All Our Poetry

[Pedro]

Re: All Our Poetry

Chained Link Fence

Crusty fingers with dirt burried under my nails,
Cuts and scrapes, and opened wounds, covered in sweat
After many trials of climbing up the monkey pod tree
Not being able to scale the side of the elongated trunk,
To have a peak above the hedges.
Sitting in the mound of dirt, I'd watch and stare through the diamond rings of the chained link fence, Panning the edge of my perspective at the over grown grass blocking my veiw. Imagining what lay before the gate.
Mountains puffing up arching overhead, on the other side like big jagged teeth poking the clouds and stealing the sunsets from me.
I remember casting rocks out as far as I could throw it just, to see if I could hit it, cracking and shattering glass of homes and churches down bellow in the valley. Haunting me for my errors, as the pastor spoke to everyone except me as I hid, but no one knew.
Gazing at the worn metal structure impeding my way I recall tragically staring through the rusty peep holes with my grief stricken friend at the helicopter hovering down the mountainsid, not knowing it was his brother they were rescueing from the turbulant waters, who past away shortly after.
Now that I am leaving, I wonder if the fence will hold up the fort, while I am away.

Peter Littlejohn The dyslexic Poet

[Pedro]

Re: All Our Poetry

The Same Men

I felt the strong iron grip of his hands,
as it sheltered my own in it's claw's
The balled tips of his calloused fingers, rough and leathery,
Trace delicately the grooves of my knuckles as he shook it for a brief second.

He presented to me a Big fishook made out of bone,
Dazzling with the light, the ivory sparkled like a gem.
Pulsing in the crook of my palm, I enfolded my skin around it.
Feeling the Contour lines, bend and fold under my flesh.
Twirling my index around the braided dried end.

He bellowed with a deep hearty laugh "It belongs on your neck."
He clapped me playfully on the chest and smiled
I felt all his hard work mend it's way into the fabric of my soul,
Like metal and heat being forged

The way my grandpa use to carve and chisel artwrok on a scrap of unused rubble, than give it away. After an ardous day of feeding the animals, watering the plants, cleaning the yard, digging a ditch for the next fiesta, and lifting heavy rocks from their shallow graves, but still finding time to do things with his hands. These 2 men shadow each other, and were one in the same, their hands are what make them special, and their Aloha Spirit.
"Hows that, pretty good eh? I made it for you."
Peter Littlejohn The Dyslexic Poet

[Pedro]

Re: All Our Poetry

Passionate sun.

I bathe in the sun's direct light,
feeling it's turbulant rays settle it's warmth.
into the pours of my skin.
Shedding the outer layer, which was night,
melting the sinew in my bones.
Awaking the very fiber of my flesh and soul.
I feel the roots in the sole of my shoes about to branch forth

As cars make their way across the parkinglot.
leaving me their fumes of hot air and grumpy cries.
for extra space to park their heavy load.
Me and my coworker share a seat on the Security cart.
Half in the shadow exposed to the heat waves.

Revealing what lurks in the closet of our brains.
Hidden under layer of tissue blanketed by our insecurity,
by our open conversation,
and mossy turn around.
We discovery ourselves and forgive the past.
Taking comfort in our dreams,
Looking foward to another path,
Before we part, and one of us goes to check the buildings.
Under the eve of the passionate sun beams.

Peter Littlejohn the dyslexic poet

[Menehune Man]

Re: All Our Poetry

Wow Pedro... I'm really enjoying all your poetry. Touching stuff my friend.

[Pedro]

Re: All Our Poetry

My First Tattoo

His warm steady masculine fingers stretch the the fiber of my leathery flesh,
like a surgeon, peeling away the layer of dry skin, masaging the muscles,
lubricating it before the ink injection. I melt with the lull of his firm grip.
Turning his weapon on, the gun rattled to life, like an old car starting up,
tearing away at the air with it's piercing mandibles spitting black residew as it hissed.

He injected its fangs into me. I shuddered contorting with force keeping my body as still as possible feeling the needle impaling my arm, as it chissled at my pores making new wounds, drawing blood like a vampire, digging deep thru every rough layer, like a drill.

I close my eye's feeling every hair splitting second of it's teeth bite into me, as I wince and make silent cries, not giving into the mind bending horror. I am forced into the deepest part of my mind, where the warrior resides, staring me down coldly in the eye. In the shadows we meet again on some distant plane, and interlock nerve for nerve steal for steal. All the while keeping my balance trying not to give in or break, giving no quarter.

I know the screaming sound of agony, like the force of a storm shaking the river of my tranqulity the yelling of a pregnant mother giving birth. As stabbing flash of colors explode in my head, I try in vain to keep my sanity together.

