The Only One For Me

The Only One For Me by John Trudell

The Only One For Me

You're my prayer's answer

My song's refrain

My cloud, my sky, my sun and rain

You are my passion

My heart's desire

My night, my day, my warming fire

You are my sweetness

My spirit's soar

My dance, my music, my reason for

You are my light

My soul's embrace

My other self that wears your face

You are my treasure

My hidden gold

My wealth, the depth, cannot be told

You are my blessing

My greatest gift

My joy that gives this life a lift

You are my lover

My dearest friend

My best companion that's ever been

You are my heart

My need to be 

My love till ends eternity

You are the only one for me.

©By Voo

Sept 19, 10   

1:45 a.m.

In Memory Of John Trudell

IN MEMORY OF MY BELOVED POET FRIEND, 

JOHN TRUDELL R.I.P. MY BROTHER

John Trudell as "Jimmy Looks Twice in the
1992 motion picture
THUNDERHEART

                

The Life and Work of
JOHN TRUDELL

Most Californians familiar with the life and work of John Trudell, who died December 8, 2015 will likely categorize his political work as "Native Rights Activism." And that's not unreasonable: Trudell identified first and foremost as an activist speaking out for the rights of North America's original inhabitants. As a broadcaster, a poet-musician, and the first Chairman of the American Indian Movement, Trudell raised the profile of the grassroots Native Rights movement.

But Trudell didn't pigeonhole his activism. He was an environmental activist as well, and an anti-war and social justice activist, and his work for a healthier, more peaceful world flowed from the same philosophical wellspring as his work for Native people's rights. "It's about our D and A," Trudell said in 1997. "Descendants and ancestors. We are the descendants and we are the ancestors. D and A, our DNA, our blood, our flesh and our bone, is made up of the metals and the minerals and the liquids of the earth. We are the earth. We truly, literally and figuratively are the earth."

That activism did not come without cost. Early on in his activist career, the FBI began to target Trudell, whose FBI file was at one point the largest ever compiled on an individual American citizen. And in 1979, amid increasing threats from opponents of his activism, John Trudell suffered one of the worst tragedies imaginable, in what many still feel was direct retaliation for the activist work of Trudell and his wife, Tina Manning.

Founded in 1968 in the wake of the Alcatraz Occupation, the American Indian Movement had always paid attention to environmental problems, which often affected Native people disproportionately. By 1979 that focus had become explicit, and AIM was working hand-in-hand with anti-nuclear groups on issues such as the proposed expansion of gold and uranium mining in South Dakota's Black Hills.

As Trudell got more active on the national scene, Tina Manning became an effective activist back in her hometown, on the Duck Valley Shoshone-Paiute Reservation in northern Nevada. The daughter of Tribal leaders, Manning had met Trudell in 1971 at Tulsa University in Oklahoma. The couple had returned to Manning's hometown to raise a family, with Manning working on local issues while Trudell traveled more widely.

Among the issues facing Duck Valley's native residents was diversion of the water in the Owyhee River for agriculture. Native people had relied on salmon and steelhead in the Owyhee for centuries, but in the 19th Century the local Shoshone and Paiute lost some of their legal rights to the water in favor of the new settlers with their exotic legal codes. Irrigation projects in the 20th Century did major damage to the salmon and steelhead runs.

A settlement of sorts was reached on Duck Valley water rights in 2007, but in 1979 that settlement was far in the future. Manning, as a well-respected local girl with a good education and remarkable political savvy, set to work uniting the occasionally fractious residents of the Duck Valley reservation to advocate for their fair share of the Owyhee's water from the nearby Wildhorse Reservoir, encountering vehement opposition from the local (white) powers that be, as well as from the federal Bureau of Indian Affairs.

Meanwhile, Trudell was involved in AIM organizing on a national scale. The group was ramping up activism in coalition with antinuclear groups in the Black Hills -- a ceremonial walk would take place through the Hills that year, and a global International Survival Gathering was already being planned in the Black Hills for the next year.

Meanwhile AIM's and Trudell's work continued on social justice issues less-directly related to the environment, including the continuing legal fallout from conflict between Native Activists and the FBI at Wounded Knee, South Dakota in 1972. On February 11, 1979, at a demonstration outside FBI Headquarters in Washington, DC, Trudell gave an impassioned speech and then lit an American flag on fire.

