Wednesday, September 30, 2009

Day 71: To Mr. REdford

Thank you, Mr redford

For turning san francisco yellow brick roads into something green enough for an island flower to flourish in

for recognizing the power in voices found from ESL classrooms to Stanford Lecture halls

for giving my words a chance at spurting from concrete

by giving guidance to motorcycle diaries and mine

making revolution seem like it can be born from any rebel as long as they have the right stage

and teaching me to leave bigger footprint of words then carbon

because legacies arent always found in books

sometimes they are held in roots

so thank you for teaching me to cultivate my own

Tuesday, September 29, 2009

Day 70: never try to write a poem about something you dislike

we are a function of y
multiplied and tricked
traded inverse
our limits do not exist
broken lines on grids
math is like love
like life
we are here
to add and multiply
dividing truth into segments we can swallow
subtract me a piece of the pie small enough to fit in my chest
my back pocket
factor me a reason to stay
a reason to move
a reason to be
i am just 1
i change nothing but multiplying
i cannot dIvide
so give me something to add to

fuck this poem. i hate math

Monday, September 28, 2009

Day 69: How appropriate that this ones for you

we grow up
holding lovers as trinkets in our pockets
tinker with hearts at playtime
but i have met the diamond
held her at night
smelt her tears on my cheeks
and she is no toy
no doll
she is beauty
she is her own dreams
and she is leaving
jet set in 10 months
we'll never see anniversaries
or 20th birthdays
never taste sour heartstrings
or hold each other at 3am
our love with learn to disintegrate softly
fade like background music
but i want to still hold her
feel her heartbeat at midnight
brush her hair with my breath
how do i change
i am not falling out of love
just learning how to love differently
and im trying to hold her
but im failing
my tears and cracked heart takes too much space in this bed we share
i want you closer
but i cant seem to pull you away from you dreams
so i learning to let go of my own
like landing gear
learning to let go
like take off
learning to cry quietly
so you can sleep
learning to be broken
in a way that you wont see

Sunday, September 27, 2009

Day 68: for my father

money cannot buy happiness
or time
only containment
and im stuck somewhere between an empty wallet and an empty heart
trying to feed my material skin with something that might look like a smile
but all i've got are useless coper penny pigments
look at me
im 5 shades too dark to be worth anything
and 10 shades too light to be legit
my father's identity was challenge by the state of hawaii
they say a men of less than 50% quantum cant possibly fight the state on a court case involving thousands of acres left for the indigenous
they say my father isnt hawaiian
call him foreign
so what am i?
half my fathers pigments
shine through this skin
and his voice
sits in my chest
like a knight waiting to rise from the darkness and fight
my father and i,
we've got the same hands
pick strings like hearts
chant like prophecy
i'll stand in his shadow as long as i can
he is my hero
covers my face with his cape
lets me take the lead when i need to
and he
is more hawaiian than any full quantum man i know
in these islands
we've learn to count quantum like pennies,
see with our skin
but my father
holds this soil in his blood
its stories in his hearts
and its beauty is his eyes
and anyone else willing to scream for freedom
hold the indigenous in our voices
are carbon copied warriors
just waiting to strike
dont you dare even think about questioning us
or we'll turn these copper pigments too bullets
powder your guns with our heart
and the last thing you'll see before hell
will be our brown blood

Saturday, September 26, 2009

Day 68: our mother

Once a month I go down to the local Hawaiian garden and spend 8 hours cleaning, planting and cultivating

Spend quality time with the mother I was given before birth

Mother earth

Here, We trade stories through skin

I mix Hawaiian sweat like salt into dirt pools holding the only things we Hawaiian ever needed

