...and they grew

[in regards to: sunflowers]

when i wrote this poem there was no melody it was just words to mark a break up a future that would be forever changed my sweet trust.

and then came a garage band beat and the rediscovery of my voice this idea that these words needed to be sung and maybe my voice my voice could sing them.

and then happened western ave my english boyfriend a magical musician that stuck me in a makeshift sound booth in our vintage closet and built the music around this melody and he, himself, inspired one evening while i was watching 'cat on a hot tin roof' decided to include, faintly, some of the dialogue from one of the scenes neither of us knowing that i was, in fact, a cat on a hot tin roof.

and then came a pregnancy. my first child. with a wounded heart from san francisco. in retrospect, we had no business being with each other. aside from the passion, the awakening of spirits, connection-- just long enough to plant a seed. a seed that would prove to be the greatest creation of my life. but meanwhile-- he left and i was pregnant and this song became a narrative for yet another ending.

my family up north, in addition to my LA baby shower, decided to throw one for me in our family home. a home that witnessed me and sweet trust grow up saw me through western ave showed that wounded san francisco heart what love looked like... that home that we no longer have a key for. and now this poem turned melody turned song turned video makes my heart weep again. for all the beautiful memories. that lead to the futures that no longer exist.

sunflowers: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KjR9Hp9306M&index=19&list=UUUPqoifg-mAokj5t3MN1Hlw

152 regent dr

wanted to clean out my car today get it smogged check the tires washed get it ready for my baby boy. but i had to get some work done on the computer first while my daughter is at school. then i got sucked in to the vortex that is the internet clicking through some old faces i haven't seen in awhile. some faces i really miss. and as i scrolled through these faces i came to realize that my life is pretty large. and with a life this large it takes a lot of 'giving a fuck'. but 'giving a fuck' comes at a price.

lost my grandma last year. lost the house we grew up in, too. i fear i will never see my cousins as comfortable in their skin as i did when we were all gathered in that house.

one of my cousins was gracious enough to lend us his in-laws barn for our winter get together, a place they frequently use to throw events on their property. it was lovely seeing most of us together but it wasn't the same. we looked displaced. a family with once strong roots, now orphaned without an anchor.

i guess... people pass, environments change.

you know, i never did. often times when folks lose a good thing they don't realize the value of it till it's long gone, they take it for granted. but i never did. i believed in it. that staircase that held my years, the laundry room that marked our youth, the kitchen and all it's noise, the family room's songs, the raised foyer that served as our stage, the wall my brother spread his poop all over using it as paint hoping no one would notice, the mirror closet door i used to give myself a haircut when i was 4, the towel cabinet on the second floor that i always thought was the best hiding place... no i took it. for all that it was. for all of it's history before me, through me, in absence of me.

and now the absence of all of us. it's not ours anymore. it's not home.

some people go through this life and opt to not care much about people, faces, spaces, memories. they don't participate, or keep up with the folks that were part of their lives. maybe they're better for it. maybe i would be better for it if i just didn't care. about people, their faces, our spaces, our memories. maybe i'd be cleaning out my car by now getting it smogged the tires checked a good wash ready for this baby boy.

but how could i possibly ever be ready for this baby boy if i don't honor my feelings acknowledge this loss this anger pay respect to the history we came from so we can navigate through this new unanchored future.

for grandma: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=opE...

for grandpa: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jo-...

perfect today (for j+b)

my greatest teachers in life
weren't from grade school
or books, or songs, or even poetry
my greatest teachers
are not found in our national heroes
the web, a youtube tutorial, or a movie
my greatest teachers
are not khalil gibran, ghandi, or jesus
or maya angelou, shel silverstein, or rumi
these have all been teachers, to some degree
-the poems, the heroes, the internet
the songwriters and authors
the storytellers and spiritual leaders-
but they were not my greatest teachers

my greatest teachers
have been the ones who grew me
who taught me
not by words or scripture
or fortune cookie platitudes
but by attitudes and examples
the people who taught me about invaluables
how to pick up the pieces after the hurricane
how to cease this destruction and find salvation again