A few hours later, at 1:30 a.m. on February 12, a fire of suspicious origin consumed the Duck Valley house of Arthur Manning, Tina's father. Tina Manning, her mother, and Manning and Trudell's three children -- Ricarda Star (age 5), Sunshine Karma (3), and Eli Changing Sun (1) -- died in that fire, as did Manning's unborn child, whom she and Trudell had named Josiah Hawk.

The Bureau of Indian Affairs investigated the fire and deemed it "accidental," a finding that few familiar with the case take seriously. Trudell had received threats of violence related to his work, but as he pointed out in the 2005 documentary Trudell "For anyone to think that what happened to her happened to her as specifically something just related to me, it minimizes who she is."

"I died then," Trudell said. "I had to die in order to get through it... and if I can get through it, maybe I could learn how to live again. Putting my love into the ground like this, putting my love in boxes, putting them into the ground and covering them up reconnected me to the Earth."

If the juxtaposition of Native and environmental issues in the context of the deaths of Tina Manning and her children with Trudell seems unusual, it's not.

 In 2014, the group Global Witness reported that more than 900 environmental activists had been murdered in retaliation for their efforts to protect the planet between 2002 and 2013, with the annual death toll rising almost every year. Worldwide, a sobering percentage of those environmentalists targeted have been indigenous activists, for whom the struggles to protect their local landscape and their cultures are usually irrevocably intertwined.

Trudell lived for almost 37 years after losing Manning and their children. (That's longer than the entire lifespan of David "Gypsy" Chain, whose activism and untimely death we'll also be covering in this series.) In that timespan Trudell's activism only increased.

 He spoke at the Black Hills Survival Gathering in 1980, participated in the massive protests and civil disobedience against the as-yet-uncommissioned Diablo Canyon nuclear power plant in 1981, and was involved in environmental causes to numerous to mention, from the movement to legalize industrial hemp to efforts to protect Yellowstone's bison.

 His writing, an outlet to which he turned in the wake of his family's deaths, brought awareness to global audiences who might not have been receptive to political polemic.

Of all the words Trudell spoke over the years -- and there are many -- few get at the core of who Trudell really was more directly than some from an address he gave at that 1997 event in Berkeley, a memorial for activist Judi Bari, who we will likewise discuss in this series. At that event, Trudell said:

We live under an authoritarian system, an industrial technologic mind set that has discovered and developed a way to mine, to take the being part of human, the spirit part of human and convert it into energy and then use that energy to power their system, to run their system. They are literally eating our spirits. Literally eating our spirits...

But the antibiotic to dealing with these people, these vampires -- and it is, it is vampires, cannibalization -- the antibiotic to this disease is our intelligence. We were given intelligence by the creator. We have intelligence. That is the antibiotic. That is the cure. 

There is no existing cure to the problem other than the one we will create by using our intelligence as intelligently and as clearly as we possibly can. To use our intelligence as intelligently as we possibly can.

On December 8, 2015, the day he died, Trudell posted a last message for friends and fans on his Facebook page. "My ride showed up," it read. "Celebrate Love. Celebrate Life." 

Born: February 15, 1946, Omaha, NE

Died: December 8, 2015, Santa Clara County, California, CA

Books: Lines from a Mined Mind, Stickman: John Trudell Poems, Lyrics, Talks, a Conversation, Indigo rouges

Children: Sunshine Karma Trudell, Eli Changing Sun Trudell, Ricarda Star Trudell

Trudell's poetry and performance developed simultanesously in the 1980s. He began setting his poetry to Native American music in 1982, the year his first chapbook, Living in Reality, was published. The following year, his debut album Tribal Voice appeared. His musical work garnered him supporters such as Bob Dylan, Willie Nelson, Jackson Browne, Bonnie Raitt, and John Fogerty. Many of Trudell's other 14 albums, including AKA Graffiti Man (1986), But This Isn’t El Salavador(1987), and Heart Jump Bouquet (1987), received critical acclaim. His album Bone Days (2001) was produced by Angelina Jolie. His lyrics are collected in the book Lines from a Mined Mind (2008, Fulcrum Press). 

