Authors of the Great Law of Peace
Bringing hundreds of years of peace
To a league composed of six great nations
The tenets of peace and unity confirmed in the Great Law of Peace
Were realized and studied by the founding fathers
And many ideas adopted directly into the United States Constitution

Ideas of:
Freedom of speech
Freedom of religion
Separation of powers
Checks and balances
Government of, by, and for the people
Three branches of government
Women's Council (Supreme Court)

Brought into the fold of a young budding nation
Only hoping to grasp the truth of democracy expanded by the Iroquois

oh
great mountain high
what
peaks
that
touch
the
sacred
Iroquois sky
as
blue
as
robin's egg
drift
through
her
Iroquois eyes

walking down park  
amsterdam
or columbus do you ever stop
to think what it looked like
before it was an avenue
did you ever stop to think
what you walked  
before you rode  
subways to the stock  
exchange (we can’t be on
the stock exchange  
we are the stock  
exchanged)


did you ever maybe wonder
what grass was like before  
they rolled it
into a ball and called  
it central park
where syphilitic dogs
and their two-legged tubercular
masters fertilize
the corners and side-walks
ever want to know what would happen
if your life could be fertilized
by a love thought  
from a loved one
who loves you


ever look south
on a clear day and not see
time’s squares but see
tall Birch trees with sycamores  
touching hands
and see gazelles running playfully  
after the lions
ever hear the antelope bark
from the third floor apartment


ever, did you ever, sit down
and wonder about what freedom’s freedom
would bring
it’s so easy to be free
you start by loving yourself  
then those who look like you  
all else will come
naturally


ever wonder why
so much asphalt was laid
in so little space
probably so we would forget  
the Iroquois, Algonquin
and Mohicans who could caress  
the earth


ever think what Harlem would be
like if our herbs and roots and elephant ears  
grew sending
a cacophony of sound to us
the parrot parroting black is beautiful black is beautiful  
owls sending out whooooo’s making love ...  
and me and you just sitting in the sun trying
to find a way to get a banana tree from one of the monkeys  
koala bears in the trees laughing at our listlessness


ever think its possible
for us to be
happy


Nikki Giovanni, “Walking Down Park” from The Selected Poems of Nikki Giovanni. Copyright © 1996 by Nikki Giovanni.

He hit the canvass
cold last night;
that impressive frame
and charismatic soul
father, son
and consummate brother
went down for
the proverbial
10 count;
complete with iron band
and Iroquois
tap out pipes
and that fashionable
Frank Smith vein

there was no grudge
in this match
no condemning contest
or mad cap bout
just mano a mano
with the dark apparition
and it played out
precisely
(despite the bills
and pressing deadlines
and calls from Christ)
it came with tears
and fear
in that decisive
and surrealistic
voice from the ridge

they all arrived;
on plains
and trains
valiants
and fat boys
from across seas
and remote hills
bringing tales
and sorrow
angels,
laborers
and mourners
in mass
with eagle wreathes
and adorning pine

it was cited
as natural
but there ain’t
nothing natural
about The Heater
going down
nothing natural
for the
mauy thai bossman
with black leather gloves
and golden heart
the giver of hope
to those blue
collar dreamers

I would like this life of endless
Greyhound time schedules to cease.

What self-inflicted alien abduction
tore me from the valley of my birth,

leaving me to wander empty streets,
each the branch of a coppiced maze?

I grow weary of quotidian fastfood buffets
downed with the aid of espresso baristas.

My legs have lost the muscle-memory
that strode the river cliffs with no regard.

Time to end the sleepwalk of forty years;
rejoin the forward guard of Iroquois.

This is a subcultural song

Free energy efficient enthusiasts
Replaced the iroquois punk style
Alternatives, noisy *******; ear
Damaging drum bass boxes in da
Clubs. Ravishing rave parties in
Mini skirts, glam glossy brass on
Ecstatic strobe-light synthesis - a
Synthetic mainstream paradise
Submerged to hypnotic sucklings
On the colourful plastic pacifiers
A gummy retreat before waterless
Collaps. A dehidrated dream that
Tried to shut the world off by the
Tendrils of regression resemblance.
Adult babies aboard going back to
The false long forgotten innocence.

