Ongoing Contributor, Manny Moreno, Poet and Elder, Yaqui Tribe - Writes about Today's World... And More...

 

THE DEFINING

They who try to define me

Want to confine me

But I know

Where I come from

Who I am

I was born

A Moreno

Recorded on paper

A hyphenated American

Racially profiled from the gate

My future mapped out 

By colonized design

To exist under their control

For all of my life

My mind

My spirit

My soul

The European systems

Values

Religious

Distorted History

Their indoctrinations

Precepts

Laws

Entertainment

Oaths

Their Everything

Everything belonging to them

Leaves me naked

To society and the world

My identity determined by

Their definition

Of who I am

How I'm to be regarded as

Nothing more than a shell

Of my ancestral heritage

Of no consequence

No value

Dehumanized

To play the role they

Have created for me

To be

To be accepted

Total assimilation

An imposter to myself

A ball of confusion

A mongrel at best

Rage

My response to all

They have destroyed

And continue to destroy

Is to keep learning

Itom Yoem noki, our ancient language

Our history and culture

To keep our traditions alive

To honor our ancestors

Itepo emouttiak bwe'ituk te Yoeme/Yaqui

I am proud to be Yaqui

I owe no explanations

I have no need to justify

I don't have to ask for permission

I am just responding to what has

Been forced upon me

For centuries

And like my ancestors before me

I live with their inheritance

The fire of resistance

A ceremony

A song

A prayer

Truth

Cannot be extinguished

Cannot be denied

Paas into waata / Peace and love.

~~~~

Lioj em chaniavu, ketchem allea.

It's a pretty sunny morning. Got to get going to take care of business.

Later on stopping for a while at the water and drop some tobacco.

How are you all doing on this new day?

Some people have good medicine.

Some people have bad medicine.

Some people have no medicine.

Some people just like to talk like they know something.

Today is a good day to give thanks for this breath of life for ourselves, and for others.

And for this sick world, to heal.

May this day be a grateful one. A happy one.

Nin jiaksi jiba euwate.

~~~~

A smile a Day

This elderly woman

Lived on the corner of

South Jupiter and Comet Street

in a nice big mobile home

She kept sparkling clean outside

No weeds or litter on the grounds

Frail and pale

She was

Hair white as snow

Gently

Slowly

Step by Step

Hunched over

She kept on

Going

I remember when

I first waved at her

in passing how

She never waved back

As she was glancing

I tool it personal for a long tme

But I kept on

Waving anyway

Whenever I passed by.