While she teaches me something about perfection

About sustainability

About beauty

Once a month I bruise my knees for my mother

Hold haloa, kalo, our staple

Like holding life

Pulling tangled weeds like strands of tangled hair just so she can breathe

Once a month I am brown from palm to palm

From heart to skin

Mixing myself into her

We must not be confused

The lands sustains us

We do nothing but mix her blood and tend her roots

just try to keep her happy,

Against our lifestyle contractions we try to keep her breathing

Hoping she takes what I can give and I have enough for her to live

Once a month

I am Hawaiian


The original

She who holds the land

She who cares for life

Once a month I am The green that came before recycling

You see Our ancestors have been saying since our birth that life is cyclical

That our actions send ripples in every direction

And if we didn’t realize it then, we sure do now

You see this is global warming

The process has been underway for centuries and we would have known if only we were listening

If only we were watching…

Because The sea level is rising casting shadows on our tomorrows

And in Hawaii that means more than receding shorelines to make inland beachside properties

It means Atlantis

IN Hawaii sustainability used to be the only option

With deep water harbors only harboring fish and reef without the importing steam ships

Bringing pollution and causing 100% dependence

We used to play conservation games like our lives depended on it while our parents never doubted that they did

My father tells me that Freedom

comes with responsibility

And we’ve forgotten

Forgotten how to spread seeds with bare fingertips

Feed an island with palms and hearts

Planting souls into the earth but now

The soles of our shoes only tears the shouts of our trees

Our bare lands feed only dirt to our oceans causing more pollution

Tell me how to breathe

Because there’s something in the air

Something in my water

And I’ve been told I cant swim because of the pesticides

All because We played follow the leader into lifestyles we found initial interest in

Based on half truths and too many blind eyes

They said, the chemicals would make our lives easier, but what about our mother

Our earth

Did we know we would sacrifice her

Were we tricked and played

Or were we selfish

Either way

We’ve been left with chaos and an initiative for organic produce and meat

Why does it seem like were stepping backwards in to trades that worked for yesterday

Because life is cyclical!

Our breathes reach more than tomorrows

Our words mean more than yesterdays

And our actions

are our only chance at bringing peace to these islands

You see Eventually, we will all be islands

And I

want to make sure I leave enough of myself in this soil

that after I have no breath for her

no spit, no blood, nothing but tattered roots and broken bones that my dust and ash will ensure

she stills stands a chance at life

I want to be that difference

And that

Takes more than once a month

The earth, our mother, needs more than hybrids

More than a recycling plants, more than what we have been giving

she needs love

And we

Hold that love in our fingertips

Have the ability to Trade sweat for calluses

And leave brail tattoos on each other

To make a difference and imprint like individualize fingerprints

Have the chance to leave your story for her to tell your future children

Trade work

For hopefully a tomorrow

Trade prayers, apologies for a dying chance

And that’s all we have

Because we’ve wasted all these years trying to learn to fly

And leave her behind

why haven’t we trying to kiss her soil with our stems

we have these roots for a reason

but while trying to keep our hands clean it seems we have forgotten how to use them

but what about the land?

Why is it when push comes to shove she’s the one who falls through the cracks

Do we even still have a chance

What will be the difference?

What will it take?

At what point are we safe?

I know, I have more questions than answers

And I wont pretend to hold a solution to global warming

But I do know how to ask for forgiveness

I do know how to fold dirt into praying hands

And beg for another chance

And I

Will do my best

To beg my mother for tomorrow more often than once a month

More often than 12 times a years

Because she is not waiting for us any longer

She will not wait for me to realize my faults

She will not answer to our hybrids, our reefer handbags, or our vegetarianism

We will ALWAYS BE THE ONES answering to her

If she, after all we have done to her, decides to forgive and still call upon us as her children

Friday, September 25, 2009

Day 67: Threadless.. work in progress

I was born within the language of words that surrendered gender in the birth of seaborne tangled tongues

In Hawaiian, pronouns specify only numbers and not gender

And this ocean grown language seems to closer understand the fluidity of my identity

I was raised by men

In a language where it failed to acknowledge the difference between my self and them

