Thursday, February 25, 2016

Eulogy [Poetry]







The wind
howls,
magnificent and shrieking,
like some wild woman,
unabashed, naked.

Her brow wet
with brine,
upturned to the most holy sky,
arms raised
in supplication
to a dying world,
embracing,
all that is.

And she
cross-legged,
beneath Gods and Goddesses,
hair whipped in the wind,
eyes brazen,
brown and soft.

A touch of
madness and desire,
no human soul
comprehends.

Her howling
becomes one with the wind,
distress signals to the raiment,
the ancient raiment
that poets and sages
sat under and above
for millenniums.

Legs stretched
in front of her,
toes uncurled,
she lies back
flat —
allowing to be cleansed
by the pelting rain,
the dying Winter,
the oncoming of Spring,
a rebirth of births,
a eulogy to the past,
a welcome to the present,
an embrace to the future.

What it holds
is of no concern,
for she knows
where home is,
away from this society,
away from the busy-ness,
away from monotony
and dramatics,
away from this life
consumed,
with triviality.

She is here
now,
waiting for you,
to set you free
from chains
you have bound yourself with.

Whip your shoulders back,
allow them to fall.
Feel the weight,
vanish.

Grab her hand, willing
loving,
kind,
calm,
pure and desirous.

Show her
how your soul
shines,
show her
how your eyes light up,
show her how you have released
from your very soul,
all the toxicity
of existence.

She is Earth, dirt,
rocks and stones,
limbs of trees,
mighty oaks and maples,
the birch and elm.

She is the silt of faultlines
holding this globe
together.

She is the mighty maelstrom,
every season,
without apology.

She is you,
me.

Come, come and relish this moment.

Even if only once.

Dine as a human, starved.

Sing of the grace bestowed upon you
for you are born to be supreme,
you are born with the ability to fly,
you are born with the gift to see
with six senses,
seven.

You are powerful in your wildness,
in your pure soul self.

She is here to tell you
to scream and cry,
until there is no speech,
to the skies,
to the clouds,
to the falling rain.

Let it wash upon you
like a sweet, cool dream,
and come, come my dear soul.

Do not wait.
No hesitation.
Moments are fleeting.

She is here,
now,
with you,
yet not eternal.

She will share secrets,
teach you how to see
with eyes,
that have no place
in the land of humankind.

She is cirrus, salt.

Each blade of grass,
leaves of the trees of her mane,
like a thoroughbred racing, wondrous,
eyes staring, mad,

There is no finish line
only now, here.

This moment.

Disrobe beneath this day.

Give thanks to the Great Creator,
to Mother Nature.
To the spirits that speak to you
in your dreams.

To the souls that have guided you
to this place,
this patch of Earth,
this precious time.

Bow your head in prayer,
dear soul.

For you are in the presence
of divinity.






Monday, February 22, 2016

Update & Education: Change Columbus Day to Indigenous Heritage Day



Below is the press and support so far. Please share and sign. We have local, national and international support! Thank you everyone, we can do this! 

http://petitions.moveon.org/sign/city-of-buffalo-resolution?source=s.icn.em.cp&r_by=10621242




Several major cities in America have been successful in changing Columbus Day to Indigenous People's Day to celebrate and recognize Indigenous People to reflect upon the ongoing struggles of Indigenous people on this land, and to celebrate the thriving culture and value that Indigenous nations add to all cities. 


The City of Buffalo has a strong history of American Indian culture. It is time for the city to reflect and honor that tradition in order to progress, recognize and celebrate the history of Indigenous People. 

International Day of the World's Indigenous People already exists in August, first commemorated by the U.N. 

This petition is for the abolition of Christopher Columbus Day, the 2nd Monday in October, an outdated and historically incorrect celebration, in favor of Indigenous [Heritage] Day.
 

Buffalo News/City Hallways/Politics Now Article
 

Buffalo Rising Article

Mogul Article

Remember Native Americans. Org

Native American and First Nations Cultures


Indigenous Environmental Network. Org

Medium

Time Warner News

WGRZ NBC Ch 2 News


Please join us in sharing, signing and educating yourself on historical fact and the genocide of Indigenous people.  

Please join us in progressing towards a healing society. 

Research this issue on your own.


Encyclopaedia Britannica



Harvard


There are numerous books and articles that go in depth to disturbing and detailed personal letters and logs, voyages, conquests, imperialism and colonization including the agony endured by several Indigenous tribes under the direction of Columbus.

As far as "America" is concerned, this land was founded by the Indigenous that inhabited it. 

