A brand new publishing department has recently been added to our organization. We’ve already started to receive submissions regularly for consideration for publication. (By the way, if you have an idea, poem, short story, novel, non-fiction, and/or children’s book send it to us. Don’t be shy!) For this post I decided to choose a submitted poem as a discussion point. The poem, Reserve by Lance Guilbault, will soon appear in our publication Grassroots Anthology. What do you think the poem is attempting to do? Is the author successful? How did you, personally, react to the poem?
Would you like to reserve a seat sir?
My feast is far from over
I am just getting started
You throw my people to the school
Away from the bush we departed
The drink is insatiable
Unmustered from my heartache
Listening to the story of survivors
Bonafide, pride, troubadour
Assimilationist agenda filled to pour
Over the bodies of children
To the city we came, by the hundreds
From bezhig, to begging, to bludgeon,
Clans of ma’iingan, mahkwa and migizi,
The eagle has landed,
1969 is over, and The Paper is no longer white,
But magenta, golden-rod, stationary
Bike to ride home from the Merchant,
To the children of poverty
Looking for sobriety
Fellowship of brothers,
Sisters, from Misters, swirling twisters
Taking my body out of my spirit
But not taking my spirit out of that guy that keeps
Them safe from the Bank of Land Ownership
Selling titles, deeds, or scripts,
I’ll write the script
The scrip is 250 dollars!
Only to learn 250 dollars
Is worthless to buy back your essence
Only the lodge of self
Spirit healing through love, and honesty
Wisdom, respect, courage, truth, and humility
Not humidity, it is too wet
My land is flooded,
How can I parent the children that cry
For money, all they want is money, money
NO, they want food, safety, life, education, health,
We know what we want!
What do you want?
More of that meat,
The good meat and leave us the rest
Suck on the marrow, but the marrow is good,
You boil the marrow
Drink the marrow, side by side, bone to bone.
We are parallel, to the isosceles triangle
Pi of the circle of life, full circle, pennywise,
And penny sure, not foreclosure.
Don’t own a house,
But can’t build a house,
Don’t have water for my children,
So what is a house for only seven families
Did I say water, water isn’t a necessity,
It’s a privilege
This land of free, this land of resource
School of hard knock life, this is the course
Freeway to the highway,
The king who is the king
Camping for fun inside this misery
MY Life, your life,
But you, not your life!
This is my reserve.