I must have learned to read between the lines before god had read between his

But this was all yesterday

Before Jesus

Before dictionaries our words

Were seamless

The stitches holding my skin to my heard

Thread less

Thursday, September 24, 2009

Day 66: Broken Fingertips

she inhales me like orgasm
exhale like i love you
holds like broken fingertips
determined to be fixed
i am transfixed to the contact felt in her gaze
the oceans that frame her pupils remind me of home
and she kisses like halos
can hold you like friend or lover
depending on the night
she will be loyal to you,
always hold you
with her breath
her scent
her eyes
those lips
partly split
her heart
on quiet nights you will feel its beat
tastes its rhymth on your tongue
wishing you could hold it
strum it on your guitar
steady its cadence
and learn to read your own
understand your why and when the blood rushes
can she feel its irregularity?
how its broken some nights

she inhales me like orgasm
exhale like i love you
i will love you

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

Day 65:Misinterpreted

she said god is on the other side of that wall
i was jealous
see she could find god with her index finger
and i
i couldn't even find him with my heart
i said i couldnt see him
she said i wouldnt see him
i dont know the difference
all i know is i want to feel him
trace his breath across my heart and chest
i want to know him
my father prays harmonies to the sky
my mother lost a mother at 16 and still reads scripture like she can she jesus resurrected every sunday
why cant i
what have i lost that so significant that keeps me from seeing something more than just breaths and moments
mornings and evenings
dont get me wrong
i believe in the miraculous
that i can change someone's life with a word
someone's dreams with a kiss
i believe that there is an energy larger and more touching than any poem ever written
but i have have yet to quantify it
to name it
i want someone to point to my heart
call it jesus and mean it
believe that something good lives there
like scripture
that i cant be wrong
just misinterpreted.

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

Day 64: Checkers

i pulled 10 stitches from my heart last night
one for every time ive jumped into love
and one for every time i've been dropped
at midnight i realized
i'm letting beautiful minds control mine too quickly
and honesty is never comfortable
pinches like daggers
so we place names between our chests
make past experiences frontline in this mess
play chess
new prospects
play love like strategy
as if either of us have the ability to win anymore
and i dont want to just be another player
wandering around plaid and checkered hearts
rather have a gentle hand to hold
you cant love if you think too much
cant explore if you insist on remembering
so tonight
im whipping my slate clean
turn my checkers into a blackboard
you can have the chalk
write your own story.

Monday, September 21, 2009

Day 63: finding you

we scrape our tongues on sandpaper skin
searching for words that haven't fit in our mouths for months now
i love you doesn't feel like a burden just yet
because it doesn't feel at all
and we are just trying to find each other under our fingertips again

where are you?
i woke up this morning to your smile
but where are we
i know we are not broken
just severed
bearing too many tears
we outweigh our souls
and once they are tired of carrying our lying smiles
how much longer do we have until they depart as well

do you think our souls could still be making love
and our hearts just havent caught up yet?
like we might still have a chance
like we might still have these words hidden in our mouths

so tonight
will you promise to keep that space in your chest open
where your breath sits and holds me
give me time to keep searching
i just want a chance to find you

Sunday, September 20, 2009

Day 62:LoveMeLoveYou


Saturday, September 19, 2009

Day 61: you are

some nights,
when you breathe hard enough,
i can feel you in my chest
im just trying to hold you in my heart
you see these hand are useless
too much has happened to them
there is no truth left
do not search for my life lines and love lines
they will not align
you will not find signs to future miracles to come
they have already past
we can no longer miracles
living in a world that denies our beauty
keep your chin up
there is still destiny written in your eyes
mind wandering like fireflies
strength mapped on your back
like you could almost forget its there if someone doesn't remind you
you are a mountain range at midnight
a second chance at life
a single pedal rose too tired to call herself anything less than beautiful

