CLICK ON COVER ABOVE for full story: Samoans go deep: Islanders in the NFL Society of Professional Journalists award for “Best Sports Story;” Hawaii Publishers award for best feature.

My name is Liza. I have a knack for telling stories that compel audiences to sit up, take notice and even take action. In a world of message fatigue, clogged in-boxes and social media mania, I cannot offer you any quick fixes to make your story fly right. But this much I know: every story is a journey and every journey is a story. I am always looking forward to the next journey. Count on me for story support: lizavision808@gmail.com.


CLICK ON COVER ABOVE: Risky Business: Hawaii stunt actors pull off success Society of Professional Journalists Award for “Best Feature Reporting”


CLICK ON LINK BELOW for full story of how Molokai measures up to changing times.



CLICK ON LINK BELOW to read a story linking the life of the land with the health of Kanaka maoli.



CLICK HERE to see what it’s like at Hula U. I am so grateful to Tangaro Taupori and his wonderful students for sharing their stories.



KWO5.2010_FINAL 6 for printHana solves a dialysis dilemma-RS2

Site undergoing reconstruction 08/19/15.

In the meantime, enjoy this clip of artivism,

July 18, 2015

Give My Son a Drum not a Gun,


Island views: 19 years of my storytelling filtered through my friends at Hana Hou, Hawaiian Airlines Magazine

KWO5.2010_FINAL 6

Motu Football: Samoans go deep in the NFL


The worldʻs first and only college degree in hula

Stunt actors in Hawaiʻi embrace a risky business

KWO509_FINAL 4-ceded lands-debate

KWO209_FINAL 1Assessing Foreclosure Firestorm


Premier Pacific storyteller comes to UH

Lighthouse legends live on Kauaʻi

Return to Olosega: faʻs Samoa stylinʻ at a family reunion

Hana solves a dialysis dilemma

pandemic report_FINALreduced size

Liza Simon is a storyteller with a word processor—and sometimes, in the case of her recent forays into choreopoetry—(that’s spoken word art illuminated by dance), she is a storyteller with a live audience. She has deep experience in all types of journalism and commercial copywriting, having worked in the field for over 30 years. She has quite literally done it all, serving government agencies, non-profits and news outlets. Working both full-time and freelance, she has provided services to a variety of organizations—from Honolulu’s former NBC affiliate KHON TV2, where she wrote and produced documentaries on hot topics of the day to the Hawaii State Department of Health, where she spearheaded a federally sponsored pandemic awareness campaign-Share Aloha, Not Germs. She is perhaps best known for her vivid features,that appear in Hana Hou Magazine. Her Hana Hou contributions have netted a total of twelve awards from the Society of Professional Journalists. Her long list of accomplishments includes marketing and public outreach campaigns inclusive of traditional and social media. She has an extensive background in bringing journalistic coverage to projects aimed at improving social justice, strengthening indigenous identity, and bolstering the well-being of children through better services in health and education. Samples of her work can be found by going to the links provided above.

Give my son a drum not a gun

So he can make the sound of a million books

Sharper than pop music hooks.

So he will translate the wisdom of the Ages

Into unsung villages and undulating sages

So he will attune red soil, blue moon

Sunrise to the cries of bloodties

Move the line in the simmer of his graceful spine

Warming the lands of matching streams…

So everything he dreams

He will be….. he will be…someday

A man

With a gift for roots medicine growing from his hands

As numerous and luminous

As sighs on timeless sands.

With his slaps and taps and the infinite beats

of a Drum… not a gun

Give my son a drum not a gun

Because what’s a gun but a gone-stale war game?

A fake soldier’s spit-shined shoes split home in shame

A heartless head—dried and dead on delivery

Ghoulish joke of long lost chivalry

K-Mart Bluelight special sale of hate

What’s a gun but the curdled state

Hard like nails, hard like hard time

Hardening humanity into a drought on sanity

Dried skeletal drives to erect more jails

Too hard to bear

My son, his sweetness, wanting to say

Hey’…”nothing happened at school today…

Can I play?”

This son facing a gun?

Hardens my hearing with fear.

Give my son a drum

He will move mountains of fear

Into streams of consciousness

Faster than any speeding bullet

He will be a Superman of boyhood wonder

And if you hear him pop a cap

Loud like thunder

He is triggering the sap of Spring,

The laughter of beasts into a magic ring

He will hold power in his palm

Pour it into a psalm

Carried here from Africa

By grace of the divine—a hollowed out tree—a loving sign

Not just by random chance, I can see

Give my son this drum, not a gun

To make our dance.


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