The Trail of Tears
You have the trail
but where are the tears?
No idea?
You are not that interested in tears
of those who had trodden the trail
from Georgia to Oklahoma
with little to eat or to clothe themselves
Might have seen hundreds and thousands of dead corpses
lying on the outskirts of the trail
with lice and bugs eating their flesh
The winter cold is so harsh
the blanket that they were wearing with bare feet
won't keep them warm
and What about the US army soldiers
once in a while raiding the folks
with a bundle of babies and little kids
they have to survive the long walks and the
cold and the starvation
to look for the place they can call home
for their homes were ripped by the white
government,
they still hold the hopes that they will regain
their land and home back
just like the Jews on exile to the Babylonia
for 70 long years they were away from home
lost their kings and princes and wishing only
to return home for those 70 years
What sins did these Indian tribes commit
to deserve this kind of treatment
giving away their lands and their homes
and on the road half fall dead
half of the half fell sick and
with no food to feed them
no water to cleanse them
but the endless walks bare footed?
O how painful it must have been only
to be a part of the American scene
Who cursed these people not God definitely
for they were good to the new comers with
their usual hospitality and generosity
but they were awaiting for the whites
to arrive in their land and make it blossom
with new civilization, and they knew when the whites
arrived these were the people they had been waiting for
centuries and they treated them nice and generously
but the result
The tribes must extinct and vanish for the whites
will take over their land as it was destined to
they killed numerous Indian babies
poisoned the water and plagued their blankets with germs
and disease viruses so the tribes could go dead
unnoticed and they did that with vehemence and
systematically.
That Andrew Jackson dude is now taking the tribal lands
and casts the inhabitants from those lands
to hit the road the trail the trail of tears
but where are the tears they shed on the trail?
Does anyone care?
Indian tribes still claim their sovereignty
and claim an independent nationhood
for the US government has not kept their words
and promises, no more of being cheated
and fooled, that is what these people decided to do
an independent nation Indian nation in the nation of the USA
That's quite pathetic because they still have to live on
government stipends and welfare money to the reservation
though the old Indian Bureau was putting most of the
goods and money coming to the tribes into their own pocket
Does anyone care what these people are doing and
how they are all along?
We see them on the Western movies keep dying
shot to death and fall from the horses they were riding on
Their bison were the main food channel but
the US government knew so well if the bison go away
the tribes will also vanish
Out of the tears and suffering of the Indian nations
came and rose the great nation THE United States of America
But no one pays much attention to how these
robbed people of their land and their cultures live
In the back of the mind of every Americans
history stays alive and we all know what happened
yet nobody says anything about them, no advocates want
work for these people the Mongols
the grand history of Genghis Khan and his conquer of the
entire world including Europe to make people tremble
with fear on hearing his name only
but the descendents of the Mongols are only
humiliated by the word 'Mongoloid' the retarded
with flat nose and flat facial structure
in Special Education,
No, the Mongols are not mongoloid the retarded
They were warriors and soldiers who roamed
the entire world Asian, Middle Eastern, European and Egyptian
in the olden days yeah, that was a long gone days
but the spirit of these warriors still remain
in every lands streams and hill sides of the
American landscape I could feel it when I was there
those places in USA were covered with the Spirits
that is inherent in every US citizens
though they didn't know it and still don't know it
but I could see it could feel it and
experienced
The legendary Mongol warrior spirit was embodied
in the American landscape and fields and mountains
and forests and animals and the people too.
These spirits help the nation US be strong mighty and wise
like the inhabitants the people of the USA.
4: 48 pm
(December 3,2012) Korea-Japan Time
poem by Sangnam Nam
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Related quotes
Trail Of Tears
This song was first released on the dreamland express album. it is the only album it has been released on.