one of my greatest teachers
can out cook, out clean, out decorate most people i know
she's quick, and fiery, vulnerable and smart
she's beautiful, resilient
she's not afraid to work for what she wants
she's not afraid to shine effortlessly
she's original and lived
a mother and a daughter
a sister and an aunt
and she met a man
to spend the rest of her days with
who listens and observes her life
and her needs
appreciates where she's been and wants to go where she's going
a clever man, driven to build their future
ever present, ever attentive
engaged in the world that surrounds him
in tow, a life of his own
filled with his own luggage of experiences
but the man he is, he recognizes everyone has baggage
but it is in the grace that we travel with that baggage that marks our character

no my greatest teachers are not
the main characters of stories
or the founding fathers of science, rock n roll, or industry
they are the people
who have proven to me
that life
our lives, and our choices, our yesterdays tears and loud smiles,
apartments and road trips, houses and jobs,
moving and then moving again, raising a family, raising bluto,
births and deaths, all the lessons, the blessings
dinner parties and toasts
fights and celebrations
were all worth it
because every single decision and path
delivered us perfectly in to today

congratulations bernie and john.
thank you for being one of the greatest.

snack time

words used to come so easy
before there was expectation
but i'm letting that go
and i'm writing

this year.
2015.

the scion was totaled
the computer broke
the abscess grew
the job ended
the accident happened
his wedding occurred
i lost sweet trust
i lost my grandma
he lost his dad
i'm pregnant
i'm engaged
rory is potty trained
rory is my daughter

i'm a mom
everything i thought being a mom is
is
and so much more

you don't get to eat when you want to eat
or sleep when you want to sleep
...or write when you want to write
like right now, she is having a meltdown
and she has to go apologize to papa
for hitting him when he was only trying to
give her love
i have found that the things that annoy me
i don't voice as much
i just remove myself from the situation
like people who don't understand
how to be with a child
their needs
the way they need to be communicated to
the patience it takes
the understanding
and awareness it requires
not everyone has it in them
to be amongst children
to really dedicate themselves to
the development of their upbringing
i'm learning that now
i've been spoiled in that way
surrounded by folks who innately
know family, what it takes to be in a family
how to put other people's needs before yours

the argument is
put other's before yourself
or put your own needs first

both are fair enough
but here's the deal
you gotta decide who you are
which one you are
and actually
if you were really smart
you'd know
that its always about serving others
and those times in life when you have to put yourself first
it is ultimately, to put serve the greater good
and you'll know the difference when the time comes
especially when you're a parent
because everything is for them
even when it seems it's not

morning rambles
couldn't sleep last night
the weight of tomorrows had me reeling
tossing and turning
still has me reeling
tossing and turning

anyway
off to wipe her peanut buttered mouth
we're done with our snack

new pedestals

don't even know where to begin, old friend
i've written so much for other people these last few years
i forgot about us
this exercise of expelling the raw
the candid

the moment

in this moment
i am
a mother
and the demons of a yesteryear are quieter these days
actually, plenty of them have dispersed
replaced themselves by new life experiences
to be honest, there's just simply not enough time in the day
to nurse on pedestals every little insecurity that ever was
ever hurt feeling
as you get older, become a parent,
you learn to get the fuck over it

think that might sum up these last few years in a nut shell.

i've been getting the fuck over it.
by going through it.

and some demons, they still live
some times seep into my dreams
seep into reality
but i just acknowledge them.
say hello old foe.
and let them pass.
being a mother
and soon a mother of two,
i really have no time
to dance with demons and poeticize their existence.

motherhood.
parenthood.

that's a poem for another day.

#3 40

I was asked to write a little something about my brother

Brother bear #3 as I commonly refer to him as

Or Dante Pante

But most of you know him as Rufio or Prince Zuko

Or maybe as a poet

a community leader

One of the founders of DPL or more recently WeOwnThe8th

If you’re old school you may have even called him Titus back in the day

This is just a little sister’s opinion

But to know a person

To really know a person

You’ve gotta know where they’re from

Which is funny because as some of you may know

He has a poem called “where are you from”

And in it he discusses the neighborhood he grew up in

A Filipino kid getting caught in the crossfire of lurking police and protective gangsters

I won’t give away the ending, but I will say, he talks about being human at the end of it

