Sharing a poem by Rob Pliskin I received as I have morning coffee….
No More Lost and Found
BLM’s killing horses just tryin to be free
Runnin them from Rock Creek, Little Humboldt and Owyhee
Towards a tragic future of captivity or death
While most Americans don’t even know and others hold their breath
And some unlikely heroes save 174
Pay for them in Fallon and help them find the door
Because this weekend they’d been in The Killer’s Lost and Found
Where they were just wild horses who went for 20 cents a pound
They said The Seven died because the tank was nearly dry
I’d say check the fences because fences never lie
Cattle drink and come to water to me it don’t make sense
When horses end up dying on the wrong side of the fence
And eyes like satin stars on coats of red white blue and brown
Don’t make no difference to blind men paying 19 cents a pound
All we’re trying to provide’s a simple place to stand
Where all creatures live in balance but it takes a gentle hand
With all of us on every side good neighbors we can be
Its good neighbors make good fences, that means us, yes, you and me
Cause we no longer want to hear that high and lonely sound
Of ghosts of horses whinnying at 19 cents a pound
So if you’ve got mettle in your heart and basically agree
That if cows and oilmen can wander horses too can wander free
Put it in your boots and go do something good today
We can help the horses all together find the way
If you have that extra penny stick it under your hat band
Screw your hat down on your head go out and make your stand.
Because G-d’s writing in the tally book and needs help getting it all down
That wild horses’ weight is gold, not 19 cents a pound.
— Rob Pliskin
Just awesome.
Let’s take it to the streets people; and the Town Halls and the sidewalks in front of BLM buildings. Get a permit and some friends and make some flyers and keep telling the world and your neighbors there is Double Dealing and Death pursuing our nations wild horses who need to be saved and protected again. mar
We have a BLM building here in town and I am going to get a permit to have a little vigil with some flyers out front before I leave town to go back out to find more threatened wild horses. It is a little thing to do and in the morning it is not hot. We have a new mural here in town, too. It is wild mustangs in a sunset. I think people here in Pagosa will want to know about this. The theater here also rents for private shows and I would like to see what it will take to get “Disappointment Valley” shown here this summer. If you are in a horse group maybe you can rent this film also and show it in your town. we need to be offering information and showing our own courage to the people around us. Please do all you can wherever you live. Show people the dignity we have and the sincerity of our cause. mar
Hey Mar, nice to see you powering up in this way. Great idea to promote this film too. I would love to see it playing here in Carson CIty!
Rob’s poem says it. Many, including us, are holding our breath, and too many are just unaware! Education is a great tool. Glad to see you are going for more public awareness in this way. We need another rally here!! Its been awhile since the Truth Rally! Good luck on your quest and thank you. : )
Excellent poem Rob! Nice to see some heart felt poetry speaking for them. Laura, thanks for sharing it.
It is frightening knowing that heartless ones such as those in the horse slaughter business, actually walk the earth among angels!! I will never forget the slaughter films and the insensitivity, total numbness of the shooter and the others. Horrifying grim reality. Hard to believe God would make such people. But there are millions of low energy people in prisons, who are of the same despicable character.
We must continue to believe that light will always prevail over darkness. United we stand, equine angels. Our wild ones will be saved. Feeling the momentum? We are making headway! Stay strong and True, and never give up!
Thanks everyone. Just back from Fed Bldg Vigil in Cleveland. I will continue to leave updates in that part of the blog. Rob
Thank you Rob for such a beautiful, heart felt poem! We all must continue to take a stand, do what’s right for all of our innocent horses and burros. There are so many wonderful and compassionate people that truly care about our American wild horses, so collectively we just have to keep on working to expose the truth and fight the wrong! Never, never, give up!