No more beautiful moons may we spend on our land
In the north, the scarlet council talks of war
And the long knives have massacred the tribe and burned corn
Were not welcome in our homeland anymore
No more songs of the hunters on the baffalo plain
No more smoke from sacred fires touch these hills
And the numbers of the people grow fewer every mile
And our children will not leave the great spirits ways
There will be a trail of tears
There will be a trail of pain
And jackson will have the mississippi and the twenty dollar bill
But for us the trail is all that will remain
On the streets of rapid city
On the road to wounded knee
There is whiskey for forgetting everything
But the old ones say there may be time learning from each other
The way that it had once been meant to be
There is still a trail of tears
There is still a trail of pain
And jackson has got the mississippi and the twenty dollar bill
But for us the trail of tears remains
And jackson has got the mississippi and the twenty dollar bill
But how long will the trail of tears remain
Words and music by randy handley
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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America
Deep thunder shakes this warm July evening
and lightning flashes over the waterfront
filling the clear, starry sky with acrid clouds and glimmering rain
falling to the water as children gaze
in shock and awe,
waiting for the next big one to explode.
False bombardment as celebration:
such fits my nation, founded in genocide and slavery,
this nation baptized in the blood and tears
of Navaho and Cherokee and all the tribes of the American holocaust
a nation that devoured one quarter of its sons
in four short, blood-soaked years; my nation
a nation of efficient bigots and hungry hypocrites,
giving the world Gettysburg and the Trail of Tears
as models for problem-solving;
a nation unlike any other, not able to live up to its promises
because no other nation dares make such promises.
The bright violence of rockets' red glare lights our sky
like the bold Declaration ignited the world, and thunder
rocked mighty kings from complacent belief in their divine rights,
rocked the people of Europe, thirsting for their own rights
and land and a chance to pursue a little happiness;
yes, rocked even distant Asia, deep in its ancient dream
foolish men joyfully following the distant thunder
to seek the fabled Golden Mountain.
The promise was made and broken and made yet again,
and the anger of betrayal torched the cities of the sixties,
and singed our hearts
and in the redeeming pain of change
made them a little less impure.
Yes, we are imperfect,
but we know our sins
and pay for them over and over again,
and to remind ourselves of the debt yet unsatisfied,
every summer we celebrate in the only way fitting for such a nation;
In the starry sky fiercely glowing with liberty
and in the transcendent thunder of the Promise.
poem by Steven Federle
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Transcendent Thunder
Deep thunder shakes this warm July evening
and lightning flashes over the waterfront
filling the clear, starry sky with acrid clouds and glimmering rain
falling to the water as children gaze
in shock and awe,
waiting for the next big one to explode.
False bombardment as celebration:
such fits my nation, founded in genocide and slavery,
this nation baptized in the blood and tears
of Navaho and Cherokee and all the tribes of the American holocaust
a nation that devoured one quarter of its sons
in four short, blood-soaked years; my nation,
a nation of efficient bigots and hungry hypocrites,
giving the world Gettysburg and the Trail of Tears
as models for problem-solving;
a nation unlike any other, not able to live up to its promises
because no other nation dares make such promises.
The bright violence of rockets' red glare lights our sky
like the bold Declaration ignited the world, and thunder
rocked mighty kings from complacent belief in their divine rights,
rocked the people of Europe, thirsting for their own rights
and land and a chance to pursue a little happiness;
yes, rocked even distant Asia, deep in its ancient dream
foolish men joyfully following the distant thunder
to seek the fabled Golden Mountain.
The promise was made and broken and made yet again,
and the anger of betrayal torched the cities of the sixties,
and singed our hearts
and in the redeeming pain of change
made them a little less impure.
Yes, we are imperfect,
but we know our sins
and pay for them over and over again,
and to remind ourselves of the debt yet unsatisfied,
every summer we celebrate in the only way fitting for such a nation;
In the starry sky fiercely glowing with liberty
and in the transcendent thunder
of the Promise.
poem by Steven Federle
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Indian Nations
There is something that I can not see
Why the UNITED STATES has broken
So many AMERICAN INDIAN treaties?
