Both tourists and islanders shop at this store.
It sells souvenirs, cold drinks, and much more.
Find them on many streets in Honolulu.
Leave the city, and they're all over Oahu.
Explore these stores on the Big Island too.
Go to their shops on Maui and Kauai.
They even have places on Molokai.
Their selections and bargains are worth a look-see.
These Hawaiian convenience stores are called ABC.
When a writer lacks
verbs and nouns
he's the victim of
writer's block.
His mind may house
too many consonants,
too few vowels.
Without vowels,
his consonants congeal
and become a mass.
The result is
verbal constipation.
The only cure,
some doctors say,
is a very big
vowel movement,
larger than a loaf
of pumpernickel
or a Seinfeld
marble rye.
Some writers,
desperate for
a very big
vowel movement,
try dynamite.
Not good.
Other writers tout
Agent Orange,
Monsanto's legacy
in Vietnam
dropped off
half a century ago.
But Agent Orange
is not the answer
for writer's block.
It melts a writer
slowly and melts
as well
generations of
his descendants
as it has for years
In Vietnam where
the great-grandchildren
of innocent farmers
whose crops
were sprayed
with Agent Orange
are born deformed.
They are the new lepers
from Monsanto,
not from Molokai.
On the streets
the children startle tourists
from Boston and New York
who are munching on
delightful spring rolls
dipped in lovely sauces
at outdoor cafe tables
under big umbrellas
that ward off
the burning
noonday sun.
Donal Mahoney
As I stood gazing through the windows ,
A light lit in the far way meadows .
Wondering at the sight ,
I tiptoed with all my might ,
Only to find a stranger in the isolated hut .
He lowered his gaze as I stood there mouth shut
and requested for a night's stay,
for he was a lost traveler without a way.
His speech belonged to those of high stands
and garb of those of the Grand's.
With a tinge of pity ,I let him rest
Providing him with the things to my level best.
As the dawn broke ,I hurried
Only to find him good in his limbs.
He bowed down to me and wished a hearty goodbye
For he was none other than the Prince of Molokai .
-Ism
Silent and alone
In this island church
With Him, and Her, and Them,
The bowl was boiling.
I had to see the boils to know One
Light, one foot with no feeling,
Immersed in God's great chemistry, as
One heart burns over the legion of
Suffering pirates falling apart
Like the petals of forsaken flowers,
Into my spirit of fire, flaming
My love of people.
Now "blessed with this disease,"
I move the basin aside
with Work beckoning (always and forever)
And make my way towards church doors
Opening myself fully into the light of our days.
The breathe of our pain,
The exhalation of sweet and bitter time.
Amen, I say, to the acts which hang upon grace.
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