"powwow" poems
My best friend tells me that she was born in the wrong time.
That her viking ancestors would be ashamed of how much
she can't handle. How she's no warrior.
So I take her to a powwow that my sister's dancing at
and let her feel the vibrations of the drums
pound through her feet.
I tell her maybe our war drums are our heartbeats.
She's fighting herself and using razors as her soldiers.
I say, if you need sharp things let's use arrows to figure
out where east is so we can run towards the rising sun
like my ancestors did.
We can use words as our shield walls in battle
and I can be the dragon head on your ship
to scare off the enemy in dark and foggy times.
If you want to get a little pagan I'll burn all my sage for you
and we can pray to all the gods we've heard stories of.
I'll teach you all the tricks my shima’ sani taught me.
We are warriors. But is it selfish of me to hope that you
never go to Valhalla? I want you to live long after
the fighting ends.
Aug 6, 2013
Aug 6, 2013 at 9:09 AM UTC
Standing Rock
The pipeline is the bloodline,
of an Empirical Two Headed Dragon,
The Divided States of America used to be united,
can someone please tell me what the heck happened,
Standing Rock just might be the last stand for anyone that’s still standin’,
Standing Rock,
is not a photo op,
it’s not a festival,
it’s Indians and Cops,
more correctly,
it’s Native Americans and Corporate Hitmen,
it’s the crossroads,
where environmental defense intersects with big business interests,
it’s getting intense,
water cannons and flash grenades,
mock democracy and a Trump presidency,
military disguised as cops,
and cops disguised as military,
as the original defenders of this land,
continue to make a stand,
at Standing Rock this is not a photo op,
this is indirect imperial tactics meets Direct Action,
highly ironic,
that I write this on Thanksgiving,
the day before Black Friday,
tell me what you do that’s worth livin’,
Quite fitting,
that I’m writing this on Thanksgiving,
a “holiday” in a way,
but really just a heist by villains disguised as pilgrims,
well then,
where does that leave us now,
several hundred years later,
at Standing Rock having a powwow,
how,
have we gotten here,
and how,
as so little changed we’re,
still in this sticky situation,
battling hearts that are as black as oil,
still ******* the blood out of Mother Earth,
still battling Two Headed Serpent Dragon as it coils,
the pipeline is the bloodline,
of an Empirical Two Headed Dragon,
The Divided States of America used to be united,
can someone please tell me what the heck happened,
Standing Rock just might be the last stand for anyone that’s still standin’.
Defendin’,
the Sacred,
with Love,
over Hatred.
Water Is Life.
∆ Aaron La Lux ∆
www.amazon.com/Aaron-La-Lux/e/B00ODPJAOK
Dec 19, 2016
Dec 19, 2016 at 10:47 AM UTC
The heat of the sun.
The beat of the drum.
Bells tinging,
Jingles jingling,
Cow Bells ringing,
Children laughing,
Men singing,
A powwow.
An intertribal.
What flies over head?
A mystical friend.
The eagle came to join.
We danced as it flew over us.
It circled watching us from afar.
When it left,
We felt blessed.
Jun 5, 2016
Jun 5, 2016 at 6:44 PM UTC
"what makes you feel empowered?" "i don't know"
green spirals filled the gap in our noises
i took another drink and made profound eye contact with the ****** mary
her frozen, flickering lips asked me questions i couldn't remember the answers to
are you feeling paranoid yet?
how many times have you been in love?
why does walmart sell religious memorabilia at such a reasonable price?