We should put our heads down in shame
For the AMERICAN INDIANS are
Not the ones to blame.
They have been fighting so long for their rights
And have made the ultimate sacrifice.
They have given their lives for this nation
And still do not see their salvation.
All other ethnic groups have
become free from oppression
And their Indian rights have been
left to the u.s. discretion.
Why are they still classified as wards
Of the government, and their lives
Are still below the poverty line?
Isn’t this the biggest sign!
That they are still discriminated against.
They live in one room houses and shacks
And the government has turned their backs.
No running water and no electricity.
Is this the way it’s got to be?
A family of four or more
Sleeping on a dirty floor.
They were once known as the Indian nations
Now it’s total devastation.
People all over the world have heard
How the west was won
That it was with the almighty gun.
They just hear the one sided story
Of how Custer rode to glory.
But not the sufferings that they
Put the Indians through
And all they had to endure.
And suffer the humiliation of defeat
And dropp down and scrounge for meat.
poem by Louis Rams
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And The Heavens Cried(Trail of Tears)
You could see the clouds
rolling across the sky
as the day started to rain
teardrops of blood across the land
lost in their visions of doubt
buried in their pain
white man had all the say
we were left to taciturn
as we watched everything burn
and the heavens cried
on the trail of tears
On some beaten shore
we watched the ships come in
one by one, our land wore thin
we could just watch with closed eyes
as the promises made were just lies
they said you don't belong here anymore
behind their mask, they wore a disguise
and the heavens cried
on the trail of tears
Blood spilled on our sacred ground
leaving a unwanted stain
where mighty warriors once made a stand
we never could walk hand in hand
when they lived by so much greed
we watched our people fall
thousands must bleed
still all we could do is try
and the heavens cried
on the trail of tears
Guided by the spirit wind
we held on to our pride
something they could'nt take away
as so many died
through our darkest years
and the heavens cried
on the trail of tears
(spiritwind-2009)
poem by Spiritwind Wood
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Black Days Of History
(10/25/12)
The black days of history that many do not know
And many refuse to accept - of how the black man
Helped AMERICA to be the greatest country yet.
They was brought here as slaves because the
Color of their skin!
But their minds was never searched to see
What lied within.
Every ethnic group that came to the states
Had many a hardship that they had to face.
Every race that came was given a derogatory name
Which they had to accept and had felt the shame.
But they all contributed to this great nation of ours
Which is now known as the greatest power.
These are just a few facts of what the blacks
Had given to this nation, and many of these
Became part of our salvation.
FACTS :) 1) john love- invented the pencil sharpener in 1897
2) Joseph lee -invented a bread making machine that mixed
The ingredients and kneaded the dough in 1895
3) Thomas l Jennings was the first African American to receive
A patent in 1821 which was for a dry cleaning process.
He used the money earned from his patent to purchase
Relatives out of slavery and support abolitionist causes.
4) madam c.j. walker (1867-1919) daughter of a former slave
Who suffered hair loss in her twenties and created hair care
Products, and allowed her to open a factory and school to
Train hundreds of black women to be economically self sufficient
And become one of the first female millionaires in U.S. history.
There is still something that burns in my heart
And when I think of it -it tears me apart
Of all the people in this great nation
That have been put to the ground
There lies one race that still lives
Way below the poverty line and
The government says there doing fine.
The "AMERICAN INDIAN" who had
Most all treaties broken and of this the
Government hasn't spoken.
Many families of five and more
Living in a shack without a door
Just a blanket to stop the wind
To me this is a crying sin.
The Indian charities having to buy
fifty five gallon drums for water
And many of them on "back order".
I know that I started writing this poem for the blacks
But on the Indian nations - I can't turn my back.
We have to help one another, for we're all
Sister and brother.
