Daily Archives: April 11, 2017

Yuna:wikko’o by Virginia Maria Romero

Yuna:wikko’o

Wolf song,
a primal chorus that I dance to
as the fullness of my heart empties
into dreams that come with the sun’s last breath
before buried beneath purple mountains.

These dreams
that tell me the wolf’s song
will be kept alive
by our voices…

A primal song that fills my spirit

yuna:wikko’o
shiwi

Barely audible
yet piercing,
a primal call
Iktushiwi
Shalanitawu
Nakashawu
Yuna:Wikko’o….

 

  A painting from Virginia Maria Romero
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More of Virginia Maria Romero’s paintings HERE!

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Teaching MySelf to Walk Again by Leah Sellers

Teaching MySelf to Walk Again
 
I have always Loved Watching Toddlers
The way they pull ThemSelves up from the Ground
Usually finding SomeThing Solid to Hang Onto
As they hoist ThemSelves to their Feet
They so want to Bi-Pedal around
Like the Adults they so want to Emulate
cane01_400Once up, they let go of the SomeThing Solid
And seek to Step Out all on their Own
Bravely and Adroitly all on their Own
They Teeter
They Totter
They sometimes spread their arms out like Fledglings
Seeking to better Balance ThemSelves
One Step – Two Steps
Teeter Totter
More Bird Wing Arm Wobbles
And so it goes
Since getting my way overdue
But much needed Surgery
Thanks to a Good Hearted Medical Community
Led by a Virtuous Surgeon
I have become an Adult Toddler
I have gone from Plugging along behind
A wheeled Walker
To Two Walking Canes
To One Walking Cane
I do not want to have to Use a Walking Cane
I actually resent my Cane
My Dependence upon it
But, I have not Walked normally for almost ten years
For ten years much of my musculature weakened
As other parts of it Strengthened, while compensating
For the parts of my Body which demanded less Use
In Response to the severe and debilitating Pain
Of Broken Parts left Broken
By the Predatory Practices and Non-Practices of the State of Texas
And the Ethical Ground they have allowed
The All Powerful Insurance Companies
To Buy Out from under all of her Citizens
So, every day, after my many required Daily Exercises
After my Daily Walk
I find SomeThing Solid to Hang Onto
I put my Cane aside
I Seek to Step out all on my Own
Bravely and Adroitly all on my Own
I Teeter
I Totter
I sometimes spread my arms out like a Fledgling
Seeking to better Balance MySelf
One Step – Two Steps
Teeter-Totter
More Bird Wing Arm Wobbles
And so it goes
Where is that Cane ?
As I grab hold of my Cane
I Resolve MySelf to See it as a Temporary Friendly Tool
Not a Thing of Permanent Dependency
A Crutch
I take a Deep Breath
I Seek Patience with MySelf and my Rehabilitation Process
Like it or not
I am an Adult Toddler
I Teeter
I Totter
And so it goes……..

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Check Leah Seller’s EBOOK
A Young Boy/Man’s Rage, and A Knife He Wanted to Be a Gun
You can download it for FREE HERE!
life_48_400

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Erich Fromm: Meeting the Challenges of the Century

I believe that the One World which is emerging can come into existence only if a New Man comes into being – a man who has emerged from the archaic ties of blood and soil, and who feels himself to be a citizen of the world whose loyalty is to the human race and to life, rather than to any exclusive part of it, a man who loves his country because he loves mankind, and whose views are not warped by tribal loyalties.
Eric Fromm Beyond the Chains of Illusion

eric01_400_01Eric Fromm (1900-1980), the psychoanalyst concerned with the relation between personality and society, whose birth anniversary we mark on 23 March, was born in 1900.  Thus his life was marked by the socio-political events of the century he faced, especially those of Germany, his birth place.

Erich Fromm was born into an orthodox Jewish family in Frankfurt am Main. The families of both his mother and father had rabbis and Talmudic scholars, and so he grew up in a household where the significance of religious texts was an important part of life. While Fromm later took a great distance from Orthodox Jewish thought, he continued a critical appreciation of Judaism.

He was interested in the prophets of the Old Testament but especially by the hope of the coming of a Messianic Age – a powerful theme in popular Judaism. The coming of the Messiah would establish a better world in which there would be higher spiritual standards but also a new organization of society. The Messianic ideal is one in which the spiritual and the political cannot be separated from one another.

Read the whole article in Ovi Magazine, HERE!

