Thursday, December 31, 2009

Day 164: blue

in the end of 2008
i learn how to get over my first heartbreak
i sulked the first month of 2009 thinking love was beyond my reach
February taught me blue wasnt just a shade of loneliness
more like the scent of forever facing you
she was my February candy
by june
sometimes if something
or someone finds its way inside enough
no matter how string the love is
it starts to hurt
we were sweet again
candies lips
december broken waiting for march
we will miss our new year together
i am waiting for candy
but commitment isnt always smooth
its sour
leaving after taste
its always leaving something at least
at least she is not to selfish just to take
i can not wait to see what the other end of forever looks like

Wednesday, December 30, 2009

DAy 163: static

i feel like i'm loosing you more and more each day to the distance
only the silence between us seems to resonate
i cannot feel what fits in that space
we are just whitewash
waiting for something louder than white noise to wake up from our nightmares
we are silenced in the deep of the blue
holding onto our anchors that we created together
know single knee dead hearts
trying to remember what it felt like when we were side by side
the ocean is moving me further
as you drift towards your adventure
im still waiting for something more than the static to sing back to me

Tuesday, December 29, 2009

day 162: ocean

i cannot seem to tie my words to my strings
melodies defeat me
i am no musician anymore
just a poet with a shiny guitar
and a girl who my words dont fit around beautifully enough
i rather not disgrace her
ill dream silently
without her beside me
just a heart full of distance
waiting for the ocean to shrink

Monday, December 28, 2009

Day 161: voice

lately i sing myself to sleep
drink your memories like tears
i used to sleep to the rhythm of your heart beat
but from here
i cannot even hear your voice anymore
just try to turn your scent into kisses
on my skin
i hold the space next to me like lifeline wishing
for heartstrings to be able to pull cross continents and countries
cross language barriers
in ever language a tear is one begging to be held
so tonight
im drowning in myself
begging for more of you
wishing that my skin could hold your voice

Sunday, December 27, 2009

Day 160: when

hearts dont break evenly
they melt
molasses in palms
we are that butter melting
tearing at seems that dont exist
it seems there is something more than sugar and milk
we are substance

Saturday, December 26, 2009

Day 159: what we say

what we say when we arent together to ease the nerves
love is enough when its strong
what we say in our minds when we are lonely
love is enough when its strong
the only thing im sure i know
our love is strong
we are enough
we are more than enough

Friday, December 25, 2009

day 158: Christmas

i am woken up to the sound of coffee grinding
this is typical for 845 in my home
there are people drugging themselves awake into happiness
its christmas
and i still have sisters who believe in its magic
i have too much resentment dug under my skin
santa claus doesnt have the tools to give me what i want
there is nothing more to enjoy about this holiday except the way it brings people together
but not even santa claus or jesus and move boston closer to this shore
my wish this year
was to be able to hold her through the night christmas eve
its unfortunate she is not here she holds my christmas cheer
and i miss her

Thursday, December 24, 2009

Day 157: Lightbuld

lightbulb is a stupid word
i asked my sister for a work to start a poem with
but lightbulb is stupid
my christmas tree has many little light bulbs around it
im allergic to that stupid tree
and its stupid lights and christmas
and im grouchy
and i feel bad
cuz theres a beautiful girl in boston
waiting for a smile to sail from these islands
hold her like sunshine
and i know im that sunshine
and forever

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

day 156: untitled

there are no tears in his eye when he cries
only diamonds
his skin is yellow
we watch him
eyes closed
we sing as if we hold healing in our voices
but we all know
no one is healing here
we are all just breaking backwards
pretending its growth
like we are learning
i am not learning anything but not to trust any breathe to last long enough to say something worth listening to
i am not growing
i am just falling backwards back into heaven
he is to
but neither are welcome
it is far too soon
for death
he see her waiting
gets excited
i am far too selfish for wanting to keep him close
for just a moment
there is nothing more to say
in the meantime we pretending this isnt goodbye
that i'll see you in 50 some odd years
but who knows how long heaven holds you
before you are sent backwards
where we wont be anymore

Tuesday, December 22, 2009

Day 155: Make me a TV Screen

there are things that touch us
no matter how fabricated
Art imitates us
and yet we cry at its knowing trying to be art
to be beautiful
spralw me over your flat screen
watch me bleed
i wanna be like those faces tears fallings
smiles so big mouths look broken

make me like those stars half shot on stage
i wanna be that sparkle
that story
saving lives
like melodies
i wanna be that note
that ends each song
the syllable held at the end of her tongue

Monday, December 21, 2009

DAy 154: One

sometimes when i dream her eyes transform to orange
like sunsets
the kind thats shattered
she is only one
but sometimes i feel her a million times over my skin
in my mind
she is only one
but some nights
i hold enough thoughts to be confused of how many skins she fills
shes is all over me
6 thousand miles away
she is not JUSt one
she is THE one

