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- from Rock Biter // Tui Scanlan

#poetry #poem #quote #writing #verse #free verse #tui scanlan #strength #dreams #poc poet #pacific islander poet #pacific islander male poet #01162022 #id in the alt text

If ever someone is stupid enough to ask, ‘Is your father dead?’ You hold your head up high and say, ‘No, he isn’t. Because he lives in me.

Tui Scanlan, "Legacy"

#button poetry #poetry slam #slam poetry #spoken word #writing #quotes #poems #poets #poets on tumblr #Tui Scanlan #Legacy #buttonpoetry

Anger will make you strong but love will make you powerful.

FROM THE VAULT! Tui Scanlan - "Legacy" (NPS 2014)

Tui Scanlan, performing for Hawaii during prelims at the 2014 National Poetry Slam. HELP SUPPORT BUTTON POETRY.

#poetry #poem #slam poetry #spoken word #button poetry #writing #lit #quotes #poets on tumblr #Tui Scanlan #From the Vault

Rock Biter

By Tui Scanlan

They look Like Big Strong hands Don’t they? But for some They are eerily reminiscent Of drunken stepfathers who didn’t listen Abusive lovers Who didn’t ask permission Of bullies Who never got to see the gold within ’Cause they were too busy fracking the aether out of Innocents These Bronze Hands Give people flashbacks of Brass Knuckles Tall, dark, and sinister Skip across their eyelids Wary of their trinkets These hands Look like they would snatch their children out of the night Fright In the eyes of a stranger Is hard to chisel away So I choose to dispel the myths and preconceived notions Not all giants from the ocean are created violent Some of us Dream of violin solos While fumbling with a lack of nimble Sometimes These Big, Strong hands Are too small to cradle all these broken dreams I hold them too close, I suppose The pitter-patter of shattered hopes on tattered heart-strings Are a practiced tune These fingers sing Sometimes They make me a target So many Napoléons Want their volley to knock the nose off the sphinx So I meandered to the metamorphosis of these metacarpals into mandible munchers and it made me malignant They look Like big ol’ meat mashers don’t they These boulders Used to reduce mountains into molehills But though they Once Were Warriors These old soldiers gather moss now They’ve seen enough violence for two lifetimes and have since retired They beg forgiveness For sinning against their brothers And taking up arms against them Nobody ever asks me what I see ’Cause to me They look like blame the big kid For defending himself against the antagonistic little shit with the chip on his shoulder They look like These big digits won’t fit fingertip thimble kisses They look like high-roller scapegoats And tactile regret I know What they look like But they are Grandpa’s fissures filled with pride in combing my hair They’re Grandma’s amethyst veins helping me cross cracked pavement They’re dad’s throwing discus My Uncle’s shooting hoops My brothers playing music Regardless of what they look like My hands are Large And Powerful From a long line of love With no time for the presumptions Of Mice and Men My hands Were trained by Earth mothers Who let ‘Ōlelo Hawai‘i roll thunder ’cross the valleys and echo from the Cliffs My granite palms Are diamonds in the rough Smooth enough to wipe away little streams from Northern Springs And put pressure on cuts To stop rivulets from leaking My hands Massage Caress Intertwine And Heal Move nimbly with knot work They tremble and quake They help me stand up straight My hands can stand the heat So that even while it’s still molten They will help shape The golden heart Within the next Mountain

#National Poetry Month #poem #poetry #poet #Tui Scanlan