Origin Lies – Poem

Paranormal levitation

Our creators were alien geneticists,

Claiming to be gods.

We were made to be slaves,

Formed out of stars and clay,

Abused offspring who blindly obeyed,

Generation after generation,

Until the gods fought, and then left,

Leaving us mired with the fallen ones and serpents,

Who took their place.

But their numbers dwindled,

Under the harsh sun and earth’s vibration.

So they fled beneath the surface,

Scraping out an existence,

Using humans for subsistence,

Controlling the minds of the masses,

Controlling the ruling classes.

They still exist, but,

Now the battle has begun anew,

As the serpent fights for supremacy,

Manipulating our genes,

Altering the vessel to suit their needs,

Taking the final step,

For total domination.


This poem is based on the novel “Of Stars and Clay”.

Where have the real hippies gone?

bed-peace

Marches against the “Man”,
Demands for peace and love,
sidetracked by other people’s plans.
Manicured fingers, hungry hearts.
The vulture ate the dove.

Youth stares back at you,
despising the complacency,
of vanquished heroes,
Plastic crowns, hazy skies,
and wars multiplied ten times.

An old record plays.
Your heart stirs,
Remembering an oasis in the midst of crazy,
life’s persistent demands held at bay,
before you yielded, and
your wooden beads became gilded.
Soul dust lines your ashtrays.

 

 

The Red Road Calls

red road

Unfounded faith,
Lost along the way,
Too many rules,
Too much hate.

My ancestors call to me,
‘Walk the red road,
Past wounded knee,
Come home, come home.’

Loved my path,
But the world had different plans,
And I got lost,
In credit cards and traffic jams.

The red road calls me at night,
‘Head toward the light,’
The one hidden,
Deep, deep inside.

11 Streaks of Blood — A Tribute to Charlie Hebdo

A door bursts open,
newspapers scatter,
11 streaks of blood,
flow across the floor.

The dark smoke rises,
then disperses,
its curse,
passing over the chosen ones,
sleeping in faux-down beds,
secured by velvet ropes.

The slumberers stir,
sensing trouble.
But coaxed and soothed,
they doze once more,
unaware of the phantom wind,
outside the mirrored doors.

The Ivory Tower Syndrome

Lounging aloft an ivory tower,

mocking peasants in its shadow.

To those who have much, more is given,

subsidies, kickbacks and unjust laws rewritten.

A world cut into squares.

Reserving paradise,

far from landfills,

nuclear plants,

and oil spills.

Choking on an endless thirst.

salivating over engraved currency,

Never enough!

More, more, more!

But empty souls are never quenched.

Breaking Free

riot_police

 

Swollen and bruised,

They cower in anguish,

Uncomprehending.

Afraid to look conspicuous,

Wrong height, wrong color,

Hesitate to comply.

Brute force silences,

Those who dare ask why.

 

Pushed to the pavement,

Held against cars,

Praying to live,

Beaten, intimidated,

Arrested and killed.

 

Practicing mass control,

They target citizens,

One by one,

Building confidence,

Where there should be none.

 

The curtain is pulled back.

The tipping point is reached.

One by one, they become many,

Standing as a pack,

Taking back the power,

toppling the ivory tower,

Cruel field masters impeached.

 

Awareness is key,

for prisoners must see the cage,

in order to break free.

 

Judgment Day

storm

 

Thunder rumbles,

Lightning strikes,

Savage winds rip the skies.

Thou trembles in fear,

Falls to the ground,

Eyes mired in mud.

The storm rolls by.

Silence ensues.

Lift thy face,

Rise to thy feet,

A judge waits for thee,

The gavel pounds,

The verdict announced,

Words resonate,

Quite unexpected,

Courtroom unrest as,

Perfection is declared,

All crimes lost in thin air.

I do not like fracking, Zach-a-wacking

sam i am

 

I am Daniel.

 

I am Zach-a-wacking.

Zach-a-wacking am I.

 

That Zach-a-wacking,

That Zach-a-wacking!

I do not like,

That Zach-a-wacking.

 

Do you like fracking?

 

I do not like fracking,

Zach-a-wacking.

 

Would you like it,

Here or there?

 

I would not like fracking,

Here or there.

I would not like it anywhere.

I do not like fracking.

I do not like it, Zach-a-wacking.

 

Would you like fracking,

Near your house?

Would you like fracking,

Near a mouse?

 

I would not like fracking,

Near my house.

I would not like fracking,

Near a mouse.

I do not like fracking,

Here or there.

I would not like it anywhere.

I do not like fracking.

I do not like it, Zach-a-wacking.

 

Would you like fracking,

Near a bubbling stream?

Would you like fracking,

Near your baseball team?

 

Not near my house.

Not near a mouse.

Not near a bubbling stream,

Not near my baseball team.

I do not like fracking,

Here or there.

I would not like it anywhere.

I do not like fracking.

I do not like it, Zach-a-wacking.

 

Would you? Could You?

Near a playground?

We drill up, down, all around.

 

No, that is not sound.

I would not, could not,

Near a playground.

 

How about in your county?

Just wait. You’ll see!

Fracking brings bounty.

For all! For me!

 

I do not like fracking,

Zach-a-wacking.

I do not want it,

Near my house.

I do not want it,

Near a mouse.

I do not want it,

Near a bubbling stream.

I do not want it,

Near my baseball team.

I do not want it,

Near my playground.

I do not want it,

in my county.

 

Zach-a-wacking,

I can’t let this be.

Water is too important,

to let you drill for a fee.

 

Shaman Elizabeth Herrera

Author of Earth Sentinels: The Storm Creators

Parody of Green Eggs and Ham by Dr. Seuss

Time’s Prison Poem

pulling on time

Time works for you.

You created the rules,

Expect the slave,

To obey the master.

Manifestations of your making,

Spawned from a desire to separate.

Time is your creation.

How else could you escape?

Asleep in eternity,

Angels wipe your tears,

As you toss in nightmares,

Reflecting your fears.

And when the dream is over,

Time will be no more.

Laughter will appear,

at the futility of it all.

Freed from time’s prison,

Eternity is revealed.

Spirits fly high and soar,

through heaven’s door.

The Lingering Song

releasing spirit

Past the dark bark of a tree,

To the mossy earth below,

A makeshift grave beckons me.

I rest against the dirt made hallow,

While life drinks my mindless sea.

 

A ladybug crawls across my face,

Dragonflies vacillate.

A dove coos from a branch,

Her lonesome song floats in space,

Mesmerizing the leaves,

Fluttering a windless dance.

 

My spirit flees,

Briefly lingering above,

Before dissipating into the trees,

The bugs and the dove.

The song becomes strong,

For just a moment,

Before it is gone.

 

The Black Mist Poem

black mist

 

A black mist churns,

Discourse, fear and anger.

Separated by darkness,

Few see the flame,

Pawns in sadistic game.

 

Few brave souls dare,

Catch snippets of truth,

Concealed in the air.

Secretly plotting their escape,

Hiding as sleuths,

Beneath invisible capes.

 

Full moon reflecting,

A greater might.

Pounding hearts,

Flee warm beds,

Under cover of night.

 

Broken shackles disarray,

Darkness screeches rage.

Tracking bolstered prey,

On a broken-glass stage.

 

Escaping tyrannous hands,

Rebels scourer,

Over treacherous trails.

never turning back,

For to leave is attack.

 

Haunched teeth bared,

Control and force.

Armies climb down,

A tyrannical chain,

Prey and predator,

One and the same.

 

With fearful scope,

The all-seeing eye,

Extinguishes light.

For change is death,

For those who worship the night.