Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts

Saturday, July 23, 2011

Poem by Joel Kurke

I’ve got a medicine bag
  full of poems and songs that treats
  like a natural antidote
 That was once lost but lives on
 SMUDGE OFF
   with this smoke
   that floats off flames
   from these rhymes that I wrote
BRUSH OFF
Then sprinkle me
 with the ash and remains
 so my pores will absorb
 these quotes to defend and cope
 with the ghosts of past mistakes
These words are like a life boat
  better yet a Red Cedar Dugout
  used to float
Past my old self
   who still crys
   for HELP
Beggin for change
   and cash on the Ave.
   one more hit
   one more brown bag
   with an aluminum can
   to withstand
   my PAIN
That’s why I PRAY
   all day
   to maintain
 Manifest Light Rays
   to blind old ways
   from coming out
   the dark place
   of my MIND STATE
So this day
I choose my fights wisely
  because the right way
  is to pave Red Roads
  Guided by my Ancestors Soul
  where the buffalo still roam
  on Pow-Wow Highways
Where the fresh water Always Flows
   From the Cascade Peaks
  Where Heaven and Earth meet
Towards Rocky Mountain Snow Caps
Melting from the sun
 Rising like yeast
 from the East
 to clear land
 from DISEASE
Where our Children live and play
   not growing up too fast
   but are able to understand
   what it means to Grass Dance
What it means to bring back
   The Ghost Dance
   our souls chant
Ancient Vibrations from Nations
That have been lost since the INVASION
That are now being Cultivated
 Communicated through
  states of
  Prayer and Meditation
This is the Voice of Creation
To all my Relations
 Spoken Words
 To kindle the Flame
 for the next Seven Generations
To nourish the ROOT
In the youth
With the Water that’s Fresh
It’s the TRUTH
   Happiness cannot be shot
   Through a needle that shoots
                                                DEATH
Success
  Can’t be measured
  By the size of
  Your platinum necklace
Time cannot be bought back
From the choices we’ve made
   the only choice
   is to choose
   to ELEVATE
To some life is just a game
Playing the high stakes
But who’s really getting played
   have we not had
   enough of getting sprayed
   with mace
   foot and ankle chained
   to Lies-N-Hate
It’s time we Remember
Our Elders Wisdom
   That is slowly fading away
   like other natural resources
   that face Extinction
My Grandmother’s Eyes
Tell a story of Traditional ways
  That existed before culture rape
   and black plagues
A time before
 Gang Violence
 Alcoholism
 And AIDS
A time before
  Crack babies
  Epidemics
 And mental Slavery
We used to live in HARMONY
   balance with all living things
   created in unity
Giving Respect
Because the Creator is
A Reflection of All Things
   The source
   The season
   The Life
   The Teachings
The Song is still Breathing
The Drum is still Beating
Connected to mother earth’s heartbeat
   Through Urban Jungles
    And Concrete
We rejoice and Give Thanks
For Good Medicine Willz
  Used to help Heal
  The ill ones
  Still suffering right beside us
A new beginning
All things go in Cycles
  Old souls are being reborn
  In the child
  Look at the Grandfathers Smile
                                                    We Missed You



 A-Ho Mitakuye Oasin
(We are all Related)

Hawk Littlejohn Native American Flute vintage 1996

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Rainbows, Teddy bears, and drugs - Poem by Osita

Double-Rainbow

I had a good childhood

Rainbows, Fun, and love

Rainbows at Santa Rita on Bright rainy visiting days

I remember the heaviness in my pockets,

The change I would put on my mom's books, thinking it would make a difference.

Walking around Oakland with the cops following us,

Being just a little girl and knowing what it was all about.

We always had it all

My mama took good care of us

Even though she was addicted

To that white powdery stuff

She was like a goddess to us.

I remember playing with drugs, cold guns, sharp knives, and cute little baby dolls.

I didn't even know my dad's name, yet the names of drugs slurred out my mouth.

Till this day I remember clearly the day they took my mommy away

The pigs pulling her away, I cried my little heart out trying to make her stay.

But they did not let her go, not even so she could explain

That day I met hate

I was a little girl who felt pain in her heart and hate in her veins

While other little kids were at home talking with their mom

A tear dropped on the letter I was writing to mine

I loved my childhood with big smiles, emptiness, love, and pain,

I don't want to live in shame when there's things I just can't change.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

Poem by Marcie Rendon


Earth Memory
_______________________________________________

Earth memory holds me

I lay on the bones of my ancestors
Rhythms of silence run deep
As each breath
Each breath gives life

our grandmother’s dust
Is watered with the fallen dreams
of all women
all women
all women
sacrifice dreams for future generations

A breath of wind
Weaves Water
weaving dreams
We live whole lives between
Each breath

Our grandmothers dust
Waters our dreams
This accumulation of hope
Feeds our souls
women
Breathe life
Breathe life into being

