Four Indignitaries (aka Foreign Dignitaries)

Four Indignitaries sitting in a tree.  Each one asked the other, “How could this come to be?  Had we been born as monkeys, we’d  sit contentedly.  How could this happen to Indignitaries such as we?”

Four Indignitaries (same four) walking down a path.  “The future is filled with the Crawlers wrath!  Had we been born dolphins, we’d communicate and laugh.  Indignitary’s happiness would all come down to math.”

Four Indignitaries decide to build a wall.  Each told the Crawlers, “Now neither side will fall.  Had we been born one species, there’d be no one to crawl.  We Four Indignitaries will answer to that call.”

Four Indignitaries (The Foursome) plot to build a fight.  “The Crawlers grow in numbers.  We fear their awesome might.  Pit species against species, so to kill is only right.  Their blood will never stain an Indignitary-ite!”


Listen to Mother

Beggars and soldiers were all that remained the day Mother Earth gave back.
She raised up her mighty ocean in a tsunamic slap,
to clean the parasites that encrusted her skin.
She cried from the heavens with lightning and hail, and flooded Her suffering skin,
in an effort to heal the filthy mess her children left her in.
A warning to all who won’t heed Nature’s signs or heed Mother Earth’s discipline.
What we ignore now is only a tap, compared to what Mother Earth will bring.

I wanted to include some words of wisdom with my poem.  The following are various quotes that inspired me regarding the state of the earth today, and the state the earth will be in if we don’t start the healing process.

” Humankind has not woven the web of life. We are but one thread within it. Whatever we do to the web, we do to ourselves. All things are bound together. All things connect.”
Chief Seattle

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“The time will soon be here when my grandchild will long for the cry of a loon, the flash of a salmon, the whisper of spruce needles, or the screech of an eagle.  But he will not make friends with any of these creatures and when his heart aches with longing he will curse me.  Have I done all to keep the air fresh?  Have I cared enough about the water?  Have I left the eagle to soar in freedom?  Have I done everything I could to earn my grandchild’s fondness?” Chief Dan George

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“When we Indians kill meat, we eat it all up. When we dig roots, we make little holes. When we build houses, we make little holes. When we burn grass for grasshoppers, we don’t ruin things. We shake down acorns and pine nuts. We don’t chop down the trees. We only use dead wood. But the white people plow up the ground, pull down the trees, kill everything. … the White people pay no attention. …How can the spirit of the earth like the White man? Everywhere the White man has touched it, it is sore.” Unknown Wintu Woman, 19th Century

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June Until November – Five months to Remember

We didn’t say “I love you”.
The time was never right.
And now that I can’t touch you,
I say it every night.

We didn’t lie together
before a roaring fire
and gently love ’til morning
and never, ever tire.

We didn’t bond as soul mates.
We didn’t have the time.
Our souls, though, did touch briefly.
So sweet and so sublime.

We didn’t cry together
in sorrow, love or hate.
There would always be tomorrow.
Now, tomorrow’s name is fate.

We didn’t say “I love you”
when fate reclaimed her prize.
She took you as she gave you,
before my loving eyes.

We didn’t say “I love you”.

Liberty is Love

LIBERTY for one and all is such a noble sentiment.

The EMPIRE can rise around the globe without impediment.

Yellow haired Gestapo come to take you from your beds.

Apple’s fall, confounding us by landing on our heads.

Enormous strides are gained when we discover electricity.

Liberty, so statuesque, embodies our complicity.

A tower or two of YELLOW gold, testamental  for the EMPIRE.

Quietus the ancient greed, beware our enemy’s desire.

An Apple seed, alas, can only grow an Apple tree.

Enormous hate will not grow love, impossibility.

The YELLOW sun shines every day on everything we do.

Absorb the warmth as God’s own grace deep inside of you!

Healing Waters

By funk5ive

Sometimes life just goes by.
You know you should be paying attention,
then something catches your eye.
The imagination of a child,
an angel shape in clouds of white,
the pain in a loved ones eyes.

Sometimes the well is dry.
You go to fill your heart with joy,
then you see you can’t and why.
The tragic wrongs not yet ignored,
a mournful love never regained,
the pain in your own blue eyes.

Sometimes it’s time to cry.
The healing waters from God Himself,
If you don’t you know you’ll die.
But the dam in your eyes,
and the lump in your throat..
deny, deny, DENY.

Sometimes a friend is nigh.
You know you should accept their love
but your faith will not comply.
So you think of the child,
and the angel clouds,
and your soul begins to cry.

Picture credit :

By funk5ive

The Angels Came to Earth


Two thousand years ago today,

the angels came to earth,

to speak to lowly shepherds,

the promise of a Birth.


The stars shone extra bright that night,

so souls could find their way,

to kneel before the son of God,

to sing and heal and pray.


When Christmas morning comes to pass,

your presents scattered round,

do not forget this Gift from God,

and hear the angels sound,


“Glory be to God on high, and on Earth peace, good will toward men on whom His favor rests.”


Photo:  Flink’s angels announcing the birth of Christ to the shepherds.

My Spiritual Arsonist

I think it was around the time my mamma died
I tore my clothes away and cried and cried and cried
I shook the bed, convulsing, side to side
I finally drifted into tortured dreams to hide

My inner soul began to chill, no fire
My heart forgot to beat, and tired
My face grew long, my eyes looked dark and wired
My brain mulled through black thoughts that death had sired

You somehow knew, you called to dry my tears
You came to me, you have through all the years
You’re comforting my heart to melt my fears
You seem to know the time agony nears

Then my spiritual arsonist, hero of my soul
The light inside rekindles, lights, and glows
The heart of me remembers songs of old
The life came back into my eyes like gold

My Spiritual Arsonist, the hero of my soul.

I Ran Away Today, From the Din

I found a place with silent butterflies.
Fluttering by in complete silence to human ears.
Do butterflies hear a din?
I wonder if their wings make a noise that only they can hear.

I found a place with uncountable crickets.
Each one rubbing out their mechanical song.
Separate and then together as one.
Eventually to be removed from my consciousness, then back again.

I found a place with grasses ten feet tall.
Swaying in the wind, whispering all the while
of creatures hiding within.
They marked the path of the wind, invisible until it touched them.

I found a place of endless prairie sky
with sculptures in the clouds.
A handle bar mustached gent, a Meer cat, an angel on the wing.

I found a bridge of planks across the stream.
The families cycling by tap rhythmically all in sync.
I hear snapshots as they speak, a moment in their lives.

I found a place I hoped that God would speak,
to calm my worried mind, to quench my thirsty soul.
I waited quite a while and didn’t hear His word.
Picked up my book and pen, and wrote these very lines.
Then a stunning thought, He was speaking all the while,
in the wind, the birds, the clouds.
Then the grasses gently bowed, like smiling Asian men,
who always seemed to know, I’d get there in the end.

© 2009 Angelique Maatman

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