GOD BLESS US ALL
© L. RAMS
poem by Louis Rams
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From several of the Indian tribes inhabiting the country bordering on Lake Erie purchases have been made of lands on conditions very favorable to the United States, and, as it is presumed, not less so to the tribes themselves.
quote by James Monroe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cherokee
I once had a wise old indian
look at me and say
life is what you make of it son
and it just has yet begun
you can take it and make it
a peaceful world
or you can live it under the gun
but it only comes around once my friend
and it won't be here again
time's of trouble we won't forget
but don't let it eat your soul
for you are Cherokee
be proud and let the pain go
Learn from our people what you can
let them show you the way
set your spirit free
and walk among our elder's
the visions and the dreams
and follow the eagle you see fly
through the valley and streams
let him guide you and show you
oh, mighty warrior with a wolf's heart
and you will live another day
don't let it pass you by
Now I've grown to be a man
teaching the ways of the Cherokee
so much has yet to be done
we walked the trail of tears
still they could'nt make us run
their words kept us apart
as we struggled through the years
but we are Cherokee
mighty warrior's of this land
we walk together hand to hand
and we'll be here til the end
(spiritwind-2001)
poem by Spiritwind Wood
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India’s 63rd Independence Day – a Pledge
India is our land, our Motherland!
Sacred are the soil, water and air;
All Indians are our brothers, sisters;
We love our nation great and care.
Our nation is not rich but isn’t poor;
We love its vastness and its heritage;
We are proud to be called Indians;
We will usher a golden new age.
We love our home where we were born;
We trust in God and work for global peace;
We want amity among nations all;
We pray to God that wars may cease.
We want to live in harmony;
We want to progress very fast;
We want to help all those who need;
Our bickering is things of the past.
We will not force nor allow foes;
We toil to reach the moon and stars;
We stand united in joys and woes;
We pledge our lives for nation’s sake.
The Indian heart has love for life;
The Indian soul is kind from birth;
The Indian welcomes any strife;
The Indian brain is best on earth.
We are a nation proud and good;
We want to share our love and peace;
We brook not outside interference;
Impenetrable is our nation’s defence!
Jai Hind! Jai Bharat! Jai Indian!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 15-08-2009
poem by John Celes
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Peace Everywhere
Peace, everywhere, peace today!
Peace in lands of scruffy trees and pine,
Peace in lands of olives and wine,
Peace in lands where peaks are white,
Peace in lands where fields are bright.
Peace in lands of oasis and sand,
Peace in lands where people band,
Peace in lands where children play,
Peace in lands where people pray,
Peace in lands in the thick of the fight,
Peace in lands ruled by force and might.
Everywhere, everywhere, peace this day!
Pray that all world leaders lead the way,
Encouraging moral people to stand proud and tall,
No government too great, no nation too small.
poem by Joseph T. Renaldi
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Towards a Corruption-free India
Cleanse the nation’s democracy;
Cleanse the nation’s bureaucracy;
Cleanse the nation’s polity;
Cleanse the nation’s authority.
Cleanse the nation’s systems’ machinery;
Cleanse the nation’s judiciary;
Cleanse the nation’s property;
Cleanse the nation’s ill-gotten money.
Let people’s power permeate the Parliament;
Let there be accountability of all citizens;
Let the poor and down-trodden be never ignored;
Let India become rejuvenated.
Bring back the wealth kept outside the land;
Enact laws for the welfare of the Motherland;
Act with responsibility and amity with all;
Console the aggrieved, comfort the dying.
Put the mighty nation on the road to progress;
This is no place for vices and evils of all kind;
Install a sense of security for all;
Infuse morality and patriotism.
Those voted to power must be clean;
Those in authority should not be mean;
Those in high office should not demean;
The future should belong to the youth and the teen.
Enough is enough, rethink on everything;
Corruption is the main issue to be curbed;
The law-makers should not be the worst law-breakers;
The law should serve the purpose it is meant for.
Let’s create a new India where peace prevails;
Let’s make our country prosperous;
Let’s work with zeal and honesty;
Let hearts be filled with sensibility and sensitivity.