Friday, September 18, 2009

Day 60: run

Beautiful mess
Have u ever caught your own attention
Held your own heart
Stroked your own fearless feathers
Forget the rest
Tonight learn to hold yourself
lie like shackles if you have to
If the truth doesn't hold u than create your own
Someone has to hold you together, who said u couldn't try
Wrap lightpole fingertips round your heart
Hold it steady
Don't let your heart beat you
Be your own percussion
Learn to love yourself like nightwalks
Hold that avalanche in your voice
Let go of the earth quakes in your knees
The tsunami in your eyes
And those secrets
Kiss them with your demons
Embrace each like strength
Tonight be your own protectorate
Because I can't cradle u the way u want me to
And I can't save you how I want to
I am too caustic for progress and
You are the only future u can count on
The only one you have any say in
Direct your own direction
Like train conductors
Don't u ever look back
Beautiful, run
Leave the tears as your steam trail
Do not let memories hold u back
Just pick a direction and don't stop

Sent from my iPhone

Thursday, September 17, 2009

Day 59: Back in California.

unpacking seems too permanent
i want to leave my life in these boxes
its foggy today in san Francisco
with a slight chance of tears
i want this year to be different than the last
but im not sure if it will
i wish it would just rain already.
lets get it over with

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

Day 58: Priorities

there are some things more important than poetry
than workshops
and freewrites
and perfect metaphors and similes that taste like home
there are smiles
and last night
i spent 3 hours trying to reproduce yours in metaphor
and failed
your veins dont translate well to page

i will miss you when im gone
trace the scars we've accumulated together
while i grow
ill mark the notches on my body to simulate your growth

my sister is 6
last night i was afraid to forget her size so i took a picture with here and documented our towering difference
i wish i hadnt
because now,
in 3 months
i will not be able to ignore what i missed
3 inches
countless conversations
1 million hugs
2 million kisses
3 million laughs
5 million smiles
and too many tears
i will miss this

and i wish
one poem
could bring me home
keep me there and hold you when you need someone too
but i am no magician
just a wordsmith
and a loving sister
who doesnt want to miss too much

you know they tell me that
there is nothing more important than your education
and they will tell you too
but dont you DARE believe it
cuz though i may be 2500 miles away
i still know
you are much much more important.

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

Day 57: Click


my heart beats like Vinyl

scratches aggaisnt my chest

60 spins a minute



broken record







believe me when i say this

my hearts reveled in sequence

there is no room to breathe here



no one is willing to part with their inhale for an honest heart

and she may not believe me

but ill write each second of my life into poetry

cuz its the only way the rest of the world will call me beautiful before i die

i am seen as words only

hide my face behind my similes that look like smiles

the right stanza can fake a laugh

can make you breathe



but if truth is too beautiful it must be lying

call me pathological

hide me under the shade of your disbelief

ill take comfort in its coolness

take savage in your breathe

somedays i wish i was born there

but i wasn't

so where the end



Monday, September 14, 2009

Day 56: The way you listen

"the way you listen, i move..."

she writes her stories on napkins

edgy cafe and gauges

this is how i imagine her

she traces memories from table to wrist

this is where i listen

like dance

lead and follow conversations

i a moved to the vibrations of vocal chords throbbing on esophagus

sometimes i believe my heart is a drum

an inner ear tool making love between real and imagination

this is where my poetry swims



the way you breathe, i cry

droplet exhale

we are both the same

trying to make tomorrows out of yesterdays

and failing to make any of it matter

the way we want to

so we live as only actions

not to be remembered or repeated

call my life a mistake

but when i grow up

i want to be a memory

i want to be a smile

a breath on your lips

i want to be a dance

a tear

a movement

so that maybe you will listen

Sunday, September 13, 2009

Day 55: (day 52)edited into a villanelle, minus the rhyme scheme

Megan is the absence of light

and "when it is dark enough you can see the scars"

she is boogymen at midnight

drams of twilight

sleeps anxious on her toes

Megan is the absence of light

there is death in her eyes

you would think her tears taste like caskets

she is boogymen at midnight

stripped leather

she smells like highway boarder crossing runaways

Megan is the absence of light

tastes like bravery

but only the kind that follows fear

she is boogymen at midnight

but she is not darkness

she has not decided

Megan is the absence of light

boogymen at midnight

Saturday, September 12, 2009

Day 54: 19 years (forward and backwards)