Sunday, December 20, 2009

day 153: California

california used to wreak with the stench of ripping roots
torn seems
but my skin
is bleaching nicely to the sounds of san Francisco's sky line
my roots have found there way to the heart of a moving ship
she is a sailing heart
i am barely her sail
waiting for the winds to blow us in the right direction

the storms been brewing
we can see in it the horizon
where the ocean meets our sky
these lines are broken
but our hearts
still tangled
still tracing
we are still holding
california is our only connection
so we hold on like we are sailing
she is my life line
we are just wandering
no compass
just heading towards that horizon
where it wreaks like california
like new beginnings
just past the storm
baby, keep holding on

Saturday, December 19, 2009

Day 152: Reach


she's got a feather for a heart beat
i've got arms that dont stretch as long as i wish they would
she dreams of morning where she doesn't have to reach father than the other end of the bed for her love
im wishing for the same
but all we do lately is dream
we are in the wings
tapping our toes to the world soundtrack beat
we are victims of distance
one hand full of hearts
the other searching for our own
playing cards
trading suits for seconds
trading stories for memories
waiting for forever to happen already
so we are no longer reaching
we are just living

Friday, December 18, 2009

Day 151: Fail


Clean cut crevice broken
we shatter in breathing somedays
wake up
above the whether under our armpits
we hide our failures
like lies we couldnt keep
and truths we never found our ways out of
mask the maze in our eyes
trying to find a way out
to our surprise
we still sleep soundly
still dream of the same fairy tales
and still wake up short of breath
are we dreaming still
am i breathing still
is there something left to be done
if we've already failed.

Thursday, December 17, 2009

Day 150: Worth

my joints are made of glass
matted fibers
fragile breaking under the pressure
all good coaches will tell you to run through the pain
its all in your head
its your lack of stamina building bricks
keep running
keep running
til you cant no more
just keep moving til you cant no more
it will be worth it
even if you are wheel chaired by 30
it will be worth it
for a flat stomach and tone legs
it will be worth it
for the love of the game
it will be worth it
so they tell me

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

Day 149: For Kahu Doug

at 6
i would breathe god
paint his stories on my skin
they were my stories too
i was told
was my big brother
the kind that should not be forgotten
the kind that is always there even though he's gone
at 10
i held out my body like sacrifice to every cause my family found worthy
i lived to give myself
i wanted to be jesus
to save the world from pain
i have learned that pain
is mostly caused by those who fight so hard to avoid or mask it
since then i have started living
at 13
i questioned
i left jesus and his father on their pedestal
i was done with burning bushes
10 commandments
eternal love
i couldn't even love myself
how would i believe someone who had never met me did
i was convinced i knew everything

at 15
i watched a beautiful girl die
since then i cant think of a hospital or the color pink without remembering flat lines
and blond hair
at 17
i fell in love for the first time
and almost started believing that heaven was the kind of place i would end up in
then my heart was broken
i started wishing for hell
i fell in love again
held the kind of passion that is illegal in most states
most countries
at 19
i realized i had met the woman i wanted to marry
i had always known who i would want to hold the ceremony

one day after confessing all these things to the woman i trusted the most
telling her my dream wedding
location, guests, kahu
my mother called
said a few sentences about livers and pancreases and cancers
told me my savior was dying

ever since i was 9 i have understood mortality
that people you love leave and never come back
but kahu doug
you were never mortal to me

i have owed you a poem for more than 3 years
and if you think about it,
i've been writing it for over 13
and yet when it matters
when the clock starts ticking loud enough for a 19 year old college student to cry
i cant think of a word to say

when i pray
i think of you
for as long as i can remember
every prayer i have ever said has been addressed to you
you were the only man who helped me believe that there is something more in this life than my mistakes and misfortunes
there is beauty in the way we love and cry
and there is not a single fiber in my body that doesn't wholly believe that when you cross over
you will be in heaven
you will be watching
we again will be the ones blessed
for your hands will be upon us always
helping us find our way.

Tuesday, December 15, 2009

Day 148: make up

running low
out of words
these poems
dont save themselves from my veins
they wait there
waiting for the next scratch
then the words fall
like leaves in boston autumn
make poems
make me beautiful
color my skin
made up with similes
romanticize heartache
shattering skin
give me the heartache of bright blue eye shadow
nothing it water proof
nothing holds its beautify when the tears finally come

Monday, December 14, 2009

day 147: truth?

for over 2 years, maybe three
or 4
i've promised you a poem
tonight you will fall asleep painfully
iv drip lullabies
i have no metaphors to sooth you
i do not know what to say
except when i pray,
i imagine you
as jesus
as god
pearly gates
i guess if you imaging something for long enough
it comes true

