Friday, September 21, 2018

Warrior of Nothing


do we forgive each other in death?

the silence of that answer
wraps around my neck like a choker
do you know on the other side
that i was angry with you?
to forgive and ask for forgiveness
is futile
like a breastplate
i am not impenetrable

the regrets burst thru
the ribcage
and remains lodged in the heart
break it like an arrow
and bleed out
i have cauterized the wound
with booze
so that tomorrow
the hangover
will subdue
and succumb me into submission
that i can undo
what is done
i can unsay what was said
what can the warrior do
that a chief hasn't done already?

the chief that wears the head dress
is thankfully not me
i have earned no recognition
light as a feather
heavy like a burden

i would pluck my own hair out
strand by strand
until i am bald and mad
then they would look at me
and understand

i should be counseled
i should be riding
eagerly into  a battle, a cause worth dying (for)
because death is where i want to be
death is where i should be

until then i paint my face
but my mascara is running
 the deadbeat horse
turns to look at me
and then carries on, laughing



Narcissus fabulous


Pt. I

how many fell into the pool of your eyes?
I have known you all my life

at the age of 8 I i first met you 
at the drunken table
hiding beer cans for you
while you passed everyone out
i was special to you
until that violent thrust in the night
shut me out 
of body and mind 
i couldn't control your lust
that night you made me into the shallow
man that I am
and had I only known at the time
the blood that was bled for you
was a mere drop of water in a vast pond

Pt. II

I saw another incarnation of you
at age 14 
you felt sorry for me 
knowing one time your friends
tried to drown me 
me in the river
after many mirrored struggles
we became lovers
(i was good enough for you) 
but i was not saved from your cheating
from your ridicule
i could not be rescued

Pt. III

you appeared again at 22
in the form of a debonair 
you were like a god i could not relate to
there was so much air, air, air
in between 
my lungs filled with grief 
as you moved on to someone better

and after many years of regrets
and suicide attempts
after all the one night stands,
friend with benefits 
perhaps i'll see you again
when we're both dying of AIDS
maybe then we both can reflect




Monday, September 17, 2018

The heyoka moves forward

(For Adrian)

What is night
You treat like the day
This is the heyoka way
Work your way backwards
Only to come to your end
faster than you can say what needs to be said
quicker than the heart has time to harden

I thought you would stay around
Long enough to see death drag those
Psuedo-Christians into the apocalypse
They premature ejaculate for
But you went unexpectedly
before you could see it to the end
This was your way

When I see tragedy
My first instinct is to laugh
To make the sorrowful happy
It is within me
Yet it is not up to me
And when i cry
I don't want others to see

The clown
Without expression
Is irrelevant
To his passion
Take my words
Anyway you want to
These are my own personal truths
This is my way
This is what I'm used to

As i try to move forward
While still looking back
The joker is willing
When no one wants to laugh



Wednesday, February 07, 2018

Chimera



I grew up mislabeled
Transexual traumatized
evil like a pentagram
i did not fit in
between the lions
and the lambs

if i am pagan
then i am a christian
either way
i am hated
by most religions
what's in my name?
In the dna?
That turned so many against me?

a sin to taint the family tree
truth can be a split-hooved thing

and so i did not honor
thy father and mother
i did not fit in
with all my wed-locked brothers

in the lion's den
the weakest one
does not survive the pride
my own father denounced me
long before he died

those venomous truths
still hiss at my heels
Those scaley thoughts
Make me unpeel
my name, my heritage
Born a bastard
I did  not look like
All of the rest

And tho i am not satanic
I am deemed evil thru the aesthetic
From dog tooth and long nails
The christian ideology that kills the savage
Still prevails
--thru how my religious-raped family
Looks at me

And with the cutting of my mane
Went the dying innocent clasp
Of femininity
Neither him, nor her
Neither she,  nor me