Friday, September 11, 2009

Day 53: more than anyone

My father

At age 58

Has no issues with aging

And yet

Sleeps a lot less like a rock and more like a toddler

He sits all 180 ponds

like a boulder

But to me he seems weightless

Like four am morning drives to nowhere and back

And I wait

Hoping that back is part of his plan

Because I know

More than anyone

The need to believe like a car can fall off the side of the planet

When you drive with no objective or destination

But I hope that’s not HIS intention

My mother says he wakes at the wake of his nightmare caused by issues he wont see people to deal with



I know why

Because I’ve made myself familiar with my options

Light skinned men and women with x-ray emotional classes

Meant to cut straight through each person’s protecting bubble bodies like butter

spend more time taking notes and analyzing our words instead of just listening

there is something all therapist refused to see in me

an element I know they would find in my father if he let them

we are immune to their solutions



all you need is a friend

Someone who will listen

And index cards filled with half shappen answers to fit each situation aren’t Reponses

Tears and shivers are request for hugs and kisses


Not reused meaningless three letter responses

And until a paid therapist will break the barrier of notepads, pens and glasses to reach out a hand to someone like my father

To me they are useless

And so am I

Thursday, September 10, 2009

Day 52: Darkness

Megan is the absence of light
and "when it is dark enough you can see the scars"
she is boogymen at midnight
drams of twilight
sleeps anxious on her toes
life's chaos,
there is death in her eyes
you would think her tear taste like caskets
but they dont
its more like broken cradles
stripped leather
she smells like highway boarder crossing runaways
tastes like bravery
but only the kind that follows fear

what if tomorrow she is tricked from that closet to run towards the freedom of clotheslines
is she strong enough to resist the binds of clothespins
to run away from the glow of shadowed alleys

you see megan is the absence of light
but she is not darkness
she has not decided
so she prys eyes open
confuses nightmares for memories
she might not ever really know the difference

megan is failure
the broken lie of shattered homes and support systems
this is not balance
megan is distance
the space between terror and joy
beauty and exquisite
life and destruction
she is decisions
ones she never made
but she will live with and dye by
megan is scars
she is the absence of light
but when it is dark enough you dont even notice the tears and scratches
all you can see is her heart.

Wednesday, September 9, 2009

Day 51: Lazy

somedays writing comes out easy
fast and simple
like breathing
but other days
im torturing myself to pull adjectives from beneath my own skin
coat them on verbs
write unbalanced sentences
today is one of those days
when im too tired to think beautifully
i wanna write about matchbox races
and not feel like im forcing brilliance on to page
i want to write a 365 word poem
and i wnt it to be funny
and uplighting and leave people wanting to change the world
i want to feel like im not completely full of shit after a write a poem about how muhc potential mankind has
but not today
im just too fucking lazy

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

Day 50: i think this is funny

my sun soaked skin
turns red when i return to hawaii from unforgivable absence
call me haole
cuz im soaking in regret like skin cancer
call me foreigner with a racial slurred tongue
broken backwards
in hilo
im cracker with a cracked accent
with an osorio nose and smile
the voice of my father
and language of my kings
i am forgotten like the lessons we didnt pass on
call me burnt
and torn
call me whatever you like
cuz tomorrow
my cherry skin will turn brown
ill look like the rest of the locals
and ill be hawaiian again
funny thing is my heart looks a little more hawaiian than your skin
it looks like we still haven't learned to not judge a book by its cover
go figure.