Greetings; a wonderful poem; the lines which inspire me are:
Put it in your boots and go do something good today
We can help the horses all together find the way;
i like these lines too:
They said The Seven died because the tank was nearly dry
I’d say check the fences because fences never lie
Cattle drink and come to water to me it don’t make sense
When horses end up dying on the wrong side of the fence
And eyes like satin stars on coats of red white blue
and of course the final line which is the summary of poem:
Because G-d’s writing in the tally book and needs help getting it all down
That wild horses’ weight is gold…Thanks for the inspiration!
sincerely; anna ps great news about the HSUS news release!
http://www.blm.gov/nv/st/en/fo/battle_mountain_field/blm_information/newsroom/2010/july/blm_signs_final_decision.htm
BLM WRITES:
The BLM will leave 80 wild horses within the HMA to allow 3-5 years of population growth before another gather is necessary…
quote: “TO ALLOW 3 – 5 YEARS OF POPULATION GROWTH…before another gather is necessary…”
SEE? THE BLM “BREEDS THE MUSTANGS IN THE WILD AND THEN SELLS THEM ! ! ! to anyone; imo aw even though…
Bob’s poem:
Because G-d’s writing in the tally book and needs help getting it all down; That wild horses’ weight is gold…!
“Anne: Horses should be everywhere; on trails; in parks; sanctuaries; preserves; reservations; conservation lands; public lands; and walmart and developments must “leave!
To the land developers: Stay away from me; you gotta go…you gotta leave; cuz you’re no good for the U.S. of A. !
to BP: leave…go back to your neck of the woods evil doers!
107 Calico Mustangs (plus 6 = 113
21 Mustangs Tuscarora (plus 1 PVC = 22
127 Mustangs perished @ PVC in 2007 ; 107 + 21 + 127 =
255 Mustangs gone ! and these are the ones we know about !
no more roundups
no more selling mustangs
BLM ADOPTIONS ONLY
Do not say oh high and mighty BLM…you do not sell Mustangs; because you do sell them…YET YOU SAY YOU EITHER ADOPT THEM OUT OR LONG TERM PASTURE
WHY DO YOU LIE BLM ? ? ? ! ! YOU SELL MUSTANGS ! ! ! aw
[...] A poem by Rob Pliskin (artandhorseslauraleigh.wordpress.com) [...]
This is a poem that I wrote when I first became acutely and painfully aware of what was being done to our precious horses. I feel that this is the proper forum to share this. It comes from my heart.
Bonnie Snider
Set Me Free
I was born under a clear night sky.
Under stars and a moon so bright.
My mother, kind and gentle
She loved me so and kept things right.
We all ran free through all the lands
Valleys low, and mountains high.
We grazed and danced through creekbeds
And we watched the eagles fly.
My family and friends always with me
We stuck together, never strayed.
Maybe things would have been different
If perhaps we’d never stayed
In that land where we felt safety
And security and peace abounded
Until one day from the sky
A monster with metal wings from the mountains rounded.
The noise was deafening as it flew
It roared at lightning speed.
We ran and dodged and tried our best
From this monster to be freed.
But the whoops and hollers never ended
As we galloped fast and light.
But they were faster than we could ever be
This monster brought such fright.
So many of us lost that day
As the monster flew low and fast
Somewhere in my heart I knew
Everything I’d ever known was past.
I was born to run the open land
My life worth so much more
Than mere existence in some holding pen
Or a pool of blood on the slaughter house floor.
We did everything we could not to go
But the monster was too strong.
My mother, heavy with another foal
Was too weak to run that long.
I’d seen others go before her
Stumbling, tripping, falling as we ran.
I saw her slam into the pole
Of the holding pen made by “man”.
She cried out in pain and agony
As her body hit the ground.
It was the last I saw of her
She was never again to be found.
Now we stand and suffer every day.
In these pens so very small.
We wait for some salvation
For a guardian angel to hear our call.
We remember where we came from.
Our ancestors’ stories had been told
By our families who remembered
How we helped build the America of old.
Will no one come and rescue us?
Is this to be our fate?
Won’t someone come and set us free
Before it’s all too late?
Doesn’t anyone out there remember
How we helped this great country grow?
How we moved the wagons and supplies
Through the sun, rain, sleet and snow?
How we carried all the people, ran like lightning for the mail.
How we got everyone from place to place
Our strong hearts could never fail.
Yet here we stand in holding pens.
Forlorn, forgotten, and so alone.
Won’t someone come and save us
And give us open land that we can call home?
Please…SET ME FREE to run the open land.
My life is worth so much more.
Than mere existence in some holding pen
Or a pool of blood on the slaughterhouse floor.
Copyright material
Bonnie Snider 06/11/2009