"indigenous" poems
May we live in and see interesting times, the old saying goes
another offers that when the mind is blind, the eyes cannot see
for me my days are interesting and the laughter readily and often comes
for the grapes of wrath brings forth mirth filled grapes on grapevine tendrils
As lemmings and sheep enact bellyaching absurdities, as the ridiculous does
Veracity on sojourn and falsehood in residence with doors firmly closed
Hamlet re-enacts hapless role, with Red Robin Hood and vigilantes to a tee
eager audiences, participatory scenes in towns and cities, leaving empty homes
come all and vent your spleen and satiate your prejudices without paying a fee
This land belongs to us, it is our birthright and we will send Hamlet to the catacombs
Nothing is private anymore, rights and freedom nailed, anywhere we roam
Ophelia not only went to Italy, she went to Hull, Turnpike Lane and even Essex
but a joke here, if all these were good, why did she come to me, you simple gnomes
perchance unlike you common goons, she knows distinction has no comparison to thee
Your vacuous hate filled mind cannot see that difference in a Prince, that regally looms
Act two, dim, fooled actors in their Beggars Opera, screaming, 'we oppose' with glee
so called republicans, laughable in their ardent favor, ignorant of their lobotomy botches
we will do Hamlet's head in, totally unaware theirs been done in, for the brains of fleas
in a civilisation, our conscious and stable populace, roots for vigilante and mob rule, yeah
for a man of distinction is a threat reminding you of your insignificance and lack of tomes
Come friends, lets see how the home of Democracy, hounds a citizen for us all and we
lets know that Robin Hood is alive and taxing, and 'Windrush' is still active in dispatches
indigenous people power, meets criminal gang stalking, meets racism and we all drink tea
and in true cowardly fashion, its all done by insidious, indictable, nefarious, malcontents and psychopathic crazies
It is our proud duty that we should all ruin Hamlet, for mediocrity has no distinction for aspiration et excellence
Copyright LaurenceA. JUNE 2018.All rights reserved.
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 8:00 PM UTC
I'd like to tell you a story
It begins in 1492
When dear old Christopher Columbus
Sailed the ocean blue
He landed on what he thought
To be the country of India
He stumbled upon a group of people
Who appeared to be indigenous
Because these native people
Happened to be where he thought he was
He called them all "Indians"
&& somehow that name stuck
They welcomed his group with open arms
Even offered them their feast
Unaware that deep inside
They were but wolves, dressed as sheep
Columbus && his crew
Soon ravaged the land
They took what they saw
Then they took full command
Of the people they found
On the land where they landed
They felt they should rule
So they stepped in, heavy handed
They murdered the people
Who had taken them in
Set fire to their villages
While the victims watched with their kin
Flash forward to the future
It's now 2016
It's been over 500 years
Since the overtaking by the regime
Future settlers decided
To let the survivors live on
They designated them small areas
Of what had not yet been robbed
These Native Americans,
Generally keep to themselves
They get by living off their land
But now they need your help
The Sioux of Standing Rock
Are being horribly mistreated
The state of North Dakota
Is poisoning them without reason
A pipeline has been built
That runs through this Native territory
When Bismarck residents didn't want it
It was rerouted, how discriminatory
People from all over the country
Are seeming to agree
They are making the commute
To protest peacefully
In defense of an oppressed people
Who only want to live
But the government is stepping in
Even blowing off some limbs
"Let them die, they're not like us"
the message the administration is sending
It seems that after all this time
The battle is never-ending
What exactly does it take
For people to see eye-to-eye?
In the end we're all just human
We kiss, we laugh, we cry
So if you have a heart at all
If you know that this is wrong
Please join the Sioux in their mission
By coming together, we can be strong
Dec 2, 2016
Dec 2, 2016 at 11:30 PM UTC
1. De-Colonize This Space
Drum circle protests genderplop demands
Indigenous discount store camouflage
We demand persistent stereotypes
Solidarity initiative project
Take back the people’s cultural statues
Ethnographic curatorial practices
Red spray paint fire imperialism
Repatriate the Iphone Starbuck’s cups
And don’t forget the “Hey! Hey! ** **
Because we’re, like, artists and stuff, you know?