We cannot alter the past, however, we can change the present and the future. 

http://petitions.moveon.org/sign/city-of-buffalo-resolution?source=s.icn.em.cp&r_by=10621242

"Past the elementary and high schools, there are only occasional hints of something else. Samuel Eliot Morison, the Harvard historian, was the most distinguished writer on Columbus, the author of a multi-volume biography, and was himself a sailor who retraced Columbus's route across the Atlantic. In his popular book Christopher Columbus, Mariner, written in 1954, he tells about the enslavement and the killing:

"The cruel policy initiated by Columbus and pursued by his successors resulted in complete genocide."- from Howard Zinn

Support: 

Buffalo News, Buffalo Rising, Mogul, Remember Native Americans. Org, Native American and First Nations Cultures, Medium, Indigenous Environmental Network. Org, Time Warner, Haudenosaunee Environmental Task Force, Native American Cultural Center of Rochester & Syracuse, National Native American Indian Heritage Month, Native American Community Services of Erie and Niagara Counties Inc., Sacred Ecology Films, Seneca Nation Media & Communications Center, Sacred Ecology, WGRZ NBC CH 2. 




Sunday, February 21, 2016

Book Review: Three Line Poetry [Prolific Press]



Artwork © "Fairy Mary's Dream ca 1870 A.F.L. 


Prolific Press oversees and publishes eight respected and established literary journals. As of March 2014, Prolific has been accepting full manuscripts for poetry and fiction, chapbooks, has resources for writers, and a bookstore. 



 Prolific Press currently publishes: 

Recently published in Issue #34 of Three Line Poetry, I had no idea what to expect, regarding acceptance of my submission, the type of book, the artwork and the writers included in this volume. For a writer like myself, absolute stream of consciousness, writing three coherent lines is difficult.




After receiving my book, I am stunned and delighted. More than delighted, I am exuberant and surprised. Not only is this publishing at its finest, the front and back cover artwork and production is magnificent and speaks for me, my writing, my vision of and for this universe.  

The book is humble in nature, yet finely formatted.

Issue #34 features over 40 writers, every page different. One page may be a haiku, another three lines of poetry and yet another page, a senryu or a masterfully crafted story formed from simply three lines of words. 

Prolific Press publishes out of Harborton, Virginia, edited by Glenn Lyvers and April Zipser. The book is ready for sale, with UPC and ISBN and promoted on their website as well as by the authors featured in this volume. 

The most compelling aspect of this over 40-page volume is that every page, although only three lines, leaves the reader with intense thought for further contemplation. Similar to Franz Kafka’s, The Zürau Aphorisms, Three Line Poetry allows the reader to decide where to further look, if anywhere, depending upon his or her own path and direction at this point in time. 

I adore this book, especially this volume, due to the writing and the cover art. It is the first time I have dealt with Prolific Press and their work is outstanding from start to finish. I definitely suggest contacting them to purchase a few volumes from the eight subjects above, as well as submitting your work to them. 




I read this book in about 10 minutes however, it is the type of volume that keeps you going back, reading and rereading three lines . . . a book to keep close by for days when you may need inspiration or are in deep thought or simply to enjoy and pass along to another. 

For anyone new to haiku, senryu, three-line poetry, this volume is a perfect start. 




In short, this is a fine press. The book I received, along with a free subscription to more work, is outstanding. The submission process was short, the editing is fine-tuned and the artwork, impeccable. 

My cost was one free submission.

Prolific Press --> HERE

Three Line Poetry Issue #34 --> HERE

Bookstore --> HERE






Wednesday, February 17, 2016

Buffalo's Columbus Day Name Change in The Buffalo News



© Susan Schulman/Buffalo News





Via The Buffalo News and BN Susan Schulman in Politics Now and City Hallways

"The City of Buffalo has a strong history of American Indian culture. It is time for the city to reflect and honor that tradition," Susan Marie wrote in her e-mail, which also talks of Columbus Day as being historically incorrect.

Marie told me she is not Native American, but views this an ethical and moral issue all people should empathize with. 





Please sign and share this petition


We need more supporters before I bring the resolution to the Common Council. In one day, we have over 400 people that signed! 

Thank you! 





Tuesday, February 16, 2016

City of Buffalo Resolution To Change Columbus Day to Indigenous Heritage Day





 


Several major cities in America have been successful in changing Columbus Day to Indigenous People's Day to celebrate and recognize Indigenous People to reflect upon the ongoing struggles of Indigenous people on this land, and to celebrate the thriving culture and value that Indigenous nations add to our city. 

The City of Buffalo has a strong history of American Indian culture. It is time for the city to reflect and honor that tradition in order to progress, recognize and celebrate the history of Indigenous People.

International Day of the World's Indigenous People already exists in August, first commemorated by the U.N. and celebrated in Buffalo, New York.

This petition is for the abolition of Christopher Columbus Day, the 2nd Monday in October, an outdated and historically incorrect celebration, in favor of Indigenous Heritage Day. 





Please join me in making this happen! 



