The Archives

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reaching for horizons that aren't there
they quarreled again today
turning her back
she feels more like crying
love turned into contests
passion turned unkind
close to going crazy
tempting tempting her mind
like an ant on an ice cream cone in the sun
someone knocked down all her sand castles
and she doesn't know why
and she doesn't know why

feelings of her own
wandering in restless situations
want to weep
when she faces reality she's in
want to live
want to begin her life again
feelings of her own
wandering in restless situations

spilling their milk and honey
they quarreled again today
one more quarrel
their domino theory of quarrels
this man she loved so blind at times
like two people
one she loves one she resents

dodging in shadows of another’s identity
not stuff young girl dreams are made of
center stage is woman
one of many still one alone
an actress with all the roles she plays
trapped somewhere between feelings
prisoner in love not what she meant
gilded cages
some birds meant to fly
spaces of walls
only walls hear her pleas

feelings of her own
wandering in restless situations
want to weep
when she faces reality she's in
want to live
want to begin her life again
feelings of her own
wandering in restless situations
restless situations

showing a calm face is hard
they quarreled again today
quarrels line up one by one
some hang on
fighting back with words words said
when hearts tears cry why why why
why's this happening happening
happening to her

she's not guilty not guilty not guilty
she's a rose bush
treat her beauty gently
sweet love her fragrance without thorns
don't hurt her
don't chop her down
she can't live as decoration in a vase
she needs to continue
continue to bloom
continue to bloom

please Lord dear God o Jesus
when when when will things ever change
damn damn damn it all anyhow
where she's at
what's she going to do now
feelings of her own
wandering in restless situations

John Trudell
Poet Tree Publishing
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hustling on down hustling street
rag man rag woman paper bags full
street age alerts in tenant child’s eyes
sidewalk playgrounds got to beware
junk man's in the shadows
dealing his junk
beautiful sisters
deal themselves around
beautiful brothers
not so beautiful anymore
so much older than the day before
ain't everybody tired of being poor

grafitti man's got something to say
message in a scrawl message on the wall
something's wrong
it’s not our fault
we gotta be cool
our time will come

open spaces in shopping center walls
middle class man middle class land
clean enough to be a family affair
nice place to take wide eyed child
controlled climate temperate zones
neat little shops all laid out
everything by sale
by cash or plastic
price not negotiable but payment is
different junk man different junk
spend some money buy some more

grafitti man's got something to say
message in a scrawl message on the wall
put on blinders
dull the senses
who's worth more than money they spend

sky scraper buildings
corporate corridor office suite
executive board high finance
big businessman suit
not stained by sweat or blood
using money like perfume water
sophistication smiles hide stain and decay
realistic decisions in columns and ledgers
dividing profits among themselves
spoils of war are spoils of war
says junk man owner of the junk

grafitti man's got something to say
message in a scrawl message on the wall
down with bosses
no more bosses
something's gotta change
something's gotta change

John Trudell
Poet Tree Publishing
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rich man’s war
industrial strengths
class lines money talks
turning language to paper pieces

rich man’s war
free man society
raging violent insecurity
nuclear man nuclear woman
unclear how to act

rich man’s war
pershings cruising Europe
America - Russia
governmental nuclear views
industrial allies cutting the world
as though they cannot see blood flowing

rich man's war
Central America bleeding
wounds same as Palestine and Harlem
Three Mile Island and El Salvador
Pine Ridge and Belfast

rich man's war
the poor
starving for food
starving for land
starving for peace
starving for real

rich man’s war
attacking human
attacking being
attacking earth
attacking tomorrow

rich man's war
thinking of always war
thinking of always war

with machines for ancestors
new unborn generations
chemical umbilical cords
are only wiring
in your electrical progress
human lives burnt offerings
to the god greed

with lies for ancestors
there is no truth in some futures
rulers of minds
feeding next generation souls
to the control machine
sacrifice ritual
for the prophet technology

with isolation for ancestors
there's only the present
bought by the credit material uses
forging chains binding you to destruction
compliments of your deities
the industrial priest

