Love is a Shitty Movie with Shitty Actors by Sam Tanielu

I roam mindlessly for days on end

chasing the ‘white picket fence’

     and the ‘two kids and a puppy dog’

fantasy…

cut. 

The next scene, is filming live

from an undisclosed location

using my greatest fears and insecurities

as a backdrop without my consent

cut.

I’m now inside an out of body experience

slowly losing myself

I feel as if i’ve climbed out of my skin

to admire the beauty of hers, 

cut.

the solace i find in her battle-scarred eyes

tells me everything is gonna be okay

so i escape…

and for a moment

this green screen heaven is REAL. 

cut. 

My judgement is still in a midnight slumber

not realising it’s just been betrayed

but then again, who ever does?

She runs her fingers through my hair

Then puts her hand/

                           trust/

                                 love/

                                      dreams/

                                                 future/

in my hands,

and re-runs of fairytale endings

play on my broken VCR. 

Strolling into a CGI sunset, laughing. 

The End.

Kyra by Sam Tanielu

When she sleeps, i think of what she dreams about

Maybe she time travels back to a world that she existed in before she was born,

Where she was queen and ruler of her universe

who chose to sacrifice her throne so she could travel back to our time

and re-piece the fragments of our broken hearts

maybe her fragile limbs become wings

And she ascends and enters the pearly gates of heaven

Where other angels help carry her pretty wings and glowing halo

And she approaches god and asks if she can dream in colour

maybe her eyes are watching god

Waiting for a sign,

Dreaming on behalf of a world that is almost out of light

And while death and destruction flood the land of a million dreams

she creates rainbows for coloured girls who have considered suicide

When she sleeps, i think of what she dreams about

Because I dream about how she will grow into a beautiful woman

Who is not confined by conformity

Who proudly wears her mother’s coat

Who will not be scared to be herself

who will find her voice in a crowd of shouts and screams

who will paint snapshots of paradise like her mother

and write better than i ever could in 20 lifetimes

a beautiful woman who will accept that all I can offer her is my daydreamer spirit

and the promise that i will dress myself in her smile everyday for the rest of my life

a beautiful woman who sees hope and the beauty in everything living and dead

who will laugh when she finally knows how to read and realises this poem is about her

and she will proudly show it off to all her friends

When she sleeps, i think of what she dreams about

My lazy angel who knows all the world’s secrets

But just doesn’t know how to communicate them yet

So she just smiles.

The Voice by Sam Tanielu

The voice of my father

The voice of my mother

The voice of my sister

The voice of my two brothers

These are the voices that guide mine

When the guide lines are not clear

Shh, their voices, the voice

The voice of my girlfriend

Is the sweet voice of hope

When this heart gently weeps

When the voice of this cold world

Raises its voice like drumrolls and DRUMROLLS

AND DRUM R O L L S and

Shh, her voice, the voice

The voice of my culture

When the voice of my people’s cries

Reflects the

‘nail across a chalk board’ voices of

Oppression, repression and suppression

The voice of Nafanua

Who became the voice of pre-Christian Samoa

Before the missionaries and sky piercers

Had our country in a missionary position

Forcing us to lower our voices

Because it didn’t fit in with their

Image of our people as being ‘noble savages’

Shh, our voice

The voice of marginalised people

Who have had their voices

Taken away by the same voices

That took our revolution

And are now selling it back to us

At glassons and supre

As Che Guevara t-shirts

The voice of marginalised people

Who have had their voices taken away

By the same voice who gives

Paradoxical promises

Like the “war on terrorism”

Or the “fight for peace”

Shh…ut the fuck up

The voice for people

Who avoid the truth

Adn don’t see the need in fearing Jesus

Who don’t care for freedom

Who don’t dare to be different

Scared to be themselves

The voices of living hell

Shh

The voice of

Kerouac

Ginsberg

Tamasese

Levertov

Palahniuk

Bukowski

Waldman

Wendt

Ihimaera

Tusiata Avia

Malcolm X

Maybe even that drunk lady who screams obscenities at me

Everytime i walk past her house.

These voices are not restricted to boundaries

They have lived the dreams of my sleep

Finding their voices in the crowd of shouts and screams

The echoes of their voices are endless

The type of voice i want mine

To be remembered as.

My voice, The voice

Brown Jesus by Sam Tanielu

I’m looking for Jesus, I’m looking for the Brown Jesus

Its been 23 years
and i’ve convincingly outgrown my white sunday suits
Bible study bookbags are so 1997
and the gold spray-painted coating on my crucifix
is almost completely faded

I’m looking for the brown Jesus

I feel like i’m living on vending machine faith
I pray every night before I sleep
but one glittery glove doesn’t make you Michael Jackson
(can somebody in the church say Amen)

I’m looking for Jesus

Yeah i’ve got pictures of him in my house
but he seems
too photoshopped
too airbrushed
too mimesis manufactured for my liking

Yeah i’ve got pictures of him in my house
but they’re just a collage of facial verisimilitudes
compacted into a caucasion man
with dreamy blue eyes and wavey hair
(Somebody say Amen)

‘Make-up on empty space’

Hegemonic interpretations inposed onto its blindfolded faithfuls

I’m looking for the brown Jesus

They sell us Heaven and the idea of God like
drug dealers and crack
but i guess the concept of afterlife security
is marketable in any language

‘Heaven for the highest bidder’

Downloadable religions at down low prices

All you have to do is hand over your soul
and your credit card details

Order in the next 10 minutes and you’ll receive a stainless steel toaster

BUT WAIT, THERE’S MORE…

Order now and the first 3 months are free
after that, you’re gonna be

livingonnothingbutbreadandwaterandofcoursefaithitselfandthebeliefthatyourlifehasapurposewheninactualityyou’renotsure

at these prices, ITS A STEAL!

(Amen)

In some neo-platonic way
We’re all looking for the Brown Jesus

We baptise ourselves every weekend
over indulging in the holy communion wine

Slow dancing in Lucifer’s ballroom
The Sunday Morning hymns are a mixture of
house
techno
R&B
and Hip Hop

‘Born again Judas Kisses’

The Sunday sermon screams at me

‘We NEED someone to project our insecurities onto
We NEED a scapegoat for our mistakes and misfortunes
We NEED to have daily reassurance our lives are not without purpose’

He preaches, but he’s just another man
trying to get to heaven

Just like me.

I’m looking for the Brown Jesus
I’m looking for the way
looking for the truth
looking for the life.

Amen

Baby Dreams by Sam Tanielu

I often wonder what babies dream about
I think its like when you buy a new wallet and there’s a picture of somebody else in it
Maybe baby dreams are the same, their dreams are already pre-packaged for them,
until they are comfortable enough to dream for themselves.