There is no subculture in being above
The depth. Superficiality seems a posh
Pose and a good hiding reason for socially
Awkward childish rebels without material
Issues. The sore tissue of contemporary art
Is people don't believe in subjective objective
Selves anymore. What authorities put on the
Shelves there - it has to be good-when on the
Real deal discount. You think im not of such
Kind. Sheepishly blindfolded herd lives some-
where else. I pity them. Mock the socially meek,
Unajust, fat, poor or a greek profile. It has to be
A button hot child candy nose to **** her or to
Call a beauty per se. Per american dream team.

***** are hot untill they have pneumatics, man
Are man if they whirl the banknotes under bank
Accounts. ******* act like man in disguise greedy
For more. I inhabitated all this inherently ugly
Preachy words instead of puking into a labdab
Lavatory and cleanse myself from repulsively
****** cultural intermittent artifacts. And how
Can i not subdue to its overwhelming pressure.
I'm just an indigo child of flower children. Don't
Throw me the bones fueled with the black golden
Marrow. I'm a new alternative peasant, growing
Carrots and celery at bio degradable villages. . .
Its not a contra cultural venture if your socks
Are made out of industrial cannabis, and yet
There's no need to. Think. Love. Play music.
Listen. Breathe. Live life as if yours favourite
subcultural song is repetedly on...going along

one up man ship,
there is that in fair play, I don't know, I never ventured any
good might come from
pulling down
a stronghold, non confron totally nonconfron peeeaaace out

is it tec or did the sttererer get a ne w keyboard and the old is better

Okeh, april is earth month and we are into it,
lots of petroglyphic links to stupid
pothead oh yeah we did
imagine that one time, we no just me, we agreed at that moment
life had a point
and we made it
that was cool.

oh, the deals always tickle, this is disney whatifery I do believe,
this exact once
was there a sela ha aah all that Iroquois mohawk talk,
here is where we imitate socrates, know nada,

live in the world, or in the words that


all ways take my bread I cast upon still waters,
aiaiai we say we know why ai think you know
you know may and you know can
you know take, I know give
life is good I may say, so
may bread,
cast on all waters may be

yours, gnoshit. Y'gottssa eatit.

A foot atop a step
A bent knee
A stretch
And I’m there

I’m lifted and unsurely shifted
The wood underneath, I question
Integrity
Is there truth?

It holds a thousand stories
It seeps a thousand words
It’s seen a thousand faces

A traced tree
A swing set
A front porch

If it could utter the words
Oh, do speak softly
I want to learn
Learn of the hurt and of the happy
Oh, tell me about that tree
How you’ve seen it grow
Walk me through the story of
The heart-broken girl who
Wrote of a love that
Left her lost and disillusioned

Speak of the boy who came here everyday,
Desperately awaiting an answer
Whisper the tale of two lovers
Whose love was torn apart

Or maybe just the friends,
Just dreamers who stopped to read

I’m sorry
What must I expect?
Just my fickle mind at it again

I paint this picture
Of a lapse of beauty
And time
And cold hearts
And rough stone
And bulbs and vines
A towering wall of rock
And a stiff shift of air
Three steps that lead
Two lovers nowhere

Broken minds and
Shameless crimes and
Vivid skies and
Written lies

If my legs make it to the other end,
Just south around the bend,
Tell me what’s there to find
You’ve acquired enough knowledge to know

Prop a pen, its tip seeps in
Forever a word
Who will it show its face to?
Who will want to listen?

Maybe not the next or the next
For  ten whole years
But it doesn’t matter when
The truth of the mark will capture
The singer
Or the actor
Or the painter
Or the lover
Or the poet
Or the boy
Or the girl
Or the friends
Who feel lost
Standing here today
Or tomorrow

What ghosts
Haunt the beyond
Do they sing?
Do they run?

I saw them holding hands
He laughed and
She smiled
Then they quickly crossed
Right past me
I look above
Shield my eyes
Let them adjust to a light
That leaks through green
And spills upon me

You’re wise
The etched lines in the wood
Are the lines on the face of
An Iroquois chief

He knows of what we yearn for,
What we need
Am I too quick to search for it?
Is it written in time?

I’ll allow a soul to search
And I’ll wander through
The creek, up the steep soil
Feeling its tingle upon my fingertips
And almost understanding
But grasping at it to no avail
Do we really swing?
Or are we controlled like
Some sort of human marionette?
Are my decisions mine?
Or are they brought down to me
From the sky?