Sunday, December 13, 2009

day 146: heart

where are our hearts
the parts we've hidden from ourselves
tracing taste-buds onto for-arms
your fingertips
i've forgotten what they taste like backwards
my memory is screwed on sideways
i wake at midnight
while falling to sleep
i wake at midnight
dreaming while falling asleep
asleep while dreaming
i wake
my memory is screwed on sideways
i forget to remember
remembering i forget my sideways is screwed to my memory
my memory
your memory
where are our hearts
are we beautiful

Saturday, December 12, 2009

Day 145: taking your que

you want answers to questions i havent come to terms with existence
mistake seem to dissolve if you fight hard enough to try to forget
but you have hands like memories pulling strings
and pushing buttons
i cant help but break everytime you remind me of how i've broken you
i cant hold you together form here
and these fractures fit my fingertips
but i am oceans and continents away
my arms dont stretch like that
but my heart
my heart will sing to you if you will listen
hold your tears if you allow it
i will cry with you as long as you let me
i am following

Friday, December 11, 2009

day 144: Savin me

your eye match your robes
but i remember when your robes match your beard
you are the only man i will let pray for me
please pray for me
the only man i know will be in heaven
not that no one else deserves it like you
but that no one believes like you do
you are my jesus
you saved me

Thursday, December 10, 2009

Day 143: fuck

finals are a bitch
tomorrow they wont exist
but life is now, Fuck

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

day 142:

she doesnt taste like plastic
more like water
she touches me like the ocean
my whole body at once
holds me like the breeze
her grasp is cold
but her heart
her heart
is warm
like her breath
if i could i would bottle it
hold it whiles she traveling
she never stops moving
and i never stop chasing yesterday and comfort and security
we are waiting to be in one place for more than a day together
still searching for a tomorrow that seems realistic enough to picture
we are our own worst enemys
our aspirations are the only pillars between us and our dreams

Tuesday, December 8, 2009

day 141:haiku

this is me writing
141 poems
what a fucking waste

Monday, December 7, 2009

day 140: memory

the look in her eyes when she realizes my math isnt that bad
that when i say 4 days
it means 4 more half slept nights
3 more unwelcomed mornings
that look in her eyes
feel likes 108 days
where sleeping yourself to sleep in the arms of the one you love is nothing but a distant memory
and being alone

Sunday, December 6, 2009

Day 139: silence

where is the reason in death?
whats the point in faith
when we all know it ends

Saturday, December 5, 2009

Day 138: love

she has sex to procrastinate
i take advantage of that

Friday, December 4, 2009

Day 137: questions?

darkness taste salt like candy
your lips
cracked slightly
moisture only held in tear duct
we are sinking in our own tears falls behind our own expectations
what will we make of tomorrow?

Thursday, December 3, 2009

Day 136: white noise

trace these stories on my skin
palms sand paper breaking veins
love the life lines
the crooked ones
the ones broken
like we are broken
remember how your heart felt whole
this is no love poem baby
this are just those pictures we've been taking
since day one
trying to glue ourselves back into the cracked smiles
but now
we are just the background
the whitenoise
the sound of a wave crashing
at daybreak

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

Day 135:she cries

she shakes when she breathes too hard
there are diamonds falling out of her eyelids on to my chest
you can already see the scars forming
her tears scrap like sandpaper hearts on my skin
i want to go back to laughter baby
when we held each other tickled
rather than shattered
so ill hold you til you are sleeping
hum you my heart like lullaby
that is all i can promise now

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

Day 134: Gasping

this afternoon i soaked your pillow case with my tear
you smothered my heart with your palms
neither of us remember how to breathe properly
let alone open our wings
we've forgotten to sing each-other to sleep
like our old promises to hold each-other forver
now we only hold til midnight
gasping for morning

day 133.5: For you

This one is for Jenna.

Monday, November 30, 2009

Day 133: poem in 11 parts

what it feels like to miss the one you love in 11 parts

we've been holding each other for 11 months now
3 of those with broken palms
when im gone
ill miss how my heart feels when in crumbles in her palms
now it will crumble lonesome
we are victims of distance
we have no choice but to feel sorry for our broken hearts
masturbation is not an option
spain taste like lonely winters
hawaii feels like only half a home when she isnt there
stanford is a waste of space
im learning to take life as it comes
i wonder if i will forget how to feel
if she picks up an accent will i still dream to her voice
how quickly can someone fall out of love
when she returns will she still let me hold her
whats the point of crying anymore
11 days
everything falls apart
until then, i will hold it together

Day 132: bigger dreams

a friend told me about a woman who wrote 365 plays in a year
so today instead of writing a poem worth remmebering im just saying that
i feel like a failure.

Saturday, November 28, 2009

Day 131: i miss you already.

what does this lonesome stare taste like stale
when you leave will we forget what touch feels like
in winter
will you forget my taste
my tears
how there solidify slow
fall frequent like rainfall
will you remember to listen
from spain
feel my heart on your sleeves
listen beautiful
we've already taken time
broken hearts
how much more space do we need?

