Where is the outrage?

It gives me great pleasure to post this poem by my friend J. Dino Delano. It appears in his book Soul's Breath, which he self-published. I have a copy, which I have read several times, and I have heard him read this before, but when Dino read this last night at the Mercury Cafe, it was like I had never heard it before.


MEDICINE MAN III

Ohhhhhh grandson

I care not about the gold you have
stored in vaul'ts, the land you say you
own.

Who's fences keep out human and
animal alike.

Your titles, and your storage of stuff
in boxes, only tells me what you have
forgotten.

I want you to know that from the bay
of the earth, and the silence that sings
within the canopy of rain forest

Comes the breath of your life.

Like a rainbow dove she sits on your
tongue and slides into the rivers of
your body.

Can you still hear the quiet voice that
whispers from the bosom of earht,
your body.

Do you remember how the river you
tumbled into as a child, cooled your
summers hot body.

And that sme water now quenches
your thirst and cleans the inner
arteries, Have you walked in the
wilderness where the city has not yet
stolen the darkness out of the night.

And there in the roof of the sky, the
candles are lit nightly by the hand of
spirits.

Can you let your mind be gathered up
in imagination and flown to the heart
of the galaxy.

Do you still have the courage to leave
the city anxious for riches

And be in the shadow of the woods and
let your body be gathered by the greenn
umbrella of the leaves.

Does the great spirit still send the god
of wind to play with your hair.

Do you still believe in the gods that live
in the skys.

That ride on the wings of hawk and
crow.

Or is your god now mental and no
longer real.

Have you forgotten your voice
grandson

Why has your mouth gone slack, who
stole the wind from your chest

Why are you not screaming

Who stole the rage from your throat

So that they might steal the earth from
your body.

Why do you in yuour silence give
permission to the rape of the earth and
her children.

Scream grandson, scream into the
woods, scream into your pillow, scream
unto your friends.

Scream away the madness so you might
once again hear the quiet voice that
speaks within you.

by J. Dino Delano
Posted with permission
from Soul's Breath, copyright 2004

It is a good day to die

Second Coming

Let me make it clear
for those
who don’t yet understand

I will boil it down

Not jihad
but Liberal
is the terror
the neocons
are at war with

George W. Bush
believes
with all his heart and soul
that he
is the Second Coming

To the Carlyle Group
the color of blood
is dollar green

Keep these things in mind
and everything that happens
will be crystal clear


King of the Hill

Geronimo had it right

Holding off the army
in the stony canyons of the southwest
Instilling great fear
with just a handful of rifles
He knew that ground
and it knew him

When you come for me
I will not be taken
If you try
it will cost you dear

Better to force the aggressor
to confront the question
of dying for his own cause
than allow the blood
of my own be spilled

Better you make plans
with the counsel and consent
of those affected
than face the labors
of pacifying an entire nation
of resistors

And should you succeed
that monumental and thankless task
what satisfaction derived
King of the Hill
in an empty land
with only your shame
for companion

Hoka Hey!