2. De-Colonize This Space Too
Guns and cholesterol made America great
Fat white boys in discount store camouflage
Duct-tape the Bible and the border wall
We won our freedom with our Kalashnikovs
Fake news back-stabber not a war hero
SecondAmendmentSecondAmendment
Lock her up get ‘em outta here yuge deal
You RINO losers can grab my MAGA
You snowflakes are sissies, you millennials too
But ouch! my heel spurs hurt, oh boo-hoo-hoo!
Oct 11, 2018
Oct 11, 2018 at 3:02 PM UTC
I am half-Chinese and a half Filipino-Spanish.
I have only learnt to speak Filipino my whole life.
The best advises I have received is that there is no right or wrong,
that labels does not always help.
That no matter what, I should just go
and "Live my life", or "Sing in Full Voice, Until Then".
Attentive to a fault to the work or person at hand.
Because of routine and living demands, sometimes I
only pay attention to what is available or given to me.
Like the quest for the Spices of the East, I could no longer live the same way when the time came. I had to learn preservation and other flavors.
In a Asian Food Show, someone shares
How some later generation Chinese had to study their own native language in secret between 1966 to 1998.
Stories of how their migrant or refugee heritage have made them scapegoats of many local tensions.
And varieties of words and ingredients also native to Chinese and later generations that lived offshore.
Many of us now in the thrash of our collective songs
towards healing and full living as humanity, continuing
refugees and wanderers in our own ways.
Where we see our indigenous-selves and our oppressor-selves,
is not as difficult as we are usually made to,
in a world of artificial
demands and surpluses.
One old song gently reminds me
in many languages singing,
as another bowl of handmade noodles
breaks open into countless random pieces:
We are only passing through earth.
Made to experience, and let go of our fears
and limitations.To gather our remains so that
it is inanimate buildings and objects that are used
by the living instead, and nothing is left behind.
To not leave a trace. To learn how to love.#
Sep 3, 2018
Sep 3, 2018 at 1:27 AM UTC
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QUIVER ALL-MAXIMIZING
SAMUEL DAVID <[email protected]>
3:38 AM (56 minutes ago)
to Daniel
SOAR OWNERSHIP
/ UTTERANCES OUTLABOURED PILGRIMS/
By the creditor at cyprus and on other grounds:
The counter-cedar Venice much unparalleled ever pursuant kindly indigenous street streams far above strange beneath the string ...' Dream castle before the 'Requiring much quill 'Peanut lieutenant great ones of the machinery citation / Worth pillow following purposes invasion with a rainfall bombardment epistle the pearl earning era: Closet by sessions pursue arithmetician diaries ' anchor calculus cumulative arrows propellant / Squadron in the field-refueling ' division visions ...' Upswing within the meaning axle conversion processes proofs / ' Electron icons ' Creation wireless reticence circles: Moon ship's amnesty crest reckon 'flaskbone SpurZebra...' Preferment goes by relieves and affectionate 'Oil The Self-graduation Outpouring / Vagrant above ant strides : Rodrigo peculiar ends demonstration/ Forego the-Outward acclimation : Upon all civility citizenry civil-rises other low less losses below yonder / Phrase of prose -possessions cuss ion syn chronicutensils 'asylum systems beyond stems : Preeminence blown 'being ht-thence quarries hijack travels history/Wherein of plant hours ' spicily spoke ***** Pilgrimage dilutes noble companies 'ago-maximize promptly alacrity; Exhibition the underrating besought levels- of quarry / burden oxidation immune slaughter
Cheap Hill Chips
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Jun 11, 2018
Jun 11, 2018 at 7:44 AM UTC
Wake Up Wretched World,
I assert my Indigenous heritage
I self identify
With the ancestors of my continent
Identity afraid to articulate
Culture, unknowingly belonging to me
Cycle of shame now shattered
Product of love, hatred, lust, and desire
europeans plundering my mother Latin America
In chaos and violence, my skin's pigment
Has been engineered through the mestizaje
Of my Indigenous forefathers
How could I not forget my lineage
When the historical legacy of modernization
Has been to massacre the consciousness
Of where my people really come from
Erasing indigenous pride
Making Paisano and Indio
Synonymous with poverty and alienation
Insulting the humbleness
State of hunger you've left us in
Original lineage within me disturbed
So you push me to ambiguity and embarrassment
Not white, not indigenous?
