Angst Native American Poems

your eyes, black diamonds as dark and potent as your soul
your skin, the color of your sandstone mesas
your hair, a sacred silky, shiny, black mane
stranded...

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If I feel guilty 
Does that make you
Superior Mother
Am I just a bad bad boy
Who’s just to much of a bother!
I guess things haven’t changed...

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Angel Bones

Two Hundred fifteen angels  (Narration by an elder)
each buried in a shallow grave
The monsters said the Angels were savages
that they were there to...

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Looking back, one thing comes clean-glass clear
you were always there for me subduing every fear.

I tried to do my duty, be a husband strong and...

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many days we walked
an unforgiving sun
beating down upon us
and at night
even the cold moon
seemed to curse us...

Seeing what no eye should see
our tears mingled with...

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Non Human Sensate Beings Linkedin, Sans Omnipotent Bonds

Extant latent forcefields transcend
across avast panoply multitudinous biosphere
scads of diverse living entities
innately born with
inherent capacity to care
embedded within...

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tanned skin
dark hair
dark eyes
his Indian spirit skin deep
trapped in the city
out of his element
the suffocated call for freedom
a prisoner by any other name
quelled urge to...

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Our tam tams are vibrating
to the rhythm of the hunt.
Mighty bear is in the forest
showing his angst.

His claws are large
as the tips of our spears.
His...

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when certain voices speak
something inside me pricks up unseen ears
inviting the best of schizophrenia: mind, ego, body, the Deep

we are a lot of trouble -...

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water
the liquid of life—
pipeline...

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It's in a turtle soup shop where I'm employed
It's my duty to cook vomit-inducing soup turtle
which no decent human palate could stand;
a horrid job and...

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I see the wrinkles in your suntanned brow,
You carried burdens then; you see them now.
You’ve heard the cries your people who in pain,
Have shed their...

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My children be over my sister house.
Oland got scratched by his cousin with a twig in my mother’s front yard.
My children are grown now.
Why is...

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The Petty Posh-Wahzee - Liberation & Ostentation


The Not-So Distant Past:

The fallen fighters for freedom, are unable to turn in their graves,
their battered, fragmented bones, mixed...

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Tomorrow is Ours.


Suffocating beneath the weight of historical fear,
asphyxiated by the legacy of traumatised yesteryear,

the festering wounds of enslavement still remain,
juggling euphemisms in a crisp...

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