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I don’t know what we are trying to say Native America…
White man and the Indian?
Fight for your right,
Fight for your white.
Apache -
Underlined in black "indian" ink Africa!
I'm trying to pinpoint the source of racial conflict both in society and the quiet of one's mind
The Centurion Jul 13
I'm silent and swift as the night.
You'll never know when I'll spring and fight.
I'll fight you in the canyons or on open ground.
While you'll look frantically all around.

I'll scream and howler to strike you with fear.
I'm the wolf, while you are the deer.
Tomahawk, bow or knife.
Are the tools I use to take your life.

The Apache
james m nordlund Sep 2019
Mammon, their false god of avarice, says,
their 'final solution', extinction,
to steal everyone's everything,
can't be stopped, notseeism will rule.

"...We(e),..." bay, nay, you will be separated from
the State, as the Constitution dictates, the people
will rise again, your treason will end, Oyate.

Somatic revolution, each one's foci of attention
solutioning with all life, betwixt Earth and Sky,
evincing to be alival, not survival, lifting sights,
inspiring visions, meditations, actions, sweats to Sundance.

While we look to the 7 th generation, with our climate crisis strike,
starting 9-20-19 and 'the Green New Deal', we also mournfully remember
'Wounded Knee', 12-29-1890, where 300 Native Americans were exterminated.

Most of them were women, kids, a root of our king-kong sized terrible-two's
current war on kids, mostly Latinos.  I would fly just for a day, as a mayfly,
the Beauty Way, if I were more me, rather than as long as an eagle flies,
selling out, destroying, killing.  Viva la evolucion.  Wakan Tanka.
The Constitution dictates, "separate religion from State", so avarice, the actual religion of almost all, they practice behind masks of Christian, atheist, Hindu, etc., must be separated from the State; no?  On this anniversay of the 9-11-01 terrorist attacks that were purposely not prevented, let us remember all murdered by the united **** of assassins Gov't.  The evolution and love exist in politics, see Marianne2020 dot com   :)   reality
CarolineSD Jul 2019
How many long years did I spend with you,
Lakota Oyate?
Though Wasicu skinned, wearing the paleness of imperial greed,
The reverberant beating of ceremonial drums
Caused my heart to bleed
Rivers of blood,
Tears that I shed,
Soaking the sagebrush and sorrow-laden plains
Inside the hollows of my bones.

Tiyospaye, you are always.

Pilamaya, always and forever.

Mitakuye Oyasin.

Lakota Oyate, you raised me,
A rootless, tender-hearted girl,
Kicking up the dust on some
Empty reservation road.

Lost, but found
In your kindness.

Tiwahe, when I had none.

I filled my plate at your tables, Wojapi and thickened breads,
The laughter of the wild-hearted children
Ringing through the stars like the songs of rainbow-chested prairie birds.

Little takojas, how you grasped my hands and claimed me.
How clearly I can hear them calling, “auntie, auntie, come play!”

And so, the people of the river, below the plains of Standing Rock,
I love you, thechihila,
Forever.

My little children will forever walk in kindness and humility
Because of the values you raised in them;
Because you drew them in as if they were your own blood,
Because you sewed vibrant ribbons on their shirts
As if they belonged in their humanness,
In their innocence,
To your great nation.

Lakota Oyate, I can never repay you for the way your heartbeat

Saved me.

Prayed for me.

Pilamaya Wopila,
Always and forever.
Fifteen years on a reservation in South Dakota. I will never forget. The people raised and healed me in so many ways. In so many ways, it is home.

Wasicu - White Man
Oyate - Nation
Tiyospaye - Family/Clan
Pilamaya - Thank you
Tiwahe - Family
Wojapi - Berry soup
Takoja - Grandchild
Thechihila - I love you.
Chris Saitta Jul 2019
Come home from eagle-throated distance,
The canoe-tip of the crescent moon scuds
Into the silted, mud-bed of heaven.
Her face-dream beside the pine trees
The mollusc of purpled wampum beads shining.  

Bury my hands, ninidji, in the eagle’s nest,
Carry my feeling words to her on wings.
Let her mix roots, berries, clay
and the feather of my hands
To paint her face with my words and these trees.

Or let my hands ripple like flat-fish
Above the silt-bed of her slim stomach,
Held there in radiant scaled warmth.
Lappihanne, the rapid water of our river heart,
Like an arrow that glides from the bow,
My people where the tide ebbs and flows.

To us both, the dark, golden edge of woods whispers, kuwumaras
And the water arrow will never land,
But carried in my eagle’s hands,
I say kuwumaras, my love, and pierce through all darkness
To the empty path made full with the ripples of all who have passed.
My nika, swan of the woods, let us dive into the dark, golden sea
Of forever in the hills.
All italicized words are Algonquin.
"Wampum" is well-known as the colorful beads made from whelk shells and later used as currency in trading with New World explorers.
"Lappihanne" was the basis for the word Rappahannock, which is also the name of the tribe known as the "people of the ebb and flow tide"
"Kuwumaras" means "I love you"
All other words are self-explained in the above.

Roots, berries, clay, and sometimes feathers were used for face paint.
Hannah Johnson Jan 2019
Wide little eyes watch from behind the door
    fat little fingers grip the wood, until the blood has fled and left them
  white with cold.
   Chill iron fingers of terror curl around the pounding little hearts and      
squeeze
      their childhood from them
   For the demons enter, breaking down the door;
     their guns drawn, blood on their hands, death in their faces.
    The blind ones rise, with effort, with confusion
   curse the lying promise of the empty bottles, laughing at them from  
     the ground
   and having played themselves to the trap, are pushed helpless to the            
  door.

   and the little eyes burn as they read the little minds their story;
    and flood the tiny trembling faces as they shout the silent truth into
        the hollow room
  that with step after echoing footstep, the beloved ones
    the blind and stumbling ones
  are herded with the crack of whips over the edge
   to a buffalo's death
         in the dark.
From the perspective of  a Native American child whose father has turned to drink to escape his poverty, unemployment, cultural conflict and racism in a rural locale.
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
james m nordlund Nov 2018
Natives' compassion taught
Pilgrims at Plymouth
How to live within, give to,
Natures' abundance.


That providence sowed
Reaped graces' harvest,
Fraternity, bearing
Fruits to this day.


We gave Native-America
Genocide, Earthocide.
Chief Seattle said,
No one can own the land.


Bowing to Above and Below,
For gifts bestowed,
Giving, may we again,
Walk that way!
For the holiday   :)   Thanx for the great worx, I look forward....  "...We(e),..." are advancing the Evolution in it's struggle against the corporate structure's (la machine) convolution and it's devolutionary direction.  You, indivisible life and illimitable potential, and your worx go along way in that evolutionary direction, for, we can walk in nature's balance, giving back to Earth's abundance.  If you didn't vote Hillary you voted for the bi-headed, RumputiN/vlad the impaler, head of the global oligarchy to dictate the extermination to extinction of humanity, large mammals, for the corp structure's convolution's devolutionary direction + 'la machine''s, sociological programming (machining) human (into not) being, individually, which is the social challenge of our day, as the convolution's dictating cult of personality is almost all and the socialist's extemist lie that "there's no reality without their agreement", is the political one.  All life are necessary threads in life's fabric, we can't allow to be torn asunder, as we followed none, we leave no footprints that will echo on, in all ways, always.   reality
Kore Nov 2018
it's easy
forgetting
You.
     the hatred
of Me.

until I cease
          to blend
in

and what has
        been lying
in wait
           emerges
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