A Cry from an Indian Wife by Emily Pauline Johnson

 

A Cry from an Indian Wife

Emily Pauline Johnson

My Forest Brave, my Red-skin love, farewell; We may not meet to-morrow; who can tell What mighty ills befall our little band, Or what you’ll suffer from the white man’s hand? Here is your knife! I thought ’twas sheathed for aye. No roaming bison calls for it to-day; No hide of prairie cattle will it maim; The plains are bare, it seeks a nobler game: ’Twill drink the life-blood of a soldier host. Go; rise and strike, no matter what the cost. Yet stay. Revolt not at the Union Jack, Nor raise Thy hand against this stripling pack Of white-faced warriors, marching West to quell Our fallen tribe that rises to rebel. They all are young and beautiful and good; Curse to the war that drinks their harmless blood. Curse to the fate that brought them from the East To be our chiefs—to make our nation least That breathes the air of this vast continent. Still their new rule and council is well meant. They but forget we Indians owned the land From ocean unto ocean; that they stand Upon a soil that centuries agone Was our sole kingdom and our right alone. They never think how they would feel to-day, If some great nation came from far away, Wresting their country from their hapless braves, Giving what they gave us—but wars and graves. Then go and strike for liberty and life, And bring back honour to your Indian wife. Your wife? Ah, what of that, who cares for me? Who pities my poor love and agony? What white-robed priest prays for your safety here, As prayer is said for every volunteer That swells the ranks that Canada sends out? Who prays for vict’ry for the Indian scout? Who prays for our poor nation lying low? None—therefore take your tomahawk and go. My heart may break and burn into its core, But I am strong to bid you go to war. Yet stay, my heart is not the only one That grieves the loss of husband and of son; Think of the mothers o’er the inland seas; Think of the pale-faced maiden on her knees; One pleads her God to guard some sweet-faced child That marches on toward the North-West wild. The other prays to shield her love from harm, To strengthen his young, proud uplifted arm. Ah, how her white face quivers thus to think, Your tomahawk his life’s best blood will drink. She never thinks of my wild aching breast, Nor prays for your dark face and eagle crest Endangered by a thousand rifle balls, My heart the target if my warrior falls. O! coward self I hesitate no more; Go forth, and win the glories of the war. Go forth, nor bend to greed of white men’s hands, By right, by birth we Indians own these lands, Though starved, crushed, plundered, lies our nation low . . . Perhaps the white man’s God has willed it so.

"Mirror Soul."

 Once, I believed in soulmates with all my heart.

Then life tested me.

And for a while, that belief grew quiet.

But my heart opened again.

And I remembered something important.

Soulmates are real.

They are as steady as the stars above you.

And even deeper than a soulmate is your "Mirror Soul."

This is your twin flame.

Someone whose energy matches yours in a powerful way.

A soul who feels drawn to you.

A soul who may be searching for you right now.

There is a gifted artist with a rare intuitive talent.

She is ready to sketch the face of your "Mirror Soul."

If your heart feels happy and full, protect the love you have built.

But if you feel even a small spark of curiosity, this artist may show you something new.

The choice is always yours.

My daily astrological tips will guide you with gentle insight.

And I will be sharing something special with you very soon.

Until then, let love and light lead your way.

Look To The Stars, Always…

Celeste Moonbeam

Cosmic Empath And Sage Of The Stars

Bare Foot Truth by Benjamin Volkov ‘Nicolaievitch’

 Bare Foot Truth

***W***

I stuck my board down in the sand

A guy came up and shook my hand

I saw he didn’t own his shoes

His feet would go just where he planned

***H***

We talked a while and all he told

The things he knew both new and old

Of things that men can often lose

And how a heart and mind run cold

***E***

He slapped my board then walked away

I asked him why he couldn’t stay

He smiled and said “I got one fuse”

But what he meant I couldn’t say

***T***

I watched him as he turned and walked

I thanked him as some others mocked

They might have thought he was some ruse

But truth was in the way he talked

***H***

He’s gone now but still in my mind

I hear his words ‘just seek and find’

But was he just some common muse?