Pure indigenous brothers and sisters silenced
Not an exploitable consumerist market, not in your campaigns
Not benefactors of your philanthropic development tactics
Bodies too costly to abuse, no reason to bring them
Into the neoliberal multinational corporate circuit
Constantly driving them off productive land
Because they choose to assert their identity
Live in collective communes, not owing you nothing
Waiting for them to make barren lands productive
So you can take those lands too
Not capturing an obscure history, these are not colonial times
This is the legacy of the european presence entering mother Latin America
21st century still defiling Indigenous cultures to civilize and modernize
Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 10:26 PM UTC
Freedom At Kannyakumari
“The destiny of India is molded in her class-rooms”
Kothari had no confusion; no vision on the fusion-
of the East and the West, as Swami Vivekananda’s vision,
“The comingling of the East and the West will dawn a new Era”.
As tissue culture, transplantation or cloning
we Indians imbibe the Western Culture;
or as G.M cotton or brinjals,or tomato
Indians are produced, transmuted
destroying the very indigenous genus for material growth.
Ayurveda is preserved not in Sanskrit but in English letters, now !
Followers of Lord Maccaulay as obedient servants,
by experiments,bring up Indians only in blood and colour-
in every other respects-Europeans
(using imperialist - capitalist media);
poor sycophants ,for a visa,
the Indians: now , turn to the West for light,
leaving the bright light under the Urn;
cry for a way of progress, safety and food;
and beg:once self reliant nations as cells of a body
No retrospection or introspection,
only putrefaction, hence , no resurrection.
On August 15th ,at Kannyakumari beach , beside me,
a bare body of a woman(my sister?) lay asleep;
I witnessed at the starry cold mid-night:
the surging sea spitting frothing snow
upon the black rocky *******
protruded, greasy, mossy. bare but fair ,
ever young at the feet of Bharat-matha.
Wet in the salty breeze , from the foul smell of death,
I walked and walked searching shelter,
but no room for a single son with meagre wealth.
The tourism net -workers with the thirst of mosquitoes
hummed around me with highly rented room offer-
source of tourism exploitation- I bargained,
till, morning red balloon rose up in the Eastern horizon
cleaving the vapours of the sea,
when , thousand tongues chanted Gayathri;
then , the locals thronged around the woman on the shore;
somebody among them, staring blear eyed
as the police jeep and the ambulance arrived , bewailed
“O! Gayathri, my darling, O! Gayathri…” Unsoothed.
The chanting and the yelling dissolved in the breeze
that passed by the Vivekananda rock, afar, south
Sep 12, 2012
Sep 12, 2012 at 3:50 AM UTC
Epilogue:
The relentless tick of time
Changes things forever.
Stand on a piece of common ground
Look around and remember
Saturday afternoon outdoor charades
The local bring-and-swipe carnival-theft parade!
a spectacle event for all the family to enjoy.
“Come round for your tea” is how it often started:
Then sometime after you leave
The wee cousin Billy
does a quick shimmy
up a 200 foot drainpipe
In through the window, out through your front door
Shortly that fancy new recliner you’ve been bragging about
wont be there any more.
Not unlike tribes of indigenous peoples
they never took more than they could carry
and appreciated the karma of their actions on the jungle.
It would happen to them next week anyway
Till then at least, they had ownership of new leather recliner
People change shape and move places
Old is replaced with the new
Angry youths become middle-aged men with jobs,
carrying children with smiles on their faces
The big blocks were eventually torn down one by one
Nearly all that I remember is gone.
The wall tiles etched with a secret love
Have no place any more
Just junk messages littering another landfill
I spare a thought for the lovers
Did they ever get it on?
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 10:36 AM UTC
psychologism, i.e. neo-racism, neo- due to it being without any collective ethnic collectivisation, best insinuated by marijuana users, grouping alcoholics with ****** sharp shooters; they think they have the moral high ground, but they talk jack sh-: medicinal marijuana is synthetic marijuana / ore without casual-use effects, it's not the sh- you put in your **** have a *** change and tell me about children suffering from cancer while you're at it: because those starving children of africa adverts... are really really working... knowing that the man in control of such charities earns over half a million a year - post-colonialism only really works while you have former colonial indigenous peoples nearby, then you can milk that ***** cow from the locals... make sure you think the nairobi international airport has a dirt runway and you'll feel all ******* fuzzy giving money to these companies... post-colonialism only works like that... import some former colonials to milk the former colonial whites into coughing up money & guilt... then watch the irish get leery with sarcasm at almost anything... and the scots gear up pride and become politically malignant... the good friday agreement? tony blair did as much as / avoiding-tax cigarettes smuggled from eastern europe west of the ural mountains exchanged in belfast... but geographic borders were never used in rhetoric in politics... because ireland was always further west than iceland: as oaths go... it was a neighbour of liberty iseland... with the true statue of liberty in a moulin rouge cancan attire, skirt up, flame extinguished - although ***** as hell: and in koranic reality, requiring a harem for her three holes.
