Purple Pants are Right (day 2066)

My purple pants have begun to stretch
Into what is now a rich, royal blue
My teeth, they chatter back and forth
But in this wisdom: nothing more
I propose to block these three freedoms
For they each halt my ability to capitalize
On what has always been naturally me
Now I shall usurp liberty
A statue shall fall to build a wall
And my money God, you shall learn to serve
Until too late, for the end is near
Though I shall not call all so dear
This is a game, rags and all
For my warriors shall build as I say
And my plans will overthrow each day
I will make all Right again
I will make all Great again.

Intention (day 2056)

When did we lose the underground
The deep devils that wrecked things
That spray painted innocence away
And held up dirty slogans
On hand written signs
That didn’t follow general consensus.

I don’t understand you anymore
I hear words that make sense
But it doesn’t help me understand you any more
And like my shoes I found in a department store
That squeak like the others
I’m floating down easy street
With intention on my mind.

Am I this made up?
I’m growing angry at the devil’s draft
The experience I’ve left behind
Dry and balding, a sour glass
Chew me up and spit me out
Slap me with some beaver fat
I’m growing old and losing time
And I’m putting each sequence on a list
To burn up in tomorrow’s fire.

Moon at Midnight – Part XXXVI (day 2010)

(part XXXV)

One of our favorite places to go
To the South, about two hours
We had found the lookout after wandering
For medicinal herbs one summer day
We didn’t hear anything as we walked up
And we didn’t hear anything from where we sat
But looking out, we watched an abnormal amount
Of smoking coming from our village.

I trotted ahead cautiously
Keeping my eyes on alert
And my hatchet in my hand
As I got closer
I flanked our village on the West
And came across a few of the children
To afraid to move, watching
Most of the teepees had been knocked over
As well as the smoke houses
The men had left two days ago
On a hunting party West
Into the deeper forest and mountains
And weren’t expected for a few more days
So it was mostly women and children left.

It was hard to know who had done this
There were clear signs of horses
Often with missing shoes
Which could mean a band of renegades
Most Army men kept their horses happy
And any Tribe I ever came across
Didn’t shoe their horses
They had come from the North
I could see that clear enough.

There was very little movement or sound
Coming from our small village
Except the smouldering smoke
So I walked into the encampment
On high alert
Listening and watching
I found one woman who had been badly hurt
I asked her where did they go,
She pointed West
I came across two killed
No doubt in my mind a few had been taken
A few of the elders had holes through their chests
My guess was five god damn renegades
Chicken shit bastards
With loaded guns and fire on their breath.

I went back to the young scouts I had come across
And told them Willow and Lily were coming
Where I had just come from
I made it known they should go that way now
And intercept them before they got here
And direct them into the Woods
To the East side of the Waterfall
Where the big fir had fallen over
I took the eldest with me
He had his bow and arrows
As we scanned the village.

I heard from one of the teepees some noise
And looked inside
One of the bastards was on a woman
And I buried my hatchet into his head
I told her to keep quiet
And where we were meeting at, to go to
She grabbed a few tools and snuck away.

There were no others
I could only guess the one I had killed
Was reaping the benefits
Of the renegades he was following
For he didn’t look like much of anything
Nor worth keeping any kind of company
I followed the ones who had left
Horse tracks to the West
For fifteen minutes
And didn’t come upon them
When I reached the creek
I saw they had crossed and kept going
Deeper West, moving fast
I hoped that the men would come upon them
And see any women or children that had been taken
They would know what had happened at once
And do what had to be done.

part XXXVII

Daybreak (day 1972)

Laying down I set the sun
Along an open road
Straight as an arrow spun
Dandelion my mind.

I spoke two words as silent prayers
Echoing within my world
Which made grass and leaves shake
Around my spinning head.

Tomorrow shall a mystery
Overcome each step I take
I wait, henceforth, patiently
For the coming signs of daybreak.

Fog Horn (day 1969)

Where were you?
Alone at last and one day you will see
That my attempts to make things pass differently
Will go un-answered, un-fooled,
Soundscapes passing by my tender touches
In an envelope neatly packed so.
A heavy rain left my sweet flowers
Like pillars of a ruin,
And tapping lightly culls my darkness –
A soft smile about my face.
Willow in the season of dying
Soothes a fog horn off my ragged coastline,
I whistle into the coming darkness:
Where do you lay your head tonight?