Flock.

Let’s be like herded sheep, shall we?

and stand in line for centuries,

like in mind to the dullest ancestries,

let’s evolve without changing anything…

now, we all line up without questioning,

spend money on shit that has no meaning,

nothing to show have we “sentient beings”,

besides the bombs we can blow atomically…

we watch the World News from home on TV,

bump our gums about what we’d do differently,

but at the end of the day, that logic is shifty,

coming from a cesspool of such inactivity…

Let’s line up overnight to see a premièring movie,

then trample each other with the doors’ opening,

we each do what we like without ever considering,

how the rest of the sheep want other sheep things…

and sadly things will only become more trifling,

because sheep are too stupid to know anything,

unable to think on one’s stand-alone feet,

we are all doomed ‘til we stop acting like sheep.

Ancient Proverbs: 19 – The Arapaho.

“With all things and in all things, we are relatives.”

~ Arapaho Proverb (Native American)

alive

I chose today’s proverb simply because it chose to grab me when I came across it in a book about Colonial times in the US. I know I am not the only one who has noted the trends amongst native leaders during those times to urge unity and humanity in the face of life-altering impositions and strife; and the above quote is just another example of the tribal tendency to relate with a stranger who is fundamentally different.

Goosebumps.

occupy_trinityWhen I first saw this, it gave me goosebumps for some reason…I love it love it love it…a very strong and thought-provoking image to my heart and spirit.

Ancient Proverbs: 5 – Shawnee Wisdom.

“All who have died were created equal.”

~The Shawnee

shawnee folk depiction 1850s

The Shawnee are another one of the oldest and most well established Native tribes in the US; it is also my own tribe. The Shawnee have rooted themselves deeply, along with other tribes (such as the Iroquois) all along the ranges of our continent, all the way up to Inuit territory near Alaska. They were widely forced to assimilate with the Cherokee Nation during the colonial days of settlement and widespread disease out of a sheer desperation to survive as a tribe. Tecumseh was a historically recognized Shawnee Native leader of the tribes during times of severe unrest and civil war.

tecumseh2

Ancient Proverbs: 3 – Navajo Wisdom.

You can’t wake a person who is pretending to be asleep.” –Navajo Proverb

The Navajo, or Naabeehó

This tribal population likely makes up the most diverse tribe in modern day US; they originally hail from the Southwestern United States, and are the largest federally recognized tribe of the United States of America (with over 300,000 enrolled members).

Notable Ancient Proverbs: 1 – Puebloan Wisdom.

Hold on to what is good,
even if it’s a handful of earth.

Hold on to what you believe,
even if it’s a tree that stands by itself.

Hold on to what you must do,
even if it’s a long way from here.

Hold on to your life,
even if it’s easier to let go.

Hold on to my hand,
even if someday I’ll be gone away from you.

(Excerpted from a Pueblo Prayer)

MesaVerde

The Ancestral Puebloans are said to be the oldest Native Americans known to date; their technologically advanced civilization (i.e. canals, rivers and roadways) were able to miraculously thrive in the deserts of Utah, New Mexico, Arizona and Colorado during the “Early Basketmaker II Era”. They are also historically referred to as the Anasazi (a derogatory Navajo Term meaning ‘ancient enemy’) .

“No Donner-for-Dinner Day”

Stand Back Up Again.

Stand Back Up Again.

As our super-horribly-awful holiday known as Valentine’s Day draws nearer:

Okay so a lot of you may be offended by my concept and I truly apologize to anyone who takes offense at my attempt to kill two birds with the one stone…but:

Instead of Valentine’s Day on February 14, I suggest that February 19 become National “No Donner for Dinner Day” in celebration of the long-overdue rescue efforts made by Californians to get the Donner Party to safety from the Pass.

I really dislike the concept of Valentine’s Day and always have – not sure why besides the fact that it’s just flat-out dumb in my opinion. St. Valentine was executed by the Pope in return for his defiance of the catholic marriage laws, his story is nowhere near “romantic”.

