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Llora palestina, llora
Llora gaza
Lloran las fronteras
Supuran sus llagas llenas de cantos de injusticia
Largos cantos de dolor que emanan de las entrañas

Llora Honduras, llora El Salvador, Llora Nicaragua
Tus hijos los más pequeños montados en bestias
Huyendo de otras bestias, rodeados de bestias
Hacia la bestia padre
Padre de todas las bestias (solo basta recordar para entender)

Llora México entre plomos y promesas
Llora el indio en la sierra
La mujer en costa chica
El campesino en la huasteca
México un plantío de drogas y de sangre
Donde los ricos se hacen más ricos
Y los pobres valen menos que las balas que los matan

Llora la Tierra, Onile, la Pachamama
Entre lenguajes hegemónicos y pueblos sublevados
Hace mucho que nadie la escucha
Solo los indios y los brujos con sus hechizos
Pero pronto volveremos a poner la frente al piso
Para oír de cerca lo que reclama.
BB Tyler  Sep 2015
Pachamama
BB Tyler Sep 2015
Earth
greatest, grandest Mother

no metaphor here
but ten-thousand teats
feeding
all children
In sweet water
we fish and swim
When we are finished
We give it back
To Pachamama
This music is good
And hunger is our attitude
Diagonal winds
Further our stories
Hundreds of copies
Are made each day
Before we've awakened
Cities taste like fried rice
And we wait on lines
For cokes and coffees
Relativity tries to explain
What it can't deny
That we are unstable and often high
You are gullible like the night sky
As single women
Drift along your incision
It's a mission to not hunt them all at once
Juggle the waterfall and pay for her dinner
Gifts are abundant
And some are seeking you too
Kindred spirits kindle our fire
As tired hands hug their mother
Love is burning with desire
Cool down and we can begin to dig
Listen to the sounds that are far away
Beyond your mansions
Into the woods
We drove for days
And still no one
Understood our need for silence
And sometimes our dramas
We were in need of laughter
So i attached a pair
Of jumper cables
To the inside of your pajamas
Keiya Tasire Jan 2019
I stand with roots deep into my mother
With branches out stretching towards my father
And Light from the rising sun reflecting within my eyes.

Machi curing, Machi healing,
I sing your song. I feel your love.
Mi Pachamama
So full of love
Your flow of life, ever flowing
Your river of sound, ever singing
Your stream of light, forever shinning.
How can I ever cry when I am within your arms?

Arising with the warming sun
Flowing through the air on the breath of her winds
So softly the clouds release her love
As they are caressed by the tops of her mountains.

Her waters of love flowing…
Trickling down onto the forest
Gathering into the brooklets,
Streams, riverlets, and rivers
Satisfying the thirst of all her creations.

The sound of pan flutes filling my ears
The dance of chi coursing through
Even this body, this gift, this flesh.
Singing her lullaby
Embracing & soothing this tired soul.
Softly the winds bring the colors
Of her song into my beating heart.

Machi soothing
Machi healing. Machi Curing
Machi, singing me well with Her love
Mi Pacha Mama , so full of love
Your flow of life, ever flowing
Your river of sound, ever singing
Your stream of light, forever shinning.
How can I ever cry when I am within your arms?

Healing, Soothing, Curing, Love
I sing your song. I sing your love
Mi Pacha Mama…
We are each born and sustained by elements of the earth. We are born from the earth that gathered within our mother's wombs and sustained by the plants, airs, water, minerals, and the warm life giving rays of the sun. One day we will give our body back to the earth as our spirits soar towards the heavens where our Father in Heaven and Mother Earth reside.
ConnectHook Apr 2016
Wife-beater, drum player
blower of holy pan-pipes
Plumed, bejeweled in ****** plastic
Inca priest, mestizo beast
multi-kulti prophet
(who chooses to live in the USA)
where liberals kow-tow
while you show them how
to adulate indigenous
crypto misogynous
eager to pay eager to please
diversity’s devotees buy your CDs

a perfect idiot from the mythic Sierra
naming your brood after Andean peaks
pre-Columbian pachamama freaks
eat it up: your Inca schtick
(but ask the battered gringa-chick
about your unsustainable ways:
who hits who smiles who beats who pays ?)
(based on a true story)

