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Mia Donaj Jul 2020
trail of tears
paralyzing fears
ripped from the mother's womb
land destined to be taken to the tomb,
****** hands
take take take
stolen land
transgenerational trauma,
passed down,
sweet mama
sour whiskey
takes the edge off of reality
history books won't tell
victims won't be around to tell
emily will never know
leads to the communities depression
we love dream catchers
why can't we love the people who made them?
no reparations
no reservations,be%20transferred%20in%20between%20generations.
Aa Harvey Apr 2018
Navajo Spirit

The Amazon is amazing, so why are you still destroying,
Its beauty and your integrity?  You are a monster devouring.
This natural beauty is in our way;
So we must destroy to build again.
We must cause Mother Nature incredible pain;
For she has given us all these trees and this ****** rain.
A forest stump wouldn’t complain about anything.

Oh no!  A Navajo!
We must kick them out of their homes!
We come in peace,
Shoot to ****!  Shoot to ****!  
We come in peace,
Shoot to ****!

Er; Captain.  Yes what is it?
This thievery is taking longer than expected.
What!?  Do you think I am an idiot?
No Sir; it’s just, we haven’t got enough biscuits.
What about Jaffa Cakes?  No Sir, we’re all out.
Well what about meat?  It’s all dead and cannot be eaten.
What do you mean?  It’s obviously dead. (Clout!)
Ow!  Sorry Sir, I mean it has gone rotten.

Well find some more natives and buy some more meat.
We can’t Sir; they have disappeared, since the last broken treaty.
They haven’t been seen and new supplies we just cannot get.
Doh!  Why did we have to be such ****** stupid English Men?
Now we shall all starve because we couldn’t share the land;
The winter is coming and we have no friends.

Oh hello…I am Amity.  I am a Navajo.
You look rather ill…where is your home?
England, I think; please help me I’m starving.
Oh of course, wait a second and I’ll get cooking.

Here take this, it will make you healthy.
Cough!  Sorry.  I never meant to scare you.
Oh you didn’t, don’t be silly.
I just saw you lying here in need;
So I thought I would come and see,
If there was anything I could do.

You’re too kind, after the way my people have treated you.
Oh don’t be silly, you gave us money,
To help us arm ourselves against you.
Such irony really, when we could just have been friends.
Here smoke this peace pipe, it is completely free…
I’m seeing visions…

I see us as neighbours, living beside each other in peace;
I see a time of change in the wind beneath our dreams.
Let us live in peace and never forget history;
For the Navajo Spirit has always been at home
In the Land of the Free.

(C)2011 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Neville Johnson Mar 2017
The battlefield was here, where these cattle graze
The cavalry and Comanche fought the better part of a day
Guns against arrows, savages against the savagery, they were out-drawn
Braves against the bullets, so helpless their plight
Defending their land and families
Maybe they were right
Now, it’s just a valley
The way it was back then
The day before that massacre of forty honest Indians
This is their memorial
This bright day above
A view that lasts for miles
The many trees and shrubs
And the wild flowers
That grow between the rocks
Their maidens wore them in their braids
Before their loves were lost.
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.
brandon nagley Jun 2015
The pilgrim's pull ashore....

Strange glass waves smash their feeble ships...

In the meanwhile upon land
In the distant abyss.....

The wildmen dance in song singing....
Ya ha ha-way!
Ya ha ha-way!
Ya ha ha-way!

Ha ha ** ha ha ha-way
Ha ha ** ha ha ha-way...........

Connecting to the creator
Hellion's to sojourner men
Outlandish semblance
Blush maroon colored skin...

Pinna's stitched into costume
As bead's wrap their neck
Efflorescence garbs their smiles
As sage smokes their chest's

Trace bouquet Smell's as oak
As the Willow's they do gather
Pinecones and nut's the both
Are used, eaten, and slathered

Their friends with the forest
Watchmen of Cimmerian adumbration
Not thy average native
Not found on t.v stations

They follow not the world
Nor the things of material crud
They gallop exposed
All unclothed painted in by the mud

Their mundunugu's and isangoma's
Their healer's of sickened loma's
Their future reader's
And old time Greeter's

They hash up balm pharmaceuticals
And mix in remedy anesthetics
Antibiotic doctors
Believer's in angelic medic

The pioneers come in
Scratching their heads
Bearing babies of far distance
Bringing disease with no end

They park their Vessels on edge
Of those wild men they call beasts
They plant their flag of hatred
And the redskin's are forgiving treat's

The ivory men draws gun
Whilst the natives draw their god
The pale man doth run
This is native land didst the whitened did trod

The natal men's Architect was stronger
Against the real true brutes
As the shaman sent home those foreigners
Back to England and Europe's coupé

As when the bleached beau's had left them
They went into different song
It goes like this
Please don't miss

These are the original's of the law!!!!

They Carol in fire hot dance...

Wee hee nah wee hee nah hee nah
Wee hee nah hee nah

Wee hee nah
Wee hee nah hee nah
Wee hee nah hee nah

Hey **!!!!!!!!

— The End —