native american
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I am from a city
A city full of colored faces and still filled with their own discrimination and racism
What does it matter?
The race of them, it doesn't matter,
They continue to try to make a fool out of me.
I listen as he plays
The pan flute in front
Of a beautiful waterfall.
I close my eyes and
I am transported
Above the scene
And fly with the eagle...
Susan Maree Jeavons
The Seattle Skyline at Half Past Three.
It never meant that much to me.
The Seattle Skyline at Six'till Four.
I've never wanted so much more.
My slam coaches and judges tell me
That I mumble too much
Something about how I speak when I’m on stage
I have this almost drawl
You wouldn’t think
His eyes would shine so bright
Beneath those clouds that fog his sight
But they’ve been aglow since ‘25
You wouldn’t think he would be so kind
Dear Water,
You have always been the love, Life of my Body.
From my very existence, I have had you,
By my side nurturing me. I could not live,
There amongst the fallen trees and rivers of black.
Voices and laughter can be heard across the trees,
the autumn leaves soak up my mother's blood.
Stars once shimmered and danced across the skies,
Roaming In the hallways not quite belonging
Squeezing Into a space, where there was never place
I am not alone In this daily struggle
Turn over your hands, let me read the lines.
I'll feel the aches in those curves, read the letters between the creases in your skin.
The soles beneath your shoes smell of sun-baked earth.
My mixed blood pulses through my heart and each beat resonates inside my skull. My damp hair, black as a moonless night sky, is sticking to the nape of my neck and hanging limply over my shoulders.
My people hunted here,
Where white people now stand,
And where are my brothers,
In Oklahoma, where we were pushed away.
My friends are hated,
For being black, Asian or Hispanic,
I'm so sick and tired of these white lines and white liesPop a xany and everything'll be alrightfit into society, dark aint right So where do I fit?What do i miss?Having my braids and feathers without feeling shame I missThese priveledged people t
“A time comes when silence is betrayal”When the government's stops telling you what is happening you are doomed to an endless life of misinformation and lies spread thick and thin on propaganda cloaked as movie posters and pop culture. Because w
When the wind blows
And the sky fogs
Up my picture in the mirror
When the river roars
And the birds soar
Above the woods we roamed
When the cliffs spike
And the rocks fall
Look, Mommy!
I grab the bleach blonde
Fake ponytail extension
From the Target shelf
And place it, like a crown,
atop my frizzy chestnut brown curls.
Mommy, can I have it please?
My own country, but I don’t own my land.
I used to put my hand through the orange sand.
My brother and I would count pejig, nij.
Oh, grandmother
With your white-white hair
and your pale skin you protected from the sun
Did you have any regrets?
Were you thankful
for the gift you were given?
The gift to pass as white?
I drudge myself to a rangewhere boys were buzzingby the riflesFantasizing themselves as Cowboysriding the long ride togetherI tried my hand at the complex contraption
On this November day, I want for my people.I want our voices to be heard,To be appreciated for our history, our present and our future.
From when were young,
To when were old,
We are always learning,
From teachers to parents,
From elders to others,
I am from the tribe.
From the ancestors and animals.
My skin betraying
the darkness it should be.
I am from the native,
yet I am also from the irish man.
I am from the mix.
land of the free, home of the brave
forced to conform
forget your culture
we'll beat the indian out of you
conform, be like us
or humiliated
shunned
unaccepted
be like us or get out
