Este del Río Pequeño de Miami
Hay un sitio que yo amo
Hay una tierra alta roja en el aire cerca de los pinares del sur
De la Antigua Fortaleza
Hojas de sassafras un secreto del Río Redondo
De los cinco gatos debajo del planeta
Amor y lucha y palabra que son
El pan y ría y baila a un powwow
Como nosotros en Pachamama
Encerrado en armonía a los círculos de los montones
Amor abre tu alma a un Nuevo major canto de Buffy Sainte Marie
¿Qué pasa con la tierra?
Y “Idle” no más
Así nace un cambio y en Sur de Dakota
La gente se encuentra con rodadores y mentirosos
Que destruyen la agua es la realidad
En la manera del pueblo y marchan para la voz de justicia
En solidaridad el espíritu colectivo
De nuestra cultura
Escribe tu nombre al Cacique Tecumseh de Chillicothe
En el Condado Verde el Corazón
De los Shawnee entre las sombras de una rueda herida
Se pide una grande voz No al Dakota Access Line en el Río Misuri
Tierra sagrada de los ojos que saben leer era tu bandera verde
Y justicia para la tierra
NO A DAKOTA ACCESS PIPELINE!
East of the Little Miami River
There's a place that I love
There is a red high ground in the air near the pine forests of south
By Fort Ancient
a secret of the Round River
Of the five cats under the planet
Love and struggle and word are
Bread and laughter and dance at a powwow
Like us in Pachamama
Encased in harmony circles piles
Love opens your soul to a new best song of Buffy Sainte-Marie
What about the earth?
And Idle no more
Thus was born a change and in South Dakota
People meet with wheelers and liars
Destroying water is reality
In the way of the people and march to the voice of justice
In solidarity the collective spirit
Of our culture
Write your name to the Chief Tecumseh of Chillicothe
The heart of Green County
The Shawnee in the shadows of a wounded wheel
a loud voice no to the Dakota Access Pipeline on the Missouri River
sacred land of the eyes that can read your green flag
And justice for the earth
NO TO THE DAKOTA ACCESS PIPELINE!
© 11.09.16 Carlos Raúl Dufflar
The Bread is Rising Poetry Collective
There is a story that can be written as a trail
from the lands of the Wampanoag and the Lenape
toward the lands of the Chumash and the Salish.
The struggle is in river valleys and desert valleys
In overlooked barrios and run-down downtowns.
To take a moment to smell a flower
is a reminder of sweetness that arises
when our fight is won.
© Ángel L. Martínez 30 sept 16
The Bread is Rising Poetry Collective
My history of wheels.
This may not have been fully researched but it is rather obvious if we think about it.
When we look at the sun through a cloudy sky, we see the same circle they saw millions of years ago, the same with the full moon on a dark night.
They must have thought this shape will roll down a hill much better and faster that the tree logs they used.
On looking at a big round stone they must of thought that a few of these placed under a raft when pulling it on to dry land would move it without too much effort.
The round log system can still be seen in the Hastings fishing village as they pull small boats to shore.
The spoke was one of the best inventions as this gave wheels much greater strength and stability.
The adjustable spoke on a cycle wheel gave it a method to correct any wheel to run straight and true if it became buckled.
The cog wheel became the main component in machines from clocks to motors and later to minute watches.
We seem unable to avoid wheels in modern life: the car bus, bike, truck, and the take off and landing wheels for flight in air, the the original prop. and the outboard motor in the sea.
Wheels drive the cooling fan in this Apple Mac; I’m now writing this on, and all other fans.
The micro chip has replaced most of the cog wheels in watches, but not in most clocks.
Almost anything we can think of started out being driven by wheels.
If we study the original hand made coach wheels made of wood, they remain great works of art.
The wheel has become so important in conversation that we often say an invention before the wheel must have been at the begining of time itself.
It must have been a wonderful moment in history when people first looked up at the full moon and thought what a perfect shape they saw.
I often look at this beautiful miracle in our sky and feel that all is right with our world….we live on one too.
Much love and light,
Wheels of Our Mind
Recent research has shown that the wheels of our mind never stop turning. from our very first breath to our last, and some believe not even then. I’m not too sure about that one, however, turn they do, and at all times: resting, sleeping or just day dreaming.
How very important this is can be shown when we wish to be inspired to get a new idea or to invent a new thing. If we stop concentrating for a while and just let the mind wander, then an idea will often fill that seemingly vacent space.
As I sit here writing these words, at my advanced age if eighty, my mind can be working on a little poem about thoughts. You may think I have worked these words out in advance, but only if you meet me in person and throw a random topic at me, with no prior warning, you can see how this works.
Now, I have not thought of what I will write next:
The thoughts I think are not profound and not to clever too,
But I offer them at this time and offer them to you.