NOTE: I realize that not everyone made it out alive and I am in no way making light of the tragedy surrounding this bit of humor; but I do, however – feel that if we are going to demand a holiday for every month and need one for February, it should be something worthy of a National Holiday, for Christ sake…I mean, when was the last time anybody wrote a biography on Cupid or even the good Saint, for that matter?…some guy from medieval Europe celebrated as an American holiday, really? It’s just not worthy.

The rescue of the surviving members of such a horrific, VERY American historical tragedy is quite worthy as a celebratory memorial holiday, in my opinion. I mean, can you imagine anything better to celebrate besides the Donner Party (as well as several attachment families and various individual travelers) exiting a winter-long living, freezing, starving Hell. The losses of these people were difficult to comprehend from my warm bedroom in sunny Nor-Cal, but I know that at least one of the survivors one time made the statement in an interview with a reporter that he’d preferred to have died up on the Pass in the snow with his brother…a statement that gives one pause to think a little longer about the endurance of those who came down the Pass and carried on with life afterward.

On Time’s Passing.

Keats

Keats

Time passes,

painfully,

and painlessly,

beating drums,

a Capella,

in a Native tongue

charge the masses

all against one;

time passes,

painlessly,

and painfully,

broken home,

intravenous,

a tap to the bone

reality in flashes

I’m all alone;

time passes,

painfully,

and painlessly,

sapping hearts,

déjà vu,

of the same parts

hurt that smashes

all else apart;

time passes,

painlessly,

and painfully,

silent tears,

blasé

to mask the fear

lightning crashes

between my ears;

time passes.

painfully,

and painlessly,

and I wait,

promiňte

destiny and fate

enamel smashes

porcelain tea plate.

Time still passes

it both hurts

and strengthens

me, Sir;

Be it never

really for

you

or I

to understand

or to

its dance, concur.

Blessings Everywhere.

Blessings Everywhere.

Blessings Everywhere.

A Wise Man Once Said:

Tecumseh

Tecumseh

““So live your life that the fear of death can never enter your heart. Trouble no one about their religion;respect others in their view, and demand that they respect yours. Love your life, perfect your life, beautify all things in your life.Seek to make your life long and its purpose in the service of your people.Prepare a noble death song for the day when you go over the great divide. Always give a word or a sign of salute when meeting or passing a friend,even a stranger, when in a lonely place.Show respect to all people and grovel to none. When you arise in the morning give thanks for the food and for the joy of living.If you see no reason for giving thanks, the fault lies only in yourself. Abuse no one and no thing, for abuse turns the wise ones to fools and robs the spirit of its vision. When it comes your time to die, be not like those whose hearts are filled with the fear of death, so that when their time comes they weep and pray for a little more time to live their lives over again in a different way.Sing your death song and die like a hero going home.” ”

“A twig breaks, but a bundle holds strong.”

“When the legends die, the dreams end…there is no more greatness.”

-Tecumseh, Shawnee Leader

Allegiance.

american-flag-backround-10I still pledge my allegiance –
To a long, lost flag:
Of The United States of America;
Not to the Corrupt Politicians,
For which it now stands;
One Nation, Under Control;
No Liberty or Justice at all.

If You Believe in “Thanksgiving” as a Reality – YOU ARE A SHEEP.

Custer's Last View

Custer’s Last View

 

Not sorry, this my opinion – like it or don’t:

As a (half-bred Shawnee) Native-American, Thanksgiving as Holiday has always brought seriously conflicted sensations up from the deepest recesses of my blackened heart, without fail. I have never been able to really put a finger on why…but the older I get and the more that I recognize the bullshit “history” we are taught as “Americans” in school, the more clear it becomes to me.

I wasn’t there, obviously; I have NO clue what REALLY went down between two highly on edge and vigilant parties that supposedly bonded over a huge and plentiful turkey feast at a picnic table somewhere in the country, way back in the day – but I can say with certainty that it COULD NOT HAVE POSSIBLY BEEN THE WAY IT HAS ALWAYS BEEN DESCRIBED TO CHILDREN IN GRADE SCHOOL.

