the children of nations….perish in the wars
of their elders folly
Nations, as crowned heads
To decapitate
All that atheistic hate
Is ready to see.
Not just as peoples
And of all classes
Through this love it surpasses:
Christ-inspired. Let's be.
I
Broken hearts
Fragmented nations
Clashes and sparks
We fight over ideology
Beliefs in our head
We fight over biology
From which we were bred
Ignoring the skin
And the blood that we shed
To gain nothing more
Then an emperor’s head
To boast of the evil path
On whose ground they tread
Today, as always, I am grateful for native nations wisdom…
and how they’ve found a way…
despite our efforts to the contrary…
to bring that wisdom back today…
Hold on to what is good…
even if it is a handful of dirt
Hold on to what you believe…
Even if it is a tree that stands by itself.
Hold on to what you must do…
even if it is a long way from here.
Hold on to life…
even if it is easier to let go.
Hold on to my hand…
even if I have gone away from you.
Today’s blessing once again comes from Native Nations wisdom:
When how to live a good life I am trying hard to understand…
I often choose the wisdom of the first people to populate this land
Use your voice for kindness,
your ears for compassion,
your hands for charity,
your mind for truth
and your heart for love.
Luton Airport
People, passengers, everyone going somewhere, somewhere else
I love seeing them; there are so many nationals. Hmm. A half hour ago, I shopped
A white Bacardi, and beside me, I heard Polish words. I looked there
A very likable par. A young Polish woman and a man. I asked them.
(They shopped at the self-service checkout)
Are you Polish? “Yes.” They answered. Nice to meet you, I said. I am a Hungarian
I told them. We talked a bit. Not too much time. They were friendly. Polish and Hungarian
They are brothers and sisters. They are on a different line. I just think. I am still sitting here
So many people walking in front of me, I am sitting on a bench, and the pubs are full here
In this airport. Always
Good to see these people here. How many nations are there? I don’t know. I don’t know
Someone is going to the Parish, someone to Bucharest, Someone to Warsaw, Someone to Krakow. And to so many places, cities, and countries. They're just flies, from my mind
I saw all of them—many faces, souls, characters. My heart is in pain. I can’t see them anymore
Have a Good Journey!!
God Bless You!
All the Best!
All to You
Love You!
Once again I defer today’s blessing to the Native Nations
I hope someday their wisdom will help us understand…
how we are not the total masters…
but only one part of the land
No one owns the water
No one owns the land
No one owns the ocean
No one owns the sand
These are give by our Mother
The Planet provides for free
Only by the hands
of the greedy
does the Earth
require a fee
I lay in the dust turned to mud by the blood of innocents,
my name i heard whispered on the sighing breeze of night
flahes of somrthing bright illuminated a ruined city.
broken buildings like jagged teeth seemed to laugh,
screams like banshees filled the sky dropping death
down upon the heads of those already dead.
What hate must be brewing in peoples hearts,
that no one lifts a finger to help.
They say that God gives them the right,
however no one knows what God they serve.
Little children some still babes lay beside me,
blank eyes looking up,as if pleading for help.
My tears are spent and as dry as the sand beneath me,
My time has come to travel a new path now,
Following the trail of those gone before,
A trail of tears no,as no tears are left to shed.
Meeting fellow travellers of all nations,
murdered ,is all they say.
Andrew Provan McIntyre. 01/07/2025.
Whether the Indigenous People,
robed in leathers, head dressed in feathers,
who had their own sovereign nations,
wanted it or not,
June 2nd 1924,
U.S. President Calvin Coolidge
condescendingly signed the Snyder Act,
a.k.a., the Indian Citizenship Act, into law,
thereby conferring American citizenship
on American Indians.
He had it backwards,
it was no more than an affront
as, whether the Indigenous People
wanted them or not,
it was American Indians who,
altho' they made no claim to own Mother Earth,
should have conferred American citizenship
on the Paleface People,
who were mere trespassers on tribal territory.
And Woody Guthrie
(1912 – 1967),
another white man,
was not referring
to Native Americans
when he wrote,
'This land is your land.'
"This poem marks the beginning of a new era, a time when nations will unite in harmony. The poet, Shina Okram, seeks to convey the dawn of happiness that awaits humanity after a devastating universal war. Shina Okram is not a profound thinker or writer, but rather a visionary who simply wishes to share her glimpse of a future that is yet to come. This prophecy may be seen as fiction now, but it holds the promise of becoming a reality."
Awake nations
Awake nations awake
A new Era awaits,
Where diversity blossoms into unity,
And nations entwine as branches of a single tree.
The chorus of humanity will rise
As every voice, every instrument
And every heartbeat merges into a celestial hymn.
In this glorious age,
The viel of separation will lift,
Revealing the Divine essence,
Shining through every God,
Every faith and every soul!.
- Shina Okram
Nations, countries, territories
You can’t see me over those
Piles of rubbish, telling stories
Fake old glories they impose
They attempt to pluralize me
Politicians of all sorts
As if I was legalizing
Their repressions by default
Hope you won’t generalize me
For some doctrine or a scam
You can always sympathize me
Taking me for what I am
For I’m not an implication
Of some national decree
I’m a different variation
Written in a different key
I’m a ball your dog would like to
Play with, in the afternoon
I’m a sunbeam, shining through
Leaves of autumn in your room
You would laugh and think I’m crazy
(Those who aren’t, must be rare)
At the last row I’m a gazer
Sleeping in my easy chair.
thresh the grain of honeyed hue....feed faint
barren hungry of the nations
UNWRA, bury it all, soon, in the freezing tundra.
Deep-sixed, for ties to support terrorism,cowabunga!
1/8/20254
Carbon human lives address, express ideas? debate caress'
All mammals made of carbon too' walk and live some are; confined to zoo's, a manmade place to observe
And gather; revenue in that preserve' yet now a human
Zoo is planned, with vax and chip in many lands, maybe
Worming ? with casteration.? A tax on living? The new
Sensation' your footprint eyeprint, what you may eat.? this
To be called utopia' do you find it neat? One great big zoo
Where you'll be learned, to accept without question or
You will; be spurned.' Oh what releif.' At least a choice.! To
Stand in reality, the only recourse' free will; free thought i'd
Rather choose.' than plastic inhumanity's ill fitting shoes.'
So scorn and scoff, threaten of death.' I'll stand and fight
For my right to the breadth, and the height; also the depth
Of Gods creation, all its richness its behests, in a universe
That has no end! what say you reader? What thoughts
Impend.?
Buffy Sainte-Marie, You Are a First Nations Person to Me
When you were adopted, your spirit told you so,
and so you sang from the platform given
by the First Nations people who took you in,
and you became one of them: Buffy Sainte-Marie
of the Piapot Band of Saskatchewan, Canada.
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