Dec 25, 2015
Dec 25, 2015 at 10:22 PM UTC
AALI DIWALI
Excitement already there is in the atmosphere, our very air!!!
Goodies, gifts, flowers, lights we wish to, with dear ones, now share.
As citizens good, let's also exhibit some environment friendly care.
Banish Chinese items, I will, because I care for my India n also dare !
Use let us earthen Diyas, decorated in hand; Beautiful ones, beyond compare !
Candles Beautiful can be made or bought n decorated in a bright way.
Colourful Rangoli let us make with organic compounds, indigenous n rare.
Designs, with colours innumerous, one can create if one has a flair.
Same way, why pay so much to buy torn jeans, buy let's a decent traditional pair.
Traditional dresses so colourful are and look pretty n (no wrong meaning) gay.
Pizza, pasta, pastries boycott; try laddu, chakri or Khaja jo mawa se hei bhare.
Instead of flowers, gift Bamboo or money plants or other saplings; what say ?
Gift let us, things made in India. From China, let's willingly sway away !
"Aali Diwali" but create let us noise n smoke less. we must on this, an emphasis lay.
Innovative one can be, using imagination vivid to cute gifts make; n less amounts pay.
No WA, try and visit Grandparents, Mama, Kaka, Aatya, Maushi, is all I have to say !!!
HAPPY WALI DIWALI.
Armin Dutia Motashaw
Sep 25, 2019
Sep 25, 2019 at 3:55 PM UTC
AALI DIWALI
Excitement already there is in the atmosphere, our very air!!!
Goodies, gifts, flowers, lights we wish to, with dear ones, now share.
As citizens good, let's also exhibit some environment friendly care.
Banish Chinese items, I will, because I care for my India n also dare !
Use let us earthen Diyas, decorated in hand; Beautiful ones, beyond compare !
Candles Beautiful can be made or bought n decorated in a bright way.
Colourful Rangoli let us make with organic compounds, indigenous n rare.
Designs, with colours innumerous, one can create if one has a flair.
Same way, why pay so much to buy torn jeans, buy let's a decent traditional pair.
Traditional dresses so colourful are and look pretty n (no wrong meaning) gay.
Pizza, pasta, pastries boycott; try laddu, chakri or Khaja jo mawa se hei bhare.
Instead of flowers, gift Bamboo or money plants or other saplings; what say ?
Gift let us, things made in India. From China, let's willingly sway away !
"Aali Diwali" but create let us noise n smoke less. we must on this, an emphasis lay.
Innovative one can be, using imagination vivid to cute gifts make; n less amounts pay.
No WA, try and visit Grandparents, Mama, Kaka, Aatya, Maushi, is all I have to say !!!
HAPPY WALI DIWALI.
Armin Dutia Motashaw
Sep 25, 2019
Sep 25, 2019 at 10:42 AM UTC
Marissa Ann was a firecracker of a little girl.
For her, there was no fence too tall to climb, no bully too mean to face, no street too busy to cross.
She was all tangled hair and toothy grins.
And she'd yank the book right out of my hands and say, "Gabrielle, we have more important things to do than read."
In the jungle of our lives, Marissa was a lioness, queen of the pride.
I was a mouse not indigenous to these parts of the second grade.
The world was a terrifying place, and I had no problem cowering in the corner, knee-deep in a pile of Nancy Drew.
I tried to stay huddled behind my words, drowning in the ink, attempting to let the pages be my armor.
Marissa would not let me.
When I allowed bookshelves to be my shields, she came guns blazing, and kicked them all down, then stood me back up on my feet.
She'd grab my hand and pull me head first toward adventure.
Marissa was tough, and everyone knew it.
There was not a soul alive brave enough to pick on Marissa Ann.
But me? I was an easy target.
The other girls said I was "weird" with my enormous wire frames resting atop full cheeks, and my frayed jeans, a glowing reminder of my mother's lack of wealth.