The nation with a billion must forge ahead;
The nation should be truly independent;
The nation must regain its former glory;
The nation must be freed from corruption.
Thanks to Anna Hazare’s yeoman service and mighty efforts!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 20-08-11
poem by John Celes
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Why we must stay dead after we die
It is Lizard-Man, a Mewok Indian from the San Francisco
Bay Peninsula who said it must be so because the dead smell bad
and the Coyote-Man proved it according to the Ancient Myths
of the First people.
(There’s got to be The First before The Second and The Last)
During a general Powwow gathering of the Great Chieftains,
the MeadowsLark-Man, the Chief of Chiefs, agreed to the ancient
time-beyond-time covenant with LittleLizard-Man about the odor problem
The only one that didn’t agree was BlackLizard-Man.
(Looks like they had skin color discrimination then also)
Since this is an Indian tale it involves an Indian Princess,
the daughter of the GreatGreat Chief, LizardFiveFingers-Man.
BlackLizard-Man, having disagreed, collected a distinctive branch
from a magical tree and laid it across a well-known lovers trail.
(Always these illicit footpaths leading to secretive bushes)
Overnight the twig turned into a rattlesnake that bit the young woman
that evening. When found on the 4th day and brought to her father
she smelled bad by no fault of her own but solely because of
that 4th day agreement and not because she wore no deodorant.
(That is way before the advent of Pale Faces)
stipulating that no dead person can be brought to life after
they have been dead for 4 consecutive moons. That is why
to this day people who die, stay dead never coming back.
Because if they did, the bad smell would kill the Last People.
(Narcissism, the me-first philosophy, was alive and well then also)
Last People are the people that would come after the First people
as goes the Ancient Myths of the Ancient First People who,
by the way, were born without hands until the Lizard people came
which explains why we greet Friendly People with a High-Five.
(Indian ways of telling down-to-earth stories are always simplified)
~~~
Alex Nodopaka Aug©2009
AD Something
poem by Alex Nodopaka
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September Villanelle
SEPTEMBER VILLANELLE
September invokes something special in my ancient country
No 'Fall' here, no amber leaves, upon her crowded earth
Her billion people stand united, share the Indian psyche
Post monsoon, the land is a lush green mostly
Amid her crowded cities, one feels the warmth of her burning hearth
September invokes something special in my ancient country
In this land of a thousand festivals, one stands primary
It's the worship of Lord Ganesha, the elephant God of divine birth
Her billion people stand united, share the Indian psyche
The son of Shiva is worshipped by all with glee
Massive idols of Ganesha smile and spread the mirth
September invokes something special in my ancient country
India has cultures, religions and castes aplenty
Open to all festivals; of a free spirit no dearth
Her billion people stand united, share the Indian psyche
Yet, September brings with it sorrow too, the fall of the towers in NY City
The fallen unite in death the Earth's entire girth
September invokes something special in my ancient country
Her billion people stand united, share the Indian psyche
poem by Manjula Reddy
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The Ballad Of Ira Hayes
Gather round you people and a story I will tell
About a brave young indian you should remember well
From the tribe of pima indians, a proud and a peaceful band
They farmed the phoenix valley in arizona land
Down their ditches for a thousand years the sparkling water rushed
Till their white man stole their water rights and the running water hushed
Now iras folks were hungry and their farms wene crops of weeds
But when war came he volunteers and forgot, the white mans greed
Call him, drunken ira hayes, he wont answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking indian or the marine who went to war
Yes, call him, drunken ira hayes, he wont answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking indian or the marine who went to war.
They started up iwo jima hill, 250 men
But only 27 lived to walk back down that hill again
And when the fight was over and the old glory raised
One of the men who held it high was the indian ira hayes
Call him, drunken ira hayes, he wont answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking indian or the marine who went to war
Call him, drunken ira hayes, he wont answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking indian or the marine who went to war.
