if i could choose my magic

[Whitebird Sings]

if i could choose my magic
i'd shapeshift into a tree
my branches reaching high
and bending low
all nature of creature
would gather
under me
by me
rest on me
and in me
for a thousand years
and then i'd sleep

[stilltrucking]

I would take an axe unto your tree

A sacrifice to Artemis
And then
I would Hollow U out like a log canoe
And name you for my daughter
Iphigenia


and then I would sail away in you

[Whitebird Sings]

the magic that transforms me
will also protect me --
and provide you with what you need.
no more will i be a sacrifice.
put away your axe.
we will co-exist.
so it is
as it should be
as it has been
as it will be.

[gypsyjoker]

i was thinking about Hiawatha, no I was thinking about ethnography.

too much work to chop down a tree just to hollow it out with fire just to make a boat.

you kno what?

[gypsyjoker]

"a wood boat is a whole in the water into which you pour money"

there are all ready to many sacrifices I suppose but if I were native here which I am, I would look for a tree all reading sleeping on the holy ground not doty but ready for a tranformation by fire. In the native state we were always conservationists, measuring pleasure by calories.

Geezz, I been reading too much lyric Greek poetry to worry about what is going to be.

[Whitebird Sings]

oh yes,
i think mythical Hiawatha
would understand --
about magic and about trees

mythical magical Hiawatha
would not have cut a tree...
she would have loved the tree, knew the beauty of the tree
saw no separation between her and the tree.
her people tell us they heard the screams of the trees
as we felled them,
as an axe was buried deep.
she would have placed herself between this axe
and her beloved tree,
she would have stopped the killing.

so says magic, myth and ethnography... even ours.

so it is.

[Whitebird Sings]

gypsy joker... kin of Hiawatha?
then you know of trees and screams...
you understand.

[stilltrucking]

yes he be mee but i wanted to feel noble so I chahnged my sock.

her people tell us they heard the screams of the trees
as we felled them,

Yes we are killers.

[Whitebird Sings]

there is magic even in changing your socks

...as for killers
not all of us.
and those who are --
by choice.
i know this to be true.

[stilltrucking]

choice?

We be Cro-Magnon killers
We be there by the choice of the creater I suppose
Chosen people
Of all creation as far as we know, the only ones to have the Word.

[Whitebird Sings]

choice.
love too.
no more to say.

[Whitebird Sings]

let's speak of magic.
...who will speak of magic?

if you could choose your magic --
tell me what would be...

[stilltrucking]

Words speak of magic, not to change the subject

[stilltrucking]

I did not mean to be unkind
the last thing on my mind
Your tree so lovely
and I lusted after a log canoe

I love trees
when I die
if I had a choice
I would say
tree me.

The native people did plenty of killing too
they enjoyed the screams of their prisoners of war as they tortured them
put a pottery bowl over their hair so as not to damage the scalp for a victory totem

we men with our axes and swords
are more prone to killing?
a no brainer

thank you for the lovely GO

I am sorry if I caused you pain

[lenny]

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