Pudgy Indian

"The Wind That Shakes the Barley" is a MUST SEE FILM about the freedom movement of the Irish in the 1920's. It is an INTENSE film, but I don't give a fuck! You GOTTA SEE IT!

For anyone interested in true freedom, not this American Privilege passed off as freedom, you gotta see this film.

It is about the British oppression of the Irish folks, and the Irish folks that fight back. Reminiscent of Israel/Palestine, U.S./Iraq, and so many more. These folks fight the empire because when you are under the rule of empire, not unlike here in America, you are NOT FREE!

You have in this film Irish Revolutionaries who want to be out from under the rule of empire, Irish sell-outs who just want the Brits our and are willing to be like the Brits just so the Brits will leave their nation but still be under the rule of the Brits, you have the British oppressors, you have the ELITE (pieces of empirical shit) who want life to go on as usual to preserve their privilege and of course use BRUTE FORCE to keep that shit going, and you have all the life and drama that unfolds within all of that.

We here in America do not have enough heart like the Irish Freedom Fighters to take on the challenge of truly changing this nation. Many folks do, but if we took up arms, we'd be instantly killed and the empire would paint us as the enemy and life would go on like usual under the lie of Empirical Alleged Freedom. The system will continue. We have to be creative in our endeavors to bring about the end of empire...
But...

In the conversations I've had with my sweetie and many other folks around town, we believe that the end of the empire is set and that the U.S. and its other life sucking companions like the British Government will collapse under their own immense weight. What will come with that, I don't know. When it will happen, I don't know. But it is coming, and it is coming fast.

I wish the folks of this nation had heart to stand up and struggle against the oppressor. We are too comfortable in our privilege to do anything about this empire. A real struggle, a real movement, is not gonna happen, but we will continue to do what we can as we (Rhonda and I) are gonna attempt to get back to the land soon. That's the only thing we can think of to do that might help in the future.

"The Wind That Shakes the Barley" is a movie relevant to right now. I sure wish I could here politics discussed wherever I walk in this town, but I don't. I wish I could see people en mass struggling against the nation that will destroy everything in order to protect the privilege of the MOST ELITE! but I won't.

I Love the freedom fightin' folks in this movie, and although it is tragic...it is also very hopeful.

May ACTUAL freedom be found in our lifetimes!

lRemember my poem, "Prison Yard"? Well, the trees are still there. One, the smaller one, now, someone cut down, but it is still there, and still growing.

Prison Yard
Brick and Grafitti walls.
Cyclone fences
complete with barbed wire
necklaces.
Concrete yard
hole in the ground.
Brother and sister
find sanctuary in the circle.
Empress trees growing
where they are not supposed to.
My journey leads me by you
most everyday.
Ad there you are
like the rain.
You fill my soul with hope
as you hide in your little
prison yard.

I haven't been walking across my favorite bridge too much lately. I live in North Portland now and have a car (and thus have gained weight). But last night, my sweetie and I went to see a very intense movie, which, of course, I'll be mentioning in another post and you may read before you get here. I have a friend who told me quite a bit ago that I had quit writing about the beauty I see. I don't think these pictures need much explaining. I started my journey at Grendel's Coffee House on the corner of 8th and Burnside, then walked across the bridge to my favorite tobacco store, Rich's, and met with my friend Janice to discuss a video we are working on of one of my poems. I Love walking across the Burnside Bridge, and these are the photos of that little journey.

On Monday as I headed into Eugene in the early AM, before 6, I saw one of the weirdest sights I have ever seen. There was a car broke down on the side of I-5. There was a tiny woman, maybe 5'3", 110# tops, pushing the car. She was wearing a very beautiful white dress. But wait, that's not all! There was a healthy looking not so dazzlingly dressed young man beside her. No! He wasn't helping push the car, he was walking beside her chatting up the woman and motioning a lot with his hands. I have wondered since what that young man might be saying to the woman pushing that car:

"What do you mean you won't have sex with me?"

"At the current velocity of the wind, the weight of the car, and the amount of energy you can maintain, we should be in Los Angeles in..."

"I have this old football injury, otherwise I'd help push."

"My hands are tired from all the talking I do."

Freedom isn't free?
Well then,
how much does it cost?
$3.50? $4.75?
I have some change in my pocket.
I have $75 bucks in the bank.
How much freedom will that buy me?

