The mighty rolling river is my sanctuary
Where the turbulent water reaches its shores
Landscaped by erosion’s rounded river rocks,
Every color and shape transformed by the mysteries within her shoals
Floodwater logs are cut for firewood here
Smoke dried salmon is cured and dried for food
Tyees’ souls join me here, born in quiet spiritual solitude.
Swirling eddies stirring, inspiring conscious universal muse
Water rushes past earth mother's terrestrial islands
Where eagles nest and soar up high
Beavers dam where flocks of geese swim
Blue Heron’s rookery fill trees to the apex of the sky
Head waters birthed in forked mountain high
Waters rise from beneath mother earth
Rapids pass villages plummeting miles and miles.
Gravity’s tug and draw journey to aid the salmon’s Holy birth
I know I’m one with sacred ground
Ancestors spirit's power is present at ease
The pulse of river water's muse
Is the pulse of this mixed-breed
The half-breeds myth, not Indian or White.
“Young buck born with a divided heart!”
We have big ears we hear everything
A step child orphaned, reborn into the spirit's light
The placid harmony of the river's gentle flow
Waters speak a mantra directly to my soul
I grieve the loss of ancestral grounds
Ancient territories pilfered for miles around
Upstream above where the mighty water falls
Landscaping this river's great divide
Cascading walls of water soar and plunge
From silhouettes high and wide
Centuries rivers carved and shaped an ominous path
Fertile valleys were eroded deep and wide by raging waters wrath
This place was graced through those centuries past
My heart's ashes will rest where river waters yearn to pass
Ancient brothers fished with spears from platforms built up high
Hollowed out trees, as paddled canoes, tended fish wheel traps side by side
In quest of the bountiful sacred Salmon, our food sustaining life
I embrace an ancient heritage, our spirit shall remain steadfast...
Mâyašlen yá he íčhiyopteya wakpá ipȟá...
Lakota note: Coyote was going past the source of the river...he sat next to me...
I'll just let you down,
That's what I thought,
When I left this little town,
With not even a wave goodbye,
Now here I am two years later,
Coming in the limits of this town,
And I keep wondering if you still hang around here?
The trees still make the same sound as they blow,
The grounds look beautiful this time of year,
Nothing changed since I left here.
I passed that cracked stop sign,
I wonder if you ever lived down my name,
That Summer of '03 was the best of my life,
There's still damage from our reign,
I've been here for twenty minutes and your already stuck in my head,
And when I saw you walking down the street,
It felt like I never left.
i came out the dark knight @ a time of Halloween...
October 31st, aka 13!(thirteen)! its like revenge of the shin-obi
when the master ninja intervenes! ill scratch you off my ticket, no ANTIHISTAMINE!
I OPERATE OF PRESURE POWERED BY MY SELF ESTEEM!
life is like a submarine, aka 20,000 leagues
13 FLAMES @ the caliber of 90 degrees,
WHY? B cuhz his psyche is that of majestic tree$
he grounds his feet magnetically and sails on solar seas,
like dreams i am the cosmic center piece and your in for adventures anytime you mention me.
weathered emotions or emotions are weather, all we endeavor, just REMEMBER, that we're in it 2gether.
i seek for that lyrical gold, the magnificent treasure
where mere letters compose characters for the spirit of a ghost.
i control, their minds like buttons on a remote
reran episodes hide the codes, thru magic cloaks,
the lames don't want to feel my fury like thunderbolts
or 13 tornadoes and mashed potatoes.