i ignored her, as i have since i was seventeen, so i'm sure she was used to it by now
i took another drink and smiled as she grabbed my hand and he laughed and she sang and they talked over one another about things that we would forget tomorrow
things that seemed crucial to say right now before the moment slipped away
i let them talk and tried to absorb everything about this small, dysfunctional powwow that filled my heart to its very brim
every part of the circle was so crucial, every word and laugh and sigh and sip so necessary for its completion that i was utterly overwhelmed by my very luck to be alive in a time and place where it existed
i've never felt that way before
when i walked home, the morning was early and damp and covered in the darkest dark i've ever experienced
i saw a candle flickering in a window three stories up like a (relatively speaking) modern day northern star
i turned off my flashlight and walked home in silence, basking in the green glow in the wake of fear and love and pain and joy and destruction
Sep 26, 2017
Sep 26, 2017 at 6:48 PM UTC
***searching through seas of drowning beings
to find the missing pieces of the world
caverns upon caverns to shade your hallow whole-ness
undulate in spiral waves of watermelon teardrops
lemon spotted ladybug in love upon the briar patch
**** the circus of powwow breakfast
curse the curse of sodom's temptress
burn the burning streets of empty sadness
freedom's song is a venomous warning
greet the knot-tyer in his bleeding arrow
catch him as he falls and fades to poppy
drown the siren of the silent burning
and burst asunder into flaming glory
harbor in your port a gentle gypsy
show her that you trust her always
move among the soulful waters
safety and sorrow are but shadows on the way
greet me in the house of midnight
under moonbow arrow and holy sinew
from my flesh a piece of bone you wrested
lover's eyes and ******* caress the dewdrop dancer
Fool, you broke the summer's heart
and must now pay the season its rotting apples
drinking spider vapor from the mists of falling cider
as cinnamon, nutmeg and clove are gathered far away***
Jan 5, 2017
Jan 5, 2017 at 1:02 PM UTC
powwow it pop
bang it was to long in the bowl
chrunch chrunch
mmmmmmmmmmm its soo gooood
POPCORN
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 4:48 PM UTC
Salt-grain-taken greetings
from the land of curmudgeons,
powwow in these
craters of overblown canticles.
Dragon-puff proofed spirits
with the matchsticks of nigh-nights...
till we add eyes to the lambs of
Johnny from Patmos.
We can disturb the peace, till it
spews war from windows--gag
reflexes of great purges.
Catching venom samples in our
plastic cups, for posterity's telltale tipples.
Etching paralysis through deadlocked
saints and sinners.
Mar 13, 2017
Mar 13, 2017 at 1:05 AM UTC
Bangkok Beasting
The Fake God is there with the other bosses
All having a powwow to decide what to do
We are dragged in there and lectured hard
The client wants more sales as do I
This you must do for June July and beyond
The target is 130 and you’ve just 18
You need a 1200 percent increase
Can you do this in 2 weeks yes or no?
I said yes but if we don’t we are all ******
The client can pull out in September
Instead of renewing the contract
The Fake God said Brian you remember
Yes Boss I remember a year ago
We got the contract and must again
I don’t wanna be part of a failure
The other boss said the client can
Bill us 2 months higher rates if we fail
Do I move the account elsewhere?
The real boss asked in another beasting
As much as I dislike Fake God’s attitude
I respect his sales skills and drive
The ****** will take us all to Hell
The real boss will observe us all
Away we go in this B2B **** up
It certainly gave Brian writing material
Tho he wished he was still in Manila
And not being beasted in Bangkok
Aug 20, 2024
Aug 20, 2024 at 11:05 PM UTC
She loves enormously
the very last demeanor of desolate sun,
the way stars undergoes the distance
and all the tussle they had with moon,
She faith not in earth,
not those peeps which appears famish right after having regale,
She wail not at funerals now
for god has whispered truth
and kept her arouse
from seven lethally sleep,
The way she perforated and annihilated his heart,
The way she gave her clangers the name of freedom,
The way she opted the arms of her paramour and made him watch that in the downpour of October,
The way she sheered without any au- revoir and burned him breathing,
he loved anyway,
That night was black
the sky was plenary,
the moon was serene,
under the aged tree,
her hand over his chest, starkers
they were slumbering, commingling two soul,
that was the final night,
that was their final powwow,
After that night ' My mom kept continue the yarn',
there was no her and no he,
Before any toughie comes in my cerebrum she ended it saying ,
"She shot his head
And cut her vein
for they mastered their devotion
they conquered their fate
when they found them under the pines
blood was everything that left "
Aug 30, 2017
Aug 30, 2017 at 7:28 AM UTC