Iraq proves that freedom
does indeed
come at the barrel of a gun.

If I could buy a gun for $75 bucks
would that be the price of admission?
If I already had a gun
would $75 bucks wortha
ammunition
purchase my ticket to freedom?
Having a gun and ammunition,
would freedom then come
at the cost of the energy expelled
as I squeeze the trigger?
Would the price of admission
be met
as flesh and lives of darkies
are torn to shreds
via the price of each bullet
used to spill their blood
spilling the blood of others
the bloody price of freedom
freedom isn't free
freedom costs the blood of others
freedom costs the lives of others
freedom means other folks have to be killed
to maintain that freedom
which makes freedom privilege
freedom is not only not free,
freedom isn't freedom.
"Peance freance."

I have some change in my pocket,
$75 bucks in the bank.
How much freedom can I purchase?
What is the price of admission?

Lots of people toss this word about, but no one seems to have a "real" sense of what it fuckin' means. On dictionary.com, there were some 19 meanings. But I don't care about those meanings, let's look at the realities of freedom:

You are free to be a billionaire while others starve and are homeless, but only if you already have the capital to create that capital.

You are free to keep that money from everyone else by the use of force because you are free to afford it.

You are free to push a shopping cart down the street and be homeless, unless there are city regulations about it.

You are free to join the military and kill darkies for billionaires since they won't give up their resources to their rightful owners, white billionaires.

and etc., etc., etc.

No health care or minimal at best.

Any other freedoms that we have in this country that you'd like to mention?

I stopped to fill up my tank on the way to pick up Felicia and her friend. A black man was pumping gas and we immediately got to talking about the racism of white folks against people of color, like us.

He told me a white man told him to go back to where he came from. He asked the white man if he was of Euro descent, and he said you. He told him to go back where he came from. The white man, having that wonderful white American male intelligence (or lack there of) said he was American and was from here. The black man told him he didn't see any native blood in him, so he should go back to the country where he came from, too.

We also discussed the fact that there are very few people of color in futuristic science fiction films and TV series. Of course, the reason is because whitey is hoping to have us gone by then ("thus solving the persistent Indian problem.").

I told him about playin', "Gonna get me a shotgun and kill all the whities I see," sony by Garrett Morris from Saturday Night Live on the radio and being called racist. "Yep," he tells me. "White folks don't listen when we complain about racism but when we say something that is the least bit racist they call US the racists." Ain't that the way it is? You can point out the myriad of ways white folks are racist against people of color and they just ain't havin' it. But once say anything back that is racist against whites even to get them to see your point...BAM!...we get labelled the racist. And since we are the racists, that means whitey is no longer obligated to look at and deal with their racism; institutional, overt, or otherwise.

Another customer came, and I had to go, and I didn't even get the guys name. "And so it goes." I'll get it next time. It was just funny that me and this black man just start hittin' it about racism like we've known each other for a long time. Then again...maybe we do.

Like Napolean, looks like George will get to crown himself Emperor.

Mind you, there are conditions which have to take place in order for him to declare himself Emperor, and he will make sure those conditions get created before his term is up. Yeah...Genocidal George, Emperor of the World.

http://www.whitehouse.gov/news/releases/2007/05/20070509-12.html

You know folks, this whole thing is gonna collapse. No one is getting out in the streets over this, over hundreds of thousands of dead babies in Iraq, over genocide of Iraqis, over enviornmental destruction on a global scale, no health care, etc. Here in the land of alleged Freedom (mistaken for privilege), no one gets in the streets as some of us watch all their/our rights getting flushed down the shitter. So, it will have to collapse in on itself, and it will, and it will make even more suffering for even more people because its (the U.S. governments) fingers are in so many places and if they can't have everything, they're gonna drag down into death as much as they possibly can.

We'll keep up our symbolic protests, but the U.S. government is at the point of no return and aint enough of us giving a shit enough to stop the monster before the great suffering. Shit oh dear!

I brought this subject up with Rhonda who said that she had been feeling the same thing and we both laughed about it.

About a year or more ago, I fist had this feeling. That feeling is that the U.S. empire will soon be coming to a screeching halt. As all the studies have put forth for years, this society is NOT sustainable. And, about a year ago, I started feeling like that we passed the point of no return. It is going to happen no matter what I do or say or anything. I believe, and so does Rhonda, that it will be in the form of an economic collapse. I don't know exactly what that means, but undoubtedly millions of people are going to suffer greatly. I believe this will happen within the next 5-10 years, and Rhonda says within 3 years.