I heard the whispers on the playground about the chubby girl who read, (can you believe it?), chapter books.
Brianna was a demon of a child.
She'd bat her pretty little eyelashes and everyone would melt.
She had the entire second grade class wrapped around her tiny little finger.
She'd corner me on the soccer field and do everything she could to remind me that I was different.
But one day at recess, she was nowhere to be found, until I made my way through winding halls, back to the warmth of our classroom.
There sat Marissa with a devilish glint in her eye, waving me over to sit in the desk beside her.
Behind us, a sniffling Brianna, looking forlornly at the teardrop stains on her pink lace skirt, her mouth pulled tight into a perfect straight line.
I looked back at Marissa with a curious glance, then intertwined her hand with my own.
The sound of stifled sobs behind us and the warmth of her skin on mine sealing an unspoken vow between two girls with puzzle piece fingertips that only fit each other.
Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 2:21 AM UTC
I encourage you to abandon your faith
imagine the uncondonable
do the unpardonable
and rest in the arms of father mountain
I encourage you to go beyond your thoughts
appeal to your animalistic self
let go of your inhibitions
and tear me up in bed
I encourage you to try the impossible
reach the corners of your body
where pleasure is indigenous
where there will never be colonization
I encourage you to learn a new language
to not be patriotic
and worship your own flesh
resist majoritarian temptation
and dig an altar to yourself
I encourage you to love me
without strings, with no chains,
corral me, make me struggle,
and deep your soul within my veins
love me whole
sin fragmentations
love me across borders
without concessions
with negotiations
and complications
I encourage you to love.
Jan 19, 2014
Jan 19, 2014 at 2:59 AM UTC
Umbrage ultraism infrangible extemporaneous incognito edition
Penumbral platitude platonic proxy photics rendition
Interface fenestration imbroglio pandemonium inducement sedition
Wretched infelicitous extant trajectory sordid intuition
Scandalous scavenger squalid anomalous punitive condition
Panacea chiaroscuro parallax emanate imminent perdition
Equilibrist revision exertion suborn temerity imbues
Indulgent zealous discrepancy apparentness cogitation accrues
Heuristic noumenal psychokinesis extrapolation incursion construes
Aura auspicious primitive prism processional reviews
Obstinate tenacious preeminent edificatory omnipotence eschews
Equivocal gumption ratification constitutional manumission ensues
Delusory apparition extravagance peccavi verity tempestuous
Obtrusive obtusely overt indemnities sagaciously obliquitous
Ephemeral anxiety antonym existential exigency alacritous
Fortuitous emendation phantasm ontological ontogeny acuitous
Indemnify veracious infernal infidel impunities iniquitous
Meritorious fulham presumptive extrication expiation indigenous
Jan 13, 2013
Jan 13, 2013 at 9:20 PM UTC
It’s a new day dawning yet we’re still living in the past
Embracing colonialism and saving the rest for last
You know, the rest meaning the other cultures because you think they don’t matter
But it’s time for that glass of classism and racism to shatter
It’s funny how when I go to University I’m rarely taught by people who look like me
No matter how much the white lecturers may try, they will never understand my cultural identity
So don’t get mad if I doze off in your lecture because I just can’t relate
If I speak up I may start the great debate
Learning about Ancient Greeks and those who lived in Rome is fine
But what about the indigenous people of the Caribbean or stories of what went through the slave’s mind?
University is more than just learning about what makes Western culture great
There’s more to this world that we can truly celebrate
America and Haiti both had a revolution
So if we want to make a change we need to come up with a solution
It’s a new day dawning and we plan to decolonise
Despite our obstacles, we will rise
Mar 29, 2017
Mar 29, 2017 at 7:39 AM UTC
I've always been in place,
in situ
Maybe (just maybe) ...
I'm sui generis?
When my lifeline intersected with spacetime on this continuum
I found myself moving toward a collision course with duality and non-duality
Moving towards a zero-point
What are we talking about?