After hours of grunts and deep breaths, taunted by the heavy light and the buzzing sound, I hold my ground till the design is finished. Waking from what seems like a bitter nightmare, I feel the black pattern sealed on my limbs, sewed and threaded on the canvas of my skin. The warrior bids me fairwell and leaves my domain, and I am born a new, knowing one day I will see him again. For now I've earned my new fond stripes.

Peter Littlejohn The Dyslexic Poet

[Pedro]

Re: All Our Poetry

Summer Fair Ye Well

The conversation we had every hour we spent,
Stolen on brisk, fleeting precious moments,
Eclipsed by the coming of the dawn.
Captured in the unrelenting regal star.

We yeild to smile and hail the golden hues of the sun,
Her crescent moon smile, widens a little more.
And I can see the broad look in her jet cool eye's.
Betwixt by the amber light sparkle, amongh the fields of green and brown.
There's a hollowness, and an emptiness with the lack of sleep.

In the liquid pools of her oculous an untamed,
Wildness to run far away from the battlements exist.
Who've seen to many and experienced it all.
She wilts her woes and sheds her peddles.
I fed her frail roots water,
And she soaked up all the delicous sap.
Turning her head she laughed and wet my cheek with a warm freindly kiss.

What a tropical heat we escaped under 3 fledging months of humid conditions.
God had blessed me well, with a paradise of clear balmy skies, good weather and a good friend to share it with. I long for the season of fall.
Summer Fair Ye Well.

I dedicate this to my co-worker,
Peter Littlejohn The Dyslexic Poet

[Pedro]

Re: All Our Poetry

Music Story Teller

He told a story without illustration or words
With bits of wood and metal and nylon strings
His fingers like a jumping flea slid up and down the frets
Strumming each chord in short waves
Bleeding his raw tune's into the open atmosphere.

Starting his tale off, in a soft moaning pitch, like a whales humming call
Opening a tide to another dimension I feel the song transporting me there,
Like the force of a gentle breeze, he took me back.
Too the beach in Waimanalo, where I learned how to swim,
Watching my grandpa and my Uncles dive.

Picking up the tempo arching the heavenly melody gently up the slope,
He captured my heart, as I recalled my first true love,
And how happy I felt lost in her beauty, being with her and all the happy moments shared. To our untimely break-up and how devastated I was, and how I swore I could never love another again, even though I was so young.

Combining both licks and interlacing it like the weave of colors from the sun,
As free as the water, I felt a tingle in my chest, and my legs began to move.
Finishing the flow on his instrument, he carried my soul on the tip of his fingers,
And told the world his story thru his music and through it I saw the reflection of myself, Feeling ever emotion vibrate within. The musician began another song of moving enchantment. The crowd was silent.

Peter Littlejohn They Dyslexic Poet

[Menehune Man]

Re: All Our Poetry

I wrote this when Mrs. Menehune and I first got together 15 years ago...

I AM BOLD...

I am bold and I am shy
Different facets of the same guy
You're made of gold and like the sky
We shouldn't be afraid to cry
Lovers to be, I'll try

Author: Jeff Ruddy a.k.a.-Menehune Man

[Pedro]

Re: All Our Poetry

I wrote this when Mrs. Menehune and I first got together 15 years ago...

I AM BOLD...

I am bold and I am shy
Different facets of the same guy
You're made of gold and like the sky
We shouldn't be afraid to cry
Lovers to be, I'll try

Author: Jeff Ruddy a.k.a.-Menehune Man

MM that was Sweet almost cried. Way To Go MM!!

[Menehune Man]

Re: All Our Poetry

Hiya Pedro... sure do miss you
If you were here...I would kiss you.

HaHaHaHaHa!

[Pedro]

Re: All Our Poetry

Hiya Pedro... sure do miss you
If you were here...I would kiss you.

HaHaHaHaHa!

Err ummm thanks....

[nachodaddy]

All Our Poetry

Right back atcha'.

MC REN verse, or verse 2. A homage to a wave pool in Arizona complete with actual quotes.