♂∅☯✰☠
a  poem a day for NaPoWriMo2016
            ✿
www.connecthook.wordpress.com
            ☮
Alan McClure Mar 2011
The shale abounds
above the pounding waves
with perfect snapshots
of a lost, impossible world

Images beyond the skill of sculptors,
ridged, spined and rippled
frozen in rock, of rock -
who could have guessed
how long the armour would protect?

And yet -
trilobites
who ruled the shallows
when dinosaurs were but a glint
in Pachamama's eye,
are dead, gone, passed over
in the battle for existence.

While in the boiling surf below,
the jellyfish
who still blithely ride the tides
insolently call:
"Good luck wi thae shells, boys -
"Bet yis'll be safe wi thaim!"
and disappear
in a bubble of translucent laughter.
1.
It felt like crossing      
all things cross, right?

2.
It has been many years since we have walked through that tunnel
and into this land
where the hands of spirits became the wings of ancestors over us
and the quiet inner gust became an orator of truth  

Truthteller could you tell me again my name
They have given me so many on the northern journey,
disguised me to be one of the multiple
flickering pixels on a television screen

eyes darker than their own
but who has darker eyes

3.
She is the barefoot daughter of the Pachamama
womxn of many tongues
womxn whose tongue was not cut off
so you hear her sing when the sun comes up
and sway with the blades of grass
onward in the direction of the voices and the wind
and all the things that cry and laugh out loud  

4.
They made you cross, too
and at the same time
But they made you forget
about the birds,
the wind,
your name- our name
and the alphabet
5.
silence is the alphabet used to speak truth  

6.
They made you forget your name.
Ask them your name as you look up at the sky
cloudy or clear
as  children lay silently next to demarcation lines
housed in steel bars
gloomy and lost
ask and listen
to be humbled by your name  

7.
The spirits call again
can you hear them now?

back through the tunnel of innocence,
they whisper your name.
gratitude for madre tierra, delicate and graceful
your formless form is born again and again
recursive symmetry that never argues or forces its point
but always agrees with the emptiness between
sky and stone, flesh and bone, rock and tree

blessed be this eye-land that can never be bought, sold or traded
I-land, thy-land, my-land, is and will always be, our land
it’s time to lend your hand to uphold this sacred plan
that is permanently unstained in its own essence
its destiny is forever unchanged by this name or that name
and yet its true name, always remains the same
Turtle Island, Mama Gaia, Mother Earth, Pachamama
all ways of reverently revealing that; which contains and sustains us all
Sad Girl Jan 2023
At 10 AM
when the sun rises;
just above the trees
and the wind rustles the leaves,
I hope you’ll think of me.

For I am you!
As the sun dries the dew,
We wake feeling renewed
by this blissful view.

The train offers sound healing.
A hum like no other,
but only nature in sight-
So it seems the calling of the mother.
Thank you Pachamama,
for these moments of surrender.
Upon the dragon’s lair,
Shall we ever remember.

I thank you for your strength,
I thank you for the trees,
I thank you for the moments that nobody else sees.

Thank you for this love that brings me to my knees
And, thank you, for removing all the troubles plaguing me.

When I leave this space,
I will feel relieved.
Thank you for your time.
Messages received.
- Hendrix, dragon Reborn 🐉💚
Staying at the hostel in Brunswick, Georgia I found myself quite captivated in getting back to the basics on power down sunday. Cooking over the fire, composting, feeding chickens, writing poetry in a journal with pen by candle light. Sleeping in a screened enclosure deep in the outdoors with soooo many blankets to account for the weather. Hearing the owls and insects and woodland fairies howl their battle cries into the night. So much life in the forest while we calmly lay ourselves to rest. Truly blissful. This is how I choose to live my life. This is truly honoring this land.

— The End —