Pretty Thunder Poetry

She is Twilight

By

Pretty Thunder

She is Twilight (becoming smoke) There can be no secret societies today everyone wants to talk about it, brand it post and share the lower self they aspire to publicly be the special one selfie at initiation selfie at a sacrifice selfie at a funeral or while sitting on the toilet photo op while getting laid or rolling a blunt the common woman is less common see her barefoot with her iron pot she knows all about the cooking stones for she is the blue deer and the hollow bone singing to the fir and aspens, she collects sticks walking to the post office she catches a song on the west wind writes letters, sends postcards and shawls to her friends no one listens to her or regards  her she is magic now, invisible and is becoming smoke and fog She is twilight and the humming in the forest boring, she will not put you on a pedestal or tell  you you are a rare thing, unusual or assure you that your marriage will last or that it is even a good thing She wonders where you went why you don't  dream and why you made you disappear she knows you had a choice she will not regard your beads and trinkets doesn’t care except for the earth, humans, real humans, creation and how you move in creation and are you still human she wonders she is in her dream walk happy to feed the homeless without discussing it She doesn’t want you to discuss it either and says to you,   “see these “shamans”, “healers” these certified “holy women” self proclaimed “medicine men and women” call them queen mother Call them big chief and can i get an amen? and what does that even say about all this? for i am low with the badger a mudwoman a dew woman a heathen i move with these seasons and am the 5th wind Gathering the waste harvesting medicines and poisons and have always know the true names of the original daemons.” Copyright © 2014 Jolaoso Prettythunder.  All Rights Reserved.
She is Twilight (becoming smoke) There can be no secret societies today everyone wants to talk about it, brand it post and share the lower self they aspire to publicly be the special one selfie at initiation selfie at a sacrifice selfie at a funeral or while sitting on the toilet photo op while getting laid or rolling a blunt the common woman is less common see her barefoot with her iron pot she knows all about the cooking stones for she is the blue deer and the hollow bone singing to the fir and aspens, she collects sticks walking to the post office she catches a song on the west wind writes letters, sends postcards and shawls to her friends no one listens to her or regards  her she is magic now, invisible and is becoming smoke and fog She is twilight and the humming in the forest boring, she will not put you on a pedestal or tell  you you are a rare thing, unusual or assure you that your marriage will last or that it is even a good thing She wonders where you went why you don’t  dream and why you made you disappear she knows you had a choice she will not regard your beads and trinkets doesn’t care except for the earth, humans, real humans, creation and how you move in creation and are you still human she wonders she is in her dream walk happy to feed the homeless without discussing it She doesn’t want you to discuss it either and says to you,   “see these “shamans”, “healers” these certified “holy women” self proclaimed “medicine men and women” call them queen mother Call them big chief and can i get an amen? and what does that even say about all this? for i am low with the badger a mudwoman a dew woman a heathen i move with these seasons and am the 5th wind Gathering the waste harvesting medicines and poisons and have always know the true names of the original daemons.” Copyright © 2014 Jolaoso Prettythunder.  All Rights Reserved.
Posted In ,

Leave a comment