The Poetry of Larry Kibbey APPARITIONS Quietly sitting before a small fire, A lone Indian begins a ceremonial respect. Reaching into a pouch, He brings out a matter of medicine. Which he offers to the four winds, To Mother Earth and all his relations. And from his heart, soul and mind, He speaks to the medicine, Using a language taught to him, A language carried through time, By the apparitions before him, His ancestors. With words flowing from his heart, Of the fire he speaks. He ask the medicine for guidance, To protect his people, So that they will live a good life And that their hearts, souls and minds, Will be filled with the Wisdom, knowledge and understanding Of life and truth, The traditional ways given to them, As told through the medicine By the apparitions before him, His ancestors. Gently he sprinkles the medicine upon the fire. He has spoken words to the medicine Using the old language of his people, Words that the medicine knows. For such words are of a language That have been used for centuries In such a sacred manner. Words that the medicine recognizes, Words of life that come from no book, Words that in fact allow the medicine to work. This the lone Indian knows, For he is given a nod of approval By the apparitions before him, His ancestors. And as the smoke heads upward, Carrying the medicine and words, An Eagle hover's above accepting the message, Which will be delivered in a sacred manner. And the apparitions of time gone by know The Indian world will live on. Such are the ways of a people, Guided by apparitions of time gone by. For here, there is no circus, no money, No English words, no books, no mockery, Just the reality of something very sacred, Passed on to a people By the apparitions who guide us, The ancestors of yesterday... *by* Larry Kibby, Elko Indian Colony E-Mail Address - kibbey@sierra.net Home Page - http://www.angelfire.com/nv/navalues/index.html In The Lodge I stand before a lodge, To me it is the lodge of life, For within it I can find meaning. The lodge is sacred, And I find it to contain, Sacred values, Values of the past, Values of respect, That come from ancient customs, And ancient belief's, Held for time immemorial In the lodge. Round and dome like, Willows and hides, An image from the past, A lodge made in a sacred manner, An image of life, The womb of Mother Earth, Warm with the heart beat Of the Universe that is Sacred and full of honor, Such are the ways In the lodge. In the evening sunset A fire heats the lava rocks, Which will be placed in the lodge, Carried by elk horns, Placed in the center of the lodge, With deer horns, And a small skin bag Carries the water Which will be poured over the rocks And then will begin A Sacred ceremony of life, In the lodge. In the night, The quiet sounds of life, Heard across the land, Echoing silently Sacred songs from the past, And darkness falls While the moon lights up the night. There is a peace within And slowly darkness descends, Bringing forth a sacred calm In the lodge. As the shadows of night rustle about, The door of the lodge is closed, And inside the lodge, Sounds of yesterday can be slightly heard, As the ancestors begin to speak Through the rocks, Voices of a sacred manner. Cedar and sage, Offered with respect, And slowly a medicine is sprinkled Upon the glowing rocks Followed by the water, And now, I will stand along side my ancestor's, And know the universe to filled with life, And know that the sacred values I do Are in their honor and of respect, And know that forever Sacred are these ways in the lodge..... May 25, 1997 by, Larry Kibby, Elko Indian Colony E-Mail Address - kibbey@sierra.net Home Page - http://www.angelfire.com/nv/navalues/index.html The Morning As day light breaks the darkness of the night, A cool breeze tugs at the morning, And sounds from the four-legged and winged-ones, Quitely fill the air As they begin to greet the new day, At the top of a small knoll Stands an Elder facing the rising sun, Pipe in hand waiting for the right moment, And then he begins an ancient song of his ancestor's, While he offers up the Sacred Pipe of the People, To the four sacred winds, The seasons of life, To Mother Earth and all his relations, And in the old ways of his people, He thanks the new day As the morning becomes life. Slowly the sun climbs upward, And as the Elder looks upon the new day, An eagle soars towards the sun, Becoming a picture of sacred respect, For such ways are done in honor, And the Elder descends from the knoll Wearing a smile of dignity and pride, For within he has carried on One of the oldest traditional respects Honoring his people, In the morning. Cedar, sage