Nothing (Rafelski & Muller, 1985)
As a geographer, the mimetic expression was dualistic
As one plane flowed through another;
as fiat lux flowed through Medicine Rock
I found wisdom
I further explored the duality @ this place
(also known as University of Lethbridge)
The U of L is an interesting duck
It walks like an Albertan university
It talks like an Albertan university
But one of these things is certainly not like the other
The U of L got its chops as a house of learning for the Liberal Arts
Follow those roots and you'll see conduits to another spacetime known as UCBerkley
U of L memetics share material memories from the birth of the Free Speech Movement (1964)
And as Arthur Erickson drafted up his plans for Canada's centennial gift to the Province of Alberta, I'm sure he would have been partaking in the pleasures of this particular spacetime
I'm sure at the very least that he was listening to Hendrix wax on about Castles
As Erickson designed this modernistic monolith called University Hall
There were influences such as Arthur C. Clarke and his novel 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)
He was certainly knowledgeable of the Blackfoot stories of the Old Man
And of course as an architect he would be versed in gravity and how built structures on a slope tend to creep toward base-level
Strange but true, Erickson's first degree was in foreign languages
So what I see is Canada's premier architect wrote a poem for us in 1968
In a foreign language
And that poem would be expressed over the next forty to fifty years
Some of those primary poetic elements were:
Berkley, California
Hippie Movement
Creep (or gravity)
Base level
Blackfoot creation stories of the Old Man
Jimi Hendrix poetry and his savage musical genius
"and so castle's made of sand melt into the sea, eventually."
So let's reinterpret that line to be more U of L centric
(through my glossy apertures)
"and so monolith's made by man melt back into god eventually."
........ ....... ...... ..... ..... .... ... .. . zero~point . .. ... .... ..... ...... ....... ........
Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 10:33 AM UTC
graceful
as the orient
but yet
a western plant
aloes
are
indigenous
to the desert's
rock and sand
delicate
white flowers
or
bold red
on slender stems
the flaming
torches
burning
bring
hummingbirds
to them
from the tiny
Aloe Pepe
to the mighty
Century
those plants
upon a hillside
are there
for all
to
see
there's the wierd
Octopus Aloe
small leafy plants appeal
one type of
Aloaceae
has a pulp which
soothes
and
heals
in my father's
cactus garden
he has
all types to show
please sit in my
Sanctuary
where
the
lovely
aloes grow
SoulSurvivor
(C) 6/19/2016
Jun 19, 2016
Jun 19, 2016 at 12:00 PM UTC
I Rose Again and Again
Nor dread nor hope attend
A dying animal;
A man awaits his end
Dreading and hoping all;
Many times he died,
Many times rose again.
A great man in his pride
Confronting murderous men
Casts derision upon
Supersession of breath;
He knows death to the bone
Man has created death.
By: W.B.Yeats, for Karijinbba
~~
The malice of thiefs injured me nearly killing me st only age five;
Men (beasts) in uniform Greedy Feds killed my father five brothers and all grown man and boy in my Purhepetcha Indigenous tribe for the greed of my father's land
Man created death repaing evil for my good from the riches of my forest land they ate and lived as kings while I barely survived, but take heed I did rise.
On my father's shoulders my seahorse kind of dad beloved
he carried and adored me
my future he could read perfectly in our starry night sky and love for me happened exactly as dad had predicted it would be
from my fathers heart I thrived and I rose
and men I did love despite treason by few
~~~~~
By:Karijinbba/AA.
Oct 20, 2018
Oct 20, 2018 at 1:23 AM UTC
"Medium" sized button-up
Tommy Hilfiger fits me big
As if it were an extra large
I don't mind
I like it.
Green.
Darker than grass
Completely green, painted by an
Indigenous craftsman
From New Mexico
The Apache,
My Fathers.
They painted red flowers.
With orange stars in the middle,
Scattered randomly
Perfectly
Throughout the long sleeve button-up Hilfiger
The pattern: Strange looking
Orange flowers
Geometric
I wear it
'Cause it reminds me of her.
Mar 8, 2014
Mar 8, 2014 at 9:11 PM UTC
In the deep of time indigenous tribes
surfaced a red earth with protruding plateaus
and burnt canyons along the Cimarron River.
The ancient Anasazi settled
at the core of this mesa.
Scattered ponderosa pine.
Yet, their sudden demise echoed curiosity.
Navajo sensed a struggle of two infinite worlds,
a quivering inundation.
Circling its haunted ominous shape,
a skull with one eye, the apparition of light
rose into a blue desert sky.
Violent storms crackle hot lightning
strikes in a sulfurous summer-
an oracular hothouse.
Navajo talk of spirits or the gateway
to fire. Heaps of iron and lodestone
lodged in the cap. Only two
brazen, cat totem poles guarding its passage.