Friday, November 27, 2009

Day 130:Best friend

her heart is stale of old love she loves him
but what does in love taste like anymore
she asks me
i hear her questions
but i have no answers
still mending my own heart and relearning what it feels like to be so in side of love that you cant see anything else
i am the worst friend for advice
but i can hear you cries from Hawaii to New York
DC to california
can hold your hand like best friend watch back from anywhere on this planet
whatever you decide
i'll support you
ill be there

Thursday, November 26, 2009

Day 129: Haiku for my love

She's too far away
my heart cracking in her palms
i love it this way

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Day 128: New York City

the city smells like old concrete
mixed with ethnic skin
extra spicy
we eat dreams on the streets like breakfast was late
we are hungry
thick accented
our skins speaks when our tongues cannot
we hold our grudges in our melanin
like history
i am new to this place
learning protocol from subway station advertisements
this city
never sleeps
never dreams at night
its saved for daybreak
here we wish for slumber
sip tea or coffee like liquor
like our past
they sting

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

Day 127: Fuck


i'd be double fucked.

Monday, November 23, 2009

day 126:

im thinking about quitting.

Sunday, November 22, 2009

day 125: tomorrow she is

my hearts
beatless in her palm
there is no room for broken hearts here
our space to small
this bed only fits us if we are holding each other
so we hold each other
like tomorrow
we are gone
and she is
tomorrow she is
love is no longer make pretend
the future will have to wait because
tomorrow she is
and there is nothing i can do about it but wait

Saturday, November 21, 2009

DAy 124: blah blah blah

double flashing light poles
guide me home
like red lights
think twice
brakes hard
save that space where you want it cold
new england falls
taste bitter like
west-coast winter

Friday, November 20, 2009

Day 123: Waiting

i want your dreams and that space you've saved for me..
the world can have the rest...
just hold for me the night...
thats where i'll be..

Thursday, November 19, 2009

Day 122: idk

tongue tied dry
broken promises
we forgot to hide our crossed fingertips
in this life
we cheat for love
cheat for pay
cheat for life to live
pretend to have another back other than your own
but our hands
fingers and toes are crossed
holding up of backbones
our eye diverted
supersized pride
pinky promises sour tongues
sour patch
patch me a new set of skin from your fingertips please
i've gone none left since the last love ripped it away
where is your heart love
where are your eyes

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

DAy 121: Papa Hanau Moku

“Homeland is the source of your identity”
We have never truly impacted our soil
Not the way it has
Unto us
Left earth printed
Like feet upon our skin
Roots upon our veins
Papa- our land rained down wakea
Growth was forced upon us
chance by habitat
that we would grow strong, brown and bloody with roots
that would only extend under and to past
haloa never fell from any tree
there is no distance from mother to child
from past to present
we are just imperfection carbon copied
we do not reach out for identity
only dig deeper within soil to build person from place

“language comes from mother earth”
mai papa keia olelo
keia moolello keia
our tongues have been passed up to us like nutrients through our roots
and we breathe our mother every time we speak
be weary with your words
do not let too much of her pass
do not speak what you might ever want back
you cannot take back what you give to this wind

I have been lost before
But as long as I keep my roots here
I will know
I am Palolo
The clay
That’s grabs at me
Keeps movement stiff
Ka ua lililehua
my rain
Falling frequent to keep growth quick
my wind
A reminder of my inner strength
Is my creator
These are my mountains
My water
This is my homeland
She is my creator

Papa Hanau Moku- Keiki
mother birthed these islands- children
Owau kana Pua
i am her descendant

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Day 120: shitty haiku

where love did you go
i couldnt believe you've gone
im waiting heartless

Monday, November 16, 2009

Day 119: always

sleeps soundly
our hearts folding together
like our fingertips
like our hips transfixed
like our eyes
we are that love that braids
you and i
we are that love
you are that love
i am your love

Sunday, November 15, 2009

day 118: this is how we love

we used to listen to diamond fall to hardwood together
play peek-a-boo with out hearts like toys
listen to the tears break hearts like magic harmonies
she is my magic melody
tuned perfectly for me
somedays i feel like we dont exist anywhere other than in each-others arms and then im grounded
that i am rooted in salt stained soil
while she
flies like sky-scrapers
call her the traveler
the flight
call her the one thats leaving
and yet
i know
i left first
turning back broken like cheek to silence
i was the first mistake made public
and she
is the only reason i know i will never forgive myself for
she is my magical melody
the traveler
the one who's leaving
so i
i'll be the roots waiting
learning for the changes
never thought i'd be transfixed to concrete
be she is no building
not skyscraper
she is the melody
the beauty
the reason this heart still sings
some nights
you can hear me crying im sure
but if you listen harder you'll realize
its just me and my melody
throwing tears to the wind
watching them crash into innocent hearts like diamonds
this is how we love