So, Rhonda and I are starting the process of looking into land in our old homelands of Southern Oregon. May take some time.

Anyone else out there have any input or feeling the same way?

My buddy, Martin Prechtel was in town this weekend. Rhonda and I went to see him speak at The Little Church in SE Portland.

As usual, he was awesome, and his biggest message was about "mutual indebtedness." He told many great stories and is just a totally awesome human being.

My favorite story was about how this plant people only new of from old stories started growing out of the wall of his and Hanna's adobe house. Theirs was not the only house, either. But folks started setting up shrines and making prayers.

He also joked about chasing down Mel Gibson. Martin, if you don't know, is a Mayan medicine man, if you will. And Mel Gibson is an asshole who has made many bullshit movies, one including "Apocolypto." A retelling of history through Mel's favorite view finder of choice...EXTREME VIOLENCE! I never saw the thing, and never plan on it, just like "Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee." So, Martin joked about chasing him down.

Martin also was jokingly disappointed that I was unable to participate in his interview on KBOO, as I was working. Marlena doesn't ask him any of the hard questions, and he wanted to "say something tough." And then, of course, he laughs. But he knew I would ask him questions that would bring up that opportunity.

Martin, bless you and thank you for the work you do.

Last Tuesday, Rhonda and I took off for the Redwoods.

Driving through Southern Oregon, I had forgotten how beautiful it was. The hills and trees along I-5 were absolutely amazing.

We cut over from Grants Pass to Crescent City where we spent the night. WOW! What a beautiful road. We hung out at Jedidiah Smith State Park and Rhonda made a wonderful meal for us and we saw MANY fantastic trees.

The next day we headed to the Avenue of the Giants.

We stopped at the Trees of Mystery and checked out their museum. We also bought some overpriced fudge and then headed to Founders Grove...AMAZING! We loved the trees that were hollowed out in the bottom. They were just absolutely amazing. I'll try to post pictures at some point.

We stayed at Arcata the next night, and on the way home, Rhonda made a wonderful lunch at a space by the Smith River just off of 199.

All in all, one fantastic trip.

I have learned that one of many great methods of seeing how you'll get along with a Lover is to ride with them in a little box for hours on end. Rhonda and I got along fantastic the whole trip.

We both did get ill. I developed a cough and she already had a serious one going for about four months now. We went to the doctor at Smith River Rancheria, of the Tolowa people. Crows tried to raid our icebox, there.

At Smith River, A Raven kept calling then hung out in a tree while Rhonda cooked. Rhonda made offering to the bird, as well as to the Ravens at Jedidiah Smith...Rhonda is so AWESOME!

The website, Wake Up or Die, www.wakeupordie.com, is one racist fucking website. I found this website when looking at the website, www.genocide.org. I found that website about a year or so ago, and have just not been able to bring myself to talk about it until last week when I talked about it with Rhonda. You can link the Wake Up...website from the Genocide.org website by clicking on the Genocide of White Males link. I kid you not. This woman, Elena Haskins, actually believes their is a genocide being enacted against white folks when it is actually a white supremacist racist website. Check it out and tell me what you think, folks. This woman is fucking nuts, in my opinion, and had absolutely NO CLEAR GRASP on what the crime of genocide is.

Sorry I didn't talk about this earlier, folks, but this was so beyond the pale as far as offensive goes to me.

http://www.wakeupordie.com/html/geno1.html

May 8th was mine and Rhonda's anniversary. We've been together one year. We did a little ceremony on May 9th to vow yet another year and a day to each other.

Parts of that year were rough and I broke up with Rhonda for a couple of months, but we've grown back together and life is better than ever and our communication works beautifully.

We start our new year with a few health issues. Rhonda had a persistent cough which turned into pneumonia last night. She is getting better today.

I have had a persistent rash. I'm hoping it is the laundry soap. We're gonna try something new soon.

Rhonda is starting a new job in about a week. She will be nursing in a nursing home. It will be kinda like a nine to five. There will be NO ON CALL however, which is what I think drove her into her poor health. The stress, and then the stress in-between waiting for the stress.

We are making many plans for our future, and are starting to take steps in that direction.

