Water

Come with me to the edge of the ocean with me
 to walk on this
beach of dull sand
and watch the endless curl of  waves
that dance of the shore
in rolling sounds so fresh and clean
the power of sound
find the words ...sheila
can't find the words
so powerful took my breathe away
words sound
sound  light dancing of the bubbles
cannot describe
p-lease go find it for yourself
yes yes yes
 go find light in the waves
that roll into the beach it is the
best symphony you will ever hear
the grey amidst the dash of light shimmering in the water
the forth and music of each roll the waves dance back and forth
in and out endlessly playing with the beach and you come close
on this grey cold day of December this play of light and  sound
will lift your spirit so far up that you can smile again and sigh
let go and love all of the goodness about being here simply here
can there be a more soothing sound that crash of gentle waves
and gentle waves gray light sun bubbles of light on top of water
splash and surge splash and surge into forever with no  return
you are a bubble in time and a nano second of being nothing
but a dance a wave and light source that sighs and soars now
if you come back tomorrow the sea will be having a rest and
the water will not be dancing apon the beach only today now
you would have missed this sight had you not come down here.
down here to the edge of your breath down here to feel whole.

It is mid december and I am sad

We wait for you Jesus your mother tells me not to cry
She told me a long time ago that men will war forever
Or until they hear the bell of peace inside their holy place
she came to me often in my lonely time and invited me
to put my head on her lap and be comforted by holiness
these tears roll down my cheeks so easy these days wet
sad tears of grief for this world of ours that war and war

I know the wise sage said think only on peace and love
let go fear rage grief and ponder only the peace of life
Turn of  all the sorry faces of  hungry  children who
cry all the television ads for world vision who want cash
so you will never see the poor eat out of garbage dumps
where you can live in peace and not think about them
if only my faith would let me live in blind indifference

No I will go to the refugee camps with  what shall I take
When they live with nothing only the clothes on their back
What shall I take tell me what do they need an one way ticket
Yes I will give them all a ticket  home again to familiarity
If only it were that simple for guns and war is  all the rage
gangsters and hoodlums and silly dressed up dolls empty
Return to us the love and peace we used to know return now

My husband and our house

The place where we have lived day in and day out for many years
Each step a dance in this marriage each step a look in the eye
Who else would see what we see in each other or appreciate
The beauty of all that we do together or alone home sweet home
Where we used to have a couch for others to rest on now we have
Two chairs yours and mine well worn grooves will I cry or you
The fire place the hearth that you mess up not knowing anything
About the heart about the hearth and the ancient knowledge
I love you in the morning and you only know how to get angry
Your left frontal lobe does not work so well you cannot see
What is in front of you and I know only too well frustration
I go and help because love is like that bending willow tree
You do your best and I love when you love me as I love me
I love you when you love you as only I love you forever

Missing native Women in Canada

"Women are the slaves of the world,we make them paint their face and dance" John Lennon (The Beatles) This is a poem I wrote for my sisters.



I went to the tree of life
In the sundance arbor
To pierce for you all
For truth of your death
When the knife went in
My sister Elliott roared
A big mouth wide blood
curdling scream out
A white woman screaming
For the death of red sisters

I gave my blood offering then
I collected deer bones and wrote
these words "To live in hearts we
leave behind is not to die"
I gathered small tuffs of buffalo hair
Tied the hair to bone with yellow ribbon
Hung the bone on my alter for you
I pray everyday that your bones will
sing to us and guide us to where you are

They drowned

 This poem was written in honor of those dear visitors who lost their lives in the sinking of a whale watching boat of the west coast of  Canada:
Jack Slater  76
Kathie Taylor
Nigel Hooker
David Thomas
Stephen Thomas
Raveshan Morgan 

 on 25th October 2015

" To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die."


The great mother pulled them under along with the sea lions 
One breath needed to survive, and one breath needed to
die

Death by drowning is natural say west coast native
elders

Sea lions are magnificent  compassion kind dreamy
sea lions
Your soul bodies guided into the deep the sea lions your
guides

Maybe you went to heaven maybe you went to some far distant home or maybe

Just maybe you got wings in heaven and now you have come  to guard

Your death made every thing go silent you humbled us before the throne of God

Not a whisper was heard as all in creation witnessed the desperate plight in sight

Wet and shocked with only a sheet to comfort you and a terrible memory
seared now seared into your soul for ever my dear beloved

My Mother Earth

I heard the call of the wild at my back door
A magnificent bear black shinny and i

