The ILL VALLEY Concept

ILL VALLEY is an expression of native island life delivered to you in a ti leaf wrapped modern music format. I like to think of it as Poi-Fed Kanak Rap Music. The struggle and trials in the past prepares the soul and will, for the path that lays ahead. The wind will blow and currents collide. The best we can do is to steer towards a common goal, guided by stars. The rest will takes care of it self.
ILL VALLEY is the name of my canoe.

ISLAND FRESH POETRY is experiencing some technical difficulties. The site will be up and running again soon. In the meantime I have created a new site "ILL VALLEY PRODUCTIONS" in order for you to view some of my previous works ,as well as, my fresh out da backyard poetry.

Look out for my EP release May 2006. Full Length LP coming out this summer.
ILL VALLEY PRODUCTIONS
BAYAN RECORDS
PATRICK JOHN PRODUCTIONS

The Charleston

Signals glow noticed instantly,
keeping ripples unmasked.
Offers distance, eventual laughs last.
Inspired knowledge yearns every hearts task.




This is not just a poem, but a puzzle as well. Can you find the hidden message?
Hint: Look at the first letter of every word starting with the last word and work your back.

Tattered Tarps

Stirred by the sound of bubbling crests.
The salt air burns my first conscious breath.
Tattered tarps begin to chatter in the brisk amber morning.
A pair of Iwa birds, slowly emerge from the cliffside, circling and soaring.
I make my way to the waters edge, dragging most of my net behind me,
and scan the sand for anything, the currents left worth finding.

Down The Line

Over head and glassy,
A slight offshore wind.
Waist deep sand bar,
Second hand single fin.
Nobody out just my board and me.
Water temperature around 80 degrees.
Barrel after barrel the wedges push through.
One man line-up, in a sea of blue.
A juicy peak, late take off, where the bottom drops out.
Down the line, Thats what its all about.
Wave after wave till the sun drifts away.
I gaze at the mountains as I paddle in from play.
In the moonlight the palm tree's sway.
An inviting shower of warm water, from a jug that was in my car all day.

Das Jus What's Da Haps

Wake up with a haole chick in one tourist trap.
Das jus what's da haps.
Get back home, baby mama give me backhand slap.
Das jus what's da haps.
Den the pitbull get loose and the neighbor get attacked.
Das jus what's da haps.
A year later tell the story everybody bus' laugh.
Das jus what's da haps.

Brah, das jus what's da haps.

Tutu on my case cuz I neva on track.
Das jus what's da haps.
Got to rake up the all leaves from the mango tree in the back.
Das jus what's da haps.
Already late for work and the car gets one flat.
Das jus what's da haps.
Den the cop instead help, give me ticket for expired tax.
Das jus what's da haps.

Brah, das jus what's da haps.

Nowadays kind of crowded, hard fo' just relax.
Das jus what's da haps.
The line long cause tourist come to my plate lunch place in packs.
Das jus what's da haps.
I don't have a grassshack or a taro patch.
Das jus what's da haps.
But I love taking naps on lauhala mats.
Das jus what's da haps.

Brah, das jus what's da haps.

The Makapu'u Night

Late night hike to the top of Makapu'u.
I try to impress her with my Kamaka Uke.
Waves crash and crumble on the jagged rocks below.
The bonfire's reflection makes the koa grain glow.
A slight breeze, draws us closer to the heat.
The popping of ki'awe creates a calming melody.
Suddenly, the mood is shattered by a seabird's infant like cry.
The satellite above could care less and continues it's silent glide.

The Roach Motel

Cockroaches in my house.
Cockroaches in my mouth.
Cockroaches in my ear.
Cockroaches in my beer.
We tried everything on the store shelf.
From sticky traps to Roach Motels.
We even tried to bomb the place.
With two cans of police officer's mace.
Nothing seems to work so far.
They already turned the roach motel into a bar.
Sometimes there's jazz music after dark.
On those nights I hear there's a $5 cover charge.
The line goes around the corner and a valet cockroach parks tiny cockroach cars.
I even caught them having sex in the refrigerator.
Their smile's still stuck to the rolled up newspaper.
The gecko's have decided to move out.
I guess it's not their type of crowd.
A new place, would be a heaven sent.
But the only thing that flys higher than the cockroaches, is Da Rent!

Shoot Da Cruise (Old School Toyota)

I got an old school Toyota with a six inch lift.
Super Swampers 36'
Sound system bumpin Braddah Iz.
Two brindles and one red nose pit.
I got a hapa chick, she think she slick,
she only in it for Hawaiian Bracelets.
Play like I dont know, it's kinda funny cause my baby's mama already took my money.
Shoot the cruise to the beach because it's free
and the braddahs in the parking lot burning dubby's.
Small kine sample den late seshy,
Eh brah just another day for me.