Aloha Ke Akua


After your death, I still couldn’t pick up the phone.
Quiet disbelief,
Shooting text messages into cold, thin air.
Nahko and the Medicine for the People rang,
As inhaled your death,
My lungs froze.
I don’t listen to them, anymore.
But I’ll never be as cold,
As I was before your passing.

Echoes traveling, outstretched.
Making home in the past,
Neighboring that song you used to sing.
There were plenty.
Lyrics conveying messages.
Lyrics bringing me back to you,
While I google how long it takes a corpse to decompose.
Are you comfortable in that coffin?
Quiet conditioning,
Shouting messages into the cold, dark earth.

My emotional pain equivalent to your physical.
Lyrics conveying messages.
Lyrics bringing me back…
I promise,
I’m not forgetting you.

Let Me Vent

Shut down

Shut down

Put some of that white pride aside

And sit the fuck down

Governmental shut down

Emotional smut

Lookin’ like a clown

Who knew an orange chicken

Could cause so much god damn friction


You ever listen to a song through a tunnel?

How bout under water?

Lyrical gluttony

Escape this tyrannical phony


Pence better consult his mother

And trump ought to stop having wet dreams

About that teenager

From ‘94

Face resembling that of his daughter

Sleeping peacefully

The rest of the country fearing

An upcoming war

Pissed on by sex workers

Wishing they were squirters

He’ll tweet denial on tweeter

Adding in a confirmation

Of his bigly pecker


The world is fucking grim

Country being run

By an overflowing blimp

Grandaddy was a pimp

But this man is a straight up gangster

Let’s ask his shrinking wife

How many times he’s raped her

Sorry if that was a bit too vulgar

This man is a fucking monster

Backing this country into to a corner


Hope for impeachment

What a mental torment

Glowing reds

Proud reds

Money placing chains around your tongues


You made your beds

So when all hell prevails

We’ll leave you to pick up the fragments

Cast you out

Tell you not to pout

Leave you victims of your own

Greed and oppression

In the meantime

Please do us the honor

Of explaining your gun obsession




Look at what you are doing to this nation!



The art of letting go?
I thought I had mastered it once.
Then I allowed this world
To soften me.
And now? 
Now I hold onto things that
May well not exist.

“I wish to weep,
But sorrow is
I wish to believe,
But belief is a

Hang onto that
Which we know…
Is nothing without chance.
And chance is but digging a hole,
To bury ourselves in.

The very death of me,
Will be my own hope.