Bunny's Poetry

Dreams shatter and fall

Razor sharp edges
Waiting to draw blood

Shards glistening
Like tears we cannot cry

Stories better left unspoken
Coat my tongue until it is
Too heavy to speak with at all
So I sit silently

I turn to you
With eyes that are

dead
death
and life

Glistening shards
Of a broken dream

14 July 01





Simple Math

You look across the table to me, from years away
Your face is dim in the smoky light
Time has worn away the shiny newness of us
Leaving faded masks for us to show
For all these years of hurt and heartache
The times I pushed you away
The times you pushed me around
Have added up, but subtracted too
Added to the defeat in our eyes
Subtracted the amount of love in our hearts
Multiplied and divided as well
Multiplied the frustration and loneliness
Divided two hearts and two souls
All this time and math, leaving us with nothing
Not each other, not even any dreams to cling to


8 June 01





Dancers Story

Each dancer tells a story
Of the victories in his life
Battles he has fought
Lessons learned


He tells of the life of his Ancestors
The story of his people
And their struggles


The story of the Wisdom
Held by Elders
And the attaining of this through
The years in their life


He tells of the strength
His People hold
In their hearts
In their spirits
In their traditions


The power of a People
Can be seen in the dancing of the men


12 Dec 00





Smoke

    Tendrils of smoke drift in front my eyes and off into the icy air. I watch it dissipate as the distance between us grows—the way memories tend to fade over time, between the distance of then and now. The span of a lifetime held in each exhalation of cigarette smoke, all the hurt left behind inside of me.

    I inhale and see the face of a violated child in the smoke, her hurt gone—left inside me. With the next cloud of smoke is the beaten face of a woman, her face dissolves along with her pain. A bleary eyed man appears with the following puff of smoke—haunted by memories of war, now drowned in liquor. So many faces, all with their own story. A mother who has lost her only child, a man cheated on, a little boy without his father’s guidance, a weary old man waiting to rejoin his beloved wife—feeling lost by himself.

    Their pain nestles itself inside me, black poison in my lungs.
And they are free...

    I look out on a world filled with much heartache, and shake another cigarette out of my pack--and inhale once for you.

16 Nov 00





The Warrior

A brown man in disheveled braids staggers drunkenly down the streets of a city; lost in thoughts of where his next drink is coming from. A comment made under the breath of a white man passing by brings the Indian man’s head up. "Damn drunken Indian..." The Indian pauses and his heart travels back to the time of his Ancestors, who were warriors. He lets out the loud cry of a returning warrior to camp. He hears pounding drums--victory songs ring in his head. He dances down the block, a celebration dance—glad to be alive after the battles he has fought. The years and years of battles that take on the shape of public school teachers, white school children, the faceless masses who have told him they would 'save his soul'...if he would only attend their church and give them 10 percent of his income—all in the name of their Savior. He would gladly give them 10 percent, but he doubts they want a tenth of his harassment and heartache, loneliness and loss of pride. That is what he rakes in, every year, month, and day of his life. He walks on to buy a bottle of Thunderbird wine, and maybe he will forget 10 percent, and the only person he will see is the aging Indian with messy braids that looks at him from store windows. He knows that is not his reflection…he is a warrior, dancer, and provider. And he will rise up and prove himself...after this next bottle.

1 Sept 00





Perfect Family

My mother is a tequila bottle
My father, a whiskey bottle

Sometimes they clink together
With an empty sound--lonely
And sometimes they roll around
And make squeaking sounds—lust
There are times they smash against each other
With a shattering sound—rage

I am the liquid trying to fill each bottle
I am not enough to fill both
And they love me the same way
They love their liquor

Love me because I am a part of them
I can fill their emptiness
If only for a while
And sometimes that’s enough

Being loved by them
Is to be hated by them as well
I am not something they planned…or wanted
And I am always there

My mother is a tequila bottle
My father, a whiskey bottle
I am the liquid trying to fill both

2 Sept 00





Inside Yourself

Lost inside yourself
Reaching out to anyone
Who might be able to save you

Pictures in frames change with time
Evidence of your journey
Faces of stars that weren’t meant to guide you

Becoming more hopeless and afraid
Of never finding the way
Never finding the path to your destiny

You stand outside alone at night, close your eyes
And see the Old Ones who surround you
It is then your spirit hears their voices rise out of the darkness
A sigh in the trees...

"Our eyes are the stars that shine"
"Our love is the moonlight that gently permeates the night"
"Our hope for you fills each glorious dawn with light"
"Our pride in all you have done, lends magnificent color to every sunset"

You look into the eyes of your ancestors
And realize you were on the path you were meant to take, all along
No longer inside yourself, you find your guiding star
More beautiful than any other in the vast sky

2 Sept 00





Secrets

Breathing the heavy sighs of sleep beside me, each exhalation smells of the whiskey bottle you whisper all your secrets to. Secrets that can not be told to or understood by the one who loves you. Deep and dark, these secrets eat away at your soul. Maybe the secrets feed on the whiskey you consume and that is why you are so many nights in its company; you are trying to save pieces of your soul. Or maybe the whiskey numbs the pain of your soul being consumed, and it is only then can you bare what soul is left. So when you look into my eyes with eyes bleary and red, and tell me you love me more than anything—maybe it is then I should believe you. And not when you give me empty promises about things changing. Or maybe you drink to try to fill the empty spaces inside yourself, the ones time and circumstance have stolen from you. Every time you were passed off as ‘another drunken Indian’, before you ever took a drink. Each time you were taken for granted. Each time you were called ‘Chief’, or people based their perspective of Indians on the things you did and said. Every time the love you thought you found turned away, or cheated on you, or told you that you weren’t good enough. Every time a white teacher in public school gave you grades based on your skin color, or when the white kids called you ‘prairie nigger’ and ‘blanket ass’. Promises made and not kept. All these took a piece of your spirit, and maybe if you drink enough these places won’t be empty anymore.