Saturday, November 14, 2009

Day 117: why

split second silence
broken backbones breaching
afterlife always aching
telling tiles tropies
wheres the connection
why do i feel like there are already oceans between us
why does every poem turn into this broken plea for you to stay
and why wont you just listen
and stay
why am i not a big enough reason
and why do i know thats its not about me but still cant help feelings broken
why are you leaving
and why
i am unable to hold on to anything long enough without shattering it to pieces
including myself

Friday, November 13, 2009

day 116: sunshine

I wanna sing you a love song through sunshine

Break backwards tides

Like arched backs

Hold me closer

There is too much space between us now

We need no more blanket here beautiful

You and I are an ocean

Slow dancing in burning beds

A tidal wave on fire

Don’t think about it

Its too sexy to see

Our imagery doenst fit into cable tv’s

We’ve got that pay per view love baby

The kind that leave aftertastes for days

Invisible hickeys on my soul

So Love me like budda

Like im leaving

Like im fleeting

Like tomorrow im gone


Im spain

Love me now

Like love songs

On repeat

And bad chord progressions

But good acoustics

And taylor guitars


We can burn slow if we move fast enough

Don’t question the answers

Save that for the questions

Pose something with more than your body

We are a burning tidal wave remember

The kind that cant be seen

To hot to touch’

To painful not to remember

Remember me like im jesus

Like im forver

Like this life is forver like ill see you tomorrow

Like comminted feels when you want it

Like you are Stanford

And no one is spain

And no one has to leave

And we can just stay here

We don’t need the covers

Ill hold you like cotton


I wanna sing for you like sunrise

But the tides low

In sunsets time

Tomorrow is already dark with what ifs

and your leaving

Call you spain

Call me grounded

Call you traveled

Call me frightened

Call me foolish

Call me forever

Call me whatever you want

Just don’t forget to call me


And ill call you tomorrow

Don’t worry about the space baby

I’ve heard hearts can grow to drink the ocean

There is no space between us

If we keep speaking

Hold the whitewash and white noise away

Wait for day to break

Like our backs

Like our hearts

Wait for the ocean to break in silence

Wait for Spain to leave

Look for me under your covers

Ill be there waiting… for morning

Thursday, November 12, 2009

Day 115:freewrite

Downtown steam tear
follicle roots rip
sandy tips breaking
crowd of rich souls
see me

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

DAy 114: just for fun

a poets love taste like led
stinks like ink
burns like hand cramp
cold like brain freeze
love me like a brain fart
you can be my braveheart
will do it anyway what?
it was starting to rap itself
but i aint got no flow
no water her to drink
just works
few similes
smiles for miles
im getting pretty corny. :D
its a good day to be writing

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

day 113: elephant

im chinese
13 is bad luck
luck is the sweat that dries on my back
my back is brown
brown reminds me of roots
roots remind me of home
dad says home is where the soil is softest
soft soil is easy to grow in
growth is no longer my favorite word
i favor fat animals
elephants are fat and have cool spelling
elephant is my new favorite word
words hold my skin together
im still figuring out what holds my heart

Monday, November 9, 2009

day 112: 1, 2, 3

she held fire in her eyes
and rain in her heart
burning bushed heart
10 commandments whistling in the wind
broken eardrum chimes
she is the angled of the forsaken
halo folded neatly at her ankles
an example of love and mistakes and how they are never and always the same

Fire is the rapid oxidation of a combustible material releasing heat, light, and various reaction products such as carbon dioxide and water.
love is the desire to do anything to protect someone from the world
love is the question
fire just one answer
that is never and always right
the combination
is a mother and 2 daughters melting in a town house

it what you feel when you dont know the answer but you do and dont like it very much
love is how you learn to forgive yourself for taking so long to learn
forgiveness is a human weakness
weakness is what makes us human
human is an accumulation of sex and mistakes
mistakes make you stronger
mistakes help you learn
truth is absolutely relative
relativity cannot be explained without making a judgement on the absolute
the absolute doenst exist
if it cannot be explained it must not exist
thus truth does not exist
love does not exist
we are a result of love
thus we do not exist

i think she found out the answers before the rest of us
and they scared her
im not sure if i think shes selfish
or genius.

3. before she lit the room
i imagine her counting to three
like every suicide divers reminder that there is a split second before impact

there is a moment that follows the broken understanding that life
is not just a set of questions and contradictions
there are choices
we give numbers to trails we havent walked upon
and hope we still reach an end
3. in life we count in threes
stutter at the finality of the pattern
is there still a way out?

the flame burns
the body melts
the story
if there is an end, then maybe we did exist,
maybe she was wrong.