nova flames ENABLES, his girl to experience rare occasions
In your metamorphosis I've found that you've been sifted straight to grounds
but to replace our A-B hits and fits and
midnight tricks followed by
cop car lights lit
is much like watering down
but I'll choose to take those sips so I take
one for the taste
one for the high
one for guilt free trips during 2nd period to the girls bathroom
and in three sips
I've fulfilled everything with innocence
but innocence doesn't leave a mark
wasn't what you were
and being innocent can't tear down christmas lights on 53rd street at 3am for no other reason but to say we did and to say we did it together
who am I to disturb external forces
with my rhythmic manifestations to a personal God who only puts me in favor
when it's deserved
but is it my fault
for having tasted something that I swear only exists on some
uncharted astronomical coordinates and
is it my fault
for having tasted 1/4th cup rain water and 3/4ths cup regret
so is it my fault
for only asking for what makes the lady at the cafe counter cringe and
in your metamorphosis, I've found my own
and found it
slightly less drug induced
yet slightly less symmetrical to yours than I had hoped
and although I'll live without the hits and shit we did
just for kicks
it's hard to shed the addiction, of Americas favorite morning
The air was a chilly friend,
a yearly visit in rowdy gusts,
erasing signs that Autumn was upon
on the grounds of my childhood estate.
Dew twinkling on Plum and Poplar,
fleeing sight of eagles and owls;
my toes crunch into brittle Earth,
peaking around to hear
Jack Frost come in with growls.
As me in my younger self,
the changing seasons
coerced my many mood.
In Winter, tales of sadness
with no words or reason,
changed the delight I took in sugary foods.
Flakes would gently fall,
frost-bombing my numbing tongue,
swaying, flipping like acrobatic webs.
The vast green from the garden fountain
grew a blanket of chilly cotton;
it played on my curious emotions
at the onset of Winter, I guess.
My silly clothes are suits now,
but the Winter remains
in a constant by my side,
sitting ankle on frigid ankle,
turning my collar up by the fountain, noontide.
The best of memories had,
were sitting, wondering
what made me feel I deserved them.
That great sense of mood,
washing away stress to prompt guiltless smiles
was enough to remember those seasons;
the sights, the smells, the time alone,
and that they had happened.
Who is this? This melancholy, lusterless, sad-eyed girl?
Sitting there, in an anguished silence, only hollowly responsive
Perplexed and dismayed by the qualms this life has rapidly unfurled
A heartbroken, lonely ghost of a woman, stripped of all treasures she wished to give
Who is to blame? Who forced her to board that otherwise lifeless train?
When it reaches its final stop (the end of the line...) fault shall be hung on what sorry name?
As this girl steps out on to the platform, destination-less, cold and soggy in the rain
To whom might she raise her finger, pointing out the wretched being who first began this goddam game?
What if an ugly truth, her answer, is a monster, too hideous to stand and face?
Might she recognize the feet that carried her, each of the steps past, leading to present grounds?
Or perhaps she'll cling to denials, fearing her sins too heavy to be lifted through grace
And regardless, what of hopes, acceptance and loves still hiding? For this girl, could they yet be found?
I watch while she sits, waiting vainly for some resolution; her guiding light to come take her away
Of my presence she seems unaware, and I've seen her eyes fill up behind a quiet blink, then spill
In those moments, I cry as well, and beg of God to take the chains from her soul, let her lovely spirit again play
Left to hold her own reigns of mercy and faith, her hands will create the misery-rope she'll eventually be hanged with and killed...
We are the same, but divided ourselves; split into two fractured pieces of one broken whole
I've held on, held out for her, yet she's all but forgotten me
And I'll never let go, because that tormented, splintered heart inside of her is a piece of me that she stole
So I'll pray, plead, console, call out to her, for without her acknowledgement of herself, we'll never be one again; we will never be free
In a sense,
I died right there with you
on the road going south
to my own grandpa’s funeral.
You two didn’t know each other
but you decided to go out at the same time.
The news kept me driving hysterical
for six hours, gripping the wheel constantly
cursing the stars for stinging my eyes.
I thought about climbing
up out of the sun roof,
riding the van like a wave
somehow steering the thing
with my own nervous intensity
Imagined my teeth
gritting away in the night,
as if on cocaine,
trance like in fear
For three nights I felt that
fear. Felt those piercing bullets
ripping clear through
your clean white tee
leaving you cold,
on some shitty covington street.
When the WWII veterans
fired out the shots of salute
for my Grandpa,
I somehow didn't flinch
and thought of you
denying those dudes
any joy of ripping you off.