and sweetgrass smoke Fills the air around the camp, And a people slowly Prepare theirself To meet the new day, And the Elder Lays the pipe Upon a cherry wood rack, And tomorrow, In like manner, He will greet the new day In the Morning. by, Larry Kibby, Elko Indian Colony E-Mail Address - kibbey@sierra.net Home Page - http://www.angelfire.com/nv/navalues/index.html Quiet Night A calm breeze brushes over the land, Gentle are the sounds of a quiet night, In the distance lighting paints the sky, And a rumble of thunder echoes ever so slightly, It is a quiet night. Through the swaying tree tops, Dances twinkling stars, And one dashes across the sky, Leaving a trail of wonder, Such is the calm Of a quiet night. A top a hill, Stands a lone Indian, Offering his Pipe upward. In solitude he peers into the darkness, And an Eagle acknowledges the ceremony, As the wind carries a thin trail of smoke Upward into the quiet night. To the four winds, The lone Indian Offer's the peoples pipe, Then to the sun and earth, He sends words of life For all of his relations, And the calm is gentle As the night is quiet. Such is the world, So full of life, And the lone Indian Slowly turns from his sacred task, Holding the peoples pipe Close to his heart, And a tear from the past Rolls into the future As he walks into the Quiet night, A shadow of his ancestor's, A people once full of life, And their culture lives on. May 15, 1997 By Larry Kibby, Elko Indian Colony E-Mail Address - kibbey@sierra.net Home Page - http://www.angelfire.com/nv/navalues/index.html * SILENT TRAILS OF LIFE * by Larry Kibby As the wind blows away the last portion of day light, Darkness slowly descends upon a land filled with life. Such is life that quietly embarks on a journey, That only the faint rustle of twigs and leaves can be heard On the silent trails of life. The star lite night guides many forms of life, In search of play, water and food. The quiet stiring about causes one to wonder, How is it that man can be so empowered to destory Life's habitat of natural resources On the silent trails of life? Government legislation. Governmnet rules and regulations. Government agencies like the BLM, Forest Service And the National Parks System, All allowed to endorse avenues of economical adventures, That continue to ruin cultural and natural resources On the silent trails of life. Mankind without cause, Is without human respect. In the balance of time, Humans will venture into the 21st century, Leaving behind them centuries of undue care As they continue to embark on a journey of greed That they call progress. All the while the environment becomes Filled with waste and unnecessary destruction To the silent trails of life. Help save your environment. It is your culture. It is your heritage. Speak for those who can not talk, For like you they to are losing The silent trails of life. Help Save the Environment before it's to late. by: Larry Kibby, Elko Indian Colony E-Mail Address - kibbey@sierra.net Home Page - http://www.angelfire.com/nv/navalues/index.html * BUT WHO CARES? * by Larry Kibby Ancient forest cut down daily, Illegal logging of the worst kind, Corporate America calls it progress, All the while it tears at the natural resources, Leaving behind evidence of greed, That destorys land and water, Wiping away traces of a past, Wiping away natural habitats, But who cares? Mining for precious metals, 20 tons of earth moved Sometimes just for an ounce, A greed of destruction That Corporate America calls progress, All the while it tears at the natural resources Leaving behind evidence of greed, That destroys land and water, Wiping away traces of a past, Wiping away natural habitats, But who cares? River's, streams and creeks, Polluted by waste and garbage. Water, a life's resource, Now unfit to drink, Unfit for any use And quietly the aqua life disappears Into the pages of history, A greed of destruction That Corporate America calls progress All the while it tears at the natural resources, Leaving behind evidence of greed That destroys land and water, Wiping away traces of the past, Wiping away natural habitats, But who cares? Land, water and air, All polluted by honor of greed. Corporate America's progress. And mankind becomes a slave to destruction, Destroying an environment That contains a way of life for life. Destroying traces of a past culture. Destroying natural resources And life's habitats. But who cares? Presidental Executive order's. Legislative laws. Rules and Regulations. Administrative procedure's and policies. Corporate America's progress. All acts of greed, Introduced for no other reason Then to destroy The