Actor (7 Credits) The 11th Hour (Movie) 2007. Trudell (Movie) 2006. Smoke Signals (Movie) Randy Peone 1998. Extreme Measures (Movie) Tony 1996. On Deadly Ground (Movie) Johnny Redfeather 1994. Incident At Oglala (Movie) 1992. Thunderheart (Movie) Jimmy Looks Twice 1992.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dlcmTeCcbME
TRUDELL.... THE MOVIE

It Is What It Is
by John Trudell

The All Nite Cafe

by John Trudell

AND

my all time favorite

RAPTOR

Song John wrote for Tina,
so sad, so beautiful......

I Don't Hurt Anymore
by John Trudell
R.I.P. John
You're with Tina again

❤💖
VOO
Jan 23, 2019

💖

Trees Unbending

Trees Unbending

We were like trees unbending,
You and I
Tall and proud, in hardened coats
Rough exteriors, ancient roots,
Painful memories that would not die,
Besetting birds that would not fly,
Growing and growing yet bearing no fruit,
Standing alone with our heads in the sky.

But in the night,
Our leaves would fall
Silent tears would downward run
Whispered vows would be recalled
And days of love in Summer's sun.

We were not always trees,
You and I
Once seeds and flowers, stems and vines,
Softly swaying, in lover's arms,
Children of future that knew not a past,
Unaware of the storms overtaking us fast,
Too blind with our love to notice the harms,
Love's jealous cold rain, fell on us at last.

And we grew into trees
That would not bend,
Grew into strangers that could not touch,
Turned blessed words into curses of sin,
And lost the treasures that we loved so much.

We were like trees, unbending,
You and I,
Surrounded by a forest full of green,
Living things that pulsed with love,
While you and I, we pulsed with strife,
Living things devoid of life,
Our branches broken like shattered dreams,
And only dark skies up above.

Till the woodsman came
And cut you down,
And you fell at my feet with a grievous sigh
And the sound of your falling was a terrible sound
And the forest was filled with my too-human cries.

We were like trees, unbending
You and I,
Suspicious mean mouths with nothing to say,
Wasting the years encased in that pride,
Depriving ourselves of the joy and the good,
Starving our hearts of the heart's only food,
Not finding that love again till it died,
Two trees, cut and wounded, now rotting away.

We are like trees, no more
For death has a way of making life
A thing so precious that nothing can
Replace the woman, replace the man,
Tear down the walls,
Remove the pride,
Love lives on in spirit
Though the vessel has died.

This is our story
And you must hear
First with your heart
And then your ear
Don't be like we were,
Please heed our pleas:
The falls come the hardest
For unbending trees.

©by Voo

Feb 21, 2011

6:44 p.m.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R6NiZitg9l8

Speak Your Heart
by Lizz Wright

The Road That Ends In The Sea (repost)

The Road That Ends In The Sea

"Call me!" he said in a voice full of woe

On the message he left on my phone

Along with a dozen other ones I had missed

I could tell he felt so all alone.

But it had been one of those days

And my job had taken it's toll

My mind on the blink, couldn't talk, couldn't think

And he was probably just trying to be droll.

So I had listened to some of them

And the other ones, deleted

I was so tired and needed sleep

And his calling went unheeded.

I went to bed, dreams in my head

Dreams so dark and dreary

Tidal waves and things unsaved

And I woke up so weary.

Driving into work I thought

About my sweet lost friend

We'd tried to make our love work out

But it had reached it's end.

And I'd moved on, found someone else

But he couldn't do the same

He'd call me twenty times a day

To only speak my name.

"This has to stop!" I said to him

When next I saw his face

"You've got to stop this stalking me!

This is so out of place!"

"I know, I know!" he said, in tears

"I just can't help myself!

I've screwed up all of my life

And I have nothing left!"

"That isn't true," I said to him

"You've got so much to give."

"Oh, no, I don't, for without you

I just don't want to live."

I took him in my arms and sighed

And shed a tear or two

It is so sad when love goes bad

And  your love does not love you.

We went our separate ways once more

And I thought that things were good

Until I noticed him hiding himself

Doing things that he never should.

He left me a dozen roses

Upon my car's windshield

Letters and song requests on the radio

He kept trying to break my will.

Showing up and showing out

In front of all my friends

They teased me 'bout my obsessed boyfriend'

And it never seemed to end.

