I am here as a token
A voice for my people and my ancestors
As a browning plaque in need of polishing
In the day a middle class white girl
Uses my ancestors voice
Uses my land
A beautiful ei on her head
To caption a photo of her on the beach
Something about loving her body the way Gauguin did
To think that my people would be worthy of that kind of
Out of context type reference

I am here as a token
The truth behind the girls who say that Raro taught them how to love an island love
Who bathed in flowers and sand
Saying it is as though the island spirit has possessed her
And she has the power to bestow it upon you
The real island love is hidden between the pages
Of the copy of the holiday leaflet
My nana gave her
The leaflet that I wish had never been translated to English

I am here as a token
Handing out my peoples story
For the honor of revealing that we have more beauty than retreats
To reference my sisters whos bodies have been put on a stage as entertainment
Despite being a show of beauty and island culture

I am here as a token
To educate of my people
To remind you that I come from a people who used constellations to find their way
My people are beautiful and rich in spirit
My culture is more than a holiday destination
Or an instagram post to flaunt your body

Incluso cuando te sientas sola
o la persona que más querías
de repente te ha dejado olvidada
a mí me gustaría que sonrías
Aunque no pueda verte en ese momento
sé que en la oscuridad te guiaría
la esperanza que nace con ese sentimiento
de alivio en la sofocante melancolia
No te rindas ni llores por ese frío Adiós
nuestras sendas aquí están escritas
Quizás como una larga canción
a la que nuestras voces le dan vida
El viento se lleva ese complejo sonido
para apartarnos por un tiempo
Porque algun día todo lo que perdimos
volverá por ese soñado reencuentro
Sonríe por el día de mañana
él puede llevarse tu tristeza
Entonces volará de nuevo tu alma
y verás que todo valió la pena
Sería lindo decirte que después
nada asi volverá a ocurrir
pero la realidad es dificil de entender
y de ella no podremos huir
Sin embargo seremos más fuertes
más sabios en el corazón
Y aunque parezca que pueda vencerte
no dudes de tu gran valor
Porque yo no dudo ni un segundo
que detrás de esos ojos oscuros
Detrás de ese brillo como ninguno
se halla la grandeza de un ser único

she didn’t go after him
because he was easy to apprehend

it was no challenge

and that’s just no fun..

I hear a song which colors Autumn.
It sings Creation's symphony,
Of days long past, or still to be,
Of what the Earth is to become.

It moves the air and paints the skies.
The waves crash with crescendos,
And with its trumpets, wind does blow.
The cellos play.  The eagle flies.

With violins the flowers bloom.
With piccolos the sparrow calls.
Like cotton snow, the music falls.
The drums begin. The mountains loom.

And when it seems the song will end,
In Winter's white and icy chill,
When all the world is calm and still,
The trumpets will begin again.

"So...how is it?" (looking up at him)
"The wallpaper? or the *******?"
"...both."
"Well, one's kind of sloppy. The other's kind of perfect."
"My thoughts exactly."

I’m sitting on the swings one night,
Beside my friend, who’s ****** on coke.
He spilled the usual complaints,
And so of those complaints we spoke.

“How do I get her to speak to me?”
“How long do you last in bed?”
“Why is it so hard to make them ***?”
“Wish I lived like you instead.”

This mighty man; a stockbroker,
A swindler with no pride to steal,
But as his friend, I felt for him
And sung my praise of lifes appeal.

Unbeknowst to him however,
Behind every word was stuck
An unintended ego boost
From hearing I’m the better ****.

And so I learned that fateful night
Inside I’m no more than a creep.
A **** puddle of arrogance,
Though only really half as deep.