The year, 1491
just ahead of 1492
The year before Columbus
sailed the ocean blue
Imagine a world before
America was known
One year before stodgy loyal royals
encountered the planet’s first freedom zone
July 25, 2026
Entry in 1491 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand
. With the dreams of yesterday's journey vibrating through our path let us not forget that our party have taken us on roads of sadness and joy it's the measuring stick that defines our end. The memories of our ancestors is but a tool for choices today. Be the change maker and let it echoe into the hearts of the ones that dreams of better tomorrow. To be alive itself is a journey of discovery and our paths are filled with many obstacles. Let it not be a stumbling block for you to Excel. Grow,advance choss to be the one that not look back but build your destiny will pride so as to achieve your full potential that is waiting for you.. remember you decide your end result and you are the master of your destiny. Looking back should be the key to your decisions so don't fall into the trap of slavery to others dreams.
You ruled the world with iron and lies.
Five hundred years of noise,
five hundred years of pain.
You called your conquest civilization,
your theft, discovery,
your cruelty, progress.
You built kingdoms upon stolen bones,
cathedrals upon blood and grief.
You crowned yourselves gods,
and forced the world to kneel.
But what goes up must come down.
Even gods fall.
The scripture you gave by force
now testifies against you —
“God cannot be mocked.”
You shall reap what you sow.
The harvest of sorrow draws near.
Your towers of deceit will tremble.
Your gold will turn to dust.
Your children will hunger.
Your nations will divide.
And those you once enslaved
will feed you crumbs,
as the wheel turns full.
The color you worshipped
will become a mark of shame.
Your arrogance will echo
as laughter across the Earth.
And when the new world asks,
“Why has Europe fallen?”
the prophets will answer —
They harvested what they planted.
Took sail with a north-easterly wind did the Nords
From the glaciated valleys and narrow steep fjords
A sea voyage away by chance three lands found
Norsemen have come to claim their ground
Dragon-headed prows, ships with wooden oars
Centuries before famous lauded explorers
A Vikings roaring soul was the longboat Drakkar
Thru misty waters and unintruded shores afar
The land was calm—no frost in winter
Wild wilderness and little did the grass wither
What’s green is ice and what’s ice is green
Named in contrast so the truth be unseen
So not to make it sound it’s to one’s liking
This is the legacy of the brash hardy breed Viking
The sagas of the Icelanders—Edda
Old Norse óðr poetry of how they discovered America
I said I couldn’t write
for I am an empty pen,
my ink wasted
on letters no one will read.
Torn, crumpled,
fed to the black hole
of a trash can.
Now I write of silence
Etching words into wood
For I have broken my vow with the papers
It isn’t determination,
nor delusion
just a moment,
a fragment that insists on staying.
And still, I write
not with ink,
but with the sharp edge
of a pen
long drained of stain.
The Stars and the Stripes,
Is the blood that we shed.
I pledge allegiance to the flag,
Running through my head.
The Home of the Brave,
And the land of the free.
Soldiers died to give their life,
For you, and for me.
The Stars and the Stripes,
Is the blood that we shed.
I’m proud to be an American,
Running through my head.
The Home of the Brave,
And the land of the free.
God Bless our USA,
For you, and for me.
Beautiful O Beautiful,
Are the Stars and the Stripes.
Scream it loud for all to hear.
Fight, Fight, Fight.
"Izzie"
I know a quiet girl whose name is Izzie
Pays twenty dollars to get a little dizzy
Lately, she's busy smoking up on that boy
Poisoned capillaries we both can enjoy
She's been romanced in pitch black death
Sells her frail body that's powder fresh
Her blood jacked up for a little taste
Stabs a vein with her favorite toxic waste
Come on lil Izzie it's all you care to smoke
Don't worry this time, iffin y'all be broke
There's plenty more where that came from
Izzie baby, you & that boy sho enuf in love
Come see Daddy Kane any time baby
Now don't ya forget next time it'll be eighty
Midnight room filled in a junkie's worst kinda fears
Searching the floor hoping something appears
Combing the fibers of carpet for souvenirs
Just a mirage all your hopes disappear
Hush lil baby don't say a single word
Daddy Kane has got you a lil reward
The Punk Poe…
Always Be Punk…
Always Be Drunk…
(On Poetry)
THE
ROAD
TO
HEAVEN
IS
OBEDIENCE
TO
GOD'S
WORD
Passing years and Google
I wonder how old one has to be to have a dignified life, Google wants to re-identify myself
It appears there are many of me
They sent me a form where I have to place figures where they sit and move around
the problem is my eyesight is not good after
all at 86 six I’m not a Falk-eyed Indian
How this test can prove whether I’m me and not a company I don’t know
As it is I can’t log into X where I have 200 followers, which at my age is encouraging that there are people who like my view about politics and life in general
Old age is not for the insipid, we who are classified as old suffer joint pains and have legs unwilling to carry us around
Our minds are not as old as our bodies we have tons of experience to divulge, the politics of today have happened before, we know
Is there or should, there be a cutoff point to life
Say at 75 but we old think 75 is young, I even had girlfriends back then, who thought I was handsome; they should see me now!
I feel resentful, that Google in its hunt for
Fake accounts have singled me out after twenty years of loyal service
A new chapter in the country history now begins
Making America Great Again done through unity
Ending the political division that separate people
Republicans and Democrats rebuilding the dream
It is built on the founding fathers' vision for all
Choosing to be part of this new shared vision
American citizens sharing and living that dream
Dust down the founders declaration once again
Awaken the American Dream with your strength
When you stand together, you will stand united
Now, are you ready for the dawn of your dream
For they know not what they are doing
How could they not
as God-given capacity for ignorance
is only blasphemy when available
The Indigenous of New Zealand
Never heard Jesus's sweet name
until 1814, So all those natives
get to burn forever with Hauty
The proud church of Christ
and its east-west schisms
And Luther's nailed paper
Show God's "unauthorized" confusion
Mormons and Muslims follow
in the writing of many books
and their books on their books
and their books on their books and
Columbus sailed
The ocean blues
And racked up
Plenty IOU’S
In the realm where love intertwines with gain,
Bouquets and brands, a capitalist's terrain.
Gucci labels and bags, symbols of might,
Love's currency measured in material delight.
Flowers exchanged for moments in time,
A transactional love, a capitalist paradigm.
Dubai's allure, a destination grand,
An investment in passion, a capitalist's hand.
In the marketplace of affections, a lucrative trade,
Intimacy priced, where transactions are made.
Love becomes a commodity, a lucrative blend,
A capitalist benefit, where desires transcend.
Yet, beneath the surface, a paradox unfurls,
For love isn't confined to material swirls.
In the balance of wealth and emotions, we see,
The complex dance of love and capitalism's decree.
South Africa's tale, a fusion of hearts and gain,
Where love's richness isn't solely in the material lane.
In this capitalist romance, let hearts find their say,
For true connection transcends the price we pay.
With Biden and Xi hand in hand
Fentanyl precursors are banned
What’s the surprise
As costs of a high rise?
The incentive for crime will expand!
Author’s note: I expect many more of us will be burglarized, robbed, and assaulted. What’s the harm in focusing on treating addiction?
Seeking a light
Winter chill rustles faces in fields of grey
Feet ponder in the reservoirs of rain
Gazes search the blue line for wavering light
Frosty strangers stole their light
Branches of sanity lost in palls of grey
Running away from the pain in the rain
Nobody hears their cries but the rain
Searching for hope from darkness light
Speculating why they stand in the grey
Lost in the grey rain seeking unique light.
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Definition | What is Columbus Day in Poetry?
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