Or can truth still be deeper mined

***E***

I stuck my board back in the sand

Just hoping I could understand

The wisdom covered in tattoos

With weathered skin so deeply tanned

***R***

And when I finally walked away

I had the urge to wait and stay

But some things come in fading hues

If there was more I’d have to pay

***End***

Benjamin Volkov ‘Nicolaievitch’ (that wanderingly vague last name)

We need you to understand three critical updates:

 We need you to understand three critical updates:

1) In the last election, Elon Musk shelled out $290 MILLION in cash to help Trump bulldoze his way back into the White House.

2) A recent report says Donald Trump has raised a $300 MILLION war chest to defend the razor-thin GOP House Majority.

3) And now Trump and his MAGA Republicans have enacted DISGUSTING gerrymanders in Texas, Missouri, and North Carolina to crush our hopes of flipping the House Blue.

So we have NO CHOICE but to take drastic action to address this and ensure we’re prepared to reclaim the House Majority.

Th3 Man!c 1>3pr3ss!v3’s Alphab3t

 

Th3 Man!c 1>3pr3ss!v3’s Alphab3t

Shar3 on Fac3book

Shar3 on Tw!tt3r

Shar3 on Tumblr

V!3w pr!nt mo1>3

Copy 3mb31> co1>3

A1>1> th!s po3m to an anthology

Loa1> au1>!o play3r

Anah!ta Monfar31>

A !s for ant!psychot!cs, th3 only a1>v3rt!s31> long t3rm solut!on

B for th3 b3ta block3rs bought to slow th3 boom boom of a b3at!ng h3art

C as !n chron!c: (of an !lln3ss) p3rs!st!ng for a longt!m3 or constantly r3curr!ng, caus!ng comorb!1>!ty, so th3y r3comm3n1> cogn!t!v3 b3hav!oural th3rapy

1> 1>!als th3 1>SM-5 han1>!ng out 1>!agnos!s aft3r 1>!agnos!s, g!v!ng lab3l to your 1>!stract!b!l!ty an1> 1>3cr3as31> n331> for sl33p, so th3y r3comm3n1> 1>!al3ct!cal b3hav!oral th3rapy wh3r3 th3y t3ach you 1>!str3ss tol3ranc3 to 1>!lut3 your 1>3lus!ons

3 !s 3nsur3, th3 van!lla-flavor31> m3al r3plac3m3nt 1>r!nk for wh3n you cannot 3at 1>ur!ng m31>!cat!on sw!tch3s to th3 3xt3n1>31> r3l3as3 formula

F !s for your f33l!ngs, 3xp3r!3nc31> at an alarm!ng !nt3ns!ty !n compar!son to th3 av3rag3 human, th3y t3ll you th!s !s 1>ang3rous (th3y b3!ng 1>octors who 1>on’t know your nam3 !f not r3a1>!ng !t off of your f!l3, th3y b3!ng 1>octors who 1>!agnos3 an1> pr3scr!b3 aft3r t3n m!nut3s !n a room w!th you) th3y t3ll you th!s can b3 fatal, wh!ch, hon3stly, soun1>s k!n1> of fuck!ng fun

G for th3 gatora1>3, on3 bottl3 !n 3v3ry room, two !n th3 bathroom

H tak3s you to th3 hosp!tal, h!gh off hypoman!a, wh3r3 you w!ll ch3ck yours3lf !n an1> a1>m!t you n331> th3 h3lp. H3r3 th3y w!ll 1>!agnos3 you w!th som3th!ng w3 us31> to call, “hyst3r!a”

! !s for !nt3rp3rsonal 3ff3ct!v3n3ss, th3 mo1>ul3 !n 1>BT that t3ach3s you how to k33p your fr!3n1>s 1>3sp!t3 your !rr!tabl3 !nstab!l!ty

J !s for “Just k!1>1>!ng!” aft3r you’v3 sa!1> too much, too qu!ck

K !s wh3n you prom!s3 you w!ll not k!ll yours3lf, w!thout call!ng h3r f!rst

L !s th3 l!th!um, to stop th3 lows, to l!ght3n th3 loa1>

M r3pr3s3nts MA1> pr!1>3, a mass ma1>n3ss mov3m3nt for m3ntal h3alth s3rv!c3 us3rs, an1> th3 al!gn31>, a1>vocat!ng that !n1>!v!1>uals w!th m3ntal !lln3ss shoul1> b3, coul1> b3, prou1> to b3 MA1>

