Wednesday, September 26, 2012

Day 28: When we Finally Realized

when we finally realized we were the language...
we scraped the silver lining from our shackled skin 
tore ourselves back to black
and brown at the edges
let the screaming dance escape

when we finally realized...
we became a home
with salt and sea protection guarding a place worthy of our roots

when we finally realized
we planted something that could grow
threw away their parts of speech
the ones that had us cuffed and cored
we executed their verbs 
and pro nous
returned to our ku'u
to our kåkou and 'oe
and let the 
she and he's
her and him's
the its and me's
let them be a broken shimmy 
down the drain 

when we finally realized
WE could name our bodies
we held our tongues
and danced the sight of it
to sound

Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Day 27: I dont want poetry

I dont want poetry
i just want sleep

Monday, September 24, 2012

Day 26: To Hiʻiaka

To Hiʻiaka: An Apology for my inadequacy - from the kind of ʻimiloa who falls apart in distance

For the better part of the last year i have tried to hallow out a crator of your story
to build an echo of a song worthy of your voice
i have traced the lines of yours weʻve remember on the underside of my wrist
a promise
i have turned every lover into a flower resembling your Hōpoe
a memory worthy of that sacrifice
and made an event of your memory
never taking a moment to recognize my shortcomings in your depiction
in the aligning of your brilliance to my mediocre

so instead of spending this evening writing lines to form a voice that i cannot capture
tonight i am scribing you an apology
for pretending i had any right to speak your story
when every part of me is too weak in your footsteps
when every part of me crackles in this seeking
in this distance from home and lover
in the same instances that you seemed to flourish

i cannot promise
only hope to turn this journey of mine into something worthy of your name
turn these words into something resembling what you have left behind

Thursday, September 20, 2012

Day 25: rain

silver pieces slipping off the edges
minutes combed over
to one side
the way time passes
and breaks
makes me something special
sometimes i carry the sparkle it shakes in my skin
wait for the rain

make it wash away again

Tuesday, September 18, 2012

Day 24:

im scraping alll the cracks here looking for a sign of life
only to see the remnant of the way things died
only scar tissue shaking itself to dust
under the shake of this cities steps

Monday, September 17, 2012

Day 23:

I am completely uninterested in catching up
just catching on
only want a little space to call my own
and enough words to write something inspiring every once and a while
only want to be worthy of the words im been given
only want a little time to grow

Friday, September 14, 2012

Day 22: Arthritis, A Haiku

fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck
fuck, i hate my fucking life
fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck


Thursday, September 13, 2012

Day 21: ʻIolani Palace

First a symbol

An idol erect

Showing strength

And luxury

And civility

First always a symbol

Second to gather

To come

To be come

To dance

To sing

To remember

Second to gather

But First a symbol

Third a home

A place where to rest his head

A king with a crown created

A crown adopted

A banner of how genealogy might translate to English

Third a home

After they gathered

To the symbol

Fourth to morn

A place to return

A woman remembering the cold

And his smile

And the rain

And the man

The final note of his moʻo

The man under the gold shimmer

Fourth to morn

Within the home

Once they had gathered

To become a symbol

Fifth, a faith

A woman rising from the ash of a brother- failed

A woman within the word of god but true to her moʻo

A resistance assembled so

In music

Or constitution

Fifth a faith

That spurted from morning

Within the home

That they gathered to

To make the symbol true

Sixth a prison

Not a metaphor, no

A prison with columns turned to bars

Holding her captive

With only her song

Only her god

And her love for her kanaka

Sixth a prison

For 6 months in 1896

Sixth a devil

She endured in strength

Now a museum

A castle full of memory

not allowed to touch

what symbol remains?

Only that we once existed

And now cannot hold what is our own

With class panels

Like bars refusing the gathering to happen

The commune between mother and daughter

Not a place for the lahui to rest through the night

Not when the doors have been shut

Not when we must ask to be home

So still we mourn the loss, a symbol still standing

Mocking us of what we cannot have or touch

Now, only a reminder

A gravitation pull

To place and memory

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Day 20: ʻōlelo Hawaiʻi

their eyes widen when the water falls out
ocean spilling vowels through me
kaona spurting from the salt
classmates stutter in silence
trying to repeat
sound locked in their shackle shaped lips

they do not know
the way their english barely breaches the surface
and i find it ironic
that i have been chosen
an artist in a mode
dictated by the superficiality of colonial tongues

for the first time in over 4 years
i find myself isolated by translation
remembering how comfortable i am in this crater
laying my body in the curve of Haumea's tongue
and yet, in contrast
how self conscious i have become of my presentation
and the way the others gaze
scopophelia spilling from the iridescence of their irises
making me sculpter like
walls building around me, a museum

until i am still again
letting only the english
breach the crest

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

Day 19: 9/11

the soot of this crumbled city
sits under the skin of its decedents
the ones who havent fallen
who continue to walk towards tomorrow
erect and outstretched

they say the skyline looks different
but i dont know any difference
this place is still a mystery
and clasped
kept from me

i do not see the home made empty
or withered away
or the bodies decayed
i do not watch the silver sky fall
i do not remember
because i was not there
but i stand here in awe
of all that has not fallen

