A maiden voyage across the sea,
exploring a world bestowed to thee;
Revolt of one and Spirit shaken,
A blind eye turned to all forsaken;
A child arrives with soft hair of corn,
Savage irony not lost in thorns;
Sins of the journey placed in his stead,
Taste of his passion was just as red;
With a heavy heart, You know I’ve tried,
A Swallowed voice along with my pride;
Temple pounded and the Soul taken,
Deaf ear given to all forsaken.
Mouse on a wheel
assumes progress;
Despite what it may feel,
Mouse on a wheel;
Unaware of what is real,
further to digress;
Mouse on a wheel,
assumes progress.
We sat upon tattered futons
with mismatched dishes on our table;
Using mended utensils
and faded bowls,
we spoke fondly of the past.
I watched your delicate hands
as you poured the last of the green tea;
We sipped slowly and savored,
cherishing what remains of this fallow time.
Listen
before speaking a word;
Allow
divinities voices to be heard;
Discover
quiet joys within the womb;
Nurture
gift seeds to further bloom.
Morning comes at an early hour
A cup of joe and then a quick shower
Out the door into another world
Into another world
Traffic flows into congestion
Morning roll is half digested
Office rules and the cubical game
Names change, but the faces stay the same
They all stay the same
Close and lock the door behind me
Innocence knows that they might find me
Stand in the kitchen with a bottle of blush
Listen to the music and feel the rush
O feel the rush
Scrub the day off in a hot shower
Darkness comes at an easy hour
Look into the mirror and I almost scream
Then I remember it’s all just a dream
It’s all just a dream.
Magnificent mountain range
stands guard
over the Windward Coast
and far beyond the ocean
A distant flower blooms along the horizon
as calm bay waters
mirror the sky
soft pastels
of orange and blue
Morning trades
sweep clouds of white
one by one
scattered showers
wash the white sand
from my eyes
and satisfy every thirst.
I have lost every photograph of her, I fear;
Some things you can’t replace;
My memories are the only trace,
of a lady I held so dear;
She wore a plumeria behind her ear,
while dancing hula with flowing hands of grace;
Aloha always shined from her smiling face;
Why Kane’ohe was taken is still unclear,
like her own people, she too was overthrown;
Layer by layer she was ripped of her skin,
then gently in her grave she was laid;
While people stood laughing atop her tombstone,
a high school band sold benefit saimin;
Memories, like photographs, slowly fade.