We Are All Each Other’s Stories
and kidnapped rhetoric fondled
like flesh stretched and contorted
a playdough plagiarism rampant
in areas urbane and mundane
And why not? All civilization
is fodder for carry-on eventually
And you, yeah, you in the subs,
we see you and we hear you On*Star
won’t help you now its been outsourced
and you’re roaming stuck in the middle
of Wal-Mart contributing to
the sweet green decay
and golden gleam
of currency seems
a gingivitis of the soul. We dig
the past to peek but continue too
Come, part mental eyes a squint
askance in candlelight to see
ancestors bones revealing
ancient tomes re-leaved and
the greatest secret held within
said only that: “We are
all each other’s stories…”

Tuesday, July 29, 2008 3:29:20 AM
Elks
ReeechardT

Interesting stuff, anybody else listening?

I saw HAPA tonight at the WA Center. Brought up some very intense emotions from times gone past. So this message is to them, mahalo!

Aloha HAPA!

I just walked two blocks to my apartment in Olympia Washington with your songs in my heart and a tear in my eye for Maui. From 1988 - 1991, I lived in Puapake Puamana in Lahaina, Honokowai, Kihei, Wailuku, Pai'a, Makawao, and Kula. I've been back once to visit and it was like I never left.

Your music as well as Uncle Willie, Keola Beamer, Hector and Raphael, and others has kept the spirit of Aloha alive in my heart while I've been away.

My brother, Toru Yokoyama, was an exchange student from Nigata prefecture in Japan. He came to stay with my family in Olympia when I was in high school. He was the older brother I never had, being an only child. He taught me my first three guitar chords. When I fell on hard times after college, he was there to help me get back to level. I felt lost when he moved to Maui in 1987. But, he was just preparing a welcome for me later.

When I went to visit him in 1988 for a two week vacation, I found I had a large extended family I'd never met. My new aunties and uncles fed me and taught me, and my new brothers, sisters, and cousins showed me what it was like to live in love and happiness. Maui didn't steal my heart and soul, I gave it willingly.

I sold my ticket back home on the third day of my visit, because I was already there.

While I lived on Maui and worked at the Hard Rock, Studio Blue, PWC, and the Tiger's Den/Restaurant, I felt my spirit settle into the island as it's spirit settled into me. I was working three jobs so didn't have the time or money to visit the other islands, but Maui had everything I needed for the next few years.

luminous surface
swimming silently it speeds
bright with scars of peace

is that in two mid-west US states they've already outsourced their drive-thru services overseas. Does this mean that the NSA will be listening everytime someone orders from their car? It seems to match the criteria for foreign-to-domestic communications they have so gleefully coveted, ilegally without warrants...

Can you imagine applying to the FISA court for a warrant to listen to the McDonalds drive-thru? LOL!

LOS ANGELES (Reuters) — McDonald's (MCD) wants to outsource your neighborhood drive-thru. The world's largest fast-food chain said Thursday that it is looking into using remote call centers to take customer orders in an effort to improve service at its drive-thrus. Company officials said the idea, being tested at a small number of restaurants in the Pacific Northwest, is aimed at reducing the number of mistakes. full story:
http://www.usatoday.com/money/industries/food/2005-03-10-mcd_x.htm

I got this Its
more than I want
I’ll get pissed if
I can’t return it
Might go off Cause
a scene in public
Laugh at my kids 'cause
they’re embarrassed

I’m an asshole dad butt
I can’t help it
Its how I was raised Its
force of habit
You will never win if
I can help it
These lessons I had
from my asshole dad

I now bequeath to you

Huge ass farts
at dinner tables At
Sizzler big man wants
to haggle No tips here
mistakes each cost
a dollar The kid’s plate is
all I’ll pay for

I’m an asshole dad butt
I accept it At least
I don’t get mean My asshole
dad was something to see Maybe
when you get here you can change it Butt 
for now I’ll laugh at pain sigh in my
beer and continue to jeer at 
your embarrassments I may raise

my voice butt I will never raise

my hand like

my asshole dad

~~~ 

Disclaimer: My dad broke the cycle of physical abuse he was
subjected to and never raised his hand in anger. I certainly gave
him reason to discipline me, but that was as far as it went. In any
case, this is not about him. It's about the asshole dad archetype,
a universal character, balanced on a line between the old order and
the new dynamic. We’ve all seen him portrayed in media, a stereotype
that maybe hits too close to home for some. The genesis of this poem
was a dream, as many of my late night creative urges are, and is pieced
together from annecdotal stories I've collected over the years.

Personally, I don't agree with the war in Iraq, the war in Iran [I'm sure it'll happen whatever most of the people want], or many of the wars that've been justified in the past 50 years. But I think a new tack should be pursued.

Maybe we should not block military vehicles and supplies being returned to bases through our port. Maybe only block military vehicles and supplies being deployed to war torn areas to be used in our name.

Can we keep our war tools home where they can't be used against the innocents of other nations?

Sure, they could be used against us, but that would be better than making the rest of the world suffer for our inability to reign-in our tempestuous, empire-happy, the end justifies the means, greedy leaders.

Keep our war-machines here! And have another beer!

I like the Way
paper feels written on
both sides snailed
with moments in Time
but still subject
to it's Fades