Now ira returned a hero, celebrated throughout the land
He was wined and speeched and honored, everybody shook his hand
But he was just a pima indian, no money crops, no chance
And at home nobody cared what ira had done and the wind did the indians
Dance
Call him, drunken ira hayes, he wont answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking indian or the marine who went to war
Call him, drunken ira hayes, he wont answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking indian or the marine who went to war.
And ira started drinking hard, jail was often his home
They let him raise the flag there and lower it like youd throw a dog a bone
He died drunk early one morning, alone in the land he had fought to save
Two inches of water in a lonely ditch was the grave for ira hayes
Call him, drunken ira hayes, he wont answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking indian or the marine who went to war
Yes, call him, drunken ira hayes, he wont answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking indian or the marine who went to war.
Yes, call him, drunken ira hayes, but his land is still as dry
And his ghost is lying thirsty in the ditch where ira died
Call him, drunken ira hayes, he wont answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking indian or the marine who went to war
Yes, call him, drunken ira hayes, he wont answer anymore
Not the whiskey-drinking indian or the marine who went to war.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cherokee Nation Will Return
This nation is in the process of reunification
people living together across the nation,
From the market crash of 2008,
families and friends are coming
together as of late.
Now we can once again be
like the Native American Tribes,
and keep this planet not only
surviving but thriving with wonderful life.
Like the indegeonus people treat their
Elderly with respect,
They have knowledge wisdom and
They will help us not forget,
family stories from not so distant past,
elderly can pass this on to the grand children
and make it last.
Like the song “Cherokee Nation Will Return”
this time we must finally learn,
learn to remember who we really are,
We’ve have come to this place once before
but now in this recorded
time of His/her story,
we can do amazing things in God’s great glory.
Written on July 30th by Christina Sunrise
www.christinasunrise.com www.purplepoems.com
poem by Christina Sunrise
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A Newer India!
A newer India will soon emerge,
Like a phoenix from the freedom's ashes!
World's most populous country India,
Will be the cynosure of all eyes soon!
The land has sacred soil and heritage,
Where dwelt kings, emperors, seers and sages;
Where flows the many sacred rivers too,
Whose banks have towns of learning for ages!
With freedom got, just sixty-five years back,
The nation grew in leaps and bounds so well;
The future of Indians is pretty good,
If only perseverance continues.
More than a billion people live here-in;
The Indian brains are second to no one;
Our scientists man key centers here/abroad,
With contributions globally, worthwhile.
Our freedom-fighters have been role-models;
Our defence forces rank at par with world's;
Food-crops grown here are sent to foreign lands;
Our students train abroad to turn experts.
Our country has made rapid strides in fields
Akin our counterparts abroad, always;
Our youngsters have the verve and zeal for feats
Like any other well-developed nation.
If communist, a nation can progress,
Why shouldn't a democratic India?
Our strong-willed people can bring progress fast;
Let's learn and train from wisdom of the past!
Bring on the resurgence, O Indians!
We have the skills and talents aplenty;
We can surpass most nations in health, wealth;
We need to trust ourselves with new resolve!
A newer India will soon emerge,
Like a phoenix from the freedom's ashes!
