Poem: Oppression

Oppression is like a leaky pipe,
From the ceiling,
Dripping water,
Like tears,
Into a bucket,

Oppression is the stale smell,
That haunts you,
From generational wounds,

Oppression is,
Crying over the sink,
Tears leaking through the pipes,
Dripping into a bucket,

Oppression is a dial tone,
Can't make the call,


Oppression is our hands over our face,
Collecting our tears,
As we wipe them on our pants,
Into the laundry,
Leaking from the pipe,
Like tears,
Into a bucket,

Oppression is,
Four walls toppling onto us,
Barreling onto us,
No voice,
No voice,


Oppression is layers,
Layers of film around the bucket,
That form,
Hard to clean,
Hard to remove,


Poem: Brown Metal Garbage Can

Sometimes we can only do so much,
That metal garbage can,
In the middle of my dorm room,
In Wisconsin,

Harboring fate,
I'm breathing,
But I check my pulse,
It beats,

The time warp I was in,
Distant of some past,
Heaviness of generational wounds,

Unknown force,
Forced upon me,
It was dark,
An uncomprehending force,

While I lay in my bed,
Pick at my thighs,
My skin turns red,
Because I pinch my skin,
The redness,
Pain inside,

While I lay in my bed,
The springs hurt my hips,
Hurt my hips,

I didn't want food,
I ached for something in my heart,
A longing that brought me back through the darkness,
Through a long dark night,

Old smells,
Old energy,
I had to barrel through,

That day when I realized my eating disorder had a grip on me,
I still stood on my eating disorder pedestal,
While demons whispered into my ear,
About how I could hurt myself more,
When really the demons were my souls wounds,
Pain I ran from,
Ran from fast,

Now my hands grip my thighs again,
I lay in the bed,
White walls,
Window to the outside,
Students outside,
I feel so isolated,
So alone,

My legs itch,
Extreme hyperactivity,
Due to nutritional deficiencies,
Chemical imbalances,
Music is dark,

I lift myself from the bed,
Leave boldly,
Leave fiercely,
I bound across the campus,
My mind,
My body,
My spirit,

Somehow the fine precision of my soul,
The yearning to heal beneath the rubble,
I make my way,
Not perfectly,
I wanted to forget the brown metal garbage can,

Collecting pieces of my soul,
To be whole.

Poem: Church Bells

Smashing alarm clocks,
"Modern medicine,"
Social phobia,
Cultural ignorance,
Prescription drugs,
Slurring of words,
It all ends up,
Defeating us,
If we stand in a crowd,
Of the dumb culture,
That we "live" in,
If we run away,
Hide out,
Veg out,
We are running away,
Slamming our fists,
Against pavement,
Against pavement,
Against pavement,
No outlet in the culture,
For my anger,
The intensity of,
The monstrosity of,
Bruises on my hand,
I am cold,
I punch the wall,
I am lonely,
I bang my head against the wall,
I am hungry,
I scratch my neck,
I want love,
Be silent,
Sit still,
Young boy,
Young girl,
Simultaneous diagonals,
Horizontal heart values,
Repetitious insecurities,
Defined under the guise of "God,"
Quoting a text,
Written by a man,
I've smashed this bottle to the ground,
Glass chard's shine in the sunshine,
Children hurting,
Feeling sorry,
7 years later,
T-shirt ripped on ancestral lands,
By a tree,
Praying by the tree,
And we praise a White Jesus,
To forgive our sins,
It's a sin to be working class,
It's a sin to be Anishinaabe,
The book of defeat,
Infiltrates into our world,
Defeating us,
Roses bloom,
Hearts are tender,
The church bells,
Hurt us,
We shut the door to the darkest dungeon.

Poem: Further North

Photo: In da UP, eh! Summer 2010

The Marquette locomotive was down here,
South of the Mackinaw Bridge,
I saw it go through town here,
Here in "working class,"
Manistee Michigan,
A down to Earth town,
Salt of the Earth people,
Morton Salt people,
Paper industry people,
Tired people,
Working for the people on the hill people,
Working to get food,
In the cupboard,
Under lock and key,
Lock and key,
Gas in the car,
Drive to work,
To town,
Back afar,
To the Manistee National Forest,
We hunt,
I'm hunting,

I'm going further north,
In my mind,
Landscapes and remoteness,
Crystal clear waters,
And further north,
Further north,
Where there are clear waters,
Less bourgie people,
Less pretentious city people,
Trying to build their fancy homes on the shores of Lake Michigan,

I'm going further north,
Further north,
In my soul,
My heart aligned with the land,
I can go north of the bridge,
That mighty mackinaw bridge,
So I can escape this land down here,
Which binds me,
I love Sleeping Bear,
But sometimes the pain,
Makes me fly in mind,
Fly away,
From what I have known,
Anishinaabe Territory,
I try and fly,
I do,

I'm will go further north one day,
The land and my heart,
Love may be somewhere,
I may find it.

Poem: Rigor

Self determination,
I've got a harmonica,
And light,
Give us a break,
Its easy to avoid,
The dark circular spiral,
That can take you in,
A vortex,
And pause,
And go,
For the generations,
My heart is racing,
We've endured,
This pain long enough,
Too long,
Cultural norms,
Defeated in feeling,
That her child has not lived up to,
Homogeneous standards,
Meant to take your WHOLE being,
And fit it,
And uncomfortably,
Into a small box,
When really,
As we rise above,
What is outside of us in this world,
The ancestors surround,
In the screams,

Its safe to say,
That colonization,
Doesn't allow for the soul of the people,
An attempt to annihilate,
Why knives were hidden,
That the clothesline had a residue,
A film to ancient,
And painful to swallow,
The addiction means the soul feels defeated,
The body of that soul giving up,
A burden so immense on the heart,

There is an old soul,
A darkness,
It makes its presence known to me,
Through physically living through it,
But seeing it with my spiritual eyes what is there,
The truth is that this old soul is more than just one soul,
But many souls,
Over lifetimes,

Darkness can attach itself for as long as it wishes,
And it wishes in many forms,
Self hate,
Self mutilation,
Suicide attempts,
Anger directed at the darkness serves in dismantling it,
Anger directed serves as understanding it,
But the majority cultures goal is to create a circle not of care,
But of continued abuse,
Darkness can attach itself for as long as it wishes,

New age bullshit talks about ascension,
Is ascension darkness,
Near death,
Or is the culture ill prepared for health,

Self determination,
Can lead a path out of the darkness,
The path is not necessarily light,

Navigating the path,

Remnants of colonization,
Must leave,
This is the darkness,
This is the old soul.