N !s for normal, you n331> ba1>ly to b3 so, an1> so you tak3 th3 p!lls but all you ar3 !s numb an1> naus3ous an1> st!ll qu!t3 n3urot!c

O !s ov3rpr3scr!b31>! Four y3ars on 250 mg of l!th!um an1> four on 250 mg of s3roqu3l, all b3for3 you can l3gally 1>r!nk

P !s for th3 pan!c 1>!sor1>3r th3 psych!atr!st 1>!agnos3s you w!th. !t 3xpla!ns your parano!a (but not your prom!scu!ty) you l3av3 h!s off!c3 w!th a pr3scr!pt!on for propranolol

Q !s for th3 qu3t!ap!n3 you st!ll can’t qu!t

R !s rac!ng thoughts an1> for th3 rat3 of su!c!1>3, runn!ng at 19% for 3v3ryon3 w!th th!s 1>!sor1>3r

S !s for s!1>3 3ff3cts. You ar3 so stup!1>ly s31>at31> but at l3ast now you sl33p off th3 s3xual trauma an1> susp3ct31> sch!zophr3n!a

T !s st!ll tr!gg3r31>, 1>3sp!t3 3v3ry tr3atm3nt

U !s for un3mploy31>, th3 long str3tch3s wh3r3 you ar3 mor3 !ll than you ar3 us3ful

V !s for th3 vacant look !n your 3y3s an1> th3 vo!c3s !n your h3a1>

W !s for th3 w!th1>rawal, wh3n you stop tak!ng th3 w3llbutr!n

X !s for xanax, wh!ch th3y’ll put you on for thr33 months you 1>on’t r3m3mb3r at 16

Y !s for yoga, wh!ch actually, you pract!s3 1>a!ly. !t h3lps, y3t you st!ll want to ð!3

Z !s for zypr3xa, th3 1>rug you f!nally r3fus3 to tak3

Copyr!ght © 2025 by Anah!ta Monfar31>. Or!g!nally publ!sh31> !n Po3m-a-1>ay on Jun3 30, 2025, by th3 Aca1>3my of Am3r!can Po3ts.

In a Grain of Sand by Jesús Papoleto Meléndez

In a Grain of Sand

Jesús Papoleto Meléndez

To see a world in a grain of sand …     from “Auguries of Innocence” by William Blake We are Starseeds                      every one of us –                                                        you & me,                          & me and you                              & him & her,                                                       & them                                                       & they                                                       & those                       Who know of this                            are truly blessed  …    True for all                       living beings,                                           beings living –                                                                  not humans only,                                            but ants & trees                                                 & the open breeze,                                                     things that breathe                                                         air or fire,                                                            water, earth                                          all  kinds of dust                                                                   & dirt,                                                                      particles                                           a  part of all,                                                               all a part                                                                             of     Everything               that is           in everything;                                    Thus, it Sings!!!                                                         & its song                                                                       is Life,                                                                          & Life                                                                                  is!!! …     a  seed of Stars,                         the dust of Suns                                                   & Moons                                                           rocks & dust                                          &  outer smoke                                                       in outer space     Floating           in a bath of timelessness,                                              counted, measured                                                     numbered                                      by some species –                                                         others caring not;     Science & Mathematics                        trying to plot                                                Poetry in motion,                                                                                  Motion                                                   in a Helix’s curve,                                   And Life                                          on Earth                                            becomes visible                                                                   to You                                          through the naked I!