Straight outta Compton, another crazy @ss haole
My name’s Rick Kane, yo, my girl adores me
I'm a poor @ss surfer and you know this
But the wave pool at home don't show this
But I don't give a ***, I’ll sweep the floor
Trippin’ with Chandler, is not really a chore
I’m hungry, the definition is 'mackin'
And when there’s keeblers involved it's called 'snackin'
No one listens to the Turtle
You JOJ or FOB, now that’s the hurdle
So if you get mad about the rides he had
I hear he break his stick he shred so bad
You'll probably get mad, so I’ll write you a letter
Here on the North Shore we treat friends mo betta'
Next time, don’t hide your sh!t under a tree
You so Haole, you dont even know you're haole
Da Hui controls the automatic
For any dumb M/F who wants to start static
Pickin’ coral off your back cuz like a rusty knife
SCRUB IT KOOK, you scar fo’ life
I can help with your logo and that's a thought
You think Chandler teach me to big wave surf ? Not!
To the locals, I’m the M/F’in villain
Make a big drop, in the tube, I be chillin
Time slows without a clue
Put a pig in that dog then your @ss is through
Look, you may not like my beats
But, Laird, why did you have to be a B!tch and pull my leash….
Straight outta Compton...

No Manoa on this one so put that stalking stuff back in your pants. This is actually pretty easy for me to do. Here is a hint. Spent one year in college with a black roomie from Oakland. College was my ticket into the real world, being raised as a beach rat. I wanted out of that scene bad, everyone I knew was dying, hooked on drugs or getting thrown in jail. I traded roomies yearly just so I could learn as much as could about people.

It was pretty cool culturally, learned a lot of things. OE 40's in a paper bag, sardines on crackers, going to sleep with Farrakhan tapes, and rapping all night to Run DMC and Public Enemy.

I am a little rusty with the riddims, it was over 20 years ago and as Maddie referenced in another thread, Eminem has taken rap to a whole nuther level.

As Donkey said, people are like onions, with layers. Here is another layer, and I could give a sh!t who knows about it.......

Hawks in 3, 2, 1........... Enjoy

[Pedro]

Re: All Our Poetry

Interesting besides all the uneccesay cussing, but poetry is free as I tell everyone, and it is. I couldn't quite make out as to what you were saying and what you were trying to get across, and to whom you were expressing it too, or were you shouting too the white folks? If so by all means I understand your point being that I am here in Utah where some of the people here are plain mean and rude and racist as hell, but after walking four miles home from a bus stop in the pouring rain with nothing to shelter me except my poor excuse for an umbrella which was shrivelled up and dismantled by the onslaught of the wind, guess who picked me up yep them white folks you were rapping about, and I didn't even know them. I thought that was cool, of them they dropped me off at my home, in a way it changed my perspective on them a little

As for the education part I totally understand what you mean about changing your life style getting out of Hawaii and finding a better life. That's all for now but keep on posting some more of your stuff and just if you think I was critizing your work, just think of it as some one feeling your flow and asking you what the vibe was about, nothing to get upset about. In the long run you have to know what the vibe is about in order to have the flow well for others. Bye for now

[nachodaddy]

Re: All Our Poetry

Interesting besides all the uneccesay cussing, but poetry is free as I tell everyone, and it is. I couldn't quite make out as to what you were saying and what you were trying to get across, and to whom you were expressing it too, or were you shouting too the white folks? If so by all means I understand your point being that I am here in Utah where some of the people here are plain mean and rude and racist as hell, but after walking four miles home from a bus stop in the pouring rain with nothing to shelter me except my poor excuse for an umbrella which was shrivelled up and dismantled by the onslaught of the wind, guess who picked me up yep them white folks you were rapping about, and I didn't even know them. I thought that was cool, of them they dropped me off at my home, in a way it changed my perspective on them a little

As for the education part I totally understand what you mean about changing your life style getting out of Hawaii and finding a better life. That's all for now but keep on posting some more of your stuff and just if you think I was critizing your work, just think of it as some one feeling your flow and asking you what the vibe was about, nothing to get upset about. In the long run you have to know what the vibe is about in order to have the flow well for others. Bye for now

I knew this would happen. This was a continuation from another post that got moved to here. See "Is HawaiiThreads.com too mean?" for the first part.

This is simply a rhyme over an old school gangster rap song. The pattern is virtually identical to the original (which I wanted to replicate). It is not original. Me incorporating snippets from the movie "North Shore" is.

I toned down the language a lot, check out the original if you don't believe me. Could not take it all out, would have lost the vibe, but could eliminate a lot.

No hatin' on whitey implied at all (just Rick Kane trippin' through the North Shore) but if one is to incorporate NWA, I guess it is part of it's DNA. Never really thought about it until you pointed it out. Very interesting. Thank You.

[Menehune Man]

Re: All Our Poetry

SEE THE SMILE...

Courage without love is tyranny
Love without courage can be a doormat
What am I now currently
I've got to know where it's at

Always striving to find that fine line
To be known as one who shares and cares
While holding on to that, that's mine
And covering all my fares

To live this life with understanding
Giving forgiveness and to live in Grace
Coming in for a soft landing
I see the smile on her face

Author: Jeff Ruddy