Sunday, November 8, 2009

DAy 111: Oscar

Life is far too important a thing ever to talk seriously about
-oscar wilde

today we put practice to praising in joke
hold humor in our hearts
iron satire to our skin
this is too important not to laugh at
i imagine a million people not giving a damn when oscar wilde died
and who would
care to talk seriously about a homosexual author
could they ever imagine his genius
how he loved like he wrote
through lying honesty
how he held him to his cheek like his did his punch-lines
black eyes page markers
"The public is wonderfully tolerant. It forgives everything except genius"
so we threw stakes at your line breaks
spat at your heart
held you like we did road kill on sundays
only because we couldnt forgive our selves for our own faults

Saturday, November 7, 2009

DAy 110: looks

She usually smells like coffee

Lips lick of chocolate

Fingertips melting grip on my hips

But this morning

I awoke to the stench of torn landing gear

The sound of metal and rubber scraping against concrete

Flight attendant instructions

Tight polyester rubbing against skin

Motion sickness

She smells like leaving

Like tears

Like goodbyes taste on Sunday afternoons

She smells like lies

Looks like heartbreak

Like I tore her skin off to see myself in it

She smells like me being broken again

For the 2nd


4th time this week

shes taste like im not enough

like I once was

but not for long enough

she looks like

she looks like

she looks like

she looks like she still loves me

but doesn’t remember how to hold me

I imagine I look like a lie

Like its time for goodbye

Like I smell like her being broken for the



12th time today

she looks like shes running away

I look like im letting her leave

We look like we fallen out of love

she looks

i look

we look

but we dare not touch

Friday, November 6, 2009

Day 109: Guns

In America we flaunt our guns like our dicks

Caress, click, trigger, pull, stick,


And when we are empty just get another dirty magazine

we've hidden from our mothers in our underwear drawers


springing cartridges into chamber

unload again

rinse, reload, repeat

its quicker this time

do you see the pattern placing death on repeat

ejaculation of steel distruction is a learned practice to be perfected

like hygiene

boys learn it like puberty

And our sons learn these games like birth rights, at thirteen learn to cum steel

take on material infatuation in metal magazines

Hiding their fascination in code switch

from cars to clips

Live in the "hang-fire" of hammer to fire

Like Jordan lived in the hang-time of push to flight

but our sons are falling stars

their glocks and cocks in their pockets are too heavy to move with

so they sit in living room couches

watching advertisements from mind playing manufacturers

in 1983

with firearm sales plummeting manufactures decided to broaden the target audience from adult white males to women and youth

making weapons more accessible, affordable, and appealing

one of the first guns to be release, "the viper"

just like the dodge

combines compact speed, power, and appeal for a price

plus sleet beauty

guns are sexier than girlfriend at 13 and these boys pay their lives to them in backyard brawls

eric, lives two doors down from me, knows the names of every gun manufactured in America today

And spends his lunch money on air soft assault riffles waiting for the day he can hold the heavy steel of a real ak-47 to his cheek

I wonder what he expects to do with this machine

will he kiss her on their firsts date

will he hold her like a woman or hold his women like her

will he ever learn the scent of shampoo to overpower gunpowder

will he grow old enough to ever know? i wonder

eric claims he was admitted to stanford because he knows how to build bazookas

he's the youngest boy in my dorm

and our society is already paying into his addition to explosions

already investing in his infatuation

he is 17 and spits gunpowder when he speaks

has a nack for disaster but a smile like candy

and i worry that soon he wil just ad to the thousands lost to metal


in america

we are spreading a plague like privilege

between 1979 and 1991 more children died on the firing streets of america than american soldiers dies on the death roads of vietnam

because we teach our sons to pull triggers like there is no effect

play. die. reset.






we cant

we die

its done

its death.

Thursday, November 5, 2009

Day 108: James

James says some nights

He can hear Jessica tap dancing on his scull

She is easels paintbrush dancing on his memories

Rhythmic broken screaming in his eardrum

When do you sleep james?

When are your thoughts silent enough to dream to?

Does Jessica ever feel like a lullaby?

James the last time I held you

it was two hours until night

two hours until I could feel your mind flip

dive into conversations one after the other dialogue

with persons stuck somewhere in the space between your ears

dancing along the place where your thoughts use to be

james calls his mother dreamer

and she tells him at sunrise

there is nothing in the dark of your mind

but he

he knows she doesn't know what teddy bears turn into in the dark

at sunset

she only sees her son turned christopher robin holding childhood too tight

and jessica is the only one who never forgets to kiss him goodnight

sometimes james mothers forgets what name he answers to so she slings silent prayers to her son


there is no room for more voices between his ears

there is already too much clutter there

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

Day 107: MAGNETS

broken backwards.

standing wordsmith.

pick your cards right.

chasing poison.

hold your hearts out.

which is prettiest?

is there something beautiful about shattering magnets?

i've read somewhere that the Strength of magnetic field can depreciate over time..

by being pulled apart..

rip my field apart.

place me on the opposite end on the table.


am i still attractive?

