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Wind over tall grass~
hoofbeats echo the old paths
no map can contain.
Warriors ride in memory,
carrying the plains’ long breath.
The Puritans were persecuted for expressing their belief
These Dissenters in the New World worshiped, such divinely blessed relief
For the largesse of Native Peoples, on pheasant, squash, corn and beans they dined
As we fondly recall the first Thanksgiving, warmth and generosity come to mind
Yet these Pilgrims allowed no religious dissent
voice disagreement and poof! off you went
They erected their churches with iconic white steeples
As they turned on their new friends as savage peoples
But I shall file this unsavory history away
And thank my lucky stars for this most pleasant day
I am also thankful for kind folks I’ve known, both passed and living
As I wish all of you a genuinely happy Thanksgiving
As some Indians
(dot, not feather)
go to great lengths
to ingratiate themselves
by obsequious behaviour
(bob your head if you agree with me)
could it be the origin
of the expression,
'To curry favour'?
Tho' hunger knows no bounds
forget the fatted calf
despite the nation suffering
from starvation by more than half
they'll curry a horse
but not a cow
those bovine ungulates
are holier than thou
As some Indians
(dot, not feather)
go to great lengths
to ingratiate themselves
by obsequious behaviour
(bob your head if you agree with me)
could it be the origin
of the expression,
'To curry favour'?
Tho' hunger knows no bounds
forget the fatted calf
despite the nation suffering
from starvation by more than half
they'll curry a horse
but not a cow
those bovine ungulates
are holier than thou
Survival deceit
One by one
Someone will be among
The murderer
Mysterious
Curious
Step by step elimination
Death on someone’s mind
Jealousy all genuine
Unexpected individual drop
Surprises in no realizes begin
Until the very end
Various stages disappearance
Uncontrollable breathing
Fate
One will stand
Then there was one.
people own the land
worn trails meant something to heart
indians of time
The cowboys always won
The Indians always lost
I yearned to see a cowboy
with an arrow through his chest
But then I read a story 'bout
a cowboy who'd been scalped
Promised to myself, I said
Now I'd see a red man dead
Put on two toy store holsters
Courage blazing from their guns
Bagged me the bony remnants
Of a graveyard skeleton
Blood-curdling Scene ~
Happy Halloween!
ONE:
Is our Near East in Asia? Are Israelis "Asians"?
People from India are called South Asians
The same folk in Caribbean are East Indians!
Fancy that: West Indians being called East Indians
STOP: DON'T BLAME COLUMBUS
He simply said, Indios! You say South Asians
But I don't see North Asians, East Asian, or West Asians!
Two (2):
Now, Arabs are classed WHITE in USA
These South Asians are not
I guess Near East is WEST enough
Unless you are bad, bad Saddam - cast out
I means Indians being called anything but!
What gives?
The labelling police got me bad
(At John's Hopkins University way back when
I was a "meek Hindu." I did sue @ JHU)
Jesus made me a "meek" CHRIST-ian
Following the Meek of the Middle East
Holy Land's Meek Moses, man of God
THREE (3)
IN A NUTSHELL
This South Asian is really South African
A nutty situation: I'm not African African
Here they don't use ASIAN, but "Indian South African"
Yet if Whites can be "Afrikaner," why cant I?
I speak Afrikaans
Even pray when i evangelize, in daardie Taal!
Dankie Here, in die Naam can Die Vader, Seun en Heilige Gees amen
I was once your cowgirl and you were my Indian
This was in the San Joaquin valley of California that you planted your seed in me
Boy did we have a pow wow
It was a delicious experience and made me think of the
arrival of the Mayflower so long ago
Yes, I was your cowgirl at the ripe age of forty
And, you looked like such a beautiful Native American Indian
Together we played cowgirls and Indians
He's nine years beautiful
i am the land of legend and dreams
billions of years ive been here its seems
a land of dreaming and ancient ways
i have survived for so many days
now my future is very unsure
a modern corruption is burning my core.
my ancient keepers killed and slaved
by the white masters that dig no grave
my oxygen lungs burnt to the ground
my forests are empty and void of sound
i sit in silence
as the the new owners cause violence.
stripping me of my valuable soul
to make money by drilling a hole
why cant they see
the real wealth is here in me
without me you are dust
so why destroy me ?why you must
modern owners with their chains
enslaving the land for their gains
here my voice
we all have a choice
i am gondwanna land
Ignorant Indian
you've lost your land
and scoffed at man
to understand
That only you
have lost your soil
And pumped your land
of Indian oil
To say that you
have made the Queen
And families made
are in between
To tell the world
you're love is great
And queen's who've lived
are not in state
To tell you all
the treaty's good
And rule the world
misunderstood
And make you think the land is all
when Indian's made are standing tall
And leave you wonder who's ignored
when families made are in accord
To start a family with that in mind...So it was.
The job complete was quite a run.
Seventeen years and Ten were born.
Seventeen years of love and toil.
The process was repeated, All but for one.
Not Ten, not Nine...Less, but more than none.
As of this writing five have passed.
I knew them in youth, there should have been more.
Passed they are without memories in age.
I will attempt to know more with the remaining Four.
With my parting...Memories no more.
Copyright 2021
People are becoming a tribe of nomadic
Who emigrate and become fanatic,
Hoping they will get a peaceful haven,
They have become completely raven,
Wishing for a cozy Lifestyle and future,
And a mere supreme and good exposure,
Which is quite subtle and miniature,
They forgot their own great culture,
The people go through the immigration,
Either for job, business or education
Hope they foresee the goodness of our nation
And make this their lifelong destination.
We kids from the fifties were always dressed as cowboys or cowgirls.
Our TV shows in black and white included guns, bullets and horses.
The men were the shooters, the women helpless, Indians died all over.
I decided at a young age I would be an Indian; I hated the cowboys.
Not fond of the cowgirls either; except I did like their fringed skirts.
I discovered that Indian women wore fringe, and decided to be one.
We had cap guns, and got to shoot all over the place, if we were boys.
I was a girl, and was encouraged not to shoot but rather to have a doll.
Wearing war paint, I scalped my doll and named myself Wise Eagle Woman.
The other girls avoided me, thinking I was the strange one.
Red Indians
This afternoon was spent watching an old western movie
it was the usual stuff cavalry in spotless uniforms
sitting on tall horses facing a bunch of extras playing
the Indians appeared incredible stupid, were rounded up
and herded back to their dry reservation and poverty.
First time I saw the movie 40 years ago, we laughed a
the Indians they were like a pantomime act how could they
ever rule themselves?
Sometimes I think the Israelis see the Palestinians this way
they have no weapon are reduced throwing stones at soldiers
who no longer care to kill them only knee-cap them.
Dirty Palestinians living in filth, and no think how it came about.
Israel can stop their water supply at a whim.
Oh, those Arabs when are they throwing in the towel and become
quaint people tourists will flock to see.
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