The dreams of Indian youth will turn real;
With faith, we can move mountains into seas!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 15-08-12
poem by John Celes
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To You, Africa
You are a beautiful terra firma
With beautiful people
Rich in history
Rich in prosperity
You are a land of life hard lived
Through droughts and famines
Your people had a lot to give
Your villages were of close community
Unlike that of civilization
You were the best example
that the world could have seen
Then the toubob began to arrive
And your people were taken
With no regard for your childrens lives
I know you are still shaken
Taken from the land they loved
Shoving their beloved Earth into their mouth
For one last taste of you, Africa
Your people have been stolen
Your people have been killed
Your generations have been lost
Your families have been torn apart
Your people have been enslaved
Your women have been raped
Your people have long suffered
Your people have lived through misery
Stolen for what purpose
Other than to be a serf
Some say it could have been worse
But we know it was the worst
Africa, your people are great
Your people are strong
Your people survived through it all
Your people still sung their songs
After 1865 they were freed
Yet still they were enslaved it seemed
Today there are still places that ban your people
Brought here unwillingly, to this 'land of the free'
Your people are who can change this nation
Your people are here for that reason
All hope is not lost
We will succeed regardless of the cost
This is to you, Africa
poem by Ryan Sanders
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Big Chief Woolley Bosher
In the land they call the west
On the praries virgin crest
Lived a great man and his braves
And he led them to their graves
Big chief plays with baby son
The work of the indian today is done
Life is easy, life is grand
til there is white man, gun in hand
Started out when settlers came
And built their homes on the indian range
Big chief woolly bosher liked it none
Traded with a bad man for a gun
Big chief looks out at his great land
Locomotive on the prairie stands
Life that leak from the city in the east
Let us destroy that iron beast
Big chief rides on the trail tonight
Tread the land for which he must fight
In their fight for love and glory
Some indians were saved
They lived to tell the story
And woolly bosher prays
Big chief rides on the trail tonight
Soldier boys marching in the morning light
Bring the guns, bring the bows
Lets blow them into heaven lets see if God knows
One hundred men must have to die
When a thousand soldiers look you in the eye
Big chief sees his men fall round
The soldiers kill and the bugle sounds
In their fight for love and glory
No indians were saved
And big chief woolly bosher
Had written on his grave
He has done no wrong
Except being bold
song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ballad Of Ira Hayes
(Peter LaFarge)
Gather round me people and a story I will tell
?Bout a brave young Indian lad, you should remember well,
From a tribe of Pima Indians, a proud and peaceful band
Who farmed the Phoenix Valley out in Arizona land.
Down their ditches for a thousand years the sparkling water rushed
Till the white man stole the water rights and the running water hushed.
Ira's folks was hungry, their fields grew thick with weeds,
But when war came Ira volunteered and forgot the white man's greed.
Call him drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore,
Not that whiskey drinking Indian or Marine who went to war.
Well, they battled up Iwo Jima Hill, two hundred and fifty men
But only twenty-seven lived to walk back down again.
And after the fight was over and Old Glory proudly raised,
Among the men who held her high was an Indian, Ira Hayes.
Call him drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore,
Not that whiskey drinking Indian or Marine who went to war.
Well, Ira Hayes returned a hero, celebrated throughout the land,
He was wined and speeched and honored, everybody shook his hand.
But he's just a Pima Indian, no food, no friend, no chance,
And nobody cared what Ira did and when do the Indians dance.
Well, Ira took to drinking hard, jail often was his home,
They used to let him raise the flag there and lower it just like you'd throw a dog a bone.
And Ira died drunk early one morning all alone in the land he'd fought to save.
Two inches of water in a lonely ditch was the grave for Ira Hayes.
Call him drunken Ira Hayes, he won't answer anymore,
Not that whiskey drinking Indian or Marine who went to war.
Yeah, call him drunken Ira Hayes, but his lan
song performed by by Kinky Friedman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Golden--of the selkirks
A trail upwinds from Golden;
It leads to a land God only knows,
To the land of eternal frozen snows,
That trail unknown and olden.
And they tell a tale that is strange and wild--
Of a lovely and lonely mountain child
That went up the trail from Golden.
A child in the sweet of her womanhood,
Beautiful, tender, grave and good
As the saints in time long olden.
And the days count not, nor the weeks avail;
For the child that went up the mountain trail
Came never again to Golden.
And the watchers wept in the midnight gloom,
Where the canyons yawn and the Selkirks loom,
For the love that they knew of olden.
And April dawned, with its suns aflame,
And the eagles wheeled and the vultures came
And poised o'er the town of Golden.
God of the white eternal peaks,
Guard the dead while the vulture seeks!--
God of the days so olden.
For only God in His greatness knows
Where the mountain holly above her grows,
On the trail that leads from Golden.
poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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