Progress consists in abolishing what man has outlived,
And substituting in its place a more suitable environment.
-Alexander Berkman

To paint the stain of times enough.
Our days gather like horses,
Cast among the hills.

As warriors, we struggle to be tough;
Our lives transformed into tasks-
To be completed.

Our days gather among the hooves of horses,
Heads dangle in nooses, hides chapped by leather;
Life transformed into tasks
We’ve become slaves to these God’s we have created.

Gallop to keep the splendid pace,
This lucrative fantasy of WAR paints our tongues sour
These “Gods” have stolen from us our horses,
Turned our fields to rot,
Defiled our mother’s wombs.

As warriors, let us be tough!
Proclaim from our exile that which cannot be touched;
To paint the stain of times NO LONGER enough,
The streams run foul,
This dynasty we foster
Is to be
Blown away with the dust.

J.P. Burnside
americanchamps@yahoo.com
all rights reserved by J.P.Burnside
3.6.2003
Buffalo Wolf Press, 2003