Day 96: WHite HOuses

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Day 95: My Jeans

my jeans have tears

rips

imperfections

but they are beautiful

comfortable

know me better than any other clothing i wear

i take them everywhere

just like my friends

they appear to be past their time sometimes

and yet

i can't bring my self to leave them behind

so i just keep stitching and patching

but needles hurt

and my aim is crooked

so all im doing is hurting

everyone

i wish i were better at creating than destroying things

you see you can't mend jeans while you are wearing them

i've tried

you cann't mend tears in friendships while you are still stuck loving them

and i can't leave either behind without feeling naked, alone and empty

so im stuck in this limbo

wearing my pain on my legs and sleeves

everyone can see im broken and breaking the things aroudnd me

i'm sorry

i'm sorry for the things i've done to break and tear you

for not being careful when running with sharp object and cutting corners

i always find some way to unintentionally snag you on the table and then i just continue to tearing trend....

im sorry i dont know how to live in one piece

i'm sorry

trust me

i'd fix you if i could

but i still think you are beautiful and even more comfortable with the imperfections

if only we could all learn to live with them....

Day 94: Rot

we've got powdered bones

plastic hearts

thinned blood

rotting at our irises

feathered fingernails

ripped at the seems

truth or dare?

ill call your bluff

dare you call me beautiful looking rotten

like the backhand of the devils heart

dare you kiss these scissors lips

dare you tell me truths

like we are 13 playing spin my shattered bottles

7 minutes out of hell

pretend there is no world around us

=dare you call me beautiful now

Day 93: Tidal waves

shes got a smile like tidal waves

makes you believe sinking just might be beautiful

that drowning is just another way to look at falling in love

that being broken

is the only way to pick yourself back up from the ashes

the only way to live is to love and i'll go under just to breathe

look at my smiles

do they look like scars

do they feel like honesty crawling on the back of your neck

whats me breaking smell like

does it taste like dwindling ashes

or am i an ocean

just swaying back and forth and going no where in the meantime

will i always be stuck in this current

because currently

ive got cuts forming from my inability to decide my own movements

gravity works in every direction

and magnets

they dont get to choose who they are attracted to and yet

never complain

just kiss away their strength until left hopeless

whats it look like when one magnet doesnt kiss back

is it possible to break the pull by being cautious

or are we all doomed to love and not be loved until we are loved

and whats it look like when we finally give up?

does it look like a tidal wave

like someone is sinking today

like her smile

does it look like a suicide

like an ocean

like love

is swallowing us all

alive

DAy 92: not enough

no hunger lies in your eyes

no disire for anything more than sunsets rise

we are broken dreams and promises we never intended to keep

like forever can last as long as this moment

what if tomorrow

i woke up dead

Day 91: Take me home

there is no longer any more dirt under my nails

no more sand in my scalp

the taste of ocean breeze has clense itself of me

my tan is fading

there are no other hints to prove where i've been

and i'm still unsure of where im going

my roots have become lighter and shorter by the minute

i want to replant myself somewhere

but im not used to the dry air

i am thirsty for something that might quench my heart

take me home

to white sand beaches covered in white tourist

i dont care

just take me home

tonight i want to pretend i was never here

DAy 90: Mistake

i remember when your heart was in my hands

i've been looking for it lately

i misplaced it somewhere between leaving and returning

i must of dropped it

i hope it landed somewhere soft

im sorry for the scars it must have left

do you think you'll ever trust me with it again?

Day 89: Cold

We take shots like pinky promises to late night pledges

Sleep on unscented pillows

Pretending loneliness is the same thing as being cold

so we don’t have to feel like we are missing anything but covers and

walls

when in reality

we’ve got enough of them both and not enough of each other

Day 88: diluted

one

step

ahead

from

yesterday

and

me

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

lately

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

Day 87: fire and rain

October 14^th 2009

5 and a half years later

im still looking for enough piece to fill this puzzle with

I am afraid only ash still remains

I am still looking for things to fill the space with

There is still a whole in my sister heart the size of a 7 year old best friend

I wonder with each birthday if she cries in honor of one missed by jasmine

I’ve got no more space for pain

So im throwing questions to demons I have forgotten to pray to

To make room for the suffereing to settle

Locked door

Fire

Silence

Ringing

Love

Buzzing

Broken

Heaven

Together

Survival

A father Left alone

Husban

mother

How does it feel to be god?

Did you find 2 daughters

burning bedside prayers

sending smoke signals to angels

these girls are still babys

too young to grow wings

what will become of their undeveloped dreams

will they receive a halo to lynch every nighmare with

jesus

will you welcome these girls to your gates

only to leave there mother at the bus stop

regardless of whether or not she screamed prayers of forgiveness into your flame

burning bushes of commandments

tho salt not kill

but she killed them anyway

is it murder

if its done to take away the pain

is it still wrong if she cried every night looking for another way

another answer

did she not cry hard enough

What does you heaven look like

Can you taste silence on the tip of your tongue forming a smile

Can you feel our tears like raindrops on your back when we cry for you to come home

Have you remembered how much you loved the rain before it drove you to side with flame?

