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"A compelling first book of poetry by young Mistawasis Cree
writer John MacDonald, The Glass Lodge is fearless in its descriptions of
the often harsh realities of life for a young Aboriginal man. The poetry is
honest, frank, passionate, and energetic. From sex, drugs, and rock and
roll, to love won and lost the poems range from heartfelt laments, to love
poems, to joyful songs of praise. Dealing with life on the streets, drug and
alcohol addiction, racism, gangbanging, young love, and identity, The Glass
Lodge is a celebration of overcoming despair, finding one's voice,
surviving, and ultimately, discovering one's place in the world"
The Glass Lodge transcends all the clichés of the angst- ridden Urban
Indian. Mc Donald's verse is a brilliant fusion of the brutality and hope
that isinherent in the Aboriginal experience.I have never read poetry that soclosely resembled my own experience as a First Nations man.
Darrell Dennis, Writer
'Tales of an Urban Indian', 'Moccasin Flats'
The Bacchus Concerto
A newfound lover in my arms tonight
These wet streets call out to me
My feet kiss the cement, and I am off
Shattered glass and broken doors
reflect nothing but my need
and crimson tears
are brought forth from the sightless eyes
of touch
Quickly, quickly
dawn chases the night away
We need the night
We need the darkness -
shadows hide the guilt
Barter and trade
My new lover is in my arms
Burning down my throat
like embers
My body fights it
but I want it need it crave it
Beautiful temptress
take me
Off again with the sun she goes
and my body shakes
I want her back
tonight tonight tonight |
Does?
Does he take you in his arms
like each time was his last
Does he lie awake at night
your face upon his mind
your taste on his tongue
your name upon his lips
Have you ever seen him cry?
When you are with him
do you draw
your chilled body nearer
to denim and black leather
to jagged scars and whispered lyrics
a racing heart
a restless spirit
Has he ever made you sweat?
Will he take you by the hand
and lead you into the night
bodies pulsing
breath increasing
howling at the moon
Would his fingers ever bleed?
When you and he embrace
naked flesh
glistening sweat
do you slam your hand against the wall
and drive your body down
screaming out the name
you gave your lover
hot tears running
from your seawater eyes
Can he bring you to the edge?
Was he there when you departed
Did he kiss your trembling mouth
Could he hear
your beating heart?
Did it tear him up inside?Is it him you truly love?
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Rise
My steps are but so very few
in a shuffling gait
like a hobbled horse
blinded limbs and deafened nerves
I stumble
slow to rise
but rise I do
to stay down means to die
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