In this season of abundance
Hear grandmother’s breath echo
Her breath moves
All the winds of time
All life intertwined

Earth memory holds me
Holds me to the ground
Holds me on the ground
Holds me in the ground
And sets me free

Poem by Marcie Rendon


Untitled
_______________________________________________

a history
Drenched in blood
Relocation
Forced
Acculturation
Termination
Extermination
Contamination
Radiation

Oh wa Ya hey
Oh wa hey

There are no
Broken memories
Only
Forgotten destinies

Hey yah hey
Oh wa hey
Hey yah way

My hope rising
Rising hope
De con tam in ates

I hear women call
I hear all women call

You cannot kill us twice

Oh wa hey
Hey oh aay

Lakota Dakota
Ho chunk
Anishinabe quay

I call
All healing
This earth
Calling all
All healing
This land never was gone
My feet never left this earth
Never left this earth
You cannot kill us twice

This earth never lost
My feet never left this earth
This earth never gone

Saturday, January 1, 2011

Poem by Jennifer Lisa Vest

When

_______________________________________________


Everybody wants to be an Indian

A pow-wow fancy-dancing

Feather-wearing Indian

Everybody wants to be the

Noble Savage of America

The old man on the banks of the river

Crying about pollution.


But who wants to live on the reservation

Bad coffee, beans, lard, diabetes

And too much TV

Who wants to farm on swampland

Bedrock and waterless sand?

Who wants to wrestle alligators for a living?


Everybody wants to wear suede

And fringe leather jackets

Patterns from Guatemala

Pretty beaded hair barrettes

And turquoise


But who wants to dress up

In fake Indian clothes

For snotty-nosed camp kids

Who call you "Hey Indian"

While you give them a tour

Of your culture?


Everybody wants to be an Indian

To be indignant about

"The crimes of white America"

To be spokesperson for the slighted

And the slaughtered

To write books about ecology

To teach workshops on herbology


But who wants to send their kids

To foreign schools that teach foreign language

Foreign culture

Shame

And how to disrespect?

Who wants to be laughed at in traditional dress

And told they have no culture

In the same breath?

Who wants to be idolized, romanticized

And iconized into something

You can never represent?


Everybody wants to be an Indian

A vision-seeking, sage-burning

Dream-catching Indian

Everybody wants to eat peyote

Dance at the Sundance

Sweat in the sweat lodge

Return to "the way things were"

And dress up like Pocahontas for Halloween


But who wants to have

Sports teams

And four-wheel drives

Named after your ancestors

Or your tribe?

Who wants to be studied

And who wants to be questioned

And who wants their every action

Scrutinized

By non-Indians who claim

To know more than you do

About your way of life?


Everybody wants to be an Indian

When its popular

When its glamorous

When its easy

When its fun.




From the anthology Turtle Island to Abya Yala

Friday, December 31, 2010

Poem by Melissa Lozano

















 Chicano Aztec Lover
_______________________________________________

Bronzed skin hitting the afternoon sun
And it’s a Sunday afternoon of Mariachi
Festival fun. So many Chicanos in the park
Wearing their Sunday best, macking
Socializing in the San Jo heat.
Chicano Aztec Lover.

Some wear their colors on their sleeves
But me I am sending out that vibe you know that vibe.
I’m looking for a tall Moreno guapo Chicano Aztec lover kind of guy.
And then there he is next to the oldies vendor stand.
A bronzed firme Chicano and I am thinking to myself he has to be down.
Down enough to go down to the barrio and buy me a real carne asada taco
and not one of these overpriced sin queso sin aguacates tacos.
He must wear obsidian rocks and tongues
around his neck. He must whisper my name in Nahuatl.
and if he’s a poet, a definite plus.
Chicano Aztec Lover.

I bump oldies out of my 64’ and I pray to my mini
Virgen sanctuary located in the back of my trunk.
Just to prove to you baby, I ain’t about no junk.
I’ve read the Chicano Manifesto from front to back
back to front and now it’s my turn
to read you. I come for reals baby.
I want to be your Chicano Aztec Lover.
Let me wrap my long hair around your body.
I’ve been growing it for years for my Aztec dance tribe.
My bronzed body is tattooed with the Aztec calendar.
The symbols of the United Farm Workers and a tear drop to boot.

I may not have served time but I feel I am a prisoner of this country.
I don’t fly Mexico’s flag on Cinco de Mayo
but every day. I want to be your Chicano Aztec Lover.
I just don’t pump my muscular body with weights and ego.
My body is a temple and you
shall worship it. But enough about me.
Y tĂș, como te llamas?

Me llamo Chicana
Sin verguenza fuerte Azteca
Discoteca mama poeta
love him and
leave him lover.
And if you could
please move
you’re
blocking
my sun.