Day 86: at night

at night i am everything i fear

i am broken hawaiian dreams

dark skin

one night stands

dry lips

short tongue lisps

i am broken

hidden

barely audible

forgotten

forced into sleep

i am black

boxed

not held

not whole

damaged goods

scared

at night

i am remembering

everything i have lied to forget

DAy 85: music

we made love like the moon

fell for each-other like sunrise

i never slept in your arms the way you did in mine

only laid awake

where did those dreams go

when we fell into silence

how did it feel to have you heart touch the surface of the earth

scratch like vinyl

make music

did you feel like signing

or suffocating

day 84: short and sour

sing to my fingertips,

my chest.

go away,

dont leave me.

stay here,

hold me.

i dont want to be touched...

im just waiting to be moved.

kiss me harder

touch me softer.

hurt me.

baby just hurt me

Day 83: integrity

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

i wonder,

When you sleep do they scream during your dreams

Day 82: not a poem

she will stretch these muscles for dream of yesterday

tear he heart

leave it on any stage

field

its all the same

but he knees

not nervous

shake on green turf sidelining games

this is not a poem

this is my life

and making a metaphor out of arthritis and fractured dreams

wont make living it any prettier.

Day 81: pray with me

crossed fingers

oil lathered

fore heads

before loves broken

lets pray

to night

maybe wake with the sun

praying to us

DAy 80: cold

cold rips skin like sandpaper fingertips

like i used to love you slightly more than i do in this moment

but tomorrow i will love you more again

Day 79: INSTRUMENTS

these songs that we have forgotten to sing

pulse in our veins like they were our own

but we know

lyrics and drop beats come from geneologies and raindrops

our mother passed these songs to us through breast milk

nurtured our hearts with her strength

promised us nothing but full stomaches and souls

and that was enough to know that

we are the vessels

the instruments

the strings

the vocal chords

vibrating in unison

hoping that

our actions today

and our history

can be the difference between what is and what will be

today, we will remember to sing

Day 78: wedding

She stares hard

i think shes trying to see the self she wishes she was in me

but i am not a treasure chest

just glass

why is she not smiling

he virgin white lace lay low on her brow

why does she not smile?

did she know this would not be love?

the air is cold

condensates on my face

i leave only regret and metallic puddles behind

im trying to cry to reassure her

but i have no ducts for tears

i can only cry if she is brave enough to first

why does she not smile

im tired of holding this expressing

i cannot hear them ring

but wedding bells shake behind her

inside me

today was supposed to be happy

why is she not smiling.

Day 77: reminder

She sleeps 2000 miles away

i'm sure she doesn't live there

because i can still feel her in my skin

within the beat of my heart

can taste her smile

today i was reminded

that we do not do our tongues justice

the language we speak doenst fit in our hearts and

the truth makes our mouths awkward

im not warm anymore

but her poems still sings me into consciousness some nights

reminds me of friends over seas and how friend doesnt begin to describe certain people

certain people we born to be connected

but we've found ways to cut our stems

rearrange our roots to grow awkwardly in other directions

tell me

tell me you hear my breath in your dreams

sing my similes to your heartache

tell me there is still a fighting flower trying to grow in our garden

and that maybe

we'll be close enough soon to create something other than faded poetry and memories

Day 76: going blind

we stare back at each-other like we should know each-others names

but we dont

we only hold each-others hearts backwards

know each-others skins

road map

skin graft

take this tumor off my hands

its malignant and reminds me of your soul

whole

never broken

sometimes soo warm it feels cold

like late night homes

hold me like last week

in between pages of poetry

like broken vocal chords never knew how to sing

teach my voice to phantom itself to sleep

to fasten new wings on each word

we stare back at each-other like we should know our names

but we dont

we have forgotten

everything but a face

and whats that worth we we're all going blind anyway...

Day 75: Almost too busy to blog

there is overcommitment bleeding form my skin

a poem a day for a year

poetry

auditions

soccer games and practices

girlfriend

and friends

obligations

and loves

colliding

make friction

my hands are splintered

tired

break under the pressure of rope made noose

i want to fly

so i'll hang from this suicidal rope of responsibilities

aren't i beautiful

Day 74: my two cents on women

I come from a nation where women are mass produced
And lesbians come born with labels
Stained and branded in vegitarian feminism

Sent from my iPhone

Day 73: dance

She's only ever going to smile half heartedly
Like a broken chandaleir at sunrise
That how everyone loves her
Shattered
So they can feel aconplished while pretending to put her back together
Our relationship wa a elivator
Slow and unclimactic
No music
Almost silent
Just harmonizing heart beats
And a cadence of ribcage
We sang sometimes
But most often we would just dance

Sent from my iPhone

Day 72: Inspired by April Chavez

"we learned to be stingy with the horizon"- (April Chavez)

hold it like our mothers last kiss

like lovers on our lips

learned to hold everything we touch

like broken bones and vocal chords

turn our sunrise to sunset without giving up the day

we learned to posses

with these white fingernails scraping the decay from our surfaces

her

crevices

they are the same

we are selfish

hoarding culture

like birthday wishes

its your turn

pick something amazing

you may never get another chance.

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

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

proven

broken lines on grids

oscillations

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

--n'oaskdjf'aksjdfl;kasjdf;lkajsdf;lkj

fuck this poem. i hate math

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

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

we

and anyone else willing to scream for freedom

hold the indigenous in our voices

we

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

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

Indigenous

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