Saturday, February 6, 2016

Rumi, Jake Sully, and A Starry Starry Night




© adrijana.polyvore.com 



“Learn well, Jakesully, and we will see if your insanity can be cured.”
~ Mo'at to Jake upon introduction to Omaticaya clan, Avatar

I know why Van Gogh lost part of his ear.

A quick glimpse through Tormented Genius, a small yet deeply impressionable volume, plainly outlines Vincent’s life. Honestly, you will empathize. I promise. It is simple to understand the suffering of another human soul.

When you are not meant to exist within ordinary spaces in society, regardless of the day, the era, even the century, yet attempt to squeeze yourself into that puzzle when you are not even a piece, you are not going to fit. It will be uncomfortable, quite painful.

A strange phenomenon occurs when you attempt to defy your ultimate purpose:  

Society does not accept you.

I know you have been there. Arms wide-open, heart full and giving. Ready, willing and accepting of all things. I can bet, sitting there reading right now, free-flowing and innocent, yet far from naive, you are misunderstood.

Vincent tried to fit. Thankfully, Van Gogh burns eternal within his work, gleaming like the fire within his eyes. Vincent adored people, he wanted to create, and always be creating and manifesting. He wanted to be a part of what was going on, to join in. 

Unbeknownst to him, society was not his tribe.

The irony is, Vincent was born into a world blinded by his light, yet in desperate need of his inspiration. Van Gogh felt most at peace in a sanitarium. People drove him there. I like to believe that Vincent became sane again, after going insane attempting to fit into places he did not belong.

I can see him now, watching crows in the wheat fields out of barred windows. I surely know he found bliss again. In solitude. Thank goodness.

This is why I write. It provides me with an avenue to speak without ever uttering a word. I write on scraps of paper, publish articles I hope, somewhat, are understood, but that is okay if they are not. Writing is for me.

If you grasp anything coherent from the thoughts that transpire inside my ever-ignited skull, well, you just might be my tribe.

If dull conversation tires you because no one around you is saying anything that excites the very core of your being, know that I also feel this way. It is okay, it means you are paying attention.

There is much to offer the world, yet it seems as if most people are asleep. This causes me to become quiet. Apathy and ignorance force me into solitude.

Nature does not tell me how to write, speak or spell. Trees do not scoff and decide if I am fat, skinny, pretty or ugly. The grass does not yell obscenities at me while I walk beside it down the street. The dirt does not shove me in boxes labeled according to my ethnicity, financial class, race, spiritual beliefs, and sexual gender.

My tribe is scattered across the globe. At least I know it exists. However, we are facing strange times. This is nothing new. I am simply reiterating, compounding upon and carrying forward, what I have learned from those no longer with us.

I hope that after I return to dust, my words live beyond me, so others know that they are not alone in this wondrously mad and deranged place, and to recognize that one must be insane to fully exist in any society, with its rules, regulations, ordinances, governance, policies, and delusions.

I know you want to rest upon the arduous path, if only for a little while. Just a quick nap underneath the pine trees, bed down like a doe, perhaps. To keep going, regardless… now, that is true power. Now, that is living.

Trudging uphill, sun searing delicate skin, salt of sweat stinging sight, the air thick with purity, your polluted lungs heave and struggle for oxygen, knees buckle under the weight on your back and above you, vultures circle, awaiting your own demise.

Ah, do not fall prey to trivialities. Tilt your chin upward and bellow like the wild sacred spirit you were born to be. Swear to the barren landscape that no matter what humankind attempts to do to you, that today is not your day to die.


Rinse and Repeat:


In order to progress, I must first be insane.


Like Jake Sully up there.


One of the greatest love stories ever told is that of Shams and Rumi. When they met, alchemy. Rumi, once a teacher, now a student, and Shams, once a student, now a teacher, formed a union that no one understood. Everyone was too busy being insane looking outward at two men looking inward, gloriously ill with sanity.

There are lessons hidden within the tears Rumi shed after Shams disappeared. This obliterated Rumi. Crushed, he did not yet understand the purpose for the depths of his own heartbreak and confusion. Shams left Rumi’s side without uttering a reason. He did not leave out of spite or hatred, quite the opposite.

Shams left because Rumi was meant to bleed and then burst like Phoenix rising.


Then Rumi taught the world of love.

Thinking of those no longer around, how I wish to speak with them now, standing on my balcony, the sun shining magnificently, so utterly lovely for winter. The birds share their songs, selflessly. The trees readying themselves with fresh buds and herbs starting to grow.

I am thankful right now, here in the sunshine. This immense ball of energy, sustaining life, thankful for my sight, my heart, my mind, and although it is often an isolated path, for my soul that is alive, awake and oh-so-utterly free.


What can we teach one another? Show me what I do not see.

Enlighten me.