We are living in the house alone, now, as Eli has moved to Eugene to start a job with a firefighting company for forest type fires. Rachel will be moving in for a few months at some point so she can get her pre-req's out of the way for nursing school, then head back to the Oregon Southern Coast. Felicia has started out our one year with a $216 phone bill. I gave her a very BIG lecture about responsibility, though she has tried to weasel out of it, and I'm sure her mom has let her to an extent...a BIG extent I'm sure.

We're all getting our feet under us and feeling our ground legs.

There is going to be NO MOVEMENT happening to end wars. There will be no mass movement anything close to that in Venezuela and in South America in this nation. But all of our symbolic actions continue. What the fuck else are we going to do? Watch TV? 300 channels and nothing to watch.

Life is good! There are many triumphs and many complaints. But, you know what? I think we're all gonna be just fine. No bombs dropping on our heads, afterall.

Rhonda turned me on to a pretty good movie with Annette Benning called, "In Dreams." It's about a woman who dreams, it turns out, a prediction of her daughter's abduction and murder, though she didn't know about it at the time. Some parts weren't too believable, but the suspense carried you through the whole thing.

In the good category, but not great, is Sherman Alexie's new book, "Flight." It is about a young Indian boy, 15, who goes on a shooting rampage in a bank and gets shot in the head and starts finding himself in other peoples bodies throughout time. As Sherman Alexie put it, he wanted to write an Indian version of "Slaughterhouse Five," by Kurt Vonnegut, which I also recently read and is an excellent book. The book is very engaging, I read it in a day, but days afterward, it left me with some questions: One character just didn't seem to fit in the story, and a few other things, but I don't want to give away anything until other folks read the book.

BAD! "Tideland," a film by Terry Gilliam, has got to be one of the worst films I've seen in a while. The story went nowhere and left me empty at the end. It was very engaging, the acting fantastic, the writing and character development well done, but the story...the story went into a whole lot of empty. Some parts are downright gross, but the special effects are good. Not a movie I'd recommend nor ever see again.

Ugly? "Hitcher." "Hitcher" is a remake of a film with Rutguer Hauer as the bad guy. Todays was Sean Bean. The hero was a woman in this one. Sean plays a serial killer. He kills lots of people, and this film is much more graphic than the original...of course. People are murdered left and right, lots of cops get killed as well as civilians, lots of suspense as this man toys with a couple, many scenes not believable, but the suspense carries you through to the end. Intense, bloody, and the story, though unbelievable, is easy to believe at least for that moment. I recommend it if you like lots of murder scenes including cop killings.

Extremely Funny! "Hot Fuzz," by the folks that brought you, "Sean of the Dead," even with some of the same actors. I thought this movie would be easy to predict and make me laugh. However, it wasn't all that easy to predict, and made me laugh harder than I imagined. I won't give it away, but you all have to see this film. Funnier than funny. Check it out.

Rosanne Barr has a new stand-up video out. Funny, politically clear, but not as funny as in the old days. She has her moments though. She about finished my poor sweetie off (she has pneumonia) with a few jokes. "Rosanne Barr-Blonde and Bitchin'." It was good, and I recommend it, but it is not as biting as she was in the good old days.

HBO is making a movie version of Dee Brown's "Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee," which will air this Memorial Day weekend.

Turns out the fucking thing is a love story. They needed a sympathetic white character to make the mass slaughter of Indians more palatable to their audience.

I don't know if I need to say more, but the idea TOTALLY FUCKING OFFENDS ME! This was a narrative about the genocide of indigenous folks by the colonialist invaders of this nation. Now reduced to a simple love story with a weeeeeeee tinnnnnyyyyy bit of genocide in the background to...make it more palatable for the white folks.

Yesterday at the vigil, that would be 5-8 (also mine and Rhonda's anniversary), we expected it to be the usual. I stood on the parking side of the bike path like I usually do, have done for a year now. There were some people standing behind me with signs off the sidewalk as well. I start hearing this voice talking behind me to Jerry Sue. I realize it's a cop and turn my head to see what's going on. The cop is almost on top of her, doing his best to intimidate her...Jerry Sue...about 60...tiny and skinny! Me, I don't give a shit about the cops and our work here is only symbolic, as Rhonda pointed out later. I get up on the curb because I really just don't care. There are always ways to work around the rules.

But Jerry Sue stands her ground, and that cop is, like I said, almost ON TOP of this wonderful elder woman who does some good lawyer activist work. The cop said he isn't there to intimidate people, but he is. He is a liar. Cops are liars. Anyone who has had to face off to one of these assholes in court can tell you, cops will ALWAYS lie.

