Thank u to a friend… who pointed to where I was headed and showed me the pit I was blindly moving towards. There’s things I know that haven’t been spoken here. They’re written in scrolls and hidden all through out the house of my memories. What good though is knowledge if it’s not implemented. It’s said in Islam such a person is like a donkey with books in a sack tied to its back. The books benefit not the illiterate beast. Allah forgive me… I’ve been foolish. So… once again, I withdraw to organize my affairs. Compartmentalize some say. Remember, only way to see if ur in the dark is to get ur butt up and turn on the light switch… u know where it’s at right?… if u don’t know… ask someone who seems like they do… peace be upon u… The Mad Poet, Pack Redfeather.

Published by Pack Redfeather

I am a walking contradiction of traditions some say. An African American and Native American Muslim poet with a personal life history as violently turbulent as a Storm. A visionary from the bottom of life’s social barrel striving to share the hope found in the light of faith through sometimes dark but real poetry. I’m a former member of the Bloods street gang, former serial bank robber, and both federal/state prison convict. I live on my mother’s tribal reservation of the Leech Lake band of Ojibwe in Minnesota.

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