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Kore Jan 2019
you
     non-
colonizer

friend, companion, self-intellectualizing

non-
      colonizing
colonizer

who loves, cares, hurts
              [ me ]

lays an offering
of violence
                  at
                     my
                         feet

non-
     colonizing
colonizer

this is how you love
           [ me ]
my friend hit me up just to show me the nathan phillips video (the first one, not his interview from today) because i'm the only native person he knows and didn't take into account the fact that all i've seen is this ******* video and it hurt me because he wanted my point of view as an indigenous person but just would not listen to me without arguing that the white kids could have maybe been in the right
I walk a pace in tall covers, a distance set from other brothers, waiting for a herd to feed; I crush and blow away some seed.

The grasses burnt on prior prairie, warm yet cool for day is airy, far can see I from top hill; I stand in patience very still.

Copper ochre is my skin, the brothers and I are family men, on the native hills we live and finding those called kin, we hunt today the land we’re in.

Off in distant rumbled cloud, dark foreboding getting loud, the sound we seek from running crowd, ahead of storm front watching grasses plowed.

Stoic, I, my umber eyes as mist now falling from the skies, I stand here patient chest held high, shoulders square with chin to sky, my flowing hair in breeze divides.

Land it shakes I take to knee and feel the earth, the vibrating, the rumble sound is thundering, is louder still than weather’s thunder, light she fades from skies I’m under.

  Yansa nearing, wind has told me, I wait here at clearing with spear to console me but something awful lurks around for along with rumble comes alarming sound, a growling type from a hungry hound.

Bear my brother, hawk my guide, no tree for shelter or horse to ride, my hunt now over after solemn wait for Mother Earth has sealed my fate.

Two wounded wolves approaching wily, one it limps or seems to sway as smaller animals run away, their eyes beguiling on stormy day, I prepare for fight, no time to pray.

I seat my spear, it is useless, take out knife and axe I loosen, the pair they circle long and wide, and carefully I match their stride.

  Quiet now, prairie peaceful, time seems slower, I cannot see my people; the wolves at bay they snarl near, I stone my heart against all fear. Were they hunting Yansa, like me too, I just easier prey to pursue? My younger days would see wolf for dinner as I’ve grown older so too am thinner.

  What difference makes it slow or fast but when they pounced did run in tandem? In last second my actions random, I lose my hatchet in one’s side and dive while stabbing until he’s died. Face is ******, arm got chewed, and they tricked me with a method skewed, for what seemed wounded never was true, my back turned towards her, neck in view, she took aim and rent sinew.

  A ****** mess became a horror, I swung my blade and thought I caught her; she tore my hand off and mauled my face then left me dying in a grassy place. The warmth of day is leaving body, a hunt now do I thus embody, the rumbling ground again is moving and cool of night is somewhat soothing, my killer stalks the area-round but soon she’ll eat me where I’m found.

  The rain it cooled me seeing Sister Moon, Brother Sun was dipping with Great Father Sky as Mother Night came to watch me die, my life fulfilled so now I die, Great Wolf’s passion can’t deny; to all that knew me I say goodbye.

  He who fights wolves says,  -goodbye.
Rhyming narrative about a Neolithic Native American.
Jim Morris Jul 2016
Set sail across the unknown waters searching for another land
White man was his name and his discovery was unplanned
His find in iron grip, discovered a red man
Both not knowing what, knowing who, mistaken for India
You met this red man; you call him savage, *****
You tell him the only good *****, is a dead *****
You take his land, his home, his family, his way of life
You crush his spirit; make him feel lesser than an empty heart, cut with a knife
You **** buffalo for fur and hide, leave blood to soak the soil, mountain of skulls and bones
The sacred lands our ancestors once walked freely on
You corrupt with greed and ****** of the innocent
With no defense against your warfare tactics, carried out with wickedness
No matter what, red man must die for a so called promised land to be built

White man saw that red man had established their own way of life before dawn
Women did the work, men provided safety and food, what is a tax, what is a debt
Why did you think you could improve their quality of life like that?
You **** red man for being a true patriot; you have the nerve to call him savage
You **** innocent women, the givers of life! Children, the future of our people, left to scavenge
But still after everything you throw at red man, you still call him savage
You may **** us but you won’t **** our spirit, no matter how far they travel
You may damage our spirits, strong we are, our spirits won’t be broken, we challenge
You run them to the hills, you organize other tribes to **** off each other alongside you, ravage
You force them into a designated part of land that they must reside, called the reservation

Money is what you throw at red man, hoping he’d take it so he can bring on an addiction, left crying
Possessed by greed, headless chickens running, while white man is behind the curtain laughing
You made red man touch pen which engraved the treaties on paper, only left them with broken promises
You go behind these treaties to deplete resources on reservations and such lands left to them, too hungry for a piece of paper that has no substance
You drain earth for oil, yet you spill it in our waters, you spill it on the lands, ruining communities

You give them blankets to comfort, deceived to receive white man’s disease, a smallpox ticket
You introduce red man to fire water; the taste burns the pureness from the spirit
State of mind lost to the sorrows, addiction with no limit
You start giving rations of food, the hunger sets in, dependent on your system
How did you feel the need to improve on red man’s system?
Red man became dependent on your way of life, too blind to see the victims
You introduce religion, something irrelevant, the creator is our wisdom
You bring books filled with nonsense, red man opens book, told to pick a white man’s name
Your name is now James, “why was I given this name - what was wrong with my previous name?”
Head no longer held high, identity lost, something he’s not, you cut his braid
You **** his thoughts, his senses, who he was, a red man, now in white man’s costume

You introduce him to a school, to get educated, because red man is a savage after all
Tame the wild is how you felt; to fit your standards for the future promised land, but overshadowed
You starve them, sit at this table, your meal for the day, and eat
White teacher sits at her own table, food for everyone, but just for her, repeat
Red man spoke his language, you beat it out of him to adapt to yours, it vanished
You ***** her, you killed him, you beat them, with heavy abuse some weaker than those who managed
Hanging from their rooms, you aren’t forgotten, I don’t blame you for vanishing
For the survivors, I appreciate your will to fight forward and tell your stories with courage and passion
Past generations corrupted, future generations wander without a voice, it’s disgraceful
One thinking they’re better than the next, it’s too painful, it’s betrayal

Red man claims pride, but where is the pride when red man does nothing about what happened
Red man stripped from everything that he once was, left behind
North America what it is now, born onto the burial grounds of our ancestors
Born on the genocide of the red man, and the enslavement of the black man
White man still see’s nothing wrong with what they did, swept under the rug, what a disaster
Told to forget about it, nothing will heal the scars, not death, not time, not money, not words, nothing

What will happen when the last tree is cut, the last river poisoned, the last fish caught
Will you realize money cannot be eaten or repeat history given no thought?
You breed with red man to thin the blood line for future generations
Even after five hundred years of resistance, we shall remain after all the corruption and frustration
One day there will be a new cycle, with nothing to block the winds from blowing freely, water thee earth with rain, nothing to hide the sun,

We still stand here today, a strong nation, nothing can stop us if we unite as one.
A poem about my people I wrote awhile back, got it published in a magazine in North Dakota.

— The End —