Teira Naahi

Saturday, September 26, 2015

Ch 10



Why will they not listen

They cannot do what needs to be done



They pay themselves to talk in rhyme

Yet it is us they master within their minds

We cry for our mountain

Yet the river runs dry

Who is catching her tears

For indeed she is weeping still

Her breasts are empty

Her soil is barren

She is torn and raped

Why hurt our mother so

Brothers and sisters

Where are you now

I was not aware our parents

Were but fifty dollar bills

What does that make us and our babies

Loose change for the back of the couch

Whose turn is it to turn what turns

Whose name should it turn for

Why should it turn at all for us

When it seems we have nothing to give

... ... ...

You play with words young master

As if they were pebbles dropped on glass

I have no answers from first to last

Fore I am busy tending feet

The dilemma is seen and the need that must

How thine honorable path 

Hath turned now to dust 

Just do as thou ought to 

Be silent and just

Sit still be calm

You are the mountain

You are the river

You are the land

You are the tree

Dream weaver 

Sky walker

High father

Deep mother:







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