Reservations for one

The creeping Teepee party began early

One week into the hard rock tribal life

of bruises black and blue and nearly dead all over

the not so subtle big foot of cruelty in the gut of despair

Wandering around the rainy woods in foreign mountains

rain that cries itself into screams of agony

that line the lungs with a layer of thick black terror

pale face full of tear stained crazy

runs away daily past the same cedar trees

hysterical deer legs tremble in the darkness of the days

with eyes that can only behold spirits and totem poles in the bark

like hidden meanings in a puzzle that you can never understand

like the hair used for witching you

in a house full of smoke and mirrors

polluted not with hate

but with the love of power

over

one

single

solitary

anonymous

stranded

broken

woman

you

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Author: valo

I am a poet, writer and activist with a special interest in human rights for children and women as well as the elimination of poverty worldwide. If you read this today, feed someone locally for me will you? Drop off a non perishable food item at the food bank nearest you and consider yourself hugged. Thank you!

14 thoughts on “Reservations for one”

  1. wow!
    “he not so subtle big foot of cruelty in the gut of despair”
    “with eyes that can only behold spirits and totem poles in the bark”

    these are wonderful.

    This is really good.

    Chicken salad from chicken s….. ,well you know what I’m saying.

    1. I sure do opoetoo. I lived that, survived that and left that but it still lives inside me everyday, like a chronic condition I maintain. I’m pleased you liked those two lines, they among three that took a bit to dig up from the old pit of hell. πŸ™‚

    1. Oh yeah Lisa honey, nothing like using the old pen as a sword or in my case a poison dart of illumination! lol This one hurt a bit but cathartic at the end. I’m doing a cleansing of my life in 2010 and it all begins with the words.

    1. Thanks Jessie. I did it to illustrate the focused isolation I felt there. Fire? Most excellent! That is my aim always, to get something started. πŸ˜‰

  2. beautiful Val. Our Australian history has similar stories, the treatment of the Aborigines, to the extreme where the Tasmanian Aboriginal no longer exists in the physical world.

    1. Thanks Mark. You are the only one who knew ‘where’ and ‘what’ I was referring to. I lived on a Native American Rez for five years. I’m white and I was in a relationship that nearly destroyed me and the child we created. My experiences were from the point of view of an outsider who through living the ‘life’ earned my cred. The destruction of the culture through colonialism and religious oppression created the environment that produced the abuse we endured. I nearly met my end there and one could say it was my spirit quest. It’s not Dances With Wolves, it’s more Powwow Highway. I met many aboriginal people out there and yes, an aborigine couple who were attending a large powwow with a Maori woman. Most people don’t realize that the moccasin trail spans this earth and Native people are very connected to each other. If you are interested in learning about Aboriginal issues through stories, look up a couple of writers I was lucky enough to meet: Sherman Alexi and Thomson Highway. They are from two different tribes, but the perspectives are remarkably harmonious.

      1. Interesting chapter of your life, it is through times of adversity that I am glad I write so that I can take any negative aspects from a situation and spit them onto a page, at the end I have something I can hold and read, I convert the shit that controlled me into something that I own.

        Sherman’s site looks very interesting and I’ve found Tomson in wikipedia, I look forward to reading deeper into them.

      2. Exactly! You hit that tired and dented old nail directly on the head, Mark. “I convert the shit that controlled me into something that I own.” I have nothing to add, to borrow you words, you ‘spit them onto a page’ perfectly. πŸ™‚

    1. This was real, real place, real feelings, real experience which is why the images are alive. Thank you for seeing that ‘reality’ in my poem.

  3. glad to be the first read your first poem of 2010,
    I love the lines saying that

    “—
    polluted not with hate
    but with the love of power
    —”

    Quality job well done, Val!
    happy happy new year.

    1. Thank you Jingle and those lines were actually the meat of the poem so I’m particularly happy they were your favourites.

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