"redskin" poems
Celebrate your corporate-create version
of this holiday as you have your break from work -
you deserve a day off from your grind -
but don't
talk about how great America once was.
When?
Don't talk about how this "represents"
freedom
"for everyone"
It doesn't.
Red,
white,
and blue
for the blood of my people
the skin of our invaders
and Creator weeping while watching
the sky so vast above us.
Red,
white,
and blue
to distract you from the events...
the genocide,
the slavery
that led you to the freedom you have today;
patriotism like a blindfold over your not-so-kind eyes.
Remember those in mourning
over the many great losses Native tribes
& nations
have experienced
in the name of freedom.
This so-called once great nation
was built
on the graves of my people,
the backs of another
and still we cannot mourn without words -
slurs -
like redskin and squaw and ***** and savage
the list goes on
being thrown our way.
For choosing not to participate
or celebrate
the genocide of our own
the enslavement of others
the harassment and murders and hate
of people of color
all in the name
of stealing this land,
we are deprived of our right
to grieve in peace.
So what is freedom
if not given to all?
Think about that instead of the beer
in your back yard;
think about that while we smudge
while we honor our veterans.
Just let us mourn.
Jul 9, 2016
Jul 9, 2016 at 9:34 PM UTC
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
Tis
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 **
Jun 6, 2015
Jun 6, 2015 at 8:51 AM UTC
If you're wondering why there's so many typos? I'm in the hospital,
Benzo'd out and on phenobarbital.
But I guess it's better than hammered drunk at home trying to give the cat a bath.
He doesn't like that band The Allman Brothers which I Blair at the side of the tub and he tends to scratch me
even with the Mr. bubble bath. Now I'll try to watch the Redskin buccaneer game, they'll always be the Redskins to me. But that could just be the benzos talking
Jan 9, 2021
Jan 9, 2021 at 7:32 PM UTC
Who are you? You are not rich, you are not famous, you're not a politician, not a movie star, not poor. Who are you? You are not a preacher, you are not a teacher or even a Sunday school teacher you are not a football player or a sports star. But who are you?
Your not a Fireman or even a policeman, Your not a solider or a ring master.
Your not a wrestler or a boxer to.
Your not a cowboy or a redskin fan.
Who Are You ? I"M ME!!!!
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 7:50 AM UTC
redskin, cheekbones, upturned eyes
you call me names, pick apart my features
there's much for you to analyze
none of it good enough
even as you slit my belly and take my skin
you think me rough
wearing me like a hood you become
Pocahontas, Matoaka, Indian Princess
you think the thrum of your blood is the sound of a drum
you consume me, trick yourself
Redskin Princess
Sep 16, 2018
Sep 16, 2018 at 3:10 PM UTC