no more than neon flash
trying hiding in eon mask
have to face who we really are
some point we have no choice

distant star distant light
in real world we are human being
in shadow of real world
we are being human

eon mask for neon flash
distant thunder distant cloud
passions reign
drenched in possession
what we take is hard to do
what we do is hard to take

some ones are crazy or
maybe we take turns
dreaming about some kind of life
we say it could have been different
but it wasn't because we weren't

no matter what it turns out the same
lot of things we said weren't true
industrial stories
in an electric instant
eon mask
neon flash neon flash

thing is nihilistic desires
civil lies gone insane
didn't imagine it turning like this
some things start good and go bad
some things get bad and stay bad
are we caught in between
living a lie or not living at all

eliminated choices
lost in dreams we let go
memories we never got to have
something else to think about

waking up in industrial society
surrounded by angry days
going through motions of not being
wanting the best but not expecting it
surviving paid for in dreams

feeling like a world alone
serving god with the devil to pay
feeling like something in no place
what goes on in hell anyway

thing is it has to do with heart
we have to understand
what hearts are for
before we can get back
to heaven or paradise
or the power in our mind

John Trudell
Poet Tree Publishing
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they saw me
smoke a marijuana
they accused me
said I am
a drug abuser
I should be
considered less
because of it

I say
I am high
I am loaded
I am energy
I have been abused
by greed ways
by words of attack
I will not
let them reach me
I get high
out of their range
I get loaded
to be
my weapon of defense
I am energy
not to be harnessed
by their self doubts
I am not more
or less
I just am

John Trudell
© 1982 Poet Tree Publishing
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reluctant heart
everytime you go
every damn time
i'm left standing
with a piece
of life missing
talk about alone
tears that won't fall
come to my eyes
during days when
the sun won't shine

your magic
leaves its mark
heartbreaking love
every damn time
i have you
then let go
my reluctant heart
watches you go
you like a hawk
flying away
me like a man
left behind
love a breaking heart
every damn time
during days the sun won't shine

John Trudell
© 1981 Poet Tree Publishing
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a man a woman
a sort of love
she was a beautiful woman
but he did a lot of ugly things
to turn her world around
in his own way he loved her too
trying to be his own man
conquer the world when he couldn’t
she became his last stand
he was cowboys
she was indians

some beauty fades
into many ugly scenes
glows from flesh of love
turned to flickering hopes
falling from the clouds
when somebody leaves
today too early for the future
too late for the past
what happens to love
the kind that lasts

she wanted what she needed
he needed what he wanted
being in two worlds existing as one
confined in the walls of their relationship
becoming hammers
tearing the walls down

once they shared the same dream
ends up they both had canvass of their own
and their own paint
then they saw they only brought one frame
her part of the dream alone
was bigger than that

a man a woman
a sort of love

John Trudell
Poet Tree Publishing
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you wanna know what happened to Elvis
I’ll tell ya what happened
I oughta know man
I was one of his army
I mean man I was on his side

he made us feel all right
we were the first wave
in the post war baby boom
the generation before
had just come out of
the great depression and world war II
you know heavy vibes for people to wear
so much heaviness
like some kind of voiding of the emotions

their music
you know the songs life always carries
you know every culture has songs
well anyway
their music was restrained emotion
you know like you didn’t wanna dance
if you didn’t know how
which says something strange

well anyway Elvis came along
about ten years after the nuke
when the only generals America had
and the only army she had
were Ike and Mac
and stupor hung over the land
a plague where everyone
tried to materially free themselves
still too shell shocked to understand
to feel what was happening
everything was getting hopeless

then when Elvis started to rock
the roll just picked up
I mean drabness the beaver showed us
could only be a foretold future
who wanted to be Ward and June
and I mean father never did know best
he was still crazy from surviving the war

like there was this psychotic pall
so widespread as to be assumed normal
heavy man you know really

anyway Elvis showed us an out
you know he showed every boy man
and every girl woman
there's something good in feeling good
like a prophet for every boy every girl
when someone's mom and dad lied
something about him told us
to be sensual is really okay