land, water and air. But who cares? Help save your heritage. Help save your culture. Help save the natural resources of life. Care for your environment, it is your right, it is your life! by: Larry Kibby, Elko Indian Colony E-Mail Address - kibbey@sierra.net Home Page - http://www.angelfire.com/nv/navalues/index.html "IN THE WIND" Grandfather, Quietly alone, I walk within, A time that is In the wind. Grandfather, Through my ancestor's I walk within, A time that is In the wind. Grandfather, Of the shadows gone by, I walk within, A time that is In the wind. Grandfather, The path of the Circle, I walk within, A time that is In the wind. Grandfather, In life we live, Amd we die, As we walk within, A time that is In the wind. Grandfather, May the spirit of my people, Always live on, As we walk within, A time that is, A time that always will be, Forever, In the wind. Wednesday, March 17, 1999 by: Larry Kibby, Elko Indian Colony E-Mail Address - kibbey@sierra.net Home Page - http://www.angelfire.com/nv/navalues/index.html "AND THEY SPOKE" Once not so long ago, I stood before the elder's, With shame upon my face, As they looked into my heart, For I knew what they found, Alcohol and drugs, And they spoke. They asked of me, These elder's did; Why do you wish to be, Like our enemies? Why do you desire, Their life and their truth? Why do you accept, Their culture and beliefs? And yet, You call yourself an Indian! And they Spoke. They asked of me, These elder's did; Where do you find life? In alcohol and drugs? Where do you get education? In alcohol and drugs? Where is your life? In alcohol and drugs? And yet, You call yourself Indian! And they spoke. They asked of me, These elder's did; If you are life, Then where is your heart? If you are life, Where is your culture? If you are life, Then where is your belief? And yet, You call yourself Indian! And they spoke. And when they spoke, I raised my head, And with my heart I listened. And these elder's, They did say; Mother's and father's, Daughter's and Son's. In life we live, In the spirit of our ancestor's. We must never give up, That in which does not belong to us, We must not sell our culture, For alcohol and drugs. We must not sell our belief's, For alcohol nd drugs. We must not sell our medicine's, For alcohol and drugs. We must not sell our water, For alcohol and drugs. We must not sell our Mother Earth, For alcohol and drugs. And most of all, We must not give, Our heart, soul and mind, To alcohol and drugs, For you are Indian, An image of times gone by, For in the shadows of your ancestors, You are life! And these elder's, They did speak the truth! Wednesday, March 17, 1999 by: Larry Kibby, Elko Indian Colony E-Mail Address - kibbey@sierra.net Home Page - http://www.angelfire.com/nv/navalues/index.html "FOR MY PEOPLE, I LIVE" In the valleys of times gone by, I hear the echoes of pain and sorrow, The echoes of beatings, tortures and deaths, I feel the tears of my people, Whose hearts bled for me, And in their honor, For my people, I live. In the valleys of times gone by, There lays false hope, lies and broken promises, And a land becomes covered with blood, And I feel the tears of my people, Whose hearts bled for me, And in their honor, For my people I live. In the valleys of times gone by, There are burial grounds filled with my people. A land filled with the old, young and children, Infants and unborn babies, Even the sick and dying, Burial grounds of my people, All Murdered for gold, silver, oil, Blacken hearts of greed, That destoryed my people and their way of life, And in their honor, For my people, I live. In the valleys of times gone, There are food gathering grounds, Medicine grounds, Fishing grounds, Hunting grounds, Ceremonial grounds, Sacred grounds, Places of life and death, The land of my people, Who lived and died for me, And in their honor, For my people, I live, Now and forever. Wednesday, March 17, 1999 by: Larry Kibby, Elko Indian Colony E-Mail Address - kibbey@sierra.net Home Page - http://www.angelfire.com/nv/navalues/index.html "THE SHADOWS" The sacred songs of life and death, Are upon the four sacred winds, The seasons of life, The songs of our ancestor's, The shadows of times gone by. Ancient customs, Ancient beliefs, Not all gone, Mainly forgotten, Or set side, Those songs of our ancestor's, The shadows of times gone by. Our elder's, They sing these songs, Carrying them in their hearts, souls and minds, Singing them with pride and dignity, Singing them for us, Those songs of our ancestor's, The shadows of times gone by. by: Larry Kibby, Elko Indian Colony E-Mail Address - kibbey@sierra.net Home Page - http://www.angelfire.com/nv/navalues/index.html "FOR A FALLEN WARRIOR" To you fallen warrior, I send these words, Upon the sacred smoke, For you are the blood of your people, Worthy of honor and respect, For a fallen warrior. In my heart I believe in you, For your worth is a value, And like your ancestor's, Such pride should not be wasted, For in my mind, Emotions of freedom fill my heart, For a fallen warrior. Long are the days and nights, Yet the space is honored, With thoughts of your well being, Knowing that in time, Like the wind blowing through the trees, The nearness of a heart will be a reality Of a fallen warrior. Fallen warrior, Like your people the Indian, America's first prisoner's of war, Whose 500 years of enslavement Is written of historical times, Your incarceration is but a moment, For in the morrow of time, The chains of slavery, Will be unlocked, And such freedom, Will mend together our hearts of life, And together our souls will be united. For these are my words, Upon the sacred smoke, For a fallen warrior, Of times gone by, For today in life, The warrior of the past, Is an image of my ancestor, Whom I live for in honor. And for all fallen warrior's Of Yesterday and today, I am proud of their respect in death. For in all wars, Our warrior people did live and die for their descendants Of the Sovereign Nations of the Native American Indian! by: Larry Kibby, Elko Indian Colony E-Mail Address - kibbey@sierra.net Home Page - http://www.angelfire.com/nv/navalues/index.html "THE SACRED WOMB OF LIFE" Within the sacred womb of life, Quietly I sit. Words of life, happiness and good health, I send for all my relations, Of the Sovereign Nations, Slowly I splash the water, Over the rocks, And feel the power of my ancestor's, Through the eagle, Who will carry my words, Upon the sacred smoke. Within the sacred womb of life, Quietly I sit. Feeling the emotions of times gone by, For in these ways of my people, I slowly mend together the past and the present, And feel the power of my ancestor's, Through the eagle, Who carries all of life Upon the sacred winds, From upon the sacred smoke. Within the sacred womb of life, Quietly I sit. Within the sacred womb of life, I feel the sacred matter of life, I feel the sacred matter of death, For within the sacred womb, The darkness is a light, That awakens the heart, soul and mind, And the eagle soars within, Cleansing the heated rocks with the water, Purifying all within The sacred womb of life. Within the sacred womb of life, Quietly I sit. I look within the sacred realm And there I find my people. Their cries, screams and agony echoing in my heart, Pains of torture, beatings and murder, And for them I live, For them I sit quietly, Within the sacred womb of life. My childern of tomorrow, Hear not the words of lies and deceit, Hear not the words of false ramblings, But find in your heart, The truth of times gone by, And know the ways of your people, Are upon the four sacred winds. And within the sacred womb, You will find the life of your ancestor's, For there you will find truth Within the sacred womb of life. by: Larry Kibby, Elko Indian Colony E-Mail Address - kibbey@sierra.net Home Page - http://www.angelfire.com/nv/navalues/index.html Grandfather, I lift my heart up to you, These words I send upon the four sacred winds, To all of my relations who have gone before me, Hear me Grandfather, For it is of my people I do this. Grandfather, I lift my heart up to you, These words I send upon the four sacred winds, For my sacred lands, The lands of my ancestor's, The lands of the four-legged, The lands of the winged-ones, The lands of all life, For these lands tell the story of life, The sacred life of my people, But who is to hear this story? Grandfather, My heart is lifted up to you, But where are my people? Where have they gone? Can they not hear the sounds of life? Can they not hear the songs of the heart? And in life we live, But where are my people? Grandfather, My heart I send to you, With words of life, For within the times of yesterday, My ancestor's did live, But my people today have gone to another life, And they have shed the times of life, And my heart is sadden for them, For they can not see the truth of their people, And they follow false hopes and prophets, And the land of their ancestor's, Lies in darkness, For the past is being wiped away, And slowly my hearts bleeds, Slowly the tears of life dry in the wind, And tomorrow, Again I shall lift my heart up to you, For my people must live, For the honor of life, For the honor of their ancestor's, For they are Indian! Sent by: Larry Kibby http://www.angelfire.com/nv/navalues/index.html