i have not been attending to this for the past several weeks - it's not that I am no longer interested it's just that I'm going through a very dry time and need to replenish my energy so I can get up and be creative. I will be back soon and will have lots to share for the next several months. I have not done anything but play solitaire and do cross word puzzles. I am trying to read but that doesn't even cause me to be very interested. So I will be back and when I do I will be back with a vengeance with lots to share.

Poem About the Statue of Liberty

I have issues about certain symbols of American life – they of course represent what I have come to believe after years of thinking about these things. It hasn't just happened over the weekend. They are not posted in an attempt to change anyone's mind but to give people something to think about. Thinking and reaching conclusions is an important part of maturing. So in this vain I am presenting a poem I wrote after thinking about the Statue of Liberty and what she represents.


Ms Liberty


She stands with arms open wide.

Proclaiming liberty & justice
for all who crawl onto these shores.
Ironically I’ve always thought
her back is turned away from us.
Has she ever turned and smiled
allowing us to be encompassed
in her strong arms.

She is a cold iron statue green with age.

She stands at our eastern door
blessing all thieves who enter
A sacred thing brought
to these shores by strangers.
To proclaim freedom and liberty to the world
the rights so clearly denied to the caretakers.

From sea to shining sea blood sacrifice
is laid at her alter - Land of Liberty, Land of Lies
The bounty of each acre has lined their pockets
as they raped each inch.
Killing all life that stood in the way of progress
While there goddess looked the other way.

French woman, french whore
set up as some goddess to rule this land
Who gave you the land to give to a people who
only pillage and plunder.
You've taken from the children of the great
Corn Mother and White Buffalo Woman.

Turn and look at the destruction your-open door policy has
wrecked on this beautiful land.

Mary Lee Johns
Lakota

This is a poem I wrote about the people who Ms. Liberty does not embrase.

Poverty Clutching At You
(In memory of all my uncles who let alcohol rob them of life)


Poverty clutching at you
pulling you into despair
looking at the world
through eyes of hopelessness

Wishing for the old times
knowing dreams
have flown like old torn ribbons
into the icy northern winds

You can still remember
tender childhood moments
from a storehouse
of old memories

Shutting them out
you cringe inside
knowing happiness
is a thing of the past

Your left with the
cold breath of reality
breathing down on you

Sitting you look out
at the streets of mud
your spirit screams
with silent sorrow

While poverty
clutches at your soul

Mary Lee Johns
Lakota


Shadow Land


They are
the grey ghosts
of urban streets and allies
spiritually starved
desperate
passing by unseen
avoiding eyes
hiding within
cement tombs
clutching sweaty
brown paper bags
filled with sweet
poisoned pleasure
shamed and sickened
by an insatiable need
bleary eyes
heads pounding
like drums
pain screaming
like pow-wow singers
guts twisting
like snakes from hell
the past only
a blur of forgotten dreams
today’s battle
is for one last bit of sanity
a world of nightmares
and shadows
an end to a long
endless spiral of pain

mary lee johns
Lakota

The Walking Dead

walking through an indian bar
is like walking through a cemetery
everyone is in some stage of death