Of his home his habitat,the place he lived

 I said I feared for his life as men were mad

 He said come and see the destruction

I went into Clayoquot Sound and witnessed

Police uniforms courts sheriffs handcuffs prison

They locked me up for loving the wild places

Put me in solitary confinement,I was defiant
I was not a criminal,they were destroying it
Destroying everything sacred, on the planet 

That bear came swimming as I was arrested

The court room witnessed thru the video
The judge quelled the  noisy uproar
 I got sentenced to half a year in a prison
For loving the wild things of this holy planet

I could feel his strength in my being my bones

Handcuffed tortured jailed for all wild beings
When you give up on life life gives up on you

  I grew up in the place of no electric static

  No telephones no hydro no noise only nature

  Moments were bliss filled days of rambling

  Sitting still by streams waterfalls and hillsides

  Walking all day long with only the sound of birds

  Oh that heaven is still so deep in my core being                    

  I am a drop of water sent here to sing a song

  An ancient song of peace to help you remember

Standing on the dock

I want to write a poem but my fingers will not hit the right keys and anyway this way of writing is not the way to do it,,like eating dinner with a knife and fork..instead of tasting the food with your fingers first




          You survived you are alive

Missing or Murdered in Canada

Please do not let me walk into the hell of this place
where beauty is traded for evil yes evil and death
The price on the head of every Indian Woman
like there was for the pelt of the beaver or seal
Who is killing these sisters, mothers aunties who
80% of them just walking home 80% gone
80% just like you and me going to store for ...

Do you know a missing or murdered woman
Do you know a missing or murdered woman

No please do not let me walk down this hell road
where I have to watch some man kill a child
Torture her for his own self interest his dead self
I hear the RCMP make "snuff movies " imagine
Twenty six thousand dollars for a live show

How dare anyone of you murdering bastards
Lay another hand on a  child mother grandmother
I am a warrior and I carry a broad sword of justice
I am going to hunt you like you hunt them

derry

Jesus was crucified in Derry
 in the early seventy two
his blood ran down the walls
of that ancient city red blood
Jesus Jehovah son of God

Derry Oak in the ancient tongue
where the river foyle flows
to the sea and the bridge links
us and them and soliders sit
gun at the ready to shoot

anything that moves dear god

Hermit/Van Morrison

Way way back to remember
when life made more sense
Take me back take me back
when the world made sense
let me understand religion
let me have no worries
let me have no cares
let me walk in buttercup fields

let me walk by teh river side
take me way back take me
way way way back
when I understood the light
in the golden afternoon
take me way way way
back when I understood


Everything felt so right and so good


in the eternal now

roaming in the gloamin with larla

Bring on the fiddle of Martin Hayes
Bring on the voice of Larla O'Lionaird
Bring on Caoimhin O'Raghallaigh
Bring on the guitar of Dennis Cahill
Forever I am set to roam inside
Open up heart to self to all of life
The gloaming of Euri/Ireland

from the collective sounds
Comes a well of nostalgia
for the land for stream and river bed
my heart belongs in Ireland

Appreciation

Not all writers and poets are worthy of praise
they craft and craft mundane words to bore
instead of delight their words are grating
we want to jump in the lake of passion
only they write about streams of nothingness

give me the words that haunt the longing
the words that soothe the soul caress the heart
you were my passion once apon a time you
were the reason I got out of bed every day

now the page is empty and all longing gone
i do not want to share my secret trove of gold
I do not want you to have to clap for my words

no my words belong in the whispered moments
of early morning where birds sing and morning dew
glistens the grass in rainbow bubbles only for some
not for all you whore mongers who rob the innoncent

Irish Stew

Faith and begorra I found it
the old memory of the taste
of her own Irish Stew recipe
none like it on the internet
I  forgot the ingredients
I mean they were there
locked in my memory box
taste is powerful with effort
I could be sitting at her table
Laughing and savoring taste
Potatoes carrots onions celery
mince rolled up in wee balls
1 stock cube of beef and her
secret ingredient of something
that made that sing sing sing
oh my precious Lou..a....bell
You raised me one day at a
time with joke jest and ridicule

A word from Ireland

A SET OF guidelines for how to deal with online and text bullying has been issued by youth group SpunOut.ie this morning.
The advice comes following the devastating death of 13-year-old Donegal girl Erin Gallagher over the weekend.
Erin had allegedly received anonymous abuse online and was found dead a day after she posted messages on the internet addressing the people who had written about her through Ask.fm, a website popular with young teens. The site works by having people leave questions for its members but posts can be anonymous.
SpunOut.ie has issued a definition of cyber bullying, explaining that it can involve unwanted text messages, phone video recordings or web posts that are used to threaten, harm or abuse someone.
“It’s like physical or verbal bullying, but it uses technology instead.”
Cyber bullying – like all bullying – is difficult on the victim, but it can be hard to prove, the youth charity continued. Young people can often find it difficult to build up the courage to report instances of bullying.
However, the group says it is important that the problem is addressed. Its guidelines say:

• Don’t reply to the messages
• Save the evidence (as screenshots/email/photo/web post) as proof
• Tell a trusted adult
• Contact a free, confidential support service such as the Samaritans
• Report the bullying to the Gardaí
• Report the bullying to the technology providers such as the mobile phone company, web host or website owner.

