Red Road Rising

Weaving Dreams

"Broken hoop"
Oh, but I see it whole.

Every bend breaks a barrier that’s held us below.

Ends bound with love,
The kind without checks.

Fractions forced upon us,
time to take a step.

A step for our future,
Those seven generations…
My grandchildren will not know of these situations.

Every knot a prayer,
A silent healing in the air.

Reworking our web to bring us there,
There in a place where our ancestors dance.

Every circle woven brings us closer yet…
Tie the last knot,
No longer distraught.

Our dreams will come through,
Dropping the the bad with the morning dew.

Land Alive

Independence: (noun) freedom from the control, influence, support, aid, or the like, of others.

The day the forefathers freed themselves from their chains they did not cast them off and burn their ties.

Instead they cast them upon others and watched them die.

Founded with faith in God, but ignored Matthew 7:12,

"Do unto others as you would have others do unto you."

God was cast aside,

As they had set sail with gold in their eyes.

Intentions tainted with greed before they’d even touched the soil on the land they dreamed forever free.

If only they could’ve seen through clear skies. The glory that truly laid beyond the tide…

Pray, hope, shout to the sky that one day they’ll understand the land is alive.


How do you explain the land alive to souls who see through material lies?

Rising Dreams

When will our dream rise?

When will it fly?

When will our people no longer struggle to survive?

Take flight to the sky!

Touch the sun,

See it rise!

Break loose from the chains of colonization,

Melt them into tools to show the next generation,

Life is what you make it,

You’re not a gear in a system to control the population.

Don’t let that light die.

Fan it till it bursts into flames & burns this disguise.

Star Strangled

Skins star struck by bursting lights,

You’ve got to be kidding,

Wipe that smile from your eyes.

Red, white, & blue…

We should be draped in black.

"Independence Day" marks the birth of a nation who tried to kill us for their salvation.

Cut us from the red skin we were made, bleached us till our braids laid on display…now you’re out there watching their parade?!

Sit down.

Take your hand off your heart.

Flip that fabric upside down & try not to drown.

This world is hard, and I know it’s not ours, but try to stand strong…

You know what’s wrong.

The going is rough, but please, don’t forget those before us.

Dear Mr. President

Dear Mr. President,

Your words of hope may ring bells in the hearts of those abroad, and here on your own sod.

Your blood filled hands can’t be hidden from us,

Our scars run deep into our children’s hearts.

A heavy plague carried upon us each day.

Pieces of paper rip every scar deeper.

Preaching freedom of an occupied people,

Yet neglect to admit your country stands on blood soaked land.

Steeped in the gore of our ancestors…

So please, tell us again how these stars and stripes mark liberty and justice on occupied land?

(Note: This was written a few months ago after President Obama gave his speech in Israel preaching a free, independent Palestine. He is not practicing what he preaches. On any level, as his own country is occupied land.)


So many skins with so much to give.

Yet they’re walking around in black sludge cages sucking their soul to drown.

Blinded by historical trauma and patriarchal scars.

I’d give anything to see that glimmer in our eyes again.

The one they spoke of back then.

Know we can be that again.

It’s hard to push with oppression on display, but you must trudge away.

I can still see it in your eyes.

Dim…but it hasn’t met it’s demise.

I’d lift you up,

Give you my heart,

Give you my spirit,

Take away those parts you see as “broken”, and have you claim them as tokens.

Yet I know true spark must come from within, and all I could ever do is scream to the wind.

So here I stand shouting.

I beg you…

Don’t let oppression win.


The only buzzing I wish to hear are crickets in my ear, but this electric storm is just too much to ask them to interfere.

For what have they gained by our days gone by?

When have we helped them instead of caused their demise?

We scoff at their size, even when larger than you and I.

Laugh at their lack of opposable digits, and deny their ability when our tests have overrun their thumbs.

"Smartest animal alive!" We tout as we pound our marine relations with sonar vibrations.

"Civilization is for man, we are not beasts!" We proclaim as we mindlessly plunder the very source of our being.

Our minds are great, but we are no better than any being.

We may have words, but have those words not waged war?

We may have the hands for creation, but have those creations not vaporized our relations?

I speak circles and cry tears of blood for I know we’ve come undone.

Removed from the land, we only think we have won…

We’ll realize, as the world tumbles in, there was never anything to win.


Our circle was whole, but it’s been pulled apart.

Ripped to shreds and bleached to our hearts.

What is it that pits us against one another?

Have we not been through enough?

Or maybe we’ve been through too much…

Too much pain for one soul to bear,

Attacking one another to release the sting as if it were never there.

We can’t continue on this way.

Our words will no longer sway if we cannot keep division at bay.

Our blood runs deep,

We can save this land.

We can save our children…

But we must work as one hand.

Joy & Resistance

Joy and resistance.

Not sullen and weak.

Our hearts are strong, but why do they paint us so meek?

The smiles, the laughter…

Where did they go wrong?

"Dying culture" you type.

"Poverty everyday" as your camera clicks away.

Our culture is not dying, our culture is reviving.

How can you miss the daily persistence?
The everyday resistance?
The smiles as children play?

I don’t think you can, but maybe that’s just my way…

Or maybe yours is tainted with the smog of today…

The need to have an underdog on display…

Perhaps you’ll see in time, we’ve always be rising…much to your dismay.

So give every child a camera,

Every elder a pen,

Bind their works together, maybe then you’ll have a worthy display.


They say a tribe is a people and a people are one but why are our cities so divided among?

Silent plans to divide us, enslave us to one.

We’re many so why should we fall to these plans unsung?

Women, elders, youth, men when will we disconnect from this matrix veiled by guns?

It’s starts with the mind, free yourself from their tide.

Push back, fight back, struggle till the leader of conformity cries.

Make em weep till their tears clear of our ancestors blood.

Let em fall to their knees so they may finally see clearly.

Then help em back up to a world of sincerity.