Must we reach out our arms
And stretch to finally understand?
Or will it calmly walk towards me
Carrying truth in a basket?
Is climbing the tallest tree up
The only way out?

Or will I be given wings to take me there?
Why can’t this beauty be forever?

If I could spend a life content
In this very spot,
I’d be just like you
I’d know all the answers
And see all the truth
With each stroke of a word,
More is gained

And maybe there’d be an angel
That came by every night
To dance and play
I’d be simply content
To witness the innocence

Dawn is fast approaching though
Goodbye child

She’d disappear to the other end
And I’d be left to wonder where
She dances next when the sun is back
And the clouds dot the blue

And I’d be left with perfect patterns
On my base, made from delicate toes
They’d line the planks
And dust the shallow water

But they’d be forgotten by noon
When it all but washed back into the river

I’m tall and I no longer need to jump
To reach the ceiling
But who said I can’t imagine?

Why can’t the trees out here house fairies?
Why can’t I swing from vine to vine
To catch up to my adventurous love?
I’m tall
But I’m in here
And I’m knocking,
Desperately knocking
To escape
What I have always wanted
If only I had known

Oh, well I must go
It’s almost dusk again,
I know

Thank you for listening
Where did it all go though?
Where’d you put it?

Did it seep into the wood?
Or fall upon the grass?

I shouldn’t question
I will trust
I’ll return soon

Remember to watch that angel for me
And let me imagine its beauty even further
Tomorrow and the next day and the next

What a dream
My knees are weak
But I stand and pick up my bag,
Leave, I don’t look back

I leave a trail of soul in my path
My spirit is afloat, washing over the atmosphere
Layering the souls of all the rest

I am Canada goose,
flying low,
hanging loose
with the flock.
I am Iroquois,
Panama,
hats off to
what you are,
hang loose with the pack and
we'll all make it back,
someday.

Off to see your Father
To the city on a train
Left me at your cozy cabin
At the end of Iroquois lane

At the time it was long distance
And I'd been here once before
You had told me you'd be quick
Turned around and closed the door

Now alone in your apartment
I had not much there to do
Thought perhaps I'd go out shopping
And I'd bake a pie for you

Walking to the corner store,
I had smiled to myself
Thinking how surprised you'd be
To find the pie upon the shelf

With the sun going down
I got running quickly back
Less cozy was this place at night
Your cabin, now a shack

I peeled the apples, mixed and mixed
And hummed myself a tune
Placed the pie in the oven
Thinking you would be here soon

And to the clock, tick-tock tick-tock
I found myself more bored
Opened your freezer, for some ice-cream
And then found candy you'd stored

I gazed like a child
At this in front of me
For those may not know,
I am weak for Candy

I grabbed a handful of sour-patch children
frozen solid they lay in my palm
I went to the sofa and turned on a movie
Your absence no more an alarm

As I chewed on and savored the sweet little morsals
Watching Pixar's A bugs life
All a sudden the colors grew louder
Pixar's pixels were sharp like a knife

I giggled and giggled,
not phased by the shift
of my boredom
into such sweet bliss

I got up to go out and sit on the porch
An urge to smoke and call your phone
I noticed the shadows of willow trees looming
And suddenly felt not alone

After getting your voicemail,
I paced back and forth
I went in the bathroom
and I laid on the floor

The lights were pulsing
And I started to fear
That the timing was late
And you still were not here

I peeked out the doorway
In search of your car
But nothing and silence
Engulfed by the dark

The TV grew louder
I ran to turn it down
And suddenly noticed
Color trails all around

My knees suddenly buckeled
I knew what I'd done
It was drug infused candy
And I ate every one

My heart started beating
to the floor I was bound
Put my hands out to figure out
Which drug I had downed

I called 10 more times
but your phone had died
I turned on the shower
And sat down inside

Of what I ingested
It was one of two things
Either Acid or Molly
Acid - I see color rings

Then more fear kicked in
And I though of the worst
Had you been abducted
Did they get to you first?

A drug induced rampage
I grabbed up my phone
Called 2 of your friends
Crying you were not home

Then I called my sister
Told her you'd disappeared
You got murdered on the streets
Of New York I had feared

Then you came home
And saw me a mess
Well this was most certainly
A test

I couldn't speak I just cried
You held me, as I lied
I said I was concerned for your safety
You said: I was gone but an hour.

