Prophecy

Too many Kings
Following swing
Rum diary orgies in
The City of Sin

Blasphemous heat waves
Scorch the tired earth
Where hunters and
Gatherers met in
Sacred circles
Calling
Unifying
With the Needs of
The Land

Centuries old evocations
Ceremonial birth rites
Performed by the few
Remaining ancestors
Of the ancient tribe
Tudinu

Heal
Reclaim
Renew
Empower
Unci Maka

Shaman smoke
Echo chantings
Circles drawn
With feathers and
Ash

Fire, crossing
Dimensional divination
Upon horse back ghosts
Wisdom and authority
Of desert living
Brings more than
Comfort
To the ostracized
And horrifically
Abused
And massacred
In the name
Of White man’s
Capitalistic religion

Of money, land,
and Power
That continues
to this day

I feel the voices
I am reborn
I repress memories
Memories of
Previous lives

I am her
Was Her
Proud

Slight
Brown
Too young to
Fulfill the daily needs
Of my
Tribe
My Blood

Even then
Ancient ancestors
That had passed
Watched Over me

As I grew
As I became
A martyr
Murdered
Bled
Raped
By
The White Men
That Never had or have any
Regard for Life
In Any form
Other
Than their profits and
Self

These are the Beasts

Monsters that serve an
UnHoly god….
A god of War
A god of Storms
That feeds
On blood sacrifice
And ritualistic slaughter Conversion

The English
The Spaniards
Does it matter?

Conquerors
Conquistadors

This is Our land
Our legacy

Now

We are almost extinct
Our customs forgotten

Sold
With diseased blankets
Evil Alcohol Spirits
Kept in bottles of glass
Yet
Another form of
Control
Shame
And
Suicide

We were fed lies
That all people
including US
WOULD Achieve the
Freedom
Wealth and Equality

That this land
of opportunity
Would
Deliver

Here
In real time
I can’t
And don’t want
To
Escape
These memories
This Will
to reclaim
the Vindication of
My former self
That child
That girl
That bled at the hands
Of
Grotesque Liars
Men of Urges
Men of No
Remorse
Or Guilt

Filled
With Hatred
Fear and Prejudice
That still Breeds
To this Day

Among the neon
Beneath the lights
At the end of a cigarette
Simple whiskey
I feel the coming
The calming
The knowing

The circle Will be completed
We Will inherit our birth rites
Our land Will be Our own
We will have our Dignity returned
And the wind
Carries the future
The White Buffalo Will appear

MB93
2022©