It describes that warm feeling that suffuses over a native Hawaiian, increasing their mana (spirituality) and benefitting the 'ohana (family) after a foreigner (mainlander/howlie) pays their hotel bill and gets the fuck out of Hawaii. It literally means, 'Eat shit and die you foreign asshole'. It has a popular variation among gigolos known as, 'Aleʻko'uʻkaiʻpaʻhulaʻwaʻhini', which means, 'Swallow my cum you crazy white bitch.'
ᏰƐƦሃℓԃᏫሁ ԼƐϖ'ś Lost in Translation: Foreign Words Without English Equivalents (Part II)
Nice Hawaiian Punch
I was standin there you see,
I wusn't expectin nutten,
when she double sucker-punched me in the gut
my belly revolted badly,
fowl words were on the button,
civil conversations like a pairing knife cut
It's been in the works you see,
we've been beggin for a fight,
the pressure is too much for you to take
so when I wasn't lookin',
first you threw a left and then a right,
and that is why now my belly ache
now the truth is setting in,
my waves have settled down,
a big mistake has reared it's ugly head,
my world will be in sorrow,
my presence banished from this town,
a nice Hawaiian punch the pain I dread
Living in my indigo house
sitting on a straight chair
I find the essential word
which turns me into
a suburban Hawaiian
here in snowy Michigan
and the word that appears
in my indigo mind
means love, compassion and mercy
as well as hello
and as well as goodbye.
there's two kids just moving the earth
with their feet, changing
as the turning clouds morph in the atmosphere,
lost like two turbines
on a windy day over smoke
stack curtains draping
blue walls. a different kind of arrival –
not by plane or bus
but by heavy thick cylinders
pouring out huge white
marshmallows over an open flame, dripping
onto coals without
a single chance to save themselves
I have not been anywhere,
done anything, thought anything,
and feel nothing.
that’s what my blank, plain-clothed
T-shirt would indicate to other people.
A man walking the earth with
no visible identity.
When I put on my Hawaiian shirt, however,
they believe my mind to be full of
pineapples, hula girls swinging softly in the
ukulele moonlight, palm fronds swaying
in the dacron, or is it rayon, ripples
of my baggy upper man.
Let others think what they might
of my images, or the lack of words
My inner tag says that
I’m size “L” and that I’m made on
factory looms in China, that my buttons
are constructed to look like the
real thing–a round slice of bone or
I am not so much anywhere on the
outside, even though there are places
I would like to go fling my few dollars.
Inside, however, I am lost,
pleasantly lost and hiding, within the
convenience of my unprinted shirt.
I like to wear flowers in my hair and,
Robots around my neck.
They whisper to me stories of places I've never been,
And toxic lullabys when I can't sleep.
But they never tell me where to go,
Or what I should be doing instead.
They tell pretty lies (about me being friendly)
To unsuspecting people,
And assure them (at the very least),
And everyone wants to be my best friend,
Until they realize
It's not a mask, it's vanity.
I'll paint up my eyes but,
I wont paint on a smile.
So compliment my fashion sense,
But watch out for my disposition.
There's a bite to my bark that can leave scars
On places no one can even see.
I'll love you completely or,
I wont love you at all.
Just don't try to make me into something I'm not.
I'm done pretending that I'm anything else.
I'm a lovely little package with a "fragile" sticker.
But I'm wild,
Don't try to tame me.
I had this candy from Hawaii once, and it was really sweet and delicious on the outside, but it was bitter and disgusting on the inside. I had to spit it out.
Inspired by something that happened at school today and the new accessories I got in the mail.
Not a single boy in sight.