Monday, September 7, 2009

day 49: One


youve got plans for healing im sure
taking the steps you need
but do they have to be in silence?
what about the friends left off shore in the distance
there is regret laced within your breath of conversations
i can still hear it sometimes
late at night
you only speak to me in status updates
wheres the justice
the unnamable connection
if we are deeper than bone then why is it that oceans can dilute our friendship
i have nothing and so much to tell you
and the phone lines are empty
i hope you call me
for someone so afraid to be forgotten
you sure are soon to forget

Sunday, September 6, 2009

Day 48: grandfather (happy poem for sunday)

my grandfather has tears in his eyes
the color of pride
and i live a small ocean away
moist of the years the tide rolls the wrong way
but this weekend
i sat in the shadow of his smile
basked in the sunlight of his laugh
my grandfather
is proud of me
and in a way
this is the proudest ive been in months.

Saturday, September 5, 2009

Day 47: two words

stripped tongue
ripped belief
these arms
dont hold
broken bones
fly free
shattered pride
breaks hearts
weak diamonds
fall soft
my floor
shiny scratch
tired tears
hungry eyes
wrenching desire
three souls
wondering tight
cannot fly
tied strong
lopsided triangle
look deep
hearts bleed
eyes cry
two words
for two souls
im sorry

Friday, September 4, 2009

Day 46: Coquis

coquis remind me
that we
though we are the most geographically isolated people in the world
really arent all that alone
or far away from anything
but i would easily give up that realization
to have some peace and quite.

Thursday, September 3, 2009

Day 45: Scars

She's got scars on her arms like she don't care what anyone thinks of her

And shell hold u there

Breathe on you like trust

But only while she not thinking of past or future

Or family

Because If vines get twisted enough

Someone’s bound to get caught



And She's already shackled enough

She doesn't need any other reason to stay

That's not what's she's looking for

she reminds me of my ex girlfriend

once we were past girlfriends stages

and we were actually good for eachother

held eachother like support rather than sex

like we could care for each other while holding other hearts in our chest

but sometimes its hard being friends with beautiful women

you get caught wanting to be the one to fix them

and She's got those scars on her lips

And I swear

They shine like diamonds on clear Hawaiian nights


i just want to heal them

but They dance in her eyes like memories

Like past tears and events

Eye contacts vigilant

Graceful stories half hidden

Like let me help u by showing you what beautiful looks like

Look into my eyes

Her stories too honest

Makes me want to cry sometimes

Last night

I tried to taste the smile of a survivor from the inside out

Trace my way through the cuts of her grin

And the residue found on my hands and heart left me breathless

Like continued late night texts messages

Past 2am on weeknights

What's the pain feel like?

The shackles of history and new beginnings

Obligatory love

What's it's sting like

Does it hold u

Define you?

Someone loves you like sunrise


I promise

Someone loves you like birthdays everyday

And will hold you in arms more comforting than secure

Just wait, it's there, under those grins

Just keep smiling

Just keep walking forward…

…She's got scars in her tears like she don't care what anyone thinks

But in between her smiles

You can tell the scars

are lying.

Wednesday, September 2, 2009

Day 44: heavy

she sits on my mind,
like salt.
like the ocean
she sways.
shes moving me..
and im trying to hold onto something solid
like an identity i dont claim
she sways me
and i want to hold on to her like a rock
like my roots
but i cannot
she is moving
she sits on my mind
like decisions
like soil
and yet unchanging
she sits there
waiting for me to break or to hold her properly
but i,
i have forgotten how to do both
and either
at the same time
so tonight
i am just crying.

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

Day 43: silence

silence is sometimes like screaming
it can not be thought through
cannot be touched
and yet is felt
underneath your fingernails
beneath my skin
i can feel you in between breaths and words
can taste perfection in lips unkissed or touched
there is a sort light that sits in the shadow of a prospect
creates a shining that you wish you could hold
but you cannot
i cannot
i wish i could hold
but i cannot do anything but
in this