My Sheltering Spirit

My Sheltering Spirit, I've found you at last.
You were all ways there throughout my past.
As a child riding in my father's car
I'd imagine, I could fly.
I'd weave, swoop and glide
and now I know, why.
You were my wings so light
and helped my imagination take flight.
Another time, caught
in a Thunder Storm alone,
I cried out to no one,
I was scared but walked on home.
It was you I see now,
calling to me in the Thunder.
You gave me courage to go on,
I no longer aimlessly wander.There were times you sheltered me
from the rain,
other times you stood back
and let me feel the pain.
You knew when I was ready and you knew Why.
Only now I see who taught me to ....Fly.



The bird in flight is alone, with the wind, within its thoughts.
Its wings carry it through meditation and

prayer to homage and praise,...........Solitude.

Serenity for infinity for me is ............Solitude.

And I am not trying to be rude but I sit alone

and the emptiness opposite me is not
a shallow void because no where is some where I'd rather be....

Alone in the comfort of confusion truth shows

its affinity to transcend the mundane,

its affinity to transcend the mundane,

Do we know who we really are in a world that

is so busy with forces, influences all around us. We seldom are...

alone alone alone alone alone alone

alone alone alone alone alone alone.

And when we are, it is some times the hardest thing we could ever do..............Solitude.

We are the product of an infantile adult system.
We lay dormant, dependent, turbulent within ourselves if we are alone.
Mommy is not there to meet our needs outside her womb.

Daddy, punish me, send me to my room
cause you don't know how to feel,
Mr. Police man, jail me for stomping my feet
when I'm angry and I know it.

My freedom is on loan, is there anything I own,
When I question it you punish me with being alone,
controlled by our fear of being alone.

How wonderful, how beautiful it

would be to see, think, find out, confirm
and then decide for ourselves without fear or interference, confusion or imposition.........................Solitude.

To an infinity of serenity, I want to be that bird,
where it would be hard to say a single word.

Alone on the winds of thought, Solitude in flight.

Serenity for infinity is for me, being alone with my thoughts.
As I sip from the vessel within me, that warms me to reality, in all that around me.
Sitting here with nothing to say, thoughts flicker and flash away.
These are not lonely thoughts, they are only thoughts
for the moments they steal away.

Serenity for infinity to me is .........................................Solitude.

As I tap on the window pain, with a reflection of me all alone again,
In the comfort of my thoughts of joy, of pain.

I search to be alone in the struggle to own, my solitude without being rude.
But the greed of others has a mission of imposition, causing a confusion that tries to call me back to a different reality and tries to control and crowd more then my thoughts.
Serenity for infinity is me alone in my reality.
That emptiness sitting opposite me, leaves a scent of a spirit set free,
lingering as thoughts strong as can be, and when I sip my tea its sweetness
calms me back to a different reality...............................................................Solitude.

If I want you in to join me, I'll call


An Alternative to an Altered Native

I'm not a young brave any more cause puberty passed me long agooo.
I'm a Noble savage, here I goo Geronimooooo.
I don't have a horse, its the modern age of fast cars and aero planes.
Asphalt is beneath my feet, all they way to the open plains.
So I jumped into my Thunderbird, in pursuit of my vision quest.
It was a Walt Disney Pocahontus, my Barbie doll Indian Princess.
But going the other way in a Pontiac she drove past me.
Her father, the Grand Chief was on my tail in his Cherokee.
He ran me off the road, there was nothing I could  say.
Along came a Winnabago on the pow wow highway.
With a little hope and good luck on my side.
They were going my way so I hitched a ride.
I also hoped I'd happen upon her down the road.
But the Trickster was at the wheel, everything was on hold.
They took a detour to see a few ball games along the way.
"The Atlanta Braves are up against the Red Skins" again I didn't have a say.
"While we're at it", I added, "let's get the Cleveland Indians and the Kansas City Chiefs and go up to Indiana to watch the Black Hawks chase the Buffalo Sabers down across the plains."
We might just meet up with my Indian maiden wearing a Black Robe, dancing with wolves, buffalo or some cowboy full of bull.
But luck wasn't quit on my side, she would not be my bride, at least that day.
So we went to the Indianapolis 500 then to the Indian world series chopping, scalping all the way.
I didn't ever find my maiden fair with long black hair but that was okay, cause the Braves and the Red Skins were cousins to the Chiefs and Indians their way and second cousins twice removed to the Black Hawks up my way.
Now every summer you can see them, they all mount their ponies; Pintos and Pontiac, Cherokees and Cheyennes, Cougars and Comanches, Thunderbirds and Sunbirds, Mustangs and Motorcycles (Indian)and they head south to the open plains for a Plymouth Sundance with its Shadow.
As for me I don't speak my mother's tongue, she speaks Ojibwa.
She speaks with a forked tongue when she is Bokshkaa and can't go to the Bingo.
With me the youngest of her tribe of seven children, the low man on the totem pole, I got to help her out with $hoonya. Growing up with seven brothers and sisters there was always too many chiefs and not enough Indians. Someone were always on the war path wanting to scalp the other.
But we'd bury the hatchet when mom won big at the bingo cause we're blood, we're Anishnaabe, kind beings, real Indian givers, we share. Want some?


An open letter: Cynicism and Mount Olympus
From: a ray of son

The students in universities and colleges of most Western developed countries today come from a cross-section of the world's cultures, traditions and values. This, however, is not reflected in either the institution's content and delivery of the subjects or the services.

This kind of ethnocentrism, as our guiding principle, continues today with the Vatican's recent Decree on Ecumenism, "the Prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of Faith" (Globe and Mail, The Roman Catholic Church: Holier than thou, J. Manning, Wed., Sept. 13, 2000) where the Catholic Church states that they are the only true religion. These institutions and systems are obviously blindly designed to perpetuate the culture and values of its origin.

As undergraduates and graduates of several post-secondary institutions in Canada, Laurentian University specifically, cynicism sometimes is our

healthiest outlet. We herein exercise that freedom. In reference to an ancient Greek analogy, Oedipus still leads the way. The tenured gods of academia, who live on Mount Olympus, Laurentian University, stand untouchable.

In their isolation from, and superiority, in both attitude and altitude, to the citizens of Sudbury, these gods never intend to invite Mankind for tea. Immortal, these gods wield rhetorical lightning bolts and waft Medusa-like discourse at mortals. What do we, mere humans, students, know of these gods and their games?

The humane treatment of citizens is not a consideration worthy of gods! Or is it? Should it be? History tells us that the human element surely does not apply to those from Mount Olympus. Zeus and his council of gods look down upon the simpletons they manipulate, segregate, and degrade with detachment from the R. D. Parker Building, Laurentian University's Ivory Tower.

In addition to being a mining town on the edge of a solid continental block, some of Sudbury's institutions are as hard-hearted as the city's bedrock, as slow in forward movement as the Canadian Shield. The glacial speed of adaptation and the coldness of these systems in their treatment of students dehumanizes the citizens no more than it demonizes the gods.

In the pursuit of fiscal responsibility, the human element is rarely found in this equation. It is no surprise that academic institutions of "higher" learning are, in fact, in the business of money, not education. Our religious offerings of tuition to these gods and their demi-gods (the administrators of Mount Olympus) surely are of some worth, beyond that of a piece of paper. Or are they? Toilette paper, after all, is paper as well. The great Oracles of Queen's Park and Ottawa support these isolated systems of arbitrary hierarchy. Like benevolent despot-dictators, the gods keep changing the rules, developing loopholes, disclaimers, and self-proclaimed - self-programmed - guardians to meet their needs, demanding more in the form of offerings each year.

Accountability, together with fiscal responsibility, lead these gods to fear life outside their predestined pecking order. Some immortals claim to be: nave, naively arrogant, arrogantly nave, or negligent. This claim strengthens their rank and position on Mount Olympus.

In contrast, there is a second group of immortals who sincerely do what they can to assist mortals in their humanity. Those who do, know who they are. Sadly, there are others who know of this injustice, may not act upon it, wishing they could, and are left feeling helpless. Through passive collaboration we maintain their rule of silence.

Therefore, we must brake the silence, remove the blinders and call for Humanity on Mount Olympus. Here are your choices: 1) you can quietly perpetuate an exclusive sterile society without cultural diversity; or 2) you can invite other cultures and ways to join and create a future that reflects society, one where inter-cultural lifestyles are accepted and educational needs are met.




M Y   P O E T R Y