You didn’t understand death
and neither did my Grandma,
for that matter.
just one look at her
trembling eyes exposed
life's distant rawness.
for the wonderment of death.
Then as the trumpet
rang out, it echoed
across those mountains
like a legend itself.
Streaks of reality and
Color all unearthed
at once. Heavy
The eyes behind a head inclined reflect a universe
Of shanty towns and kings in crowns and parties in a hearse,
Of heaping mounds of coffee grounds and pennies in a purse,
Of heart attacks in shoddy shacks, of motion in reverse,
Of reasons why pale kids must die, quite trite and curtly terse,
Of puppet people at the steeple, kneeling down averse,
Of tinkle tones and megaphones with empty words and worse,
Of life’s begin’ in utter sin and other things perverse,
Of lewd taboos and residues contained within the Curse,
While poets blind, in gallows’ rind, carve epitaphs in verse.
It's been quite some time since I've been here,
This forest I mean.
What a magical place it is,
Where dragons have been cleaved;
And faeries caged.
The moonlight drips over its canvas,
In between the canopy,
Unto rustling decomposition.
Although I wounder to myself,
"Where is Hercules tonight?"
Maybe the city lights are flushing out
The constellations which articulate my thoughts,
And imbue their synergy
Into the masterpiece of the night sky.
Thinking they can do whatever they want,
To achieve their dreams.
Well, I'm not sorry to break it to you all; but
Time has to happen before it exists.
So all your petty hopes and wishes are simply
Problems you are all creating
That were never destined to be there in the first place.
Who am I to decide though.
Fate waiting to happen,
Statistics tor record.
But Destiny is already turning her gears.
Working the clock.
So many thoughts trickling through my mind,
Sitting here under this eucalyptus tree.
The arouma is so soothing...
It reminds me of the princess who lived in a cave.
The very grounds where I was nearly slaughtered,
By her knight in shining armour.
No, I wasn't the one glistening under the moonlight,
For the person being slaughtered would be none other than myself.
She would sit in horror at the scene when she awoke.
Only to find that the knight simply wanted to defend her well-being.
Something I could never do.
Because defending one means bringing wraith upon another.
I could never do that.
For the guilt I would feel,
And remorse ten fold that the relatives of the one being hurt would feel.
Empathy would be the enemy,
Not the one "endangering" my beloved.
So I'll die in her stead.
So I musn't experience the ulterior hatred of her eyes,
As she looks at me as if I were her Saviour.
No, that isn't what I want.
So if it means her heart in someone else's hands,
So be it.
So long she is happy,
No matter how long I should wait for her return,
No matter the distance achieved between us;
Both physically and emotionally,
I will always Love her.
Not to the moon and back,
For landing upon the stars simply puts me at rest
Of the brink of death from the fall.
Gravity isn't near,
But Darkness most certainly is.
Everything in "space" is nothing.
But the clock keeps its schedule on point,
And the gears of Destiny still turn;
although the time is certainly out of joint.
I soil the un-rippled surface as I break through it. I feel the cold water touching every inch of my numb body. As the water envelopes me, I sink.
Without a care I motionlessly fall. Staring at the once close surface of the water, now slowly getting farther from my reach.
Every second that passes a twinge of pain slices in my chest. A feeling of regret. Every second that I sink down into this oceans deep, dark, un explored grounds I get farther away from the chance of changing my mind. But I am sure of myself.
At least I was when I jumped.
My eyes scan the last of the light that I see coming from the surface of this endless water. My lungs begin to scream for air. My body is tempted to thrash around and panic, but in my mind I am as claim as ever.
Still, slowly sinking. Little bubbles begin to escape my mouth without my condolence. I watch as some of the little bubbles make their way up to the surface, dancing a sick dance of victory.
I being too slowly fade in and out of my thoughts. More bubble escape. I become more aware of the cold water that surround me.
Caressing my bare skin, calming me. Holding me. Doing what no one ever did.
In my last seconds of life I look around in the dark water unable to make out what I see and I silently say my goodbyes to the only thing in my company, the vast ocean.