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

DAy 106: Kumulipo (expanded)

My father is a 5’10” brown skinned prophet

He speaks history bedtime stories

Recites distant time lines like family birthdays

Genealogies of ancient Hawaiian kings like they were his kin

he is cultural knowledge in collegiate skins

a phd in yesterdays but too many tomorrows have passed

and we live in a world where we only think about today and not past

Jonathan kay kamakawiwoole osorio is too much Hawaiian to count quantum

Too much love to hold

he is my father and my hero

but my father has forgotten his own grandparents middle names

Forgotten what color thread god used to sew him together with

And I am beginning to wonder how my whitewashed fingertips will pick up the pieces if my fathers own palms have named them forgotten

And when those palms are buried

Lifeline facing god

Tangled in tattered roots

Will mine remember how to fold into prayers and

will his voice still answer through soil

Will my father still be a teacher when he is truly speechless?

And how much will die with him

Will he leave only regret for me to remember questions too tongued tied to speak

And tears I cant seem to turn into anything resembling remembrance

Will my own fathers death be in vain

At my hand, The flame broken and no torch left to light

At whose fault will the torch be lost

its been only 230 years since contact

230 years since the last time our 2000 lined creation chant was sung in full

our kumulipo the genealogy of our existence

but we've already lost connection with our own grandparents

what happened to the ones forgotten before them

the ones who shaped my heart from their rib cages

i want to taste the tears in their names

want to trace their souls into my vocal chords so that i can feel related again

Because My history is breaking

Held together only marginally by cultural sovereignty

Only the few who care that

Our roots cannot remember themselves

Cannot remember how to dance if we don’t chant for them

And will not sing unless we are listening

And we, only speak hawaiian in empty classroom. from textbooks

and we fear our American accents

soo much that our tongues feel too foreign in our own mouths we dont dare speak out loud

so we can’t even remember our own parents names

and who will care to remember mine if I don’t teach them?

i want to teach my future children

how to spell family with my middle name- Heolimeleikalnai

how to hold love with Kamakawiwo'ole

how to taste culture in the Kumulipo


do not forget me

my mana

do not forget my soul

my father


who could not forget his own


we have failed you and forgotten the ones before

so do not forget whats left

cuz this is all we have

you wont find our roots online

we have no dances or chants if we have no history

just rants

no roots

just tears

this is all i have of our family history

and now its yours

O Elroy Thomas Leialoha Osorio he kane

o Clara Ku’ulei Kay he wahine

Noho pu laua a hanau ia o Jonathan Kamakawiwoole Kay Osorio he kane

O Jonathan Kay Kamakawiwoole Osorio he kane

o mary carol dun he wahine

Noho pu laua a hanau ia o Jamaica Heolimeleikalani Osorio he wahine

do not forget us

mai poina

Monday, November 2, 2009

day 105: she had eyes

She had eyes


Soft like the sincerest of apologies

She’s heard them too many times im sure

Its not you

Its me

Im sorry

How blind of a lie can build walls between her beauty and what the world sees

I wonder who built this masterpiece

Placed each limestone block beneath the one before to create a temple of love to worship

And how can no one else see its beauty

I am not a patchwork quilt

Don’t dare sew your history into me

She screams some nights through her dreams

I wonder

Why build a wall before you when you could use that same energy to build pillars within you that would actually hold you up

I’ll be the walls the stand after he rest falls

Sunday, November 1, 2009

Day 104: synchronized

She tasted like home

But only on the weekends

When time was spent beneath sheets

When we could stay up as late as we wanted to

That’s when we should sleep


Nights on the eves of papers and test to distant from our skin to feel anything especially pertinent

we laid awake upon each other

Synchronizing or breaths and kissing ourlips swollen

Saturday, October 31, 2009

Day 103: done

i dont want to write

Friday, October 30, 2009

Day 102: Moist


Sliding upwards through skin

Watered back broken fracture

Have your tears hardened yet?

Learned to hold your ducts like broken mothers

Snuggle against memories

Like daughters learn to be held by the hearts of their fathers

Where do we begin

And when do we start living


I miss the way you used to look at me with something other than disgust tattooed to your pupils

I’m still bent backwards from actions I cant dare want to take back

Thursday, October 29, 2009

Day 101: Worth it?

there is silence written into the hidden secrets you kissed into my wrists
cuts grazing skins like promises that are not meant to be given or recieved
you can see the torture writing intself to my memory
if you look close enough
you can see my skin crying
in every place you managed to forget to touch
these are the part of my body that are broken
feel them
how my skin turns shark hard to your fingertips in fear
how my voice shatters in your presence
this is not nervousness
this is survival at its best

there are pieces of stone implanted
into my fingertips from trying to tear down walls
ash in my hair from bridges burned
these are the games we play without hearts
our lungs
beatbox broken
fingertips break dance on the hardwood of our souls
trying to caress something more significant
and what if we come up empty
what if all we ever do here is forget to remember
was it all worth it them?
the cold blood on skin
the dirty fingernails
the broken hearts
if we do not remember any of it
did it really ever happen?
is it actually worth it?

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

DAY 100: Confusion.

