Momma, you are-

The one who always evens my odds
In life's thundering skies, my lightning rod

My superhero, my alpha squad
My knight, my armour, my invincible sword

My lady, my lord
My queen, my God.


Your presence defines my existence, will do so all along,
I promise to keep you happy, healthy and whenever needed I'll be there to sing you them songs.

your god lies dead and buried
in an unmarked grave. a radical—
a terrorist charged with treason.
for defying the Roman Throne,
they shoved a crown wove from thorns
onto his brow and called him "traitor."

but two thousand years later,
if the homeless rabbi
walked the Earth,
he'd be in the streets
with the anarchists,
fighting to end the wars
that plant kids' corpses
like seeds in the ground
that only yield new bombs.

he'd call your president
a ******* fascist.
he'd denounce Israel for bombing
his homeland and try to cease
the genocide in Palestine.
your savior would stand
shoulder-to-shoulder
with water protectors
in North Dakota, shouting, "mni wiconi!"
in the faces of cops guised in riot gear.

can't you see, pharisee? or is the log
in your eye blurring your vision?
snakes like you, who stand on street corners
preaching the "Good News," were the very same
self-righteous fools he detested.
you can't white-wash the legacy of the Nazarene.
you stand on the wrong side of history.
if Jesus walked this earth right now,
your hands would hold him down
while the State drove nails through his palms.
i only wish the fantasy was true,
that i could see your face as he said,
"away from me, evildoer.
truly, i never knew you!"

The color of the treasure may have changed,
But the tactics are all the same.
First come the discoverers, then the mercenaries, followed by the soldiers to "protect" us, for we know not what we have.
They come to "protect" and "civilize" us.
To save us from our wild savage ways.
Be it 1492, 1851, 1975, or 2016
The goal is all the same.
**** the Indian, Save the Man.
**** the Indian, Save the Man.
We're still thinking we're seen as that man,
But THEY are all part of that clan.
We are The Humans, The Protectors, we are The People, just as all of our languages remind us.
We are the children of the Earth.
Now the cycle has come again.
First came the discoverers,
And we prayed.
Then came the mercenaries,
And we reasoned.
Do more than just dance this time my people...
The soldiers are coming.
The color of the treasure may have changed,
But the tactics are all the same.

Mni Wiconi

-KB 2016
Cante Waste Mani Kici Win