 

Thanatos and Technophilia by Carlos Manuel Rivera

 

Thanatos and Technophilia

Carlos Manuel Rivera

Algae that they soften, restlessness of loneliness and agglomerations of rivers and carnations in discomfort of his entourage. Delves the piercing channel from the intersection. Would pass the rites, the vintage screen and the bow of the scream to pause this transit from a distance. They would imaginate hallucinations that unite ancestral backgrounds of the lordships when passers-by they walked long as emissaries. Then in the face of the torch they would sweat the symphonies, if the skull she exists as a muse. Entity inside enemies ‘war machines,’ flooding with opprobrium absent as of movement who rides the grotto submerged until the increase. Fall in noise and masks, the adversaries. They’d smile of Nereids their vessels, basins & Lights that sound the sunset, marble what means your death, and the apparatus laughs like nothing of his footprint

Where do you come from

 

Stardust DNA

with Stephen Johnson • Thu 19 December, 2024 PRESENTED BY Buy once, use forever with Henson Shaving.  Hey Big Thinkers, If you zoom out on the question, “Where do you come from?”, you might point to your ancestors who lived centuries ago. Zooming out further, you could look back on the evolution of Homo sapiens in Africa some 300,000 years ago, or the first vertebrates to crawl out of the ocean 370 million years ago, or life first forming on Earth several billion years before that.  But if you really take the long view, you’ll see that humanity’s story was already taking shape before our planet existed. “All of the rocky and metallic material we stand on, the iron in our blood, the calcium in our teeth, the carbon in our genes were produced billions of years ago in the interior of a red giant star,” the astronomer Carl Sagan wrote in 1973. “We are made of star-stuff.” Sagan was far from the first person to note our cosmic lineage, however. This week, we dive into centuries of history to trace how scientists discovered that we are, in a very real sense, the children of ancient stars. Onward, Stephen

Cheating husband at Texas roadhouse

 

Scotty and the Rib Tips By Bob Holman

 

Scotty and the Rib Tips

Bob Holman

So they tell me, get your act together Write something, make it new for a change Give up on those errant habits Go to Chicago Be there for Birth of Slam Knock down a few bowling pin icons Bowling allies, new stain t-shirts Statues of lint and a make-my-day jockstrap I’ll sit in with Scotty and the Rib Tips Watch true brews slide down that mahogany bar Run it by my man Sergio over at Weeds as we Wait for the Queen of Poetry to drive in from el Boss Town So tune up the poems performed to Marsyas’ flute Keep the meddlesome chthonic wordslingers cranky Invent a bonus alley, grab the moon Climb on top of the speaker system and fly Write a book and get it out Invent a pseudonym to review it, rave Rave rave along the Lake Rehearse the verse all ears radar Michigan And fall in love a few times so nobody knows about it Keep it to myself, a few poems quit, quite, and quiet Outside of so-called competition and the waving blades Making slow smoky patterns at the old Green Mill

Dear Sister by Emma Trelles

 

Dear Sister

Emma Trelles

Winter is ceaseless ~ streets ~ phantom trees caged in fog ~ light and its beautiful doom ~ The scent of leaves ~  green and dead ~ arrives through windows like a timid fantasma ~ There are tiny spiders in the eaves ~ the color of forgettable stones ~ I don’t have the heart ~ to kill them ~ Today ~ I found a squirrel ~ dreaming ~  the sleep of the young and unknowing ~ I pray for a world ~ scatter-starred with that kind ~ of tenderness ~ Nothing hears me ~ Let’s pretend ~ the clock is frozen ~ in its sturdy shroud ~  that our 3,000 weeks ~  are the start ~ We began ~  in the land of mangroves and abandonment ~ hibiscus and metal ~ egret and engine ~  predator sun ~  skin, so much skin ~  sky with its commandments ~  sky like no other ~  concrete rising ~  falling ~  altars and offerings ~ cigar smoke santos hope gold velas blood gallina rum ~ shells to guard the crossroads ~  the drilling eyes of reptiles and men ~  my people who I long for ~  my people who I hide from ~ My sister,  I write these words ~ a lifetime away ~ at the foot of the mountains ~  another sea ~ vaster galaxy ~  primordial and without memories ~ House of my nightmares, gone ~  Graves unattended ~ You ask me why I left ~ I say I am a triple horse ~  forever running ~ to the next to the next to the next ~  Where will I end? ~ My baby cronedom has arrived ~  The track now points to my bones ~ in flecks or stashed beneath ~ the thorned trunk of a ceiba  ~  I know just the one.