Monday, September 10, 2012

Day 18: Pau ʻole

he maoli ke kanaka
he aina ka wahine
he pono ka piko

he mea hoʻomau

he mea pau ʻole

Sunday, September 9, 2012

Day 17: melting

how sad it is
to long to be
turned inside out
beneath the sea

how sad i must
live this life
where water only falls
from faucets

how sad it is
to look out
and see nothing but the city
and to wish it to melt
into a puddle
or sea
or pool
or ocean
or anything
that might remind me

of home

Saturday, September 8, 2012

Day 16: translation

Heoli's tongue is
shattered frames of glass film, try
to mend translation

Friday, September 7, 2012

Day 15: Symphony

Sweat collected in the crater of my neck
heat callused to my skin
and scabbed over again
over again

there is a process to shedding heat in this city
along with every worry
it is developed through a patient practice
in which woman
peel back the most out layer of themselves
over again
build over a masterpiece of the one that once existed

every evening i am reminded of the way the day can stick to you
and i find myself in ceremony
standing under a symphony of water falling over
do not let the sound of breaking out
not to remind anyone but yourself that the shedding occurs
over again

they know already
and need no reminder other than their own

keep your body quiet
let no one hear the tears turn
to symphony too

Thursday, September 6, 2012

Day 14: Calluses

Dad says the calluses will come
that the broken bodies falling over my feet
i will learn to blind myself to injustice enough
not to let it cut at me
get caught under my skin
like a promise i cant keep

that maybe
the fact that my subway ride gets darker and darker the deeper i get into brooklyn
and the shoulders fall further and further
and life seems to get
harder and harder
that someday
those thoughts
of being heavy
wrong and hurtful
will start to slide off of me
like melodies strung from guitar strings

i guess these are the parts of life
you didnt realize you were getting
with your bargin apartment

Wednesday, September 5, 2012

Day 13: city of sound

i forgot this feeling
of wordlessness
of running out
and away
falling short
and over

there has got to be something new to say
and so maybe this leather skin iʻve been practicing
is making it harder to take time in my own skinning
for the reader
too much of me is already turning tough
out of necessity
but that was not the point of this journey

why stand under these flashing lights
if all the shine does
is makes me want to curl into myself
what is the point
if it leaves nothing to be shared
only fear closing me over
not a word left
to be said out loud

why move to the city of sound
if it only inspires my silent hustle

Tuesday, September 4, 2012

Day 12:

i fear the violence of your translation
the bound of your fist

Monday, September 3, 2012

Day 11: fear

i am told to fear the city in which i sleep
there is no solace to be found in these streets
just a people
broken by the economy
and me
a girl
who's never been afraid to walk home late
a day in her life
how this city will shake her to the core
even in the safest of space
make her wonder how strong she is
and if maybe she was born of something softer
sand like
not worthy of these
flashing lights

Sunday, September 2, 2012

Day 10: a word from LIliʻu

To be honest it doesn't feel right for it to be my voice today. In celebration of the queen today I have copied her final speech as the ruling monarch.

E ʻola mau ka lāhui ʻo Hawaiʻi !!!

I, Lili'uokalani, by the Grace of God and under the constitution of the Hawaiian Kingdom, Queen, do hereby solemnly protest against any and all acts done against myself and the constitutional government of the Hawaiian Kingdom by certain persons claiming to have established a Provisional Government of and for this Kingdom. That I yield to the superior force of the United States of America, whose Minister Plenipotentiary, His Excellency John L Stevens, has caused United States troops to be landed at Honolulu and declared that he would support the said Provisional Government. Now, to avoid any collision of armed forces and perhaps loss of life, I do, under this protest, and impelled by said forces, yield my authority until such time as the Government of the United States shall, upon the facts being presented to it, undo the action of its representative and reinstate me in the authority which I claim as the constitutional sovereign of the Hawaiian Islands.
— Queen Liliʻuokalani, Jan 17, 1893[14]

Saturday, September 1, 2012

Day 9: poem poem poem poem

Never needed a reason to love u
Only looked for a reason to not fear you
To hold u
Find a part of your body strong enough to build
Never told u how much I would fear your lips
In leaving
Never told u
Cuz it didn't matter

A love lost
Is a love never had
And I rather not continue the production of wiping away the past

Poem poem poem poem
Words go on
Saying nothing.