Poetry from Joe Balaz


Da good old days
is kinnah like wun haze

and you gaddah go through wun maze
just to get dere.

Time’s ovahlap
is wun big lau hala mat

dat wen cover da linoleum floor.

Try open da door
and go inside

and you going find
dat da house is not da same.

You gaddah know dough
dats to be expected.

Dust off da hat
put ‘um on da head

and see how it fits today.

Restring da ukulele
so you can strum da buggah

foa see if you can still carry wun tune.

Da sparkle remains in da kupuna eye
and all da mo’opunas wonder why

mesmerized like alert zombies
on dere smart phones.

Dey stay losing touch wit demselves

cause dey kannot be alone
wit dere own minds

witout longing foa da mystique
of all dere gadgets.

If dey had to use wun quarter
to make wun call in wun phone booth

dey would tink
dat dey wuz back in da caveman days.

To dem

grandpa and tutu
look so funny

staring off into da distance
as if dey wuz remembering someting.

Well, dats how it is,

cause da vanguard
is carrying new colored kahilis

foa replace da oldah ones.

Different kine designs
on da feathered cloaks too

if you look real closely.

Da good old days
is now part of da universal fabric

dat some people wish dey could bend
through light, speed, and gravity,

so dey could jump back
into da previous frame.

kahili Feathered standards on a pole.
kupuna Elders
lau hala Dried leaves.
mo’opuna Grandchildren.
tutu Grandmother

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