me into the mold category
sweet mold
but mold nonetheless. I loved meeting Kealoha
waiting in the wings
having my name called out, I loved that I was spot-on
my delivery, my timing.
And guess what
they gave me a 10
and some eights
and a seven point something or other
but H E Y, I did it.
I got up in front of
total strangers; the hot, and the self-righteous
the chubby and the unprepared.
and I delivered my lines and I forgot about being nervous
because I O W N E D that stage
I owned my poem
I owned my precious three minutes and
ten seconds and no one booed or hissed
Or said get off the stage Auntie.
And there was real talent in the room
Real honest-to-Jesus talent and it lifted me up
enforcing my belief in my new religion
A warm and fuzzy peach in the eye of the storm
And I saw Liz Soto of Youth Speaks
and I thanked her for being my inspiration
Mentioned her name on stage and she thanked me for that.
And we hugged.
My husband Tommy even said
He was proud of me.
That you poets are C R A Z Y
but that I showed spunk, that in spite of everything
I did get up and perform my poem
that I had practiced for weeks, polished like a diamond.
I think it caught him off-guard.
He said, that ten o’clock was way past his bedtime
that was why we had to leave before the end.
Before the esteemed author, Karen Finneyfrock, had
completed saying what she came there to say.
I heard her first three poems though.
And I was glad I did.
Because I K N O W I heard
what I was supposed to hear.
And well the rest will come soon
because I am a champion
not a quitter.
And free styling or practiced
It is MY TIME.
So step aside slam poets
plan to perform paperless
because I am here now
and my strong words
are dangerous.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Diamond Head Hat Collection
Monday, October 4, 2010
Phantasmagoria
Twisting my way
into a dark jungle
pushing past awkward and wild.
As a valiant oak offers
cool shade
from the blistering sun.
Long forgotten leaves
surrender their hold
fall away
and expose old scars.
Submissive browns
reconciled reds and oranges
long-suffering yellows
raked and
heaped into piles
ready to finally
appease the gods.
A kaleidoscope
briefly
soothing the ache
that gnaws
like a fungus
mushrooming
white circles on the lawn.
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Friday, October 1, 2010
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Windward Times— Special Edition, September 29th 2010
***A prose poem written in pidgin english
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!
Dis one--major.
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!
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!
Dis one--major.
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
Flying Furda den da Rest—Cos Can!
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Monday, September 27, 2010
Searching for a Savior
They called him
teacher,
skilled and
wise.
They feared
his gaze
the fire in his eyes.
He did things
that they could not explain
why
they sold him
in exchange
for their pain.
He came with a special guarantee
believe it
and you will be set free
but science later
came along
and put their blinders back on
to wander lost
throughout time
without a savior
powerless to find.
A host of casualties
to heap up the cost
in this village of the damned
forever lost.
Plumbing Hell
**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
The supernatural
lurks
beneath the plumb
of perception
waits in misery
and obscurity
for discernment.
Sometimes
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.
Pointing
to the petroglyphs
naming
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
somber
from beneath miles of sediment.
Larger than life
intent to lead
his army of
night marchers.
Blood-thirsty
lips cry
bewitch waterfalls
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
as he
brutally stabs
a black widow.
Her web
thick with
motionless prey
entombed
and screeching
his name.
Kamehameha I was also known as The Great One
The supernatural
lurks
beneath the plumb
of perception
waits in misery
and obscurity
for discernment.
Sometimes
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.
Pointing
to the petroglyphs
naming
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
somber
from beneath miles of sediment.
Larger than life
intent to lead
his army of
night marchers.
Blood-thirsty
lips cry
bewitch waterfalls
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
as he
brutally stabs
a black widow.
Her web
thick with
motionless prey
entombed
and screeching
his name.
Friday, September 24, 2010
Blue Angels
Slice sky
blue pie
solo cross
diamond floss
smoky exhaust
spiral gravity
pure depravity
ozone cavity.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Night Music
The north wind gasps in
the wee hours as
pipes play and ghosts dance
across the coast highway, wreaking havoc.
Naani is one of Indian's most popular Telugu poems. Naani means an expression of one and all.
It consists of 4 lines, the total lines consists of 20 to 25 syllables. The poem is not bounded to
a particular subject. Generally it depends upon human relations and current statements
the wee hours as
pipes play and ghosts dance
across the coast highway, wreaking havoc.
Naani is one of Indian's most popular Telugu poems. Naani means an expression of one and all.
It consists of 4 lines, the total lines consists of 20 to 25 syllables. The poem is not bounded to
a particular subject. Generally it depends upon human relations and current statements
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Wishful Thinking
Wishful thinking
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
you then
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.
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
you then
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.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Mask
MASK
death mask
preserved age
displayed in Cairo
enameled gold and gems
guarded the soul from evil
guarded the soul from evil
“Egyptian clay mask remedy”
Pedicure
Feet
soak in
tepid swirl
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.
soak in
tepid swirl
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.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Confessions of a Pioneer Woman
My name is Gert
my corset hurts
my hair is fine
wrapped tight with twine.
My day begins
before the sun
with cows to milk
and chores a ton
My husband died
from the grippe
left me
six kids
and a buffalo chip.
The banker said
his last check bounced
across the prairie
unannounced
I’m good at sewing
can make a mean pie
spin a tall yarn
look you dead
in the eye.
I’ll groom your horse
keep the home fires
burning
just get me out
of this
butter churning.
my corset hurts
my hair is fine
wrapped tight with twine.
My day begins
before the sun
with cows to milk
and chores a ton
My husband died
from the grippe
left me
six kids
and a buffalo chip.
The banker said
his last check bounced
across the prairie
unannounced
I’m good at sewing
can make a mean pie
spin a tall yarn
look you dead
in the eye.
I’ll groom your horse
keep the home fires
burning
just get me out
of this
butter churning.
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