"What did you do to that poor guy?"

My clergyman once asked

"I've never seen anyone so much in love!"

But that die had already been cast.

I'd found a love that just felt right

And seemed so good to me

We met each other's needs and yet

Let both our hearts run free.

I'd never had that kind of love

With sweethearts in my past

Some were fickle, flighty things

And some not made to last.

But when I'd met my former love

Things took a different turn

We started out on the same page

But his heart began to burn.

And burn in ways I didn't like

That gave me no reprieve

He was obsessive and so possessive

That I felt I couldn't breathe.

Our break-up was so messy

I tried hard not to be unkind

But he refused to accept the news

And I exploded and spoke my mind.

And I said things I shouldn't have said

But things that still were true

And I saw the hurt upon his face

When he said, "I still love you."

"But I don't love you, I never did."

I said and walked away

Leaving him crying on his knees in the rain

A scene burned in my brain to this day.

I didn't mean to hurt him

I just tried to protect myself

Sometimes you give so much of you

That there is nothing left.

Months passed and I started to live again

Feeling the freedom to breathe

Finding the joy and the love to employ

While he sank and continued to grieve.

Then slowly he seemed to mend himself

And I reached out friendship's hand

We talked, we had fun, a new era'd begun

But inside, he was still the same man.

We double dated with his new girl

And the new love that I'd met

And all seemed fine but in his mind

He just would not forget.

The phone calls started up again,

The letters in my door,

The cards and flowers, hour after hour

Till I couldn't stand it anymore.

My boyfriend beat him to a pulp

When he showed up one night

I tried to keep the peace but failed

And they got into a fight.

The police came and took him away

As he shouted out his pain

And the neighbors watched and shook their heads

When he screamed out my name.

Shell-shocked then, I could only pray

For God to heal his soul

What kind of life could he hope to have

If I were his only goal?

They took him to the hospital

Committed him to stay

I heard that he was making progress

And hoped he stayed that way.

Until last night when I'd heard the calls

Recorded on my phone

(And though collected and calm,

He still sought me as his balm)

And I just sighed and left him alone.

I listened to his messages again

The ones that I had saved

As I ate my lunch, without a hunch

Of what I'd hear that day.

"Meet me at the lamplight," he'd said

"On the road that ends in the sea."

And I couldn't conceive and couldn't perceive

Of the message that he had left me.

As I sat in my car later in traffic

I suddenly began then to see
What he had been trying so hard to not say

And to discern his sad request to me.

I got out of traffic and flew so fast

To the only place I knew

Where there was a road that dropped off that way

And a place that he knew, too.

"Oh, no, oh, no." I cried out slow

As I made my way in the rain

"Don't let him do something that he'll regret

Trying to take away his pain."

The park was deserted when I got there

The park where that boy had met me

The park with the bridge that had been there so long

That it had fallen at last in the sea.

And they'd voted not to replace it

For it had only been used in the past

By a family that lived on an island

That'd been wrecked by a hurricane's wrath.

(So the road through the park

Had no where to go now

It was just a joke for the townsfolk to see

It was still lined with lamp lights

And they still lit up some nights

But the road ended there at the sea.)

I parked my car there on the road

As the rain came pouring down

I couldn't see a sign of him

I didn't hear a sound.

Then suddenly to my surprise

A light came on so bright

The last lamp post at the end of the road

Lit up the rain soaked night.

I walked in trepidation

Up to the old lamp post

Saw the note inside the plastic bag

Watched over by his ghost.

"I'm sorry," he wrote, "Won't you forgive?

I've been a hopeless fool

And you were always sweet and kind

You didn't mean to treat me cruel."

I held the note up to the light

As the rain washed away the ink

And then threw the note into the sea

And stood and watched it sink.

Then I saw the strangest thing

His shoes setting off the path

He had taken them off before he'd jumped

And the sight just made me laugh.

For those had been his favorite shoes

I had given them to him, it's true

On his birthday, he'd smiled

"If  a girl buys you shoes,

Then that means that she really loves you."

And I dropped to the ground and I cried

For all the ways that things shouldn't be

For his love and his loss and his life

And I knew he'd finally let go of me.

©by Voo

Feb 6, 2019

2:10 p.m.

for.......you know

partially based on a true story

of my life........