One day

She finally smiled

At me and waved

It made my day brighter

And from then on

She always did

Just Wondering

How would life be

All around for everyone

If time were devoted

To examining ourselves

To see where our humanity

Is stacked up against

Decency

Respect

Patience

Love

Forgiveness

Charity

I fall short

On things I never noticed about me

But I try to change

The unhealthy

Unspiritual things

Within me

Day by day

Growth is like a blade

Of sweet grass I planted

Years ago

And continue to water

Change is a slog

Doesn't happen overnight

Hurts and scares

Fears the unknown

I challenged myself

It was worth the sacrifice

I have more

Respect for myself

For life

More careful

How I walk

Daily in the World

A common man

~~~~

Donations. ( Art and books) - The Elder- A Tribute / 12.00 / 4.00 shipping

@monolin

thank you.

Folks, I agree with one of the men who spoke that our Native tribes are the least of who should be considered an immigrant! Yet, Trump who is indeed an immigrant by his heritage, as are all of us, cares only that they are NOT White!  This type of discrimination has got to stop...or else all the rich white supremacist men will be the only ones living in the United States! May God Be with ALL His Children...

Gabby

From Award-Winning Santa Nella Blues Comes The Vanishing Act and Roughing It by Monolin Manny Moreno!

Vanishing Act

I don’t see a bunch of happy kids

Doing kid things outside like we did

Back when we were kids

Running around without

Fear of the boogeymen

Luring us into their cars

When we popped wheelies on our Stingray bikes

When we wrestled on the front lawn ‘til sundown

When we played baseball at the park

When our exuberant laughter

Sliced the air like a blade--

Innocent sounds of happiness

But not here

On these quiet

Narrow asphalt streets

No hide and seek

No trick or treat

In this mobile-home village

Squeezed together

Like canned sardines

There’s nowhere

For them to play

No trees to climb

No yards in front

No slides or swings

Or merry-go-round things

They stay indoors

Where they feel safe

A sign of the times

A sign of this place

The only time I see a bunch

Of kids outdoors is

When they walk out of

Their trailers and hurry

Down the streets to

Board the school buses

At the crack of dawn

And later on when

They come home

To vanish again.

Imagine

Roughing It

I met ol’ Dan not long

After moving here

A big blonde itinerant

Who all these years

Has lived his solitary

Nowhere-man life

In a beat-up Ford van

In a field in the dark

By the big oleanders

Next to where the truckers

Sometimes park overnight

He’s held a day job

Without benefits

For years holding out

A cardboard sign

OUT OF WORK--PLEASE HELP

With a can for donations

Flopped like a sack of

Potatoes on a bucket

Turning red like a tomato

About to explode

Under the searing summer sun

At the off-ramps

I ran into Dan

At the Quick Stop

The other day

Time

And a rough life

Have chiseled his face

Looks twice his age

Smelly, filthy

Tore up from the floor up

Eyes tethered to the earth

One foot in the grave

He’s not the only Dan out here.

Anxious

And then the white man came...

I will be sharing from Manny's new book in this way

Talking about what I've read...

The Vanishing Act

came about as a result of the white man

who traded beads for much in return

who killed our indigenous people

until they live not where they wish

but in a location determined by the white man

My heart bleeds for the people who lived

after the white man devastated their lives...

We have left many

 

Roughing It

Trying to survive without support

of any significance from those white men

who first stole from them

brought violence into their lives

strife of seeing death all around

while lands were settled by those

who claimed they had discovered

and thus owned

land that had been lived upon for generation

after generation thankful to their ancestors

Now forced to beg or be afraid, still,

of that white man who has become even

more violent to all those who are

also God's children

Manny is my adopted brother, trying to make it

alone and separated from the world

Please check out his books to the right

and support him in any way you can

His artistic skills are, as can be seen, extraordinary

"What you do unto the these of these..."

God Bless

Gabby

Guest Poet and Friend, Manny Monolin Moreno Shares The Tree: Poem of Our Roots

 

THE TREE

Poem of our Roots

A twig from an ancient tree

was planted in this valley

ninety-years and a day ago

with grandparents' post-migration arrival

propagated with a labor of love

and dream songs which sprouted

roots rich with indigenous sacred

hope and over decades this twig

branched-out into an ancestral tree lush

with a heritage of scattered leaves

some have prevailed on the railroads

farmfields and overseas warriors in battlefields

some have crooned and swooned on saddles of assimilation

not total though to gain an education

some have hummed commitments to heaven

in humble jubilation some have whistled

weary in whirlwinds on life’s meager means

some have not forsaken chanting enchanted

traditional ancient cosmic

conscious themes and now

in this soul-deadening out of balance

Y2K millennium infancy I reflect

in the autumn years of my being

standing somber in the shade of our tree;

what will become of it and me?

For the tree expands into five generations

perpetuating a pristine perpetual dream

in this valley reality like enormous

hawk wings encapsulating us with

a shade of simplicity celebrated in

a social status of invisibility and I

native son shy of eloquence

irrigate the tree with common words

to nourish-in nutrients of this life force

flowing in crimson canals of flesh

in the fertile soil of San Joaquin

in the plants and critters

in the rivers and pulses of little towns

being shredded for progress and malls

in the decades deciphered from a million

memories fertilized for posterity prestige

and dignity of the tree

and landscape and panorama

of our souls.

--Manny M. Moreno

Note: Anybody who knows Manny Moreno, please send a message that I need to talk to him about his latest book. Thank you...

From Manny Moreno's Latest Book--Santa Nella Blues - Poem: RANCHO DE CENTINELA - With a Little BackStory...

 

The first poem in Manny's new book is entitled, 

RANCHO DE CENTINELA

I awaken each day

From the dream world

A place of all change possible

Alone

When taa'a, the sun, rises

Shining light on our world

Blessing my eyes

Thankful for another day

I eat alone

Think alone

Paint     Draw     Write

Alone

Spinning my wheels

Over this thing and that thing

Worrying over nothing

Stir crazy sometimes

From this blessing in disguise

Dilapidating tin box trailer

Where my retirement time

Festers on the couch

Like Homie my cat.

Where my weary eyes

Sail away day and nights

On the cabin waves

Of the idiot-box

Reruns

The Lone Ranger

Gilligan's Island

I Love Luch

I'm in no haste

To find myself

Staring in a stupor

Like a zombie in distress

At the dying embers of

My salt of the earth world

Through misty window panes

Etched with a lifetime roadmap of

Memories begging for attention

Confined to a lonesome room

A picture of Jesus on a cross on the wall

Aware that I'm there

To fade away

To journey to the other side

In an old Folks Home

No, not yet

This is where I've been

Should someone ask

But I don't think anyone will

Thirteen years and counting

A flash in the night in my mind

Lonesome in Rancho de Centinela

Immigrant settlers renamed Santa Nella

Sandwiched like a think slice

Of dry tasteless meat

Between I-5 and the 152

Where the 33 runs through

Connecting the two

The middle of nowhere

Nothing sacred here

Only the earth below my feet

Fast-food drive-throughs

Taco wagons

Quick Stops

Truck stop filling stations

Mission de Oro

A passerby's oasis

To fill up, piss and grab

A burgr to go

This is nowhere

And nowhere

For me

Is like a dog

Without a bone

in the twilight zone