These words came from no place specific,
The meter is also not terrific.
So thinking is not a task used here.
Just stay calm and listen. my dear!
I’m going to stop right now.
This was just to show you how.
We can all do this and most of you; a good deal better than I.
We need to day dream a little, then spring into action, but not at random, but in a concerted effort to be creative and do it well.
The mind has many wheels within wheels which turn like an ancient clock at times then at others, like all the networks in the world working in perfect harmony.
We are so very blessed when this all works well, but some have to be guided back to a place of restful recovery.
We can not rush this: they need our considerate help and love.
Yes love comes into recovery: it feeds it and gives it a purpose to carry on: to recover.
There are wheels within wheels: that's quite easy to see,
Do they turn for you too, or only for me?
My wheels go much faster when times are like this,
If your's go fast too: that's a thing not to miss!
Fast or slow: it's the pace of our life we can see.
What has been in the past is not yet going to be.
I can speed up my wheels or just slow them right down.
I do it so often when I'm going to town.
Let me see your wheels turn, go on: do it right now,
When you do it for me, I may just ask you how.
So let your wheels turn in one colourful burst,
I may turn my own on and may get there first!
Our wheels could go faster for ever and ever,
Or stop and stand still: now that would be clever.
Should we wheel up the hill, then roll down again?
Should I stop and stand still if you tell me when?
Should our wheels get quite close and then come together?
Or should we say no: not this time and never?
Well let us not think of this negative side.
While I'm trying to ask you to please be my bride!
FOLD TO DESIRED PART
The information the cyclist hopes for, without going off the edge of the map.
(Croyde, Cycle & Leisure map DEVON)
Today, my edges are blurred by Devon rain,
swooshing through places that shadow London
streets; Clovelly, South Molton, Hatherleigh,
or could not be anywhere else, & the occasional
Norse-sounding transplant, Huntshaw for one.
The map steers me away from Caravan Parks
built above old smugglers coves, down shady lanes,
on to the drovers roads, farm tracks along borders
of Saxon parishes or Norman demesnes, bypasses
villages written off by Beeching, to legacy towns
who celebrate the marketable parts of their history,
quietly deprecate the bits built on slave trade money
where country solicitors track you via bush telegraph,
1cm:1km, or 1:1,000,000; I started on 1inch:1mile;
would prefer to keep going in old money while I last.
I think I have ridden past two deliberate mistakes,
cartographers are allowed one error to detect piracy
in overseas territories, now I need to know if those
mistakes are mine, where I am really going; can I
tell the difference between Exmoor & Dartmoor?
Can I reach Torquay before dark, or lactic acid buildup
burns off my pedal power? If Farmer Bob backs out ahead
of me, I am fox meat; I’ll accept a lift from anyone now,
ditch the bike; this map may be waterproof, I am not.
I will steer this lane’s margin between hostel & hospital.
You gotta have wheels I said but
Hilda hated the car
Motorism she called it
'When the interests and the rights of motorists dominate all other groups'
Boy racer look out
Road coming through
The NO-GO area
Poison choked arteries
Pumping lead nitrous carbon wheeloxide throughout our land but
Isn't it wonderful to pass through the countryside towards other places and
Other lands in warmth and comfort and fuck everything and everybody else passing
Animals rotting on the road side while crows do their ancient dinosaur work
Death wheels cutting through habitations and conurbations where they want to
Those sophisticated boxes on wheels
Those spinning wheels
You will never stop them
Circling, turning, round, round, round
Speeding up the pace
Haste for one and all the aim of the
Movement of the wheel
I muse that it all started
Pin the landless to the land
Waggons moving grain from the fields
Then coaches moving the rich to make deals
To move the secrets from the fields
Pinning the landless to the fields
Castle to Castle
Lord wheel meets wheel lord to
Pin the landless to the factory
Trapped between the arteries of the oil Kingdom
The secrets of the fields is safe in the treasury
The secret of the wheel started in the field
10,000,000,000,000,000 wheels are masters of the Earth.
Andrew Henry Smith c 2016
Stevenage Survivors Poetry
The florist art crowns wheels
wild primroses that grow in country graveyards churchyards You See them in ditches in valleys and in mossy banks they come out in Easter in the countryside and cities around April time and those wild bluebells they get a lot of them down on the South Downs amongst heather and holly with red berries branches.full moons
The florist art shows in parks circling bed wheels,illustration at weddings celebrations presentation occasions of sadness and grief flowers bloom smells fragrance comforts delights beauty nature rolling exemplifies life wheels
John Joseph Sheehy
Spherical, Churning, Cranking, Thundering, Moving.
360 degrees of Power and Might.
An engineering masterpiece. Pulling Industry forward.