someone's mom and dad waltzed us around
every girl wasn't suppose to enjoy it
if she did she was bad and every boy
well boys will be boys
don't feel anything
take what you can
marry a decent girl when the fun's done

like no matter what we did
we all were guilty
maybe someone's mom and dad
resented what they missed
and while they were trying
to pass it on us
we heard Elvis's song
and for the first time
we made up our own mind

the first wave rebelled
I mean we danced
even if we didn’t know how
I mean Elvis made us move
instead of standing mute
he raised our voice
and when we heard ourselves
something was changing
you know like for the first time
we made a collective decision
about choices

America hurriedly made Pat Boone
a general in the army
they wanted us to join
but most of us held fast to Elvis
and the commandants around him
Chuck Berry
Buddy Holly
Little Richard
Bo Diddley
Gene Vincent
you know like a different civil war
all over again

I mean you take Don’t Be Cruel
I Want You I Need You I Love You
and Jailhouse Rock
or you take Pat and his white bucks
singing love letters in the sand
hell man what’s real here

I mean Pat at the beach in his
white bucks
his ears getting sunburned
told us something
about old wave delusion
I mean wanting and needing
and imprisonment
we all been to those places
but what did white bucks at the beach
understand other than
more straight line dancing
you know what I mean

anyway man for awhile we had a breather
of fresh energy to keep us from falling
into the big sleep
then before long
Elvis got assassinated in all the fame
taking a long time to die
others seized control
while Elvis rode the needle out
never understanding what he’d done

it’s like we were the Baby Boom
because life needed a fresher start
I mean two world wars in a row
is really crazy man
and Elvis even though
he didn’t know he said it
he showed it to us anyway
and even though
we didn’t know we heard it
we heard it anyway

man like he woke us up
and now they’re trying
to put us back to sleep
so we’ll see how it goes

anyway look at the record man
rock ’n roll is based on revolutions
going way past 33⅓
you gotta understand man
he was America’s Baby Boom Ché
I oughta know man
I was in his army

John Trudell
Poet Tree Publishing
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it wasn't that he was easy
he just needed touch
another human being
maybe that made him easy
but hell everyone needs touch

voices looks feelings
can be as distant
as tomorrow’s happiness

identities can become vague
in the mad rush to survive
a woman's woman embrace
carries long time memories
comforting his bad trips
hard not to be easy
when he needed to be held

John Trudell
(c) 1981 Poet Tree Publishing
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It is better to live
in the spirit of resistance
then to exist
in a world of illusion

counting, as yesterdays allies edge to retreat
reactionary illusion, a new enemy being born
in an attempt to bring all under control
the politicals, the new man god
trying to change all into images of them
exploiting peace to get their way

never once understanding
our place in the creation
we are the trees and the flowers
with endurance a generosity of struggle

to balance ballots and bullets
military economic repression
with self destruction
a completion of guilt

John Trudell
(c) 1981 Poet Tree Publishing
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into the mirror

match without flame
child crying at dark
grab tomorrow yesterday’s gone

a daydreamer without dreams
remembering you didn't stay
you just walked through
like he was only a shadow
whispering into silent voids
echos a wavering promise
you never reached he never kept
like a truth he couldn't face

looking into the mirror
never seeing the same person
glass images cold to touch
fading out in broken design
he sometimes went crazy
trying to keep what he never had
was he clinging from an edge
did he fall was he pushed

John Trudell
© 1981 Poet Tree Publishing
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infant child adult elder
earth sky water fire
natural life universal nation

something feudal in the air
not knowing what else to do
viewing selves as material worth
knowing we can't take it with us
reality changes to abstraction
industrial hallucination
high tech mechanical highs

lost in shadows
behind the back of god
in societies with out moral
moral majorities showing up
industrial hallucination
what is real that is not

in matters of perspective
violence hates making love
seems father didn't know best
variation of who has the biggest one
power comes from the barrel of a gun
taking life blow it away
industrial hallucination
who is on some kind of trip

John Trudell
© 1981 Poet Tree Publishing
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