Come on, now…we’re all adults here now…

You expect me to believe that there were not tribe folk scattered thoroughly amongst the trees surrounding the picnic table to which their kinsmen/women were likely being forced to “share” a meal of their own with strangely clothed white folks that seemed to appear out of nowhere? I don’t.

 

You expect me to believe that the Tribes tell a story anywhere similar to the Americanized version of what was more accurately a strong-armed robbery in some sense or another? I don’t. I have thoroughly researched the OTHER SIDE of the coin on this topic; I have heard the words with my own ears – coming from people who pump the same blood as my own.

This holiday should be renamed as: “Gimme that. That’s Mine Now, Bitch.”

It’s a fabricated BULLSHIT HOLIDAY that epitomizes American Capitalization at it’s very bluest and whitest. Fuckers.

VETERAN’S DAY REPOST: The Wise of The Skies

My Papa (age 20). Already a pilot headed to War...

My Papa (age 20). Already a pilot headed to War…

 

It seems as though my very genetic sequencing was created on a battlefield somewhere back in time.
On the one hand (my father’s side, and the side of the family in which I was exposed to daily), my Old School Yankee blood hammers a foothold of ingenuity and aggression embedded in my very DNA. My Danish Emigrant family is littered with highly decorated American War Heroes in each and every generation that I know of, including my daughter’s generation. This side of my heritage historically and willingly puts up a well-organized and strategic fight for the glories it claims, no doubt. This side of my family tree is dwarfed in numbers by my mother’s side; and unfortunately, I believe that is because I have lost too many relatives, both distant and close, to warfare.
My Papa (my Dad’s father, who was my Partner in Crime until the day he died about a decade ago) doubled as my daycare provider since I can remember. This was a guy who was, indeed, a War Hero of at least two major wars in world history, a pilot (and it takes a certain kind for this), a Rosicrucian, a Mason, a self-taught Ancient Egyptologist (because he was compelled to explore alchemy, physics, astronomy, astrology, medicinal tincturing and ancient mysticism since his youth), but most notably and memorably for me: he was a magically wise soul. He was a genuine human being. He was one of my favorite people to hang out with for the entirety of my young life, even when I was a shithead teenager with a pierced face and old English block lettering Tattoos that said distasteful things – he never got boring or became too demanding of my time; my time was something that I always had more than enough for him.
I can write this, because he is dead and I am grown now;
During my teen years, he once rendezvoused with me at my car on the side of a dirt road during the wee hours of the morning (during a period in my life when I was swirling around life’s drain amidst teen angst, the shock and trauma of my Dad’s very sudden death, and in turn – the absolute demolition of my family unit as I had always before, and never again – known it; and was out of control in behavior and illegal activities) to offload armfuls of (totally illegal and extremely questionable in his perception) firearms with a stiff lip and stoic expression on his face the entire time. He drove away with at least ten felonies in his hatchback Celica without saying a fucking word to me about it.
I could never tell anyone about it growing up – couldn’t brag about it to my friends or brothers – because the fact that he never said anything taught me the lesson I’m sure he was shooting for: shame in grace, wrong against right, and dedication to those we love. I held it in for about five years before finally breaking one day over a Scrabble match and blurting out something like, “Papa, you know I’d NEVER ask you to do anything bad for me again EVER, right?…”
My Papa and I have the exact, same mischievously set eyes; upon meeting his gaze, I was always instantly triggered to smile, laugh, or giggle. This time though, when his eyes met mine, they spoke volumes of the disapproval and disappointment that he had been holding in all that time. Also quite noticeably though, was a weight that seemed to lift from his frame almost tangibly…and it came straight into my heart and has been with me ever since that moment.

For Veteran’s Day, I bow my head to any and all who have served my country in my place for whatever reasons.

This gratefulness that I feel runs deeply through the tangling roots of dead soldiers grown from my own family tree, and any other tree on Yankee/ Native soil. It most certainly takes someone with heart to be a soldier; thank you to all of the Veterans out there who may happen to read this post. Seriously…THANK YOU.