I can still taste you on my skin

Feel your breath here

But late at night

I find my self

Sleeping in skin that suddenly feels more foreign than ever wondering

Where is your mind

I cant find mine either

Its lost somewhere under

Actions and metaphors

Sinking in regretless water feels kind of like hanging yourself with your own veins

I’ve got scratches on my chest from trying to hold myself back from passion

Stretch marks between my breast from a heart growing too large for my skeleton

My skin in ripping at the seams

And I cant seem to hold my thoughts close enough to reason to make sense of either

You see

I left my integrity under your sheets

Along with my loyalty

Have you felt either yet

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Day 99: Mr. North Star

We are the ones we’ve been searching for

Through starred maps


And yet constantly we find our selves in this continued search


We cant stop moving

Can’t stop breathing

Dig deeper

Find roots in the skis transformation and follow them upward this time

There is no need to dig

In our past

Our future lies above our heads

Not Under our nose

We have been found

We just have to open our star sunken eyes to notice

Monday, October 26, 2009

DAy 98: no one told me you could break your own heart.

if a hammer hits something hard enough
its not hard for it to shatter
did you find my limbs underneath your sheets last night love
my torn fingernails from biting them off my hands clean
i shook last night for 6 hours straight waiting for the sun to rise
waiting for the pain to settle
i tried to hold you in my eyelids this morning but you werent keen in staying there
i let you run through me today
ill let you do it again tomorrow
as long as its still you
as long as we are still connected somehow love
i'll cry you every morning noon and night
just to feel you somewhere
just to keep feeling

Sunday, October 25, 2009

Day 97: my brother

My brother is a big man

My hero


Role model

And I’m more than fortunate to have him

He’s scared away bullies and unworthy boyfriends

Kept away nightmares monsters and all that comes with them

But I’ve never been blessed enough to say that I’ve ever been there to protect


Even though we shared a room until he was 13

because HE was scared of what might be hiding in the dark

I know he’d do anything to protect ME

We share scars and stories to explain them

Of times when our actions were less than smart

But it was always okay in the end

And we always found the end somehow


But The end has never been longed for

like this before

Whether crashed in the back of a car, drowning at pipeline, or stupidly surfing at makapu’u when the forecast promised ten feet

The end was always better

Because in the end

Duncan always kept me as safe as he could

And if he couldn’t bring me to safety

He would bring safety to me

You see sometimes I’m stubborn,

And weak

and ignorant

But Duncan is wise

when he wants to be

most importantly Duncan has always been


for me

But lately he’s been sporting a new mantra


He claims to be a broken souljah

And it breaks me to hear it

Because he was always

My man of steal



and so Never did I expect that a womans words would be the final weight to break through a dark skinned warriors ribcage

And place a black demon called regret on his heart

And allow its poison to sink

I learned a lot from my brother

He thinks I’ve learned more from his mistakes than his accomplishments

But I don’t think he understands how much of his life I see to be a success

I’m proud of him

And feel blessed to be able to learn form him

But this is one lesson I wish I could of learned from someone elses tears

Or accomplishment

You see

My brother and I had the same upbringing

But somehow in the future I found myself afloat watching my brother sink

And we’ve both had our fair share of heartbreaks weight

But he’s been my tangible proof that I should be more careful with the heart of a man

I never new a man could break.

And I’m ashamed to be of the same image to crack the marrow protecting the soul hidden within the beat his chest sings

Oh how his chest used to sing

But now its only screaming silence

Praying someone might feel the earth tremble when depression half heartedly solidifies

For water to flow through tired eyes


My brother

My dark skinned warrior

I can hear your cries

And I’m trying to be the hands I was born to be

to catch each tear before its echoes erodes the floor beneath you

Causing you to sink

Duncan I’m sorry

I’m sorry I was born second so you had to be the one to test the waters

To kill the fire

To take the trail first and allow me to follow

Im sorry I was born a step behind so I was able to hide while you took every punch life decided to throw

Duncan I’m sorry

And so I try


I strive to step ahead of you so that maybe I can start to shield you from life

But my stride is short and steps slow

But believe me

I’m trying to be your big sister

Even if age tells me I should stay bellow

I know

That sometimes

A big brother needs someone to hide behind

And I can be that

I know I seem broken

but I swear I can fix you

And though I know two halves don't always make a whole.

sometimes half a heart just stays half and hurt

I refuse for you to follow suit

Because you are better than those who wrote the rules

You are Duncan

My dark skinned warrior


Our gift from the mountains

The gods children

but most importantly

you are my brother

We are family

Born of blood that birthed eyes never scared of their vision


one whose eyes refuse fear

but you do not have to be


do not have to stand alone

stand in front

we can be


or more

we can stand stronger as family

na maka wiwo’ole

I know the future is scary

But don’t fear the end

Remember Duncan

The end was always happy

And though the world laughs


And changes

Some things ALWAYS remain

Do not be afraid


In the end


I promise

As your little sister

We will both be happy

And it will be okay