Tuesday, November 22, 2016

Death to Hydra





it is eel-like

the reach of corporations
who worm their way thru
loophole after loophole
to take imminent domain
over the landscape
for the sake of some coal
or even black gold
and often we are told
It will be good for the nation

but this is a nation

of encroaching corporations
who have sky-scraped
through Mount Olympus
to control the laws that
govern us
and corrupt the ones who swore
to protect us

this land is no mans land
when it can seized by a court order
stolen by bureaucracy
by proxy of a bank

It was only a matter of time 
before a new hydra was born
out of the entrails of a dead plutocracy
whose oily tentacles
have now reached across our waters
across our reservations
selling a pipe dream
To an awakening nation

It is time to fight oil for water

It is time to fight oil with blood
for we have countless ancestors
fighting through us
fighting with us
let their voices slay
the many heads
of the black snake

let our words be the scythe

let our prayers be the fire
that cauterizes the wounds
of this greedy beast of an empire

Wednesday, May 25, 2016

Colossus

It was soul heavy
generation crushing
these symbols
of false freedoms
that hang over us
as we stood in the Aryan shadow
of a new colossus

all the roads
lead to the same concrete idealogy
that the old gods
Always have to make way
For the new ones

And we--
the White Clay People
look up to the libertas
The mount rushmore
The barrier put in place
To divide and conquer
To make way for
For the systematic slaughter

their statues
marble-white
eyes soulless and blank
how befitting
they made it in their god's image
and we carved into the stone
inevitable perishable hieroglyphs
that the sun would bleach out
that the rain would wash away
because we knew we'd all go back
into that shaken etch-a-sketch
that we call earth

we had no coliseums
no great pyramids
just the sinking mounds
that the giants left us
but does that imply our existence
is less meaningful?
put it on a pedestal

we don't care to be carbon-dated
manipulated
Into theories that deny our place
here in the united states
invisible
With liberty and justice
For some

Old stones are crushed
Bones turned to cement
And plaster
But we did not mean
To be martyrs
Our own places of worship
Decimated to make way
For modern day culture

Because America was built in a day
so that only the whites can say
This is our land
And isn't it colossal
The joke made of my people
that we were somehow
Less worthy to hold dominion
Over these lands.

Ozymandias
Let the decay come
And free us











Saturday, July 11, 2015

pow! wow!

I am the wow
in your pow!
I am intertribal
Yet I am always
dancing by myself

I am traditional
I am capable
--to adapt
and what of these labels
what of the blood degree
I am royal
yet I am able
to be inept

what is sacred
what is sacrilege
I am always thorough
but I am not purebred

I will have a vision
---when I want to
no one can govern
creativity
and so what if
i fail
does that reflect
upon
my native synchronicity

I speak naively
I speak so bravely
I speak whenever
The fuck I can

I have no medicine
I have no man
I am just a minority
Trying to fit in with the masses
Whenever I can

so just don't ask me
just don't bother me
don't seek any answers
to some kind of new age
divinity

I'm just a person
Trying to be wooed
Trying to be wowed
In a biased
Ethnocentric crowd





Monday, December 29, 2014

Pandora of Pine Ridge


Pandora of Pine Ridge
has settled in
she has opened her parfleche
that is her skin
she has learned the rez way
and her plagues don't
discriminate
will take you--gay or straight
wrapped in a papoose
and evangelical truths
she'll get through
with the booze
she'll steal the youth


And once its jarred
our earthenware heads
that these epidemics
are traditional-fatal
wrapped around
our family trees
another twisted vehicle
of countless tragedies

For generations
she has come
bestowing old testament gifts
who ever asked for this?
An extended olive branch
---of a missionary bitch?

Oh dear Pandora of Pine Ridge,
was it curiosity
that did us all in the end?
--to be culturally diverse
or maybe it was too perverse
to think we'd fit right in
with the new empire
of foreign titans

For Prometheus
Is doing time served
Do the fire people
Then, still
Get what they were deserved?

Hope is only a drink away.