These turbines dispel whatever they see.
Water, tarmac, earth, air fire.
The elements against technological knowhow.
In vulcanised rubber they speed like sound.
Staying in time with the setting sun.
Anything that is round. Starting from the wheel.
It inspired us to go forward. Reinventing they say.
From Tricycles to jet fighters travelling at Mach 5.
I like my Bike. I started off on Stabilizers
because I couldn't balance on my bike.
Falling down only to get up and try again.
And again and again. I will not be stopped
until I succeed.
To gain balance and control that bicycle wheel.
Two wheels were good but 4 wheels are better.
From bikes to cars in 30 years.
Most people do it in 10 - 20 years, but with me I struggled
my niece and nephew past the driving test 1st time.
It was fifth time lucky for me. The Highway code
passed but not read. The Driving Test was hard enough.
Invented in the past
Large wheel small wheel-pennyfarthing
Four wheeled-imagination runs wild
Cogs-toothed wheels-working wheels
Amazing wheels-very useful wheels.
A life in the bus-lane.
" Your wheels are going round ":
this spontaneous paradox interrupts,
straddling the crossbar for my contemplation.
Not a vicious circle. The world turns,
messily sometimes- too much chain oil.
The stars shine in their firmament,
where the rheumatic gods, Vishnu and Zeus,
keep pedalling their dynamo. Click,click
goes the flickering light and time passing...
" Get off and milk it":
a metaphor, perhaps,* hollered out,
with the passion of anonymity :
incognito is a blaze of tail-lights.
Why do they roll down windows? Don't they just open
and close? One rolls down country lanes
to learn where food comes from. Click,click:
gear shift. A shadow of bicycle climbs
and climbs, condensing into a drop of milk.
" You are getting there":
the pedestrian platitude pursues,
grabs the cycle rack, slowing me down
to the dull crawl of simple intention.
The vision that hung above the handlebars
is turning to potholes and tarmac.
I am wearing out the bigger map. Click, click:
picking up speed, brake blocks kiss wheel rims.
I remember now what needs repair.
* (for an example of a better metaphor see Wittgensteins'
"cloud of philosophy condensed into a drop of grammar" )
Friend of TheFED
Artwork by John Joseph Sheehy
The wheels rumble and jar from the undercarriage.
Passengers crane their necks for the first low-level sight of destination.
Tarmac and tyre screech once, screech twice and succumb to the mistress of gravity;
the seeming impossible marriage of the two,
after the impossible divorce one plastic meal, two miniatures of red, an audio book and several hours earlier.
Engines complain, throttles relax and brakes engage,
Wing flaps adjust and the forces of deceleration pull heads and shoulders away from seats.
These seats which have cradled in various stages of claustrophobia, suspended above the wheels.
These seats in the upright position with trays stowed and baggage safely tucked under.
Tin-voiced instructions pipe through the fuselage directing for doors to manual.
Passengers are reminded to remain seated.
Remain seated until the wheels have stopped and the captain has turned off the seat belt sign.
Instructions which are, at all times, punctuated by a score of seat-belt clicks.
Disregarding the continuing wheels.
Wheels wheels going round and round
Some making a noise others not a sound
Big and small, cogs and spokes
Even wheels rubbing that smokes
The square wheel was invented first
But they didn't get anywhere, not without a curse
Then the triangle that stuck in the mud
Round came last but they knew it was good
From A too B they travelled far
Starting with a cart, progressing to a car
Then trains and planes going faster than before
And riding a bike makes your bottom sore
A family rtrip or single ride
You can go anywhere, leaving nowhere to hide
The wheels in a clock, cogs their called
The time, awaiting repairs the car stalled
Pulleys and wheels make the world go round
Flying saucers is what they also found
Many things are based on a wheel
Even round cake wrapped up in a plastic seal
Which is square by the way.
I feels some wheels
Michelle n woman is what I am
Round as a pound
But sturdy and sound.
Wheels of wheel of fortune legs
In this turn-in the wheels screeched on my tail
Was a man targeting me I'd seen him in the square
As I passed I heard the call excuse me uncle
Excuse me uncle excuse me uncle excuse me uncle
Giving him the deaf ear I kept on going on my heels smoke
Empty garages wishing there was wheels around
He was speeding in on my me still calling
Shouting now excuse me uncle I kept on my heels
He was on wheels up beside me one hand in his pocket
Excuse me uncle give me some money he demanded
I kept on going and I was out of the garage drive
He was now threatening and cursing
I'll get you and rob you the next time he cursed as he legged it
Still on my heels I kept on going I was glad to see wheels
When I wheeled on Seven Sisters Road the buses Axel's wheel barrow
Life moving on wheels and heels spinning wheels
John Joseph Sheehy