~~~

Check out Award Announcement

Manny is my "adopted" brother... I have not been able to talk to him (on line) for almost a year... We met on Facebook, a place that once was my almost daily location for at least a small part of the day. I'd been on Facebook for around 20 years... I had developed a close set of friends who were mainly writers of books. I have read and reviewed all of Manny's books, so do a search to find them here... On Facebook, Manny had problems with having his ID stolen... that seems to happen a lot where individuals take the name of a popular FB member and create another site under that name... Soon problems of access started and it was the individual who was the real person who had to clean up the mess and start over... Then I was told that it appeared that something seemed to be wrong with my account--that they were blocking it to check... It's been almost a year that I have been blocked from my account on Facebook. Yesterday I installed a new Anti-virus and discovered that Facebook had been tracking everywhere I went... Why? Those of you who read my blog surely assumed the same thing I have. They support the republican mess that is now destroying America and I am fighting against it... So, if you see my blog disappear someday...you'll know why... Or, they could "disappear" me because their new law is that if they can prove that even a citizen is thinking something they don't like, they can be arrested! Yep, I could be disappeared! Provided for your information in this time of corruption in our government...

~~~

IF ANYBODY SEES THIS AND KNOWS HOW TO GET IN TOUCH WITH MANNY MORENO, PLEASE PASS ON MY NEED TO TALK TO HIM... AND SHARE THIS FIRST POEM FROM HIS LATEST BOOK. THANK YOU!

GABixlerReviews

Manny Moreno, Poet, Writer and Ongoing Contributor, Shares "The Tree" and more...

 

Monolin “Manny” Moreno is of Yaqui-Tarascan descent and an Enrolled Member, of the State Recognized Group of Texas Band of Yaqui Indians. His Yaqui Ancestry records date back to the late 1600’s. He has four books published: The Bridge is Gone, poetry, and The Elder: A Tribute, remembrance of elders Harry Jack and Barry Beaver Turner--both published by Back40 Publishing, and his book of poems, Longview Road, Sam Aros and son published. His fourth book is Scared – Coming Full Circle published by Eaglespeaker Publishing. It is under revision to be published under new title Scared – The Healing.
•
Manny’s poems are about the beauty and heartache of growing up in rural Livingston, where his grandparents settled in the early 1900’s, and about his rough and crazy decades in Stockton. Readers have admired the plain language, emotional power, and honesty of Moreno’s verse. His poems have appeared in Song of the San Joaquin, Hincha Poesia and Whispering Thunder. He was nominated for the Pushcart Award in 2011 and was Poet of the Month for Moon Tide Press in June 2012.
•
Moreno is a Sun dancer and member of the Black Wolf Honor Society Gourd Clan and Native American Church. He has appeared on Native Voice TV in Santa Clara, KKUP Indian Time Radio in Cupertino and on Channel Ten for Native American Month. Manny has lectured and read his poems in many venues, most recently at Modesto Junior College (Modesto), and the Haggin Museum and Mexican Cultural Center (Stockton).

The Tree

A twig from an ancient tree

was planted in this valley

ninety-years and a day ago

with grandparents' post-migration

arrival

propagated with a labor

of love and dream songs which

sprouted roots rich

with indigenous sacred hope

and over decades this twig branched-out

into an ancestral tree

lush with a heritage of scattered leaves

some have prevailed on the railroads

farmfields and overseas

warriors in battlefields

some have crooned and swooned

on saddles of assimilation

not total though

to gain an education

some have hummed commitments

to heaven in humble jubilation

some have whistled weary in whirlwinds

on life’s meager means

some have not forsaken

chanting enchanted

traditional ancient

cosmic conscious themes

and now

in this soul-deadening

out of balance Y2K

millennium infancy

I reflect in the autumn years of my being

standing somber in

the shade of our tree;

what will become of it

and me?

For the tree

expands into five generations

perpetuating a pristine

perpetual dream

in this valley reality like

enormous hawk wings

encapsulating us with

a shade of simplicity

celebrated in a social

status of invisibility

and I

native son shy of eloquence

irrigate the tree

with common words

to nourish-in nutrients of this life force

flowing in crimson canals of flesh

in the fertile soil of San Joaquin

in the plants and critters

in the rivers and

pulses of little towns

being shredded for

progress and malls

in the decades deciphered

from a million memories

fertilized for posterity

prestige and dignity

of the tree and landscape

and panorama

of our souls.

~~~

"keep on dancin'"....I am told by my ancestors in the spirit world.

When I stumble they catch me
when I fall they lift me up
when life becomes so hard to endure
they gather in my dreams and console me
when I look for answers they guide me
when I am weak they strengthen me.

You, keep on dancin'...

— with Cindy Moreno Reynolds

Final Thought:

Working on my 5th book has me doing much thinking. A process. Observations.

I remember this, "It's important to know WHO you are. It's also important to know WHO you are not. I leave pretending to the pretenders.

Hope you are having a good day.

Find me on Facebook

Manny

God Bless and Best Wishes on Your Book Writing, my Friend! 

Gabbie