The value of what it means to be a human being

I couldn’t begin to talk about Dante without mentioning his brother Derek

The eldest, his kuya, who made him an uncle at 14

Preparing him for his own hand at fatherhood someday

Or the endless well of respect he has for his other brother Darion

Or the love he holds for his brother Dion

I guess you could say my brothers are best friends

If you know my brother, then you must have followed him down a dream or two

Like his dream to bring faces like ours to the forefront on screen, in music, on stages

Like the dream our mother had of putting a bunch of Asian kids in the entertainment industry in the 80’s

Or the dream our grandfathers’ had to uproot their entire families and move half way across the world to a foreign land

Guess you could say, we’re a family of dreamers

And dreams coming true

And in a rare occasion

If you’re at the right place at the right time

You might see my father in him

As emotion swells up in his eyes

Sometimes for a big moment

And sometimes for the smallest of fondest memories

We’re sentimental like that

We would gather

Much like this room now

under one roof

The bascos, the abastas, the willis’, the jaromays, the mckenzies

Cousins and aunts and uncles and neighborhood cousins and aunts and uncles

And sing songs

Tell stories

This was his first training in storytelling

This was his first training in working a crowd

Because you’ve gotta be loud

And you’ve gotta be charismatic and quick

To thrive in the tribe

His first dance studio was in a living room

Watching my parent’s cha cha to sabor a mi

While Auntie Eleanor strummed the 6-string

And then later the streets of San Francisco with his brothers

Under the name Street Freaks

Have you seen him on a dance floor?

It’s like watching music come to life

Even growing up where we grew up

He always had a taste for the finer things in life

And wasn’t shy to earn

The best ride

The best speakers

The newest technology

But he’s also one of the first to volunteer to sleep on the ground

When we’re short of beds

He is humble

When you’re living with 20+ in a house with 1 bathroom

You learn generosity and how to share pretty quick

But it also forces you to work harder

To find your individuality

My brother is singular

Growing up where we grew up

In a family that didn’t meet the neighborhood mold

It also made you work harder to get out

And he did

And he brought his tribe along with him

And though protective like the gangsters we grew up along side,

Like our Grandma B, his door is always open

And you may not know it

But just like our Grandma Abasta

He’s been praying for the betterment of ‘us’

What good are we human beings

If we do not represent our tribe well

This is just a little sister’s opinion

-- but that is what my brother does

He re-presents us well

So cheers

To one of the riskiest dreamers

One of our top storytellers

Cheers to the legacy he came from

The one he is creating

And the one he is continuing

papa allen

i didn't know him

i mean, i hung out with him

a handful of times

not enough

to know a man

but enough to know

that this was the beginning

beginning of something huge




i didn't know him

but i met his son

in a chance encounter

in the city of sin

that city muddled with liquid courage


stumbling stupers

a strip that's glittered

with choices that most people don't remember the next day




but the next day

his son found me

and he wrote me




i didn't know him

but something in his son

i recognized




we were a bit limited, see

in a facebook chat

just words exchanged daily

but something in his writings caught me

there was a sensitivity in every letter typed

a sentiment of everything he had ever wanted to be

all hope for humanity

and a future that reflected a glimmer of light from his past




i didn't know him

not personally

not really

but i know his son

and the man his son is becoming




he reminds me of the rarity of my family

the anomaly of a Good Thing




from what i hear of him

i've known him all my life

he's the reason

people want to be better






i was told recently he was a man of few words

which was always a surprise because his impact was immense

guess a heart that large is too busy to talk about how or when it'll beat

it just does

steadily

consistently

constantly

reliably






to really understand someone

... yeah, you gotta listen

to the beat, the timbre in their voice

the melody of their life

the harmonies of their actions

you gotta see them, really see them

spend time with them

quality time

--but sometimes you gotta stop looking at them


you gotta start looking from them

i mean, you gotta see the world as they see it

from their perspective




papa allen,

i want you to know he does

papa allen,

you can rest now knowing you did good by him

papa allen,

he adored you

papa allen,

it meant everything to him

for you to see him

as a father




so these words i write now

it's just an offering

a marker

because your legacy is obviously and apparently and concretely

limitless

but this

this is for rory

so she knows

of her papa allen

and where the light in her father

comes from