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Melancholy by Dr. Lawrence Nannery

Slowly you come on, slowly you press down.
Seeping and soothing, but darkening my dreams.
Soon my futures are all dun.

Get away, you bitch!
I’ll have to look over my shoulder, walk zigzag, hide in coverts —
Anything to avoid you, you nasty brute you.

melanch01_400I’m tired of shoving you off me, you monstrous incubus,
Tired of carrying you, as though I owed you something.
You swell up behind my eyes and darken everything.
You act as though you have the right to.

Here I lie abed, with you on top of me.
Push here, and you flop over to there.
Suffocating, formless, unanswerable, refusing to shake hands,
Or obey rules, or be fair, or rest awhile, or be shamed.

Stand back! Roll away!
Or I’ll beat you with this stick.
I’ll beat myself on the head until you go away.
Oh, stop arguing that there is a good reason for all this.

I’ve succumbed to you too many times.
No more!
Believe me, if I could just get hold of you,
I’d take you by the throat. I’d do you serious harm.

I’m too old for this crap anymore, these pictures with black borders.
All that crap. … I will outlast you, do you in,
I’ll give a public demonstration of your dissipation
And then, with no explanation, give myself a celebration.

What I need are glad sunrises, and an end to black borders,
Soothing love, bountiful beauty, warm mirth.
Because when you roll in, blocking the light,
You smother all good things, pale them in spite.

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Check Dr. Lawrence Nannery’s Poetry Collection:
“Translations from the Cinema”
You can download them for FREE HERE!

life_74_400

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The Resort by Bohdan Yuri

A light rain was falling throughout the day. A late August sprinkling that sometimes pretended to disappear but always left behind its chilling breath. It made the Catskills forget that summer was still here.

Thukrain_400e cloudy shades of grey moved steadily, the lower layer more swiftly. A faint mirage glowed through the thinner layers. It was the sun, dimmed, and not nearly as warm as yesterday.

Some of the guests at the Ukrainian Resort complained about the weather, saying that it gave them nothing to do for the rest of the day. And yet, they always talked with one another, laughing at the slightest anecdote. They seemed happy.

I on the other hand, adored the summer rain and its impending challenge; daring me to extract a magical color from its monochromatic gray cover. I always enjoyed sitting on the porch, just out of the rain’s reach, embarking on imaginary journeys that were cradled with quiet sensations of thought. Perhaps it was the natural rhythm of splashing waters that never let me disappear completely, though, it was spellbinding.

The breathless excursions of running play were usually left to the sunny empty spaces. Sometimes, I played both sides. However, on this particular day my fanciful daydreams were sliced open and, inside, I saw loneliness for the first time. I did not know that it would be so painful.

After dinner, the rain eased up a bit, enough to allow for casual strolling on the grounds by some of the guests. A group of nearby neighbors started up a volleyball game on one of the courts. A few of the younger guests joined them.

Being so late in the season, it was too cold even for swimming up here, my favorite; not too many nearby pools in the city. Unfortunately too, most of my friends from back home were either on trips elsewhere or home getting ready for school starting, and there weren’t any other kids my age to play with, only Sonya and Irena. They were sisters. Sonya was the oldest, she was four. I was nine and a half.

One time, I’d asked my mother why I didn’t have any brothers or sisters like my friends. She told me that she had gotten sick and couldn’t have any more children, a flaw in her dream and mine. I let it go because all answers are temporary at that age anyway.

Read the whole short story in Ovi Magazine, HERE!

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Ovi means Door #V

DR_en_044DR_en_045DR_en_046

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Erosion by Gordana Mudri

Once, when the rustle of leaves
on the dried branches of my forest dies
and when the traces of beasts
hidden in my vastness disappear

erot01_400Once, when the clear lakes
filled with turmoil run dry
and when the last ray of the sun
shivers in quiet reflection
Once, when springs
of my singing streams disappear
and when the murmur of water
leaves well-known riverbeds
Once, when the timid roe deer leave
their warm shelters
and following deer traces
move to the new paths
Once, when the stormy torrents
rush through deep ravines
quenching wild volcanoes
hidden in my depths
Once, when cold winds
descend down my slopes
chaining my voices
with the icy lace of silence
Once, when my soil
turns in the dust
and scattered with the winds
disappears into infinity

Then you will say:
Once, there stood a mountain
in secrets entwined,
with wonders filled,
in mist wrapped,
by heat worn,
by winds blown.

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