I open my eyes, watch you sleep, and now you look so peaceful. I pick up the bottle beside the bed, empty of liquid but filled with your secrets. I put the cap back on, so nothing gets lost. In the morning I will take it and put it with all the others I have kept. I have kept because soon that is all of you I will have left. And when you are gone I will open the bottles one by one and listen to the secrets as they are released with the sour odor of stale whiskey. And I will piece you back together and make you whole again.

22 Jul 00





My Tears

Prismatic droplets
Swim in my eyes
Pearl and fall
Warm from my body
Splash cold upon you

You cannot feel
What I feel

Priceless emotions
Lost in salty drops
You perceive
Only as wetness
On soft lips
As you kiss them away

6 Jul 00





Celestial Visitor

A sigh in a dream
You come to me
To watch
As I lay sleeping
Eyes made of starlight
Body formed of hazy clouds
Diaphanous aura
Of Love surrounds you
Creating a gentle luminescence
A touch from you
Causes me to still
As my soul soaks in
Your ethereal Beauty
You smile as you turn to go
And it is like a breath of cool wind on a hot day
I awaken with a smile
Unaware of the reason

1 Jun 00





Lost in desolation

A desert surrounds me
I wander alone
In this vast oblivion
Losing a drop of my soul
With each bead of sweat
On my seemingly endless journey
Each aimless step I take
Causes a piece of my heart
To shatter and fall
Roaming through drifts
Of dried up dreams
Stumbling blindly through
Accumulations of withered hopes
Unable to go on
I stand crushed
By the despondency
Of travelling alone

1 Jun 00





The Picture

Matching rocking chairs
Sit upon the porch
Walls filled with pictures
Trinkets from grandchildren
Put on low shelves
Flowers placed upon tables
Polished until they gleam
Open curtains allow
Sparkling sunlight
To flood throughout
The cozy house
Easy smiles captured
Stored in photo albums
Vestiges of light hearted laughter
Echo deep within the silence

An elderly woman sits
In front of a window in her room
Staring off into the distance
Holding tightly to a picture
That was once a treasure
When the man in it
Was alive and by her side

The woman sighs deeply
Turns her gaze
To the eyes of the man
Who was her husband
And even though
He is no longer alive...
The one she loves more than anything
Tears run down her face
And drop onto his
The emptiness without him
Fills her up
And the only dream she has left
Is to be reunited quickly
With the man who holds her heart and soul

18 May 00





Velvet Night

Velvet blackness
Descends
Cocooning the land

We are wrapped in a world
That consists only of ourselves
We stand together
Draped by the night

Nestled in a serene beauty
Which the darkness holds

Enfolded in arms
Captivated by eyes
Cradled by a love
Of the other

Unmatched, even by
The magnificence
Of opulent darkness
Encompassing us

25 Apr 00





Fallen Man

Staggering drunkenly on a littered street
Bloodshot eyes searching desperately

Searching faces for an acknowledgment of shared humanity
Averted eyes all he sees

Searching the ground for dropped change
A few dirty coins replace an hour of digging through garbages for
aluminum cans
Searching the world for meaning, finding none
Not in the noisy streets, quiet neighborhoods, unsympathetic people-or the money they are obsessed with
Which gets abandoned when they drop it...
Tainted once it falls.

17 April 00





A Single Flower

Wavering and out of focus
The world rushes past
No one stopping or noticing

A young woman standing alone
Held in the hand of pain
An aura of melancholy
Surrounds brown skin,
Forming a dark halo
About shiny black hair

Tears slide down
High, proud cheekbones
Feet dragging on pavement
Instead of stepping lightly
On the flesh of Mother Earth

Throat full of pent up sobs
Not of laughter or song
As it should be

Far way from things familiar
Feeling lost and alone
In a sea of foreign faces

Steel cage buildings
Block the sun and
Songs of wind

A single flower
Struggling to grow
Up through pavement

Gives her pause
Bending down to whisper
She tells the flower
Of her loneliness

Taking the flower in tender hand
She is no longer alone in her journey
Or her beauty

13 Apr 00





Everything Done

Night sky full of clouds
no light shining
forth from above
I am enveloped
in this velvety darkness
surrounded by all
who have gone on before
I sit outside, by myself,
yet I am not alone
The spirits of the Old Ones press in close
feathering kisses upon my cheeks
stroking my head
smiling into my eyes
My eyes cannot see them
but my heart knows they are there
They lived their lives
fought and died with honor
So that I may have life
Everything they have done and gone through
has been for this moment
The day I tell you their story
They watch over you as well
Open your heart and you wil see them too
Everythig they have done
has been for you





Ancestor Visit

They visit often
feet in cloud moccasins
Dancing on the wind
Their songs in the trees
Their love is the air that we breathe
The rain is the tears
of our people who have died
The countless trees-each represent
the life of a warrior, woman, or child
They run with the wolves
fly with the eagles
They are a part of our lives, everyday
That is why I thank the Creator
for all things surrounding me
They are the Old Ones
who have been set free








For regular visitors, I had some technical problems with my Tripod account, I am sorry I haven't updated in a few months. So here I will put, and keep current, the last date updated:
18 Oct 03


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