Tonto Writes Again

Tonto Writes Again!
 
Last night I had a funny dream
I lived upon this very land
Before that there Amerigo
& Columbus named us all
(Aryan/Indian in this new round earth)
Adventurous Italians sailing
from lands of godly Kings and Queens
 
Some puzzlements of this reverie
swam into my brain
wrapped in deerskin robe
my skin was still the color
of the sand upon the shore
my hair a brown & yellow
like leaves turned to in Fall
eyes the color of the sky
my home was still a wigwam
but as I began to speak
the language of mad King George
slipped out from my pink lips
 
A chuckle woke me 
I hugged my teddy bear
in my snug warm bed
with lusty minutes of pure laughter
the dream came rolling back
in our mind live others
who hold our spirits too
    on these sweet nights   

                        

maybe

we can with them commune

©j.m.frase-white the morning of June 22, 2022
 

MaryLiz Riddle sends me a Tale from Beyond

 

A Jumble of Threes

 

A Land Far Away, which is often to blame

Three sisters (two step) of some renowned fame

(Step-sisters still bitter ‘bout shoes, princes and mouses)

Come upon three little pigs, building houses

. 

“Nice sticks,” said the first, with a roll of her eye,

“I’m sure that’ll save you from a big bad wolf’s sight!”

 

“Was straw,” sneered the second, “the first thing you found?

What makes you think that is structurally sound?”

 

“This one’s sarcastic.”  said a voice from behind.

“This one’s too critical, too acidic, not kind.”

 

“But this one,” said a little bear, “I think is just right!”

And ate the third sister, right there in plain sight.

 

Mister & Missus Ziegler

 

 Today I had the wonderful receipt of a legacy from the marvelous poet/book maker, MaryLiz Riddle who left this earth little over a year ago. Her Daughter and Son gave me "1000 Pounds of Fine Paper". Mixed in the handmade and fine papers I found this delightful poem, written in a variety of fonts but somewhat obscured by images, of the sisters, pigs & bears, all hidden behind a wall of circular chubby faces. This illustration was at the bottom of the work. A delightful poem by the mysterious Mister and Missus Ziegler, filled with warmth and humor that was very much like the delights of knowing MaryLiz, witty, acerbic and generous of spirit!

Prayer of the Dying Children

 

 

Dear God, wrapped up in heaven

All fairy dreams have been chased away

Where are you when he points the gun

Squeezes the trigger to make us dead

Riddled with holes sprouting blood ?

 

He knows no heaven

He is pure hell

His holiness is sung with bullets

To send our bodies beneath the earth

Heaven runs out in the blood we shed

For just like him, now, we are dead

 

Our  living bodies pictures in albums

In the land of memories

No more of them to be nor to see

making of memories swaddled in  grief

 

The last judgement took place here

In our school room where life was blossoming

Now a note in history of our passing

history living, not us, the promised future

Without life

Corpses, children slaughtered like vermin

Aborted for the lust of guns, of killing

Of masculinity built of lustful fear

Malignant manifest fear of human others

By a fiery feeble mind and easy ammunition

 

O, lord, forgive us for You have sinned.

 

Meditation before bed, 6/1/2022

On the latest classroom slaughter

©j.m. frase-white