Friday, July 6, 2012

Plain Indian

They thought it was fun and games
Killing off our game
We can't stand them cowboys
It was odd to see two iron lines
That run through our field
Everyday when the sun is set at noon
The loud and long iron horse rides through
It makes loud sounds saying "Choo-Choo"
While blowing clouds of white smoke in the sky
We could hear it coming mile away
This is the time of day we dread
As far as we
Our numbers are dwindling
As well as our game
My father and his father warned me of this
As it once happened to them
Soldiers would stand on the iron horse
Point and shoot guns while passing by
Not at us
But at our buffalo
The ultimate insult to our livelihood
One by one they drop
Too many to keep up
Most died and rotted away before they could be used
Buffalo to us were our walking homes
They stored our meat, clothing,
shelter, fuel,
tools, weapons,
equipment, and ornaments
They found a way to waste our resources
The buffalo
Our strength and our weakness
They teach us how to ride horses and shoot guns
They made hunting easier for us
Then turn around and made hunting more difficult for us
All it took was a century to slowly kill us off
Summers are shorter
Winters are longer
Can't sleep at night
Misery through the day
They treat us as animals in the wild
Forcing rules upon our people
Pressuring us to live in isolation like their pets
Something called government proposed my people live on reservations
To become prisoner on our own land
Relationship with cowboys has always been conflicted
We'll make peace,
Then Trade,
And often fight
Even though I've daily stood toe to toe with them cowboys
I still can't stand them cowboys
We're no match for the military
Stabbed in the back
Gutted our region
Our legacy is scalped
They're dulling down my culture
Making us feel plain
As they're slowly taking over our Plain
A Plain Indian I am

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