Where life exists
You often find a carpet
Of grass or moss or whatever.
And in sacred groves and forests
You will find
The tree.

The tree: nature’s skyscraper,
Deep roots, hard bark and leafy canopy:
Linking the Underworld to The Heavens.
Looming beauty my words can but strive
To describe.

A tree can live for many an age,
Legends about it, even longer.
Since ancient times the tree has been revered.
The Norse People had Yggdrasil:
A cosmic tree linking many worlds.
Comprehend the Eastern Indian Kalpavriksha –
A jewel of a wish fulfilling tree.
The Peace Tree of the American Iroquois,
And many more.

In West Africa the Oubangui People plant a tree
Whenever a child is born.
The Bible tells of the Tree of Life
And the Tree of Knowledge
Growing there
In The Garden of Eden.

Bow to the Tree Goddess.
Bow to The Tree
Bow to its sturdy bough.

Our tree is home
To many a creature
Nymphs and Dryads too
Maybe.

A skyscraper indeed,
Full of life
Safe in its shade
Some behind walls
Of solid wood.

We lose ourselves
Just looking
At that tangle
Of twisting branches
Spiny twigs and clouds of leaves.
Will it stoop over
And pick us up
With its enormous
Hands?

Or will it just keep playing us
A lullaby
With that whistling wind?  

Oh Tree,
You show such grandeur,
Goddess-like indeed:
Shaken by gales
Yet not disturbed
We trust.

Long Live The Tree –
Even giving us
The air we breathe.
Let your branches spread
While you reach ever upward –
A towering spire.

Paul Butters

© PB 26\5\2020. With due credit to Wikipedia.

He nurses his coffee, by himself most days,
Occasionally with the one or two others
Constituting the bulk of the clientele of the diner
(Low-slung building both faceless and nameless
Although those who remember a day
When the village was at least borderline prosperous
Still refer to it as “Kitty’s Place”,
Though its namesake has been dead and gone some two decades)
One of the few going concerns which implausibly remain,
Seemingly through nothing more than sheer inertia,
In the drab little downtown along Canton Street.

He languishes over his cup for as long as the mood hits him,
There being no discernible reason to hurry
(Indeed, the diner itself, once open before sunrise
Now dark and silent until a leisurely seven-thirty or so)
His place not really a working farm these days,
Just a smattering of beef cattle
(Milking and stripping out more than he can manage now)
And what acreage of corn he can get in the ground.
Eventually, he totters out of the front door,
One sleeve of his shirt rolled and pinned up
(Its former occupying member removed
After the incident with the ancient and malevolent corn binder),
Moving toward his truck with an all-but-one-legged gait,
His left-leg jigsaw-puzzled
By an overturned Farmall some time back
(Most days he reckoned he’d tipped the tractor
By failing to shift his balance to accommodate driving one-armed,
Though if he was in a black enough mood he’d put it down
To an old Iroquois curse placed on the entire St. Lawrence valley.)

One could say, if he was a poet
Or some other **** philosophical fool,
That these partial sacrifices served
To ward off some even more awful finality.
He would have none of that, of course—in his own cosmology
The gods and demons most likely have bigger fish to fry,
And, as to the prospect of some inexorable wreck and ruin,
He is of the opinion that what he was given up to this point
Is both ample and sufficient.

I have this question, a simple query
Perhaps I’ll see things a bit more clearly
But why oh why such a big belt buckle
Is it simply to get a chuckle?
Does it double as a dinner plate
‘Round the campfire when you’re up late?
Does it shield you from Iroquois?
Tell me, tell me, please cowboy
Perhaps a chastity belt detector?
Or maybe even an S.O.S reflector?
Does it help you sit up straight?
Or is it to attract a mate?
A mirror for when you shave?
A shiny headstone for your grave?
I really don’t mean to annoy but
Tell me, tell me, please cowboy
.

Jawbones shivved from the universe
Iroquois gypsum, the mother art
Puppy kisses my crusted hand
Devotion is the soul spread apart

Am I a monkey reciting emotion
Are the eyes our only trade
Dark, delving; mystery
We are all actor fillet