Another cop had parked his car on the far side of Broadway and was watching the terribly criminal situation of Jerry Sue attempting to stand down a cop. A cop...with a gun...a club...mace...and wonderful hand to hand torture techniques (oops! I mean "pain and compliance"...TORTURE) in his mind and bag of tricks.

...Do you still think violence doesn't work? The threat of violence certainly does, which is potential violence. Terrorism light, as it were.

The cop in the car gets out of his vehicle to help his butty out with a wonderful opportunity to hurt a little old lady when Jerry Sue gets on the sidewalk.

Like I said, there are always ways to work around stupid rules. I grab a post and lean out as far as I can over the army car holding my sign for passersby to see. Jerry Sue walks over to the corner and walks across the street during walk signs to display her sign to the people waiting at the light.

Rhonda, who wasn't blocking the doorway to the recruiting center and was standing at least 2 feet past where it swings was told not to block the doorway. She challenged the cop for a few, and then stood down.

The cops then stood together, arms crossed, in front of the recruiting center. They looked like those stereotypes you see of Indians. I tried talking with them, but these people are NOT members of the community. They are in a world of their own and their only will is to control the people through the threat of violence. Terrorism light. There was no talking with these guys like talking with the recruiters. I could tell that if these guys had automatic weapons and the order to kill anyone standing on the streets and all the people in their cars and on the sidewalks, there would be a lot of dead people in the streets of this town. And they looked like the types who would LOVE doing that type of killing.

Let me point out here, I was the biggest person there (not that I'm any kinda threat with my big belly, but I'm no tiny person like Jerry sue), and the copper didn't come up to me. He went right for the weakest link, a tiny little elder woman. They didn't go for Rhonda, younger, a little more sturdily built, they went for Jerry Sue. They didn't go for Paul, a little smaller than me, but a male and therefore...? They went for the weakest link.

Now I know one thing for sure, cops are trained to control ALL situations through the threat or USE of VIOLENCE. AKA, "Terror Light." So this is what came to mind when I was watching this:

"Kill the women and children first. They're easier to kill and it strikes terror into the hearts of the men."

--Phil Sheridan.

You see, they don't stand against enemies that are actual threats or could put up a fight. The fight is supposed to be one sided in order to terrorize the population that ISN'T there into subservience to the state. It was a "Phil Sheridan Light" maneuver. Go for the weakest, and it will threaten those who are not so weak into an awareness that they are WILLING to do physical harm to a weak member. AKA, they are attempting to strike TERROR into our hearts with threats of violence to our non-physically threatening friend. Wow, what tough guys!

Now here is another interesting point, here. These two heavily armed thugs...were protecting other USUALLY heavily armed thugs...from unarmed non-violent folks. There's some fucking irony in that, isn't there? Thugs protecting other thugs from folks who are peaceful.

Well, we're keeping those thugs outta the doughnut shop! It's a health issue. We're doing a service to the city and keeping those killer cops healthy. Healthy and strong. So when they need to, they can rampage and do great and horrific horrible harm to...tiny little elder women holding signs protesting a bucha folks whose organization is created to kill darkies for wealthy white folks.

Good job, coppers. I'm sure we'll never see you arresting pedophile priests, abusive foster parents, or other sorts of violent criminals will we. You're to busy protecting thugs from peace necks. Well, at least your staying out of the doughnut shop.

I'm currently reading Kurt Vonnegut's, "Slaughter House Five." It is a book based on the bombing of Dresden.

So, I started looking up the amazing cruelty that was the firebombing of Dresden. I started looking through the internet at some blogs where people comment that such killing is the most horrific thing, while others say it is justified. The ones saying it is justified I assume have never been in a war.

I've never been in a war and amazed at the cruelty that humans are capable of. It didn't end in Germany. It didn't end at Wounded Knee. It still continues. Right now it is mostly Americans and American complicity to maintain and expand the American Empire that creates such horrific conditions of life, including genocide, among the peoples of the world.

You know, sometimes I am capable of imagining me...ME...doing the most cruel of acts to my fellow human beings that I feel deserve it. I have told a few, including a good friend, that sometimes I believe I had past lives where I was an extremely brutal killer of my fellow human beings. Maybe several lives. My friend told me she could see that in me. I have had a dream where I stand on a hill with a friend after a ghastly battle, smiling and joking. I never remember anything other than that of the dream.