Standing among the mesa
to feel the verve of the earth.
A New Mexico sun beats down
burning the drowsed terrain.
To see the legendary shaman glow
in his ephemeral blue nimbus.
Bathed in gaudy turquoise.
Sensing the dark encroachment
of a ghost. Near the bony hills, soared
a turbulent black bird in full flight,
upward.
Apr 11, 2013
Apr 11, 2013 at 7:43 PM UTC
Emotionless, flowing through a crowd of faceless souls
A net of interactions that I am no longer a part of
Each second I feel less and less, until I'm an empty vessel
On the edge, brain going toe to toe with the devil
Rotting amygdala in the cranium, insanity
Not a single shred of dignity or humanity
Running off no sleep, tobacco and black coffee
No spirit left, except the pack in my back pocket
I want nothing, but need everything
all decisions past made to lead to serenity
Going with the flow has left me alone with no one
Why am I still here, where the hell am I going
Long nights, long days, pretending I'm something I'm not
Self deprecation and loathing patterns, indigenous thoughts
Result is cold and heartless, riskless life to avoid the loss
No solution horizon, mentally falling apart
Fed up, hallucinations gone and messed my head up
Yesterday is forgotten but tomorrow already dreaded
Depression has blossomed, guilt trips and sunken ships
Internal warfare, life is chaos amongst the midst
Oct 1, 2013
Oct 1, 2013 at 4:16 PM UTC
His kalenjin tribesmen planned for tribal wars to cleanse kikuyus and luhyias
From the their lands, planned out of tribal sadism,
He was fully aware, as he understood the kalenjin coded language of war
And preparation for war, war of the years 2007 and 2008,
He did not give any holy bishopric **** to save his non indigenous folks
The people to be killed and tribally cleansed were the members
Of his catholic church in the dioceses of Eldoret,
The ones to **** were his kalenjin tribesmen,
But bishop korir could not counsel nor forewarn,
He did not give out any peace focused advice
That a catholic should not **** a catholic
Because of politics or worldliness,
Instead he gave respect to his tribal sentimentality
He behaved as a kalenjin first then a catholic later,
A spiritual paradox of the century,
Only equated in the Biafra tribal sentimentality between igbos and yorubas
Redolent of European ****** or the American ku Klux ****
But after all the non kalenjin Catholics from his dioceses
Had been killed, burned up in the church, ***** up
Homoerotically perhaps in the madness of tribal scorn,
That they now became refugees in their own country; Kenya
And then solemnly condemned to the refugee camps,
Is when Bishop korir Cornelius came out of his tribal kernel
With vices of a kipskiss sadist , holy rosary in his hand,
Singing an out dated poem of Hail Mary the ******
Mother of Jesus Christ to them, the IDPS,
He then promoted a priest from his tribe,
The one kimengich up the hegemonic altar to become
The bishop of Lodwar from where they loot
The illiterate turkana catholic peasants their relief foods,
And even jobs, and clothes, only to give to those who are not needy,
To the kalenjin who are not even catholic nor marginalized, some even Moslem,
All these happens in the sweetness of tribal syndrome,
A social disease which the holy sacrament of the catholic faith
Have not and never will heal Bishop Cornelius korir.
May 24, 2014
May 24, 2014 at 9:28 AM UTC
sticks and bones
remnants of an ancient
peoples
their song's spirit
traces over the land
indigenous man
your culture inlaid
in hand painting on caves
and dot paintings
painted on bark
tools of stone
fire stick
by creek waters
the midden mounds
bear testament
to your occupation
of these grounds
sing em
sing em
aboriginal
your heritage
stored perpetually
in this place
your foot treading
its vast expanse
generation
on generation
celebrating the corroboree dance
in the enveloping wings
of kookaburras
and in the bounding
of the ochre kangaroo
this land is the realm
of the original man
sing em
sing em
the history
of aboriginal clan
Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 8:56 PM UTC
Indigenous knowledge and unwritten tradition
Ritual dances and pagan gods
She speaks to the deads
Heals the deepest wound
Whispers to the reindeers
But one day people with skins, the colour of snow, came
Untouched by her wisdom
Nothing she could do to stop them
The land was soiled
Purity went away
Feb 20, 2019
Feb 20, 2019 at 11:27 AM UTC
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 ?)
Apr 20, 2016
Apr 20, 2016 at 11:58 AM UTC