Monday, 17 July 2017

A poem by Joe Balaz


Dere’s no such ting as perfect—

It’s moa like adequate or wun close fit
no mattah how wonderful it feels.

Day to day you going find dat out
cause everyting stay in flux.

Wun big ugly ogre
is always waiting around da next corner

to shake up and fill
your pristine little snow globe

wit thick black and choking smoke.

Den da buggah going roll dat ting
down da lane like wun bowling ball

and knock out even moa hope and optimism
waiting deah in da form of standing pins.

So no blame me
if all da stars fall out of da sky

wen dat eventual possibility is even mentioned.

It’s called curbing da enthusiasm
and tempering da steel

cause nutting is certain
and foa sure nutting is perfect.

Dat no mean you no can smile for miles
and dig da moment foa all dat it holds—

It’s just dat you gaddah watch out
foa da vampire teeth in da shadows

and da shifting and changing ground
dats always moving undah your toes.

Joe Balaz writes in Hawaiian Islands Pidgin (Hawai'i Creole English) and in American-English.
He edited Ho'omanoa: An Anthology of Contemporary Hawaiian Literature. Some of his
recent Pidgin writing has appeared in Rattle, Juked, Otoliths, and Hawai'i Review, among others.
Balaz is an avid supporter of Hawaiian Islands Pidgin writing in the expanding context of
World Literature. He presently lives in Cleveland, Ohio.

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