Commenting on texting, the group said that it is a method of conversation that can “unfortunately be used to harass, bully and frighten people”.
It warned that it is illegal to harass anyone by text, phone, Internet or email. If it “gets out of hand”, it should be reported to the authorities.
The guidelines on texting say:

• Don’t stay quiet about the bullying. Tell a friend, parent teacher or someone who can help.
• Don’t reply to the messages. If there’s no answer, hopefully they will get bored and stop harassing you.
• Don’t delete the messages, you can use them as evidence for reporting the crime.
• Report the bullying to the police or Gardaí and your phone company. They are aware of the problem and can give you a new phone number or caution the person harassing you.

Erin’s death is the second this year that has been connected to online bullying. Ciara Pugsley, a 15-year-old from Leitrim, was found dead in September after being taunted with internet messages.
Anyone affected by the issues in this piece can call 1Life, Ireland’s dedicated 24/7 suicide prevention helpline, free of charge at 1800 247 100. The line is run by 3Ts in conjunction with Console and is manned at all times by trained counsellors.
The Samaritans can be contacted on 1850 60 90 90. Pieta House is a free service and can be contacted at 01 601 0000. Other helplines include TeenLine Ireland 1800 833 634, Console 1800 201 890 and Aware at 1890 303 302.

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MUAMMAR GADDAFI

The united nations is lying lying lying lying
in San Fransisco in nineteen forty five
three countries came together  reambled
like the cover of a book looked good but
not good inside pure rubbish manipulated

MUAMMAR GADDAFI wow what a leader
oh how they dragged your name in mud
set it up for them ignorant people to kill
you with a bullet a blind ignorance and you
you with all the heart of the kind reform


The united nations to achieve democracy
at the level of power to the people general
assembly the parliament of the world not accept
the general assembly should all the members of
the world and not just 190 countries speak but the
the decisions are being made by the

Hyde Park Corner




The united nations of the security council
 who are you super powers super shits



MUAMMAR GADDAFI 

THANK THANK THANK YOU


reference;  utube MUAMMAR GADDAFI SPEECH TO UNITED NATIONS: SEPTEMBER 23,2009

TEARS

How many lifetimes have I been crying
My sound is only that of tears falling

it is the not knowing who I belong too

My father my mother my story my hertiage
Was robbed at the starting gate

I am the very last of my tribe

I came to this earth yet again for you
Only you are dead and all that is left

Is this haunting lament for comfort
That is not mine not in this lifetime anyway

Potatoe Tears

I am a potato and my soul is in this earth core
core to be as wild as what was before we ate
what was designed for us we ate like robins
we drank from streams and we knew peace
deep deep peace like the river flowing deep
memories of  earth caked under fingernails
we became one with pink worm and crow
we became one with wind rain and sun shine
elemental one breathing in the fire of life

Running

Bullets are whizzing over my head
so fast so clean so powerfully
moving like greased lightening
I hide behind a large oak tree

I call my dead father's name loudly
Tommy McGowan's is my father
roaring into the still breeze over
 over and over my father's name
my father has been dead two years
I am calling him from the grave to
save my life on this quiet autumn day

Lines of History

http://victimsofnorthernirelandtroubles.rushlightmagazine.com/troubles.h

I am in awe of death
I am in awe of bullets
lodged in body parts

Three uniformed men
died on my stairway
Barrington Foster 
Michael Muldoon
Thomas Pentrose

British Officers
Fools in uniforms
Lured by women
To a late night party

Silly laughing drunks
A honey pot  ambush
as soon as they came
thru the door bullets

blood blood
everywhere blood blood


Barrington Foster
upper class British
Michael Muldoon
Scottish or Irish
Thomas Penrose
from a place in Wales

Dying at the bottom
of a antique staircase
in an old quiet dignified
Part of Belfast 1973

