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a r m a l i t e . . . 5 . 5 6

Submitted by Esker on Tue, 2012-08-14 22:21

peat fires the spicy burn drifts
the soft smoke
not bitter
not tyres

the quiet in the night

"tiocfaidh ar la"

Editing stage: 
Editing - rough draft

Comments

Ian.T

Fri, 2012-08-17 18:14

Ian.T's picture
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Your day is always here and now, that your way is of the waiting by dreamy fires and memories?? Yet I am sure the title is of a weapon that kills without a thought for what it kills.
I remember being a marksman with a sub machine gun saying 88 and know that five rounds have gone out to where I was pointing with my eyes. Then the Le Enfield 303 with a range of a mile or so that could put shots in the same hole, all death is there without thought.
Then my own weapon, I use to have, an automatic rifle the SLR they called that one sighted to my own eyes, so I couldn't miss ??
Are you talking about the balance or the false tranquillity of all things we know???
Yours Ian.T

.
There are a million reasons to believe in yourself,
So find more reasons to believe in others..

Esker

Fri, 2012-08-17 18:36

Esker's picture

when the whites arrived
I am mixed blood
unpure now

viking and native

half breed

I know of scot men and women
and I know of irish men and women

not all sit back and let god rule

(I know God is the truth)

but some stand up for their ancestral
identities

there is no good side to any one side
on the issues of an invasion

I have handled weapons before

Weapons are designed to clear your gutters
and sweep your streets
and taking care of business

Oh and for killing
Mostly for killing

effectively

If my native ancestors had not
risen up in the south after the civil
war when there was the great extermination
of the buffalo and the way of life we had known
for thousands of years

if the uncounted death toll had not stirred christian
sympathetic hearts in congress and across the land
for peace negotiations and land deals
there would have just been a complete decimation
of people and their identities

Without "The troubles" The burning of mansion estates
and the waste that followed there would not have been
the lull there is now

But what do I know
I am a mere poet

writing fictional horror is much more settling then
the astute truth of history and propaganda

Did they train you for marksmen to keep pigeons
away from the airdrome?

we all have skills
we are all beautiful poets

as we must be ready for war
we must be ready to broker peace

the balance is such

Thank You!

author comment

Ian.T

Sat, 2012-08-18 04:27

Ian.T's picture
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I see this is a story close to your heart and thoughts.
Yep, I was trained to kill can't remember why, we had just finished a world war. We had things at the airfields that bleeped all the time if they stopped bleeping we had twenty minutes to kiss our asses goodbye.
I as you probably remember spent quite a few years in Africa, a continent ravaged by wars that mean nothing to anyone apart from the greedy ones.
What a world..
While I was in Canada I had the honour to be friends with a Sioux family, they as I accepted each other and it was one of the high parts of my travels in this world, they gave me one of their old Neck pieces, which really should have stayed with them as it was a part of their ways.
What can I say after all these years, knowing the things we did to your people (And still do).
Reservations in this day and age, who the hell do we think we are, that we can say to a people your land has gone you may live on this piece of whatever we don't want...
It is a very touchy subject for me, and I have read quite a few books on the history of the Native Americans (Now there's a label)..
I loved to write up the myths as a poem for many of your people there,
and as a Spiritualist much of their teachings are in our daily lives, the Spirit world.
Show me a white person that is not of mixed race be it Viking or Hun or many of the tribes we had here in Europe over the years.
Always remember that you are a person in your own rights, a Spiritual being that roams the Earth learning with the passing of now into yesterday, as a poet you can speak the astute truth of history and propaganda, it is your right, so they kill you yet you will live on...
Yours, With the love of the universe, Ian.T

PS:- did you ever read this one:-

Achiyalatopa Speaks…

Where are you my nations of six
The loss of your ways must I perish
Did I do you wrong my Zuni
I no longer adorn your altars
My swords are gone for ever,
decayed in the history of Mankind

I cry out to the sacred beings.
Where are my people
did they all perish?.
The badger, snake, cougar,
wolf, shrew and bear.
Are they now with the Great Spirit,
or are they hidden by your fear.

Why do you fear the new ones,
did they infest your spirits
with harmful new ways.
I cannot hold you my people,
you have driven me deep inside
The darkness is of your making,
let my creatures free to roam

Remember that your days are short
I will be waiting for my children.
Fear only that I am gone,
you the last of my people,
will not survive here in this land.
I am awaiting the Earth to move
then I will claim you back again.
I await your return…

Yenti

.
There are a million reasons to believe in yourself,
So find more reasons to believe in others..

Esker

Sat, 2012-08-18 10:34

Esker's picture

survived
is what I express by all

assimilation of eventuality
we are
what we shall become

Military is what military is
organized and put into motion
When englands island was
run by the romans
well the south parts

it was not a farming party full
of sticks and plowshares
moving into neighbours lands

I met many veterans in my years
and the vietnam conflict was ongoing
too when I was a child
I met a returning vet a black man
who was our good family friend
in his special ops uniform
still

he was not afraid of coming home
he did not disrobe
it was Canada
even if he was an american

Today even from our rez the young
people volunteer to he in the marines

The Sioux were veterans of their own
wars long ago nature and man
finding the balance of respect to remain
in a harmony enough
with that came conflict always

similar to poetry
we must bend and be flexible
and hold fast to what we are
rather then fold up and slip
away under attack
and defend our hearts
and home
(this place)
against unrest

I love the study of our defense
here from the fifties
and admire the aircrafft flying
from our airdrome

not everyone serves
nor wishs too
Imagine if people were drafted
to write poetry!

the place would be empty maybe
and of course not

thank you my friend for the poem

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