Makiki BUsh

We hail from Makiki where the skies are leaky and the babes are freaky as the streets are speechy and the people are preachy and the hunnies are peachy tell me where you come from?

out of this valley inna sun.

The ghost run things in I & I spaces the life of this place once played inna mud & made kissy faces. Why they diverted our waters to service the haole and his rises and his ments is a sign that wherever the dog goes he will piss on your walls n tents so let’s watch Babylon fall from the heights of tantalus and let the ‘uala roll down to my Palala playing with fiya at the station take a trip to I & I garden if you need a vacation and worship at our holy temples give reverence give praise to the Scottish Rite Cathedral. Our King, David Kalakaua used to frequent these streets where I & I created this temple to set the tempo of a brain temple he inoa no Kalakaua!

We would wander the streets high, drunk, kava’ed out looking for the next move parties at the top watch as the sky blew and the Pū knew what befell these people that walk throughout Makiki looking for

a break.

The block flies rocks and the clocks inna graveyards are as peaceful as a resting croc, boxes of locks comes through and braids up the brains and I tell you I have Pi’ilani in my veins.

Tell me unko tell me a story give me direction while the rain is pouring, tell me aunty what’s more real, this walk I keep trodding on or stopping at a banana peel. Kneel inna dirt and get your hands brown from stomping grounds that pound I’ll show you a King with a crown.

This is not to paint the Makiki Bush as a total gangsta area, because we get silly here real kine care for ya, if you stare at us, we put our shakes up telling you “eh where u going bradda what’s up!” Yessai real places with real people in our little crevice on Oahu we shake hands nobody wana fight you we no fuss or fight we have seen the light in our holy space we know Makiki Bush thats right .

Someday the hedges will be trimmed and we’ll work inna garden with I & I limbs but until then I mash the street with my crocs and pic my fro out of knots.

You gotta be tough to battle the artificial rock they call it the concrete from Mauna Laha the creek supplies the love flowing up stream. The sun will kiss you and perspire your desire to admire the one bedroom lair. You see my ancestors got it out the mud, and now with my bare hands I dig through rock and cement to find my jewels I gotta represent from mud lo’i to lima lima ku’i pohaku no u’i.

From mud Lo’i to concrete my beautiful valley falls down to the ocean breeze. Our tree snails are no more and our Lo’i are beneath the concrete floor yet our spirit rises through and comes through the door and releases riches into I & I minds to feel alive in our ments and rises in my little valley, in this love I call it mines.