Thomas Penrose
Michael Muldoon
Barrington  Foster
You live in here

I had that party
six months earlier
Saying goodbye
to war for a while
Little did I know
death was stalking

On that antiqued
polish wooden floor
the blood of three
young men stays
three young men
amongst thousands
I contemplate your
dying often sad
I a trained nurse
was not there to help
To say a prayer and
offer my condolence
England Ireland
Scotland Wales what

Lines of confusion drawn on a bloody map
pools of blood defining the politic of greed
 

Holding On

Some pass thru your life like a leaf falling from a tree
Others stick to you like glue and are always there lurking
Am I the only one confused about relationship meaning
I hide in the back room behind the curtain uncertain of
Everything how I should be what I need to communicate
If I even need an audience to begin with if so why is that

My book of life is full each page a story of that day told
When I met you and fell in love now to look back scoff
For what did i know about love when I was only waiting
Waiting for my life to begin it took forty years of waiting
Mostly in the rain at the bus stop alone in damp shoes
Dreaming of songs that the Beatles wrote in my soul

I dreamed of riding horse back across the open Prairies
Me and Tonto looking for Kimosabi and Silver his horse
Dream neath a full moon and sleep with howling wolves
Instead the horse was a rebel rambler and I hide from
the elements of rain  and snow there was no romance
It was only in my head my silly romantic head waiting

Waiting for Godo  for waiting for the rainbow to dance
My dreams did come  true and i found all the elements
Only I had to wait a long time till I was well over forty
I rode my horse from Yellowknife to South Dakota
My legs have never been the same since bowed now

I love that Prairie sky where sun and moon  greet me
Where thunder beings collide with lightening man
I love that Prairie sky where time stands still forever
I am a breath in the wind and all my loved ones are
Above me shining down at night my ancestors dance

The land holds me like an old lover caresses me gentle
I remember who I am and why I returned to this earth
For the beauty of day and night for the song of birds
For the moon dance of forever I am a piece of dust
I belong here amongst rocks and stones and rivers

I am a stream of consciousness flowing with yours
Into you into a memory of when we were complete
When we understood the meaning of togetherness
When there was no time no beginning or end for us
We were the dust of heaven we were the dew drops







kimosabe

Goodbye

Phil CARSON   ( Sunday, 19 Jan 2014 )

Phil Carson April 15, 1948 - January 19, 2014 Phil has been an extraordinary presence in our lives. He rarely referred to his cancer as a ‘battle’, but rather as a part of his continuing journey in this world. Along the way he connected strongly with family, friends and community, lending a hand in times of struggle, a voice of celebration in times of joy. His passion for the protection of our natural world and, in the past couple of years, his commitment to health advocacy, is an enduring legacy. As a pioneer in healthy green home construction he was an educator, and as an international award-winning photographer and video producer of environmental documentaries, he was an inspiration. His greatest achievement has been his eight children; Brandon, Demian and Cody, who he shared with Sandy, and Carmanagh, Forrest, Joyalea, Wylder and Tananger who he joyously raised with his best friend of 27 years, Julie, as well as his two grandchildren, Madison and Chase. And in fulfillment of Phil’s characteristic optimism, a new grandchild is expected this summer. Many of us left behind hope to fulfill Phil’s greatest wish of turning the small family farm into an adventure/education retreat for children with cancer and their families. Phil felt surrounded by love and our thanks go out to the Oceanside Hospice Society, all his medical team and, most of all, to his unwavering friends and family; his Dad, Kit, siblings,Bruce, Paul and Barb and all his nieces and nephews who were such a source of inspiration and comfort during this difficult part of Phil’s journey. He has been the greatest friend. We know his continued travels will take him to wonderful and joyful places and he will continue laughing and finding humour in the next life as he always did in this one. To send Phil off on the rest of his journey, a Celebration of his Life will take place February 1 at 1:00 pm at the Errington War Memorial Hall. Phil would welcome your stories and your music. In memory of Phil, please consider performing a random act of kindness.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                    Goodbye......................................You left like the morning star and there was never a moment to say goodbye for you were busy dying and dedicated you unfolded into a shell that was not you, for you were big and burly .I called my grizzly bear brother and kept a respectful distance.

 

Now you are a memory a memory of moments beautiful precious moments and my poem for you stands forever.

 

 

MY SINGING VOICE
MY BODY
MY THOUGHT
MY PEACE
MY ATTITUDE

Deadman Island

Don't come to deadman island you here now
come to denman island and time will swallow
you so fast that you won't even notice your
hair turning grey your shoulders slouching and
the glint of your eye dying you see the place was
cursed a long time ago back in the days of magic