But here I sit. Here I am. I am NOT killing. I oppose killing, but believe myself capable of such in self-defense, but saying it is one thing...doing it another all together. I have been friends with folks who killed hundreds of people in wars. I have heard their stories. I...

I believe we can create a better world. We have a lot in our way to get there, but we can do it. I believe in my fellow human beings. All of them. Even the vegans. We are all human beings. We are not superior or inferior to one another. We are not better or worse than one another. We are just human beings.

I think it's about fucking time we stopped killing each other. Like killing itself, it is easier said than done, but god fucking damn it...I KNOW WE ARE FUCKING CAPABLE. Just stop pulling the trigger. Nations leaders, shake hands and talk about mutual support. Take care of you people: health care, shelter, food, quality of life, education, etc. WHAT'S THE BIG FUCKING DEAL? Y'ALL?

There is so much beauty in this world. So much beauty to be created and shared. So much.

Andrew Jackson came to my house
disguised as an insurance salesman.
He knocked on the door, but I wouldn't let him in,
so he started pounding on the door.
I got scared and hid
so he kicked in the door
chased me through the
bedroom, living room, dining room, kitchen
But he caught my children instead.

He sat them down at the table
showed them the insurance policy
where he was the sole beneficiary.
They didn't know what they were reading
so they refused to sign it.
Andy pulled a knife and cut their throats
and signed the document with their dead hands.

My wife screamed
when she saw the carnage,
so Andrew beat her and raped her.
While he was raping her
he murdered her
so that her last memories would be of her
dead children, cowardly husband, and being raped by him.

I escaped through a window
and started running down the street screaming
"SOMEBODY HELP!
ANDREW JACKSON IS MURDERING MY FAMILY!
ANDREW JACKSON IS MURDERING MY FAMILY!"

People emerged from their homes
stood on their porches and
laughed and pointed at me as I ran down the street.
In unison they all said,
"THAT'S WHAT YOU GET FOR EATING MEAT!"

And I stop running.
I drove a railroad spike into the asphalt
that reaches to the heart of our mother.
I tether a microphone cord to it.
I tether the middle of the cord
to my left foot.
I swing the microphone in big circles
like I'm Roger Daltry
four times
(because Indians do things like that)
ONE...TWO...THREE...FOUR...
and throw it in the air
and catch it in my right hand.
I hold it to the sky
then slowly lower my arm
and place the microphone
...to...my...lips...

I hear the children screaming in my skull
because it is in my DNA
they cling to their dead parents
infants try to suckle at the breasts
of their dead mothers.
And the Cavalry is coming
to finish them off.

My sweetie has gathered
three purple trumpet blossoms from an empress tree
in the park
and placed them in a glass chalice
on our dining room table.
I lean in and inhale deeply
their sweet scent.

And I hear the screams of the women
because it is in my DNA
and they are clutching their murdered babies
and sitting next to their dead and dying husbands.
And the Cavalry is coming
to finish them off.

Irises are my favorite flower.
Two petals reaching to the sky
two petals reaching to the earth
delicate and complex innards
tempting creatures to their pollen.
I lean in and inhale deeply
their sweet scent.

And I hear the screams of the men
because it is in my DNA
as they fight, struggle, and die
trying to protect their families
in the chaos and confusion.
The survivors cry at their failure
and the Cavalry is coming
to finish them off.

There are huge azalea bushes
in Columbia park.
I had no idea that any of them had scents,
but I can smell them a mile away
as my sweetie tells me
that the lighter colored ones usually have a scent.
I lean in and inhale deeply
their sweet scent.

I hear the screams of the elders
because it is in my DNA
as they emerge from their homes
and observe the horrific carnage
enacted upon their people, families, and friends.
And the Cavalry is coming
to finish them off.

When the roses are blooming
I love walking through the streets of my neighborhood
because there are so many colors and varieties.
The reach to the heavens
with their soft petals and gentle folds.
I lean in and inhale deeply
their sweet scent.

I hear the war cries of the elders
and see them gather at the river
in all of their wisdom and glory.

I hear the war cries of the men
and see them gather at the river
in their strength and courage.

I hear the war cries of the women
and see them gather at the river
in their compassion and empathy.

I hear the war cries of the children
and the generations yet to come
as they too gather at the river
in all of their new and vibrant life.

I see my Blackfoot mother
who passed away playing bingo
and her braids are long
with black and gray
and her smile is Beautiful and she says,
"That's my boy."

I see my Alsea/Klickitat grandmother
Her hair black and gray and curly.
Her one good arm.
She is surrounded by the 40+ children
she raised as well as her own.
I only recognize a few.
And they are all smiling.
"I Love you, grandson," she tells me.

I see my Alsea/Klickitat/Lower Umpqua father
standing their with his thumbs in his belt loops
smiling his big beautiful smile.
"I'm proud of you, son," he says.

They all raise their right fists in the air
and scream their war cries
AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!
and then start to laugh.
We all laugh,
and our laughter recreates the world.

"OUR DAY HAS COME!" they scream in unison.
"OUR DAY HAS COME!"

I swing my microphone in big circles
like I'm Roger Daltry
four times
(because that's what Indians do)
ONE...TWO...THREE...FOUR...
and I catch it in my right fist.
I hold it to the skies in a prayer to the
creator, earth mother, four directions
to the elders, men, women, children
and the future generations
to all of the people
and everything on this earth.
I slowly lower my arm
and put the microphone
...to...my...lips...

AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
hahahahahahahaha
hehehe

Although very tired, Rhonda and I went to the vigil in front of the recruiting center on Broadway having missed last week because Rhonda's car died, as in dead, as in the engine blew up. So, she drove us there last night in her new to her '91 Ford Ranger.

Some Vets for Peace showed up and a few others as well.

A young woman and man came out of the recruiting center. The woman was obviously intelligent and read completely the sign with a quote from Ehron Watada about "...war crimes." She started grilling the woman vet with her obviously arrogant intelligence. "So you believe all killing is wrong?" "How do you determine who is innocent?" The young man played his role perfectly; he kept his mouth shut unless he was agreeing with his companion, quietly, of course. Their relationship reminded me of my old relationship with my last wife. The young woman was always right and super intelligent, the young man was passive and only supposed to agree or keep his mouth shut.

I wanted her to come talk to me. I had some good stuff to tell her. I had some real good stuff as she got my anger up. But instead, she quit harassing the vet and hung out at her bike and displayed her A+ intelligence to her passive companion.

I wanted to pray for bad things to happen to her. I wanted to pray for her karma to come down on her. I wanted her to experience what was is like in some what that would effect her life dramatically. But even so, praying for such things, like acting them out, comes with consequences upon the person that prays them as well. So I had a little spiritual psychological argument going on within my own head as I thought how it would be a good thing for miss A+ to have a firmer grip and the realities of war.

And then something came through me, like a wave of emotion, there and gone. And I knew (and of course, I can be wrong) that she was going to experience her karma. That something was going to bite her on the ass for her arrogant A+ student actions that day. Exactly what, I don't know. Not my job to worry about it. Not my job to enact it. Not my job to follow her around to see if it comes true or not.

Earlier in the day, after I cashed my check, before the vigil, a woman asked me to help get her car started. I was tired and didn't want to, but did because she asked. We wound up driving to get gas as it seemed she was out. She told me of her life and a verbally abusive relationship she was in. I gave her some directions where to head, but I know she isn't going to take them right away, but she will eventually remember and take action. She has a choice where she didn't feel like she had one.

After the vigil, Rhonda and I went out to dinner. I left the waitress a $5 tip, feeling the desire to be generous.

May 1 is the day Rhonda and I second met. We went to see Carrie Dann talk in the evening and we talked and talked. She told me about her bad relationship with the man she was with who dumped her several weeks earlier, and I offered a shoulder to cry on. She came over on May 8, and we've been together ever since except for the month or so we were broke up. Now, everything is going so great. I Love her so much!

Remember Madeline Kahn in "Blazing Saddles?" She sang the song, "I'm So Tired." Currently, that is me.

The racism battles with lefties left me tired during this respite. Then getting a wonderful and strange rash on my arms that attempted to spread to my legs. Now my job is overworking me and stressing me out. I'll have about 55 hours in this week. My Blackfoot mama, Yellow Dust Woman passed on. I'm in the middle of a move. Eli and his girlfriend are moving soon.

But, I do have the sweet Love of my sweetie Rhonda. I do have the sweet Love of my kid, Felicia. Life is good! I'm just fucking tired! Too tired to write that much, even.