OneidaDreamer

"Turning into black

Void; enter hollow recesses in our

consciousness

Together we gather in preparation

of the "Sacred Hoop"

Intent on living

not lost in time

In alignment with our

dreams

As smoke up the the heavens;

it wanders"



The storytellers voice faded into

silence



"Turning into dust at his feet

were children

all of which told of nothing

except dreams

Reality as the false accuser;

living isn't what we're used to

On the wings of death herself;

Lusting for an answer,

A clue lies in the distant horizon ,

too be had

If only insisted upon by spirits

of light

But they'd better know what

they're looking for first;

Before eternity ends..."

OneidaDreamer

I wrote this New Years Eve 1993. I was at a house party. I used to carry my journal and colored pencils and other various trapping around with me all the time.

There were times at parties when I'd just whip out my pen and journal and write; while drinking and or smoking still. But such is our youth no?

This piece was published thrice. Once that same year in West De Pere High School's literary/art annual zine. And in the Green Bay Conference's literary/art annual zine. Furthermore it was published a third time in UW-Marinettes annual Art/Lit/Poetry Magazine: Echoes Accross The Bay.

I really like this piece. Many people suspected me of writing all my poetry under the influence of drugs and or alcolhol. I'd have to say that 90% of my work has been written when I was sober. I'm no angel, and never claimed to be. I'm just a skin tryin to make it this insane world of ours...


Miigwech for reading my work ya'll

__________________

trob226

I've finally gotten back to reading some poetry. I like this, too. In fact, I think it's one of your best. The words weave around beautifully.

OneidaDreamer

Chi Miigwech my friend! I appreciate it. Yes I do dig that one too. It's super old skool

__________________