jaws sawing pork chop
little sweat bee carnivore
no vegan honey
protein versus pollen
May 20, 2012 at 6:47 pm (creative writing, culture, entertainment, environment, food, humor, life, play, poetry, random, Writing)
Tags: bee, creative writing, culture, environment, food, haiku, honey, humor, life, nature, poem, poetry, protein versus pollen, random, vegan, Writing
“ME” by Cloudman
April 20, 2012 at 5:48 pm (creative writing, culture, ethics, history, Indigenous People, Lakota, life, Native Americans, Pine Ridge Indian reservation, poetry, random, Writing)
Tags: "ME", alcohol, Cloudman, creative writing, culture, Economy, fame, history, identity, Issues, Lakota, life, money, Native American, Nebraska, people, Pine Ridge Reservation, poem, poet, poetry, random, Whiteclay, Whte Clay, Writing
Cloudman, guest poet, shares “ME” – a poem that references the infamous Nebraska town of Whiteclay where selling alcohol to the Lakota is the raison de existence.
.
.
.
ME
Once again White Clay memories walk in,
I was sitting by the shade of Howard’s store,
Watching as Elders came for a drive to buy,
From Howard
Lakota words on the side of his store,
Advertising food,
This White Clay is another memory,
On another day
I awoke one morning surrounded by
Federal marshals and F.B.I’s
Asking who I was What I was
Even then my identity was in question
Now I ask who am I What am
These years later when White Clay
Is more known then I
.
Cloudman
.
.
.
Link to Wikipedia regarding White Clay http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pine_Ridge,_Nebraska
From Wikipedia:
Soon after the territory entered the public domain, a trading post was set up to sell alcohol to the Lakota, and merchants have continued to do so since. In 2010, its four beer stores sold an estimated 4.9 million 12-ounce cans of beer, an average of over 13,000 cans per day, for gross sales of 3 million dollars.[1] They have no place to consume beer on site, and it is not supposed to be drunk on the streets, but there are often inebriated customers sprawled around Whiteclay. John Yellow Bird King, president of the Oglala Sioux Tribe, says that tribal members bring alcohol illegally back from Whiteclay and “90 percent of criminal cases in the court system” are alcohol-related.[5] Beer is sold almost exclusively to residents from the reservation, as the nearest big city is two hours to the north.[5] According to Mary Frances Berry, the 10-year chair of the United States Commission on Civil Rights, Whiteclay can be said to exist only to sell beer to the Oglala Lakota.[6]
Victor Clarke, the owner of Arrowhead Foods, a grocery store in Whiteclay that does not sell alcohol, said he “did more than a million dollars in business last year, with an entirely Native American clientele.”[2] As the reservation has no banks and few stores, its residents spend most of their money in Nebraska border towns, for regular needs as well as alcohol. The beer stores in Whiteclay cash welfare and tax refund checks for the Oglala Lakota, taking a 3 percent commission.[5]
Rain + Poetry = Navajo Water Songs
April 17, 2012 at 7:48 pm (creative writing, culture, education, environment, history, Independent film, Indigenous People, life, music, Native Americans, nature, poetry, random, religion, Uncategorized, Writing)
Tags: "Water", Blue Horses Rush In, Camille, Child of Water, creative writing, culture, Dine, Dust Precedes the Rain, education, history, Independent film, Indigenous, life, Luci, Manybeads, music, Native Americans, nature, Navajo, outtayourbackpack, people, poem, poet, poetry, rain, random, religion, song, Tapahonso, University of AZ, video, videos, Writing
Dine’ poet Luci Tapahonso’s “Dust Precedes the Rain” seems appropriate for both a tip of the cyber hat to April as National Poetry Month –and to focus on the joys of water, especially rain–water that falls from the sky.
“The water from the sink is no good for making pottery.
It just ruins it,” my children’s Acoma grandmother would say.
Thereafter she sent the kids to replace the full bowls of rainwater
that had filled since it began to rain.
Her son said that when he was a child, the rain smelled
and tasted so good–he and other kids played outside,
laughing and running around–and they stopped once in a while to lick
the cool adobe walls . The sides of the smooth houses were
fragrant and nurturing. From atop the mesa at Acoma Pueblo,
it is possible to see almost seventy miles in each direction.
It is the same on the reservations surrounding Phoenix.
Long before the rains come, the gentle desert wind
carries the scent of rain, wild plants flutter anxiously,
and pets frolic, acting silly. To the west, the thunderheads
loom dark and full. Thin waves of dust precede the rain,
rolling tumbleweeds and bits of paper, and the children run and skip,
allowing the wind to push them along. They yell and laugh.
The lilting sounds ae carried eastward by the blowing slants
of rain–their laughs and shouts caught in the leaves of sturdy trees.
They linger in the crevices of small hills and arroyos
and finally swirl into the slopes of the purple mountains nearby.
It must have been the same when the Hohokamiki lived here
where the expressway crosses over. The children played
in the dust- charged breezes, shouting and running in circles,
and when the rains began, they paused, their faces turned upward
to taste the cool clean rain.
Their quiet gratitude for brimming pots of water remains
now in the crumbling re-buried walls fo their small homes.
The still concentration with which they painted pottery
remains in the small toys and tiny woven sandals that are unearthed:
their spirits remain in the dry grains of dirt
that were dug up by shovels, backhoes, and bulldozers.
This is evident in the persistence of the bright wild plants
that push their way out of the dry ground.
This is evident in the new growth that springs up
along the arroyos and streams following sudden rains.
This is evident in the island of peaceful silence
that the museum cradles amid the city’s frenzy.
This is evident in the restless energy of the busloads
of children who visit the old homes of the Hohokamiki today.
They recognize the old history that is theirs.
They recognize the old history that is ours.
@Luci Tapahonso, “Dust Precedes the Rain” from Blue Horses Rush In, University of Arizona Press
Link for Luci Tapahonso at University of Arizona:
http://www.ais.arizona.edu/people/luci-tapahonso
Child of Water video uploaded by outtayourbackpack, Camille Manybeads sings.
FYI, from the1491s, Geronimo is not dead!
November 18, 2011 at 5:19 pm (creative writing, culture, education, entertainment, exploring interconnectedness, history, Independent film, Indigenous People, Lakota, life, Native Americans, poetry, politics, random, Uncategorized, Writing)
Tags: 1491s, creative, culture, education, Geronimo, heritage, history, Indigenous, Issues, life, month, Native American, people, poem, poetry, politics, random, Ryan Red Corn, Tar Sands, video, Writing
November is Native American Heritage Month.
What the heck does that mean?
In part, it means this:
who needs tears
November 2, 2011 at 4:31 am (creative writing, exploring interconnectedness, life, poetry, random, Writing)
Tags: creative, life, love, pain, people, poem, poetry, random, relationships, Writing
2:27 am
awake staring out the window
black and blue trees dancing with the wind
memories are not enough
lack of you
wounds deeper than any knife
black and blue trees dancing with the wind
moon dusted
who needs tears
they’re only salt water
black and blue trees dancing with the wind
while I howl songs of hearts breakings to the moon
under falling leaves
“Whale Watching”
September 16, 2011 at 6:41 pm (art, buddhism, creative writing, culture, education, environment, exploring interconnectedness, life, nature, poetry, random, Writing)
Tags: art, creative writing, culture, energyscape, environment, eva, exploring interconnectedness, life, nature, poem, poetry, random, Whale Watching, whales, Writing
"whale watching" @eva
waters watching whales
watching “us”
wondering waiting
why
humans
why
“sudden panic”
September 13, 2011 at 6:02 pm (creative writing, environment, exploring interconnectedness, life, nature, random, Writing)
Tags: "sudden panic", creative writing, culture, interconnectedness, life, loss, nature, poem, poetry, random, Writing
full moon sighs
dew kissing toes
soles sinking deeper in delight
ahhh wet cool grass night
but
wait
Milky Way gone?
stillness
“you ate”
September 13, 2011 at 6:45 am (creative writing, food, life, poetry, Writing)
Tags: "you ate", creative writing, food, life, poem, poetry, Writing
you ate my heart for breakfast
between nearly burnt rye toast butter drenched
and paprika speckled potatoes
you ate my heart
bloody rare. salted
you ate
without knowing
my heart
like any common over easy egg
washed down with bitter black coffee
vanilla yogurt on the yellow line
September 5, 2011 at 11:58 pm (creative writing, entertainment, exploring interconnectedness, food, humor, life, poetry, random, Writing)
Tags: creative writing, food, humor, inspiration, life, poem, poetry, random, Writing, yogurt
at 4:30 am
best place
catch a cool breeze
while eating vanilla yogurt
in a purple bowl
on the unbroken yellow line
in the middle of the street
under a piece of moon
om mani padme hum jewel in the lotus wahupa qi prana universal life energy
