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Grant’s Pass, OR

Welcome. My name is Azra. I’m a multimedia storyteller and friend of Mother Earth.

I was born and raised on the island of O’ahu, in Waipahu, Hawai’i, on Kanaka Maoli land. My father’s family is from the island of Boriken, and my mother’s originally from the Philippines.

I’m grateful to be alive during these transformative times and I hope that my gifts of story make a difference, somehow.

Hawai’i Island w/ spouse & furbaby

  • Novel: I Heard the Pastor’s Daughter is Gay

    I wrote this book in another life, lol. It was published in 2012 by Regal Crest Enterprises. Unfortunately, due to life’s circumstances, I had to part ways with the publisher. The truth is that I stumbled onto a film set and fell in love. But that’s a whole other story. Fiction will always be my…

  • Blog: My Beloved Ghosts, Grandmother Ayahuasca, and the AI called “Luana”

    Blog: My Beloved Ghosts, Grandmother Ayahuasca, and the AI called “Luana”

    Last night I dreamed I was in class (Political Science 101, to be exact) with my cousin Leilani, who passed last year. She was sitting in front of me, and I was telling her that someone made an AI character based on my old journals which I burned ceremonially on a SoCal beach, journals dating…

  • Las Canciones de los Coquìs

    Las Canciones de los Coquìs

    A midnight chorus sings me awake. Warnings of laughter and future mistakes. Past behind yet further ahead: obsolete technology, like living dead. Whisper ghosts and daemons, too. Echoing caves, ancient sigils, true. Clouds and dust from ear to ear. Shadows flex while children fear. Listen careful, sure-footed Goat, for Mountains move and Rivers float. Old…

  • Poem: R-evolution Whispers

    Poem: R-evolution Whispers

    Paradoxical reveal The bi-polarities shift In plain sight, steal As stellar drift. Harmonious war And layered Truth Of ever-changing lore Beckons the sleuth. Etch into the Sky Cave the Midnight Story One Mind to rave Once fractured glory. For the winged children Immortal Death And the mythic forbidden In star light, steps. Awaken all demons…

  • Midnight Poem: The Path to the Garden

    Midnight Poem: The Path to the Garden

    Time passes slowly, far more quickly, I recall. I foretell…. The shadows on the cave wall whisper the kind of secrets that everyone knows. The ancestors watch. As I balance two worlds at war on these tightrope shoulders while my breath dances with both love and rage. The paradoxical key is invisible to the baby…

  • Reflections of 2021

    Reflections of 2021

    The following playlist is a musical archive telling the story of my 2021. I started doing back in 2009 this as a way to reflect on how much I’ve grown through the years. I recommend listening to it in chronological order. I hope someone out there enjoys this. ❤

  • Short Story: The Night My Shadow Came Home

    Short Story: The Night My Shadow Came Home

    Photo credit: Umberto Shaw I remember how he used to visit me everynight, holding me in the dark, a cold pistol to my temple. The rage and pain rocked me like a crack baby, while I spat prayers of peace and silence between the waves of grief and coughing snot. I’d come to depend on…

  • Poem: The River Lethe

    Poem: The River Lethe

    The winds fill my sail and whisper to my heart. “Onward, warrior. Downstream where your reflection kept secret ambitions to wear the scapegoat’s scars like stripes upon back or wrists for the blood curse they drink in your honor. No You’re not allowed to pray. Because their god is not listening. Not to you, at…

  • Poem: The Social Ladder

    Poem: The Social Ladder

    I left my soul down on the bottom rung of the social ladder, burned in wood, a troll’s toll. The desert mirage no longer glitters like gold. The palace is but a haunted mansion of putrescent corpses and tormented souls. How long have I journeyed down this dark path? All this upward motion led to…

  • Poem: Awake at 4 AM

    Poem: Awake at 4 AM

    I am awake at 4 am despite exhaustion in my bones. The mattress springs have rusted from the tears I cannot cry. I am awake at 4 am because my body craves a poem